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wannabehockeygf · 6 days

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Melting - Clayton Keller

"So you'll smile at everything I say, You got some soft lips and some pearly whites, I wanna touch them in the dead of night, Your smile ignites just like a candlelight, Then somehow, I know everything's alright."

*** request: i smushed the two requests I got today together, so it's #2 "Five more minutes?" plus #11 "You fell asleep on me, I didn't want to wake you up." another prompt requested was smutty, which I am happy to do, but you should probably re-request. summary: a mediocre first date turns into something more intimate word count: 4.1k pairing: clayton keller x fem!reader warnings: none just teeth rotting fluff! notes: - I love my man clayton more than anyone else. i will always be happy to do any requests for him. - saw one of my grades grade drop from 92 to 76 today so I needed a full reset and I guess that reset was writing fluff! - based in Arizona because I'm still in denial

italics represent flashback

gif creds: keller-clayton i gave up putting gifs in my fics a while ago but LOOK AT HIM I JUST WANNA KISS HIS FACE ALL OVER. *** The last thing you remember was standing on that tenth hole of the mini-golf course, wondering if it was socially acceptable to call an Uber in the middle of a first date. Mini-golfing had felt more like a middle-school field trip than an actual adult date. And if your performance had been any indication, you weren’t exactly “fun at parties” material. By hole six, you were already praying for the windmill to sweep you off your feet and put you out of your misery.

You weren’t trying to be dramatic, but let’s be honest—you sucked. Badly. You didn’t just miss the hole; you missed the general direction. The ball took off like it had a personal vendetta against you, disappearing into the bushes half the time. By the tenth hole, you were seriously considering feigning a headache, or better yet, an existential crisis, to bail early. Maybe there was a black hole you could throw yourself into.

That’s when Clayton saved you.

Well, saved might’ve been a strong word. He asked, “Do you wanna ditch this whole thing and go back to my place?”

Cue all your alarms going off at once. Yeah, you knew exactly what that meant. First date, cozy house, late-night drinks—he wasn’t subtle. You were supposed to say no, laugh it off, maybe suggest a different venue.

Instead, you heard yourself agree.

You thought you’d stay for a bit, make a polite exit before things got weird. But then, you ended up at his house—a stupidly nice one, complete with a pool, basketball court, and palm trees that looked straight out of a vacation ad. Like, was this guy a finance bro? Or did he have one of those mysterious jobs where he’s always "working on something big?" Either way, it felt excessive.

Then came the wine. Hesitation turned into a sip, which turned into three glasses, and somewhere between one of his stories about traveling to Europe and your sarcastic commentary, you ended up on his lap, his hands–

“Am I the asshole for-”

Immediately, the noise cuts out, and you hear a soft curse coming from… under you? “Shit!” Clayton hisses, taking a deep breath which you feel completely.

You stir, blinking against the sunlight spilling in through unfamiliar curtains. For a second, you can’t quite place where you are. Your brain is doing that sluggish, half-awake thing where it refuses to connect dots. All you know is that you’re warm, too warm, and there’s something solid beneath you.

Wait, why is your pillow breathing?

Your eyes snap open fully, and sure enough, there’s Clayton—underneath you. You’re sprawled across his chest like some kind of human blanket, legs tangled with his, your face smushed into the crook of his neck. Casual. Totally normal. Just your typical Saturday morning human pretzel situation.

Oh god.

Panic prickles up your spine, and you stay perfectly still, trying to figure out how you got here. You remember the mini-golf—barely—and the way you’d been one sad swing away from asking if he had a time machine to rewind you out of the entire evening. Then there was his house, the wine, his stupidly perfect jawline. And… oh right, that situation.

Your mind goes from zero to a hundred in seconds, racing to catch up with reality. You’re on top of him. Like, full-body contact, face-in-his-neck, can-feel-his-breath-on-your-skin kind of on top of him. Oh god, what the hell happened last night? Did you…? No. No, you remember now. Mostly. You didn’t sleep with him. Right?

You chance a glance at his phone screen out of the corner of your eye, and yup—he’s casually scrolling through TikTok like this is the most normal thing in the world. Like you're not literally draped across him like some kind of half-conscious sloth. The soft, muffled sound of a Reddit story video plays from his phone, but it's drowned out by the thunderous beat of your pulse in your ears. You can feel the rise and fall of his chest beneath you, steady, calm, like you didn’t just wake up using him as a human mattress.

How long have you been like this? How long has he been awake? He’s obviously been up long enough to decide that reaching for his phone was preferable to trying to extricate himself from your limpet-like hold. You mentally groan. So, what now? Do you play it off? Pretend to still be asleep until he leaves? Just roll off him dramatically and flee the house?

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to vanish into thin air, but no such luck. You're still here, still on top of him, still melting into the soft heat of his skin.

How the hell did this happen?

And then, like a bad movie montage, it all comes flooding back. He’d pulled you onto his lap, his hands steady on your hips as if they’d always been there. The warmth of his touch had sent shivers down your spine, and you weren’t sure if it was the wine or something else entirely making your head spin. You could still feel the smooth drag of his palm as it slipped under your shirt, fingers teasing along the curve of your back. Your heart had been racing so fast you were pretty sure he could hear it.

“You’re—uh—comfortable?” you’d asked, your voice coming out breathier than you’d intended.

Clayton had chuckled, that low, rumbling sound that made your stomach flip in ways you weren’t proud of. “Very.” And then, without another word, his lips were on yours, soft but insistent, like he was waiting for you to tell him no.

But you hadn’t. At least, not at first.

Instead, you'd leaned into him, your hands slipping into his hair, tangling in the soft strands as the kiss deepened. He tasted like wine and something sweeter, something that made your brain go a little fuzzy around the edges. You could feel the heat building between you, the way his fingers dug into your hips just a little harder, pulling you against him until you were practically straddling him.

For a moment, it had felt like this was exactly where you were supposed to be—right here, in his lap, his mouth on yours, and your body pressing into his like it was the only thing keeping you anchored to the earth. But then—then something in your brain had clicked back on, the fog lifting just enough for you to realize what was happening.

Your heart had stuttered. You’re definitely not in the right headspace for this

You’d pulled back, breathing hard, your forehead resting against his. “I—um—maybe we should…” You hadn’t known how to finish the sentence, and your words had tumbled out in a mess of half-started thoughts and awkward pauses. Clayton had stilled, his hands dropping from your waist instantly, his eyes searching yours with something like understanding.

“Yeah, of course,” he’d said, his voice soft, and you could tell he wasn’t mad, wasn’t pushing. He just…stopped.

And that’s where the details get a little blurry. You must have fallen asleep after that, the wine and the tension finally catching up to you.

And now, here you are, waking up on top of him like some kind of oversized cat, his phone buzzing softly beneath your ear as he doom scrolls some more.

You shift, just slightly, testing the waters. His hand, the one not holding his phone, brushes absently against your back in response. A lazy, absent-minded gesture, like he’s forgotten you’re there but also somehow hasn’t.

Is this... normal for him? Just scrolling through TikTok with a girl sprawled across him like he’s some sort of makeshift mattress? Maybe this is his thing. Maybe you’ve entered some weird new level of dating etiquette where waking up on top of your date is a normal, acceptable thing that people do.

You finally muster up the courage to move, rolling onto your side—slowly, carefully, like you’re disarming a bomb. Clayton’s arm, previously draped across your back, falls away, and you find yourself sitting next to him instead of on top of him. Progress.

He glances over, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since you’ve woken up. There’s no awkwardness, no tension, just a soft smile that somehow makes you want to crawl back into the crook of his neck and stay there forever.

“Good morning,” he says, his voice still rough from sleep, and you can feel it in your bones.

Oh god, you think. You are so screwed.

“Hey,” you mumble back, trying to sound casual but knowing full well your voice betrays you. Your throat is dry, and you really, really wish you could just dissolve into the couch.

Clayton lifts his phone. “You fell asleep pretty quick after the wine,” he says, like he’s giving you a status report. “Didn’t want to move.”

Oh no, that's fine, I love waking up like a koala in a tree, clung to a guy I barely know. It’s totally my thing, you think, but what comes out is a garbled, “Thanks. Uh, yeah. Long day.”

You can feel the heat creeping up your neck and spreading to your cheeks. The mini-golf disaster, the wine, the whole making-out-on-his-lap thing—it all feels like some weird fever dream. But here you are, awake, on his couch, and somehow still alive.

“Well,” he says, stretching slightly and glancing at the time on his phone, “if you want coffee or breakfast or anything… no rush.” There’s something about the way he says it, all nonchalant, that makes you think he’s done this before. You wish you could bottle up that confidence and chug it like an espresso shot. But then he continues, “Or… you could come back here?”

You stare at him for a beat, trying to process what just came out of his mouth. Come back here? Like, back to the human pretzel situation you’d just barely escaped from? There’s no way he’s serious. But when you look at him, his face is soft, his eyes sleepy in a way that makes your heart do an embarrassing little flip.

You blink, your brain scrambling for a response. You could say no. You could grab your things and make a polite-but-hasty exit, chalking this whole thing up to “well, that happened.” But then he shifts slightly, his hand still resting casually on the couch, so close to yours that the warmth of his skin is almost tangible. His voice is soft when he speaks again, barely above a murmur.

“Five more minutes?”

Oh. Oh, that’s unfair. He’s not playing fair. You can practically feel your resolve slipping through your fingers like sand. Five minutes? What kind of heartless person says no to that?

You glance down at his hand, at the way his fingers twitch just slightly like he's waiting for you to move. It’s such a simple invitation, but for some reason, it feels like the world’s biggest decision. Your internal monologue is in full gear, screaming at you to think this through, but your body betrays you almost immediately. Before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re leaning back into him, your head finding its way to the curve of his shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You can feel his breath catch just a little as you settle against him, and for a second, the room feels heavier, like the air itself is thicker. His arm instinctively comes around you, gentle but steady, pulling you just a fraction closer. His warmth seeps into your skin, and you’re not sure if it’s the leftover wine fuzzing your thoughts or the fact that you’ve somehow wound up here, in this moment, but for once, your brain doesn’t race to catch up. It just… stops.

His heartbeat is slow, steady, beneath your ear, and you feel like you’re floating in this weird bubble of peace, suspended between the moment you just left and the one you’re trying to make sense of now. His hand rests lightly on your back, his thumb absentmindedly tracing a soft pattern that sends tiny sparks up your spine. The room is quiet, save for the occasional hum of the air conditioner and the soft rustle of the sheets as he shifts to get more comfortable.

You can feel the weight of his chin resting against the top of your head, and it’s such a small thing, such a casual, barely-there gesture, but it feels like everything. You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the warmth of him, the softness of the moment. This isn’t what you expected—hell, none of this is what you expected—but here you are, breathing him in, his chest rising and falling in time with yours.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, his voice rough with the remnants of sleep. You can feel the vibrations of it in your bones, deep and gentle, as if he’s scared of breaking the stillness.

You nod, but it’s not enough, not when your face is pressed into his shirt. “Yeah,” you manage to mumble, your voice muffled by the fabric. “I’m okay.”

More than okay, actually.

He hums softly in response, the sound a low rumble that makes you feel like you could stay like this forever. And maybe that’s what scares you. How easy this is. How comfortable it feels to be wrapped up in him like this, even after the absolute chaos of the night before. You can’t remember the last time you felt this… safe.

There’s a part of you that wants to analyze every little detail—wants to pick apart why you’re so comfortable in his arms, why you’re not sprinting for the door, why your heart is doing this stupid fluttery thing every time he shifts even the slightest bit. But instead, you let yourself just be.

For once, your brain doesn’t go into overdrive. For once, it doesn’t matter what happens next, or what the mini-golf fiasco meant, or whether you’ll see him again after this. All that matters is the quiet, the warmth of his chest under your cheek, and the way his fingers trail lazy circles on your back.

You’ve only known him for, what, a handful of hours? Yet somehow, this moment feels like the calmest you’ve been in a long time.

His phone buzzes again, and you feel him shift slightly beneath you, but he doesn’t check it. Instead, he tightens his hold on you just a bit, his arm pulling you closer until you’re tucked into him so securely that it’s almost hard to tell where you end and he begins. But suddenly, it starts to feel slightly suffocating, and you can’t help but try to ease the tension, even if it’s in a weird way. “I’m guessing you don’t go on dates often?” you try to joke, but it sounds largely breathy.

Clayton stiffens for a moment, like he’s been caught off guard by your question. You can feel it in the way his chest stops its steady rhythm under your cheek. The hand that had been tracing lazy circles on your back pauses mid-motion. For a split second, the comfortable cocoon of warmth and quiet you’d both been wrapped in feels like it’s stretched a little too thin, like the moment might crack under the weight of the question.

Then, he lets out this weird, choked laugh. It’s not exactly a hearty chuckle, more like the sound someone makes when they’ve been caught with their hand in the cookie jar and aren’t sure how to explain themselves. You shift, lifting your head slightly to look at him, and when you do, you’re met with a sight that almost makes you snort. Clayton—mister “I-have-a-stupidly-nice-house-and-know-exactly-what-to-do-with-my-hands-like-it’s-no-big-deal”—is blushing.

Blushing.

His cheeks are a shade of pink that would’ve been adorable under any other circumstance. But seeing him like this? The guy who confidently pulled you onto his lap last night and didn’t even blink? Yeah, it’s throwing you off, and the tiny, embarrassed laugh that bubbles out of you isn’t helping.

“I—uh—what?” He stammers, shifting awkwardly beneath you. His arm, the one that had been holding you so comfortably, suddenly feels unsure of itself, hovering like he’s debating whether to pull you closer or shove a pillow between you to create some much-needed distance.

You blink up at him, trying to hide your amusement. “The date. I mean… you don’t seem like the ‘mini-golf-and-wine’ type.”

His blush deepens, and he clears his throat, his gaze darting away from yours like he’s desperately searching for an escape route. “Yeah, well, uh… I don’t really do this often.”

You peek up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Not often, or not at all?"

He chuckles nervously, and it's not that smooth, rumbly laugh from last night. It's more like an awkward, I’m-really-not-used-to-this kind of sound. “Not at all?” he says, but it comes out like a question. His face flushes just a little, and you can’t help but smile at the fact that, despite owning a house straight out of a Malibu dream, he's clearly not as suave as he seemed.

“Wait, seriously?” You shift slightly, trying to get a better look at him, but this only makes him more flustered. His hand, which had been resting casually on your back, retreats to his side like it’s suddenly self-conscious. “But you have this”—you gesture vaguely at his ridiculous house, the pool you vaguely remember seeing through his sliding glass doors—"and you don’t date?"

Clayton looks like he wants to sink into the couch and disappear. He rubs his face with his free hand, groaning softly. “Yeah, I know it doesn’t make sense.” He hesitates, glancing at you before continuing, “I’m just… busy, I guess. Work and stuff.”

“Oh, work and stuff, how mysterious,” you tease, unable to resist poking fun at the vague excuse. “You make it sound like you’re Batman or something. Got a secret crime-fighting career on the side?”

His laugh this time is real, shaking off some of the tension. “If only. I mean, I could rock a cape…”

You grin, glad to see him relax, even just a little. “So, what’s the deal then? You have this nice house, you’ve clearly got some kind of job that lets you travel to Europe, and yet… no time to date?” You raise an eyebrow. “Are you some kind of super-busy finance bro who’s married to the grind?”

Clayton cringes, but there’s a sheepish smile pulling at his lips. “No, no finance bro stuff. Just… um… sports?”

You stare at him, blinking slowly as the realization hits. "Wait… sports?" Your voice comes out more confused than you intended, and it lingers in the air between the two of you. Clayton shifts, his expression growing a little more sheepish, like he’s just admitted to something far more embarrassing. You raise an eyebrow, silently urging him to continue.

"Yeah," he finally mutters, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to work out the tension. “I mean, it’s not a big deal, but, uh… hockey. NHL, actually.”

You blink again, processing the words as they hang there. Hockey. NHL. Him.

“Wait, like… you’re a professional hockey player?" you ask, almost breathless. Your heart stumbles for a moment, and you try not to make a big deal out of it, but the surprise is clear in your voice. He nods, awkwardly.

"Yeah, but it’s not like I go around telling people that." He glances at you, gauging your reaction. His cheeks turn back to a faint pink, and suddenly, his earlier confidence from last night seems to vanish.

You squint at him, tilting your head. "Wait, so... you just let me ramble about mini-golf without dropping that bomb? Was this like a test or something?"

His eyes widen, and he waves his hands defensively, nearly knocking over the throw pillow. “No, no! It wasn’t a test!” His voice is frantic, trying to backpedal from your accusation. “I swear! I didn’t think it was relevant… I just—” He stops, rubbing his temples like he’s regretting this entire conversation. “It’s been a while, okay? I’m just… I’m just glad to have someone warm here for once that isn’t my dog.”

That soft confession hits you harder than you expected. The vulnerability in his words sinks into the quiet between you, and you find yourself melting into the moment. You smile softly, shifting in his arms to look up at him fully. There’s a warmth blooming in your chest, and it has nothing to do with the cozy blanket wrapped around you.

A professional hockey player? You’d barely noticed his muscles last night, all lean and casual under his t-shirt, too distracted by the chaos of mini-golf and his awkwardly charming attempts at flirting–better than your other Hinge dates. Now, though, the pieces are falling into place—his house, the sleek car, the fact that he was clearly trying so hard to make a good impression despite his obvious nerves. He wasn’t trying to hide his life from you… he was just so genuinely out of practice that he didn’t know how to navigate it.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look at him, your forehead still resting lightly against his shoulder as you tilt your head up. His face is flushed, and he’s staring down at you like he’s expecting you to bolt at any second.

You let out a breath, your fingers absently tracing the hem of his shirt where it’s bunched around your waist. “You really should’ve led with that, you know,” you tease, your voice light as you try to keep things from getting too serious. “Might’ve saved us both a lot of confusion.”

Clayton groans, burying his face in his hands for a second before dropping them back to his sides in defeat. “Yeah, well… I didn’t want to, like, make it weird,” he mutters, his blush creeping back up his neck. “I just—god, I’m really bad at this, huh?”

You can’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Nah, you’re not that bad,” you reply, your voice gentle. “Just… out of practice.”

The silence that follows is easy, the weight of his chin resting on top of your head once more as you both settle into the moment. His arm eventually returns to its place around you, his fingers grazing your back in slow, lazy circles, and you let yourself sink into the warmth of him again. It’s so soft, so quiet. It’s almost too perfect, really, like you’ve stumbled into some kind of dream you didn’t even know you wanted.

He clears his throat after a beat, his voice hesitant. “So… if I’m this bad at dating,” he says slowly, “Does that mean I’m not getting a second one?”

You blink, surprised, and tilt your head up to look at him again. His eyes are soft, full of that quiet vulnerability from before, and you feel your heart stutter in your chest. You weren’t expecting that, weren’t expecting him to be so earnest about wanting to see you again.

You open your mouth to respond, but your brain falters for a second. A second date? After everything last night? After finding out he’s an NHL player, of all things? But then his gaze catches yours, and there’s something in his eyes that makes it hard to say anything but yes.

“Well,” you say slowly, your lips curving into a teasing smile, “I guess that depends.”

“On what?” He tilts his head, genuinely curious.

“On whether or not our next date involves fewer golf clubs and more dogs.”

His face lights up, a real, boyish grin spreading across his features, and he lets out a soft laugh, the tension in his shoulders melting away. “Yeah, I can definitely do that,” he murmurs, his hand sliding up your back to rest just between your shoulder blades. He pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You’ll have to meet him first, though. He’s got final approval.”

You chuckle softly, the sound muffled against his chest. “Well, let’s hope I make a good impression, then.”

There’s another pause, and you feel his breath catch just a little as he presses his chin against the crown of your head again. “You’ve already made one,” he says quietly, almost like he doesn’t want you to hear it.

Your heart skips, your chest tightening in a way that feels both exhilarating and terrifying. There’s a softness here, a tenderness that you didn’t expect, and it’s seeping into the space between you like warm sunlight through a window. You’re not sure what this is yet, not sure where it’s going or what it means, but for the first time in a long time, it doesn’t feel like you have to know. You’re just… here, in the moment, wrapped up in him and the warmth of his arms, and that’s enough.

Maybe it’s more than enough.

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toasttt11 · 5 months

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sunflower

August 15, 2022

Viola had come back to Montreal a few weeks before Cole as school and her season was starting before his so she was home alone for a few weeks while Cole visited his family.

Viola was going to go on the date today that she has had planned with Maveric for almost a month now. They haven’t been able to see each other in almost five months.

Viola was zipping up her last knee high boot when she heard her doorbell ring, she looked at herself in the mirror once more, she was wearing a plaid skirt with a white sweater and black knee high boots. “Coming!” Viola called out as she grabbed her phone and put it into her purse and slipped her purse over her head.

Viola walked through the apartment and opened the door, she looked up into her favorite pair of eyes and smiled sweetly.

Maveric beamed back and quickly took a step forward picking her up into a tight hug and started spinning them around.

Viola squealed as he picked her up and started giggling once he spun them around, she had her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and buried her head in the crock of his neck.

Maveric chuckled loudly at her giggles but slowly stopped spinning them and gently set her feet back to the floor. He wanted to see her gorgeous face in person but she seemed content to hide in his neck.

“Giggles.” Maveric soflty cooed, feeling her warm cheeks on his neck and smiled softly loving how any nickname or pet name makes her melt for him, “Come on i want to see your gorgeous face.”

Viola blinked rapidly but reluctantly pulled away and looked up at him through her lashes, “Hi.” Viola soflty mumbled biting her lip.

“Hello Belle.” Maveric softly mumbled back and Viola tried not to fold at his extra strong accent when he speaks french.

Viola leaned up on her toes to be closer to his face even though she is quite tall he is still a whole foot taller than her. Her hands started fiddling with the nape of his neck.

Maveric watched her intently looking over her face multiple times wanting to make sure he didn’t miss any changes he couldn’t see over the phone.

“Are you going to kiss me now?” Viola teased him with a flirtatious smirk, remembering when they almost kissed at the end of last season.

“There is nothing i would like more.” Maveric lovingly mumbled leaning his head down closer to hers, he could only hear the sound of his heartbeat in his ear and his nose was filled with her perfume she always wears.

Viola smiled wider making her dimples come out and Maveric gently brought his hands up from her waist to her face and gently cupped her face. His thumb gently caressed her dimple and then her cheekbone before he eventually pulled her even closer making their noses gently bump against each other.

Viola kept her eyes flickering between his lips and eyes before she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his softly but definitely desperately.

They both let out identical sighs of reliefs as their lips finally touched. Viola’s hands moved from the bottom of his neck to through out his hair, running through his curls.

Maveric brought one of his hands to the back of her neck gently pulling her closer as his other hand rested on her lower back.

Viola gently pulled away but stayed close enough her nose was still touching his, “Will you be my boyfriend now Mav?” Viola sweetly smiled batting her eyelashes up at him, flirting with him.

“As long as you want me Ma Belle.” Maveric softly promised leaning back down and pressing multiple kisses to her dimples making her giggle and squeal trying to move away but Maveric held her there.

“Mav!” Viola giggled and Maveric smiled and kissed her cheek once more before reluctantly stopping.

“Now i believe i promised your date.” Maveric reluctantly stepped back but still held out his hand for her and Viola smiled happily grabbing his hand intertwining it with hers.

Viola locked the front door and they walked down the hallway and into the elevator, Maveric hit the lobby button before standing back next to Viola and pressed a soft kiss to her head. Viola made a hall sound and leaned her head on his arm and closing her eyes contently as the elevator started the long ride down to the bottom floor.

Finally the elevator opened and Maveric and Viola walked out and walked through the front lobby to the parking outside where Maveric left his car.

Maveric led them to his car and he unlocked his car and opened the passenger seat for her letting Viola hop in, he leaned over pressing a soft kiss to her lips before sadly stepping back and closing the door.

Maveric walked around the car and walked to the back door and opened it and grabbed something before shutting the door and opening the drivers door and hopping in, he pulled out a bouquet of sunflowers, Viola’s favorite flower.

“For you giggles.” Maveric soflty spoke handing the bouquet to her, Viola smiled softly feeling extremely touched because no one has ever gotten her a bouquet of her favorite flowers, sure when she was younger after a hockey game once or twice she got flowers from her family but never just because and sunflowers.

“Thank you.” Viola softly beamed at her now boyfriend and leaned over pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Always.” Maveric winked at with a soft smile and gently grabbed her hand pressing a kiss to the back of it before intertwining their hands and resting them on her thigh, “Now i believe i owe you a date?”

Viola beamed and nodded happily back.

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nhl-stories · 1 year

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Rue – Clayton Keller

Summary: Ines has a bit of a dilemma, marry her ex-boyfriend or get deported

Author’s Note: I don't even go here but an anon suggested Clayton and I ran with it and loved every moment. This is obviously a dramatized version of immigration in America, while I tried to keep aspects as authentic as possible, I also took creative liberties to fit the story.

Also his mom's name is Kelley Keller and that is just so insane to me

Word Count: 9.2k

Album Series Masterlist

Don't wanna make it worse I'm gonna make it work

“What if you married Clayton?”

“You think marrying my ex-boyfriend for a green card is the answer?”

Ines doesn’t mean to raise her voice; Kat is just trying to help. But it’s been a long 24 hours and she can’t really control her emotions anymore.

“I think there should be reformed paths to citizenship. But that’s not going to happen in the immediate future, so I’m spit balling here.”

Ines flops face down on couch cushion and screams.

“I don’t hear you coming up with any better solutions,” Kat adds.

She lifts her head in shock, “You’re being serious?”

“Kat’s serious about what?” Nick comes back with drinks, his solution for comforting Ines.

“Nez should marry Kells for a green card,” Kat keeps saying it like it’s realistic.

Nick ponders the idea for a moment and shrugs, “It’s not the worst idea.”

“I’m just in a hellish nightmare, I’ll wake up and everything will be normal and everyone will be sane,” Ines rubs her temples.

Kat rubs her shoulder and nudges the drink closer to her.

Ines downs the drink and Schmaltzy passes his own drink before retreating for refills.

“I know it just happened, but have you thought at all what you’re going to do?”

“I mean, I’ve spent my whole life thinking about what I would need to do, it’s just never been so real.”

Ines feels a fresh batch of tears coming, she takes another drink to push them back. Nick comes back with a pitcher of drinks this time, clearly sensing where this night is headed.

“Didn’t one of your sisters have immigration problems?” Nick asks as he pours her a refill.

“Sort of, but it only came up because she was getting married and applying for a green card.”

Kat opens her mouth and Ines shoot hers a glare, “to the man she loves who happened to be an American citizen.”

“Yeah, well, you kind of still love Clayton,” Kat mumbles, “I mean you guys still have pretty regular sex right, Nick?”

Ines turns her boiling anger towards Schmaltzy, “Oh my god, he told you we were having sex?!”

“No, you told her,” he points towards Kat, “and she told me, Kells hasn’t said anything.”

“We don’t do it that often.”

She huffs defensively before squeezing her eyes shut, hoping to return from whatever alternative universe she stumbled into.

“I know the idea sounds insane but think about it, you have all these pictures of you two together, you never made some big breakup announcement or anything, and you still live with him.”

“I mean it would be pretty hard to prove that you aren’t together,” Nick adds.

“From what you’ve told me about this babe, marrying someone is the easiest way for you to get on the right track for citizenship without having to go back to Mexico, where you might not be allowed back.”

She knows Kat is right, that she’s making an excellent case, but that doesn’t make the idea any easier to swallow.

“There’s not enough alcohol in the world.”

Ines spends the next couple hours putting that theory to the test; she doesn’t process much, too busy preserving her brain in alcohol. She loses track of time, of what she should be feeling.

The alcohol makes her feel warm and giddy, but her brain is screaming at her to feels anxious and alert. The mix of the emotion just leaves her a sobbing mess, curled up in Kat’s arms.

Then she hears a shuffle at the door followed by Clayton’s voice.

“You told him?! Oh my god,” she buries herself further into Kat.

“We called him to take you home, we thought you’d prefer to wake up in your own bed.”

Nick is speaking to him in hushed tones and Ines is immediately suspicious.

“I don’t need you to marry me, arcilla, I’ll be fine in Mexico,” her filter is non-existent at this point but somehow, she can still talk this much through her tears and inebriation.

“What is she talking about?” Schmaltzy clearly didn’t spill the beans.

Kat sits up, cradling Ines off to the side, like she’s a child who’s not supposed to hear an adult conversation. Even one this pertinent to her.

“Someone found out she doesn’t have legal citizenship and he’s probably going to report her.”

“What the fuck,” Clayton feels every muscle in his body tense.

“And these two idiots think you should marry me so I can get a green card.”

“Oh.”

Clayton’s never been great with big emotions, and Ines’ tears mixed with her words has his brain frazzled. He came thinking he was just being the DD for Ines, not DD for Ines in distress.

“Nez, babe, why don’t we table this for tonight. Let Kells take you back to your own bed and sleep it off. We’ll start fresh tomorrow,” Kat gently moves some hair behind Ines’ hear.

Ines doesn’t respond, just stands up and follows Clayton to his car on wobbly legs.

The drive isn’t far, but Clayton still feels like he has to say something, anything. He can’t find the words; they aren’t his strong suit. So instead, he wordlessly reaches across the console and grabs Ines’ hand.

⁄⁄⁄

The sun pours through her curtains with a vengeance; telling her it’s pretty late in the morning without even needing to open her eyes. Normally, she would hate wasting most of her day away in bed, but sleeping is a nice escape; not just from reality but from the pounding headache she feels behind her eyes.

Ines flips onto her back and throws an arm over her eyes, debating whether getting up and eating something is better than sleeping more.

Clayton makes the decision for her with a knock on the door, he sheepishly pokes his head in before coming to sit at the end of the bed. Offering up a bag of food, which Ines greedily takes knowing it contains her favorite breakfast sandwich.

“You’re a lifesaver,” she moans after taking a bite, digging into the bag to grab the extra hot sauce she knows Clayton didn’t forget.

She looks up and chokes on her sandwich.

Clayton is holding open a ring box with a diamond ring.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I talked to Schmaltzy and Kat this morning and you know, I think they’re right. Getting married to me is gonna be the easiest way for you stay in the country.”

“And ruin your life.”

“How will being married to you be that much different than it is now?”

He makes a good point. They broke up before the last off-season and he had offered to let her stay in his house since he would be traveling for a big chunk of the summer. Not worry about finding a new place while she got back on her feet. That was months ago and she’s still here, cooking him meals, cleaning up around the house, having sex with him.

The only real difference is she has her own room now.

“I don’t know, legal paperwork, maybe me being detained by ICE, you being shackled to me for god knows how long, probably two years at least. What if you meet someone?”

“I’m a professional athlete, I don’t think people would be to shocked if I cheated on you.”

Ines isn’t impressed by his attempt at a joke.

“This isn’t fair to you.”

“And it’s fair that you have to move back to a country you barely remember living in?”

He has a single-mindedness that no amount argument will sway. Especially while Ines is in this hungover state.

“Okay, Mr. Machismo, where’d you get the ring?”

“I– um– got it this morning, Kat helped pick it out. You know, need some proof this is real. And before you freak, I bought it with cash so there’s no paper trail or whatever.”

“Christ, you really thought this through?”

“You always told me it could be a possibility, so you know, I thought about what I’d do, especially when we were actually together.”

The look on his face makes her want to cry. He’s so sure; certain that she’s worth the effort, was worth having an escape plan for her.

“I know it’s crazy, but I’d hate to just sit by and watch you get torn away from your life when I could do something.”

“Okay,” Ines’ voice cracks, wet through the tears she can’t hold in anymore, “If you’re sure.”

Clayton nods, plucks the ring out of the box and holds it out on his palm for her; it seems too intimate or too sacrilegious for him to slip it on for her.

“I’ll call my immigration lawyer,” she twists the ring on her finger.

⁄⁄⁄

“Hola Ines!” Sierra, her immigration lawyer squeezes her tightly.

“And this must be the famous tonelada de arcilla,” Sierra grins at Clayton and shakes his hand.

“I can’t believe she told you that,” Ines grumbles as she takes a seat.

“Soledad couldn’t keep her big mouth shut if she tried,” Sierra moves to the other side of her desk, “besides I love your mom’s inability to understand American names, like Ashton.”

“Oh yeah, tonelada de ceniza,” Ines giggles.

“You’re saying I’m not special?” Clayton smirks.

“You’re very special mi arcilla,” she bumps his knee with her own.

“So, we’re here to talk about a marriage green card?” Sierra gets to business.

“We got engaged right before this, but now some asshole is threatening to report Nez’ status to immigration. So it sounds fishy, but we just want to start the process before anything happens.”

Ines nods with a tight smile. She was expecting Clayton to be here for moral support, not for him to take the lead.

“Okay, so we don’t know if he’s reported anything or if ICE will even investigate you. But since you work for a political organization that isn’t exactly beloved in Arizona, we’ll prepare for the worst.”

Instinctively, Clayton reaches out to hold Ines’ hand, stop her from fidgeting before she even starts.

Sierra looks at her watch, “we probably don’t have time to get you married today, but definitely can get your license today. It’s probably for the best, since this is kind of rush job you’ll probably want to dress up, have some friends as witnesses, make it clear this is above the board.”

Ines squeezes Clayton’s hand. Sierra is too busy shuffling through papers to notice any nerves, or maybe she’s just used to it.

“How’s that sound? Married by tomorrow, try to finish the paperwork in the next couple weeks?”

“Um- what about signing a pre-nup?” Clayton snaps his head towards Ines, “I mean I know it’s best if we have like joint accounts to show it’s legit or that I won’t end up on welfare immediately, but most people aren’t marrying millionaires.”

“You don’t need to sign a pre-nup,” Clayton sounds almost hurt at her suggestion.

Ines slips her hand out of his, “Don’t be stupid, we’re only moving this fast because of me, I don’t want you to be at any legal risk just because I need a green card.”

“I haven’t worked with a case quite like this, but a pre-nup might help your case that this is for the right reasons and not just for a green card.”

Ines starts chewing on her thumbnail, Clayton grabs her hand to stop her.

“I’m not your agent, but we can probably draft a quick contract of sorts that will say she will sign a post-nuptial and you can sort that out after with your people.”

Sierra then goes on a spiel about what to expect, what documents they’ll need, forms they need to fill out, the medical exam Ines will need. Clayton is trying to pay attention, but his eyes are glazing over. She hooks her foot around his ankle and tries to give him her most grateful smile, she hopes it doesn’t look too much like a grimace.

They find themselves at the courthouse the next day. Kat had insists they don’t see each other before the wedding, so they go in separate cars. It makes no sense since the foursome all knows this isn’t real, it’s all an act.

Kat stops her on the steps of the courthouse,

“You have your something old with the dress,” she gestures to the huipil her abuela had made for her mother, it was the only mostly white thing she owned, though it was mostly covered in bright colored flowers.

“And your something new with that rock on your finger, so here’s your something borrowed and blue,” she digs through her purse for a box with a pair of simple sapphire earring.

“You know it’s not–“

“This may not be your dream wedding, but let’s no fuck around with good luck.”

Kat looks like she wants to say more, but that’s not something Ines wants to dissect at the moment. She pulls her into a tight embrace instead.

Clayton and Nick are already waiting inside. Ines makes a silly scrunched up face that Clayton returns.

“Don’t be gross,” Kat nudges her, it’s when Ines realizes she’s filming.

“I honestly thought you were gonna wear a Gucci t-shirt,” Ines grins when they stop in front of the guys.

“I made him put on something with a collar,” Nick gives Clayton a playful shove.

“Aww he could have been your something blue,” Kat coos as Ines fixes the collar of Clayton’s steel blue shirt.

“But I still would have needed something borrowed,” she laughs until she remembers she’s borrowing Clayton, she drops her hands to her sides like they caught on fire.

Thankfully, the clerk calls their names, saving them from dwelling too long on that truth.

The ceremony takes all of 15 minutes. Ines all too aware of her hands sweating in Clayton’s as they hold hands in front of the judge. Picture perfect.

“By the power vested in my by the state of Arizona, I know pronounce you married!”

When neither react right away the judge speaks up again and winks, “now would be a lovely time to kiss.”

An awkward giggle bubbles out of Ines, but then Clayton is cupping her face and kissing her. She kisses back, and what should probably be a more chaste kiss gets a little heated. Ines likes kissing Clayton, sue her.

They’re broken a part by the obnoxious cheers from Kat and Schmaltzy. Both are flushed when they pull away, neither quite sure if it’s from lust or embarrassment.

“Now that’s how you start off a marriage, congratulations,” the judge smiles.

⁄⁄⁄

Ines is fidgeting with everything. She’s moved a vase of flower about twenty times, though it’s only moved about 1 inch away from its original place.

Clayton grabs her arms and pins them to her sides, “relax, it’s just your family.”

“Oh yeah, my totally calm, quiet, chill family. Nothing to worry about.”

“Your family loves me, we’ll be fine,” he lets her arms go and she immediately moves the vase again.

“Where’s your ring?”

She reaches into the pocket of her dress, “My mom will notice it immediately, I’ll put it on after we tell them,” she starts to turn before wheeling back around, “that we’re engaged they don’t need to know we’re actually married, I don’t want them worrying about immigration.”

Clayton nods.

“And where’s your ring?” she instinctively grabs his hand to look.

“You just said they shouldn’t know we got married,” he laughs at her pinballing thoughts.

Ines opens her mouth to say something but he cuts her off by pulling out one of his chains, the silver ring hanging off of it.

“Okay,” she lets out a sigh, “keep it in your shirt, arcilla.”

Ines moves over to straighten an already pristine tablecloth; all the deception is making her ill. She doesn’t want to tell anyone, but she knows the news will get out somehow, and her mother will never forgive her. She might not forgive her if she learned she’s already married.

“When are we gonna tell your family? We can’t just be ‘engaged’ for two years or so without them knowing.

“We can call them after probably,” he shrugs, his confidence over this decision clearly wavering a bit. Ines feels secretly happy about that, they’re on a level playing field.

The doorbell rings, the commotion of her immediate family barely muffled through the door.

“Showtime,” Ines plasters on a big smile.

The family stumbles in, a cacophony of Spanish follows as they all speak over each other to greet Ines and pass off food.

“Clayton, mi amor,” Ines’ mom cups his face and kisses him all over before pulling him into a tight embrace, “I knew you two would figure it out.”

“Yeah, I’m glad we did.”

He takes some food and follows Ines to the kitchen as she gives directions to her family in Spanish. They’ve been together long enough he recognizes some of it, but he feels bad for never trying to learn Spanish in earnest.

One of her sisters, Teresa, is pouring shots of tequila. Ines smirks at him and is about to comment when a small body rams into him.

“Clayton! Look I lost a tooth at hockey,” Ines’ niece, Marisol smiles to show off the gap.

“She didn’t lose it during a game, she lost it shooting in our driveway,” her twin brother Mateo sneers.

“You’re just mad you have all your teeth still,” she sticks her tongue out.

“You know when you get adult teeth you want to keep them all, even as a hockey player,” Ines butts in.

“Whatever tia,” the little girl rolls her eyes and gets a scoff back from her aunt.

“The new season just started, how’s the new gear?” Clayton changes the subject.

“I don’t have to wear three pairs of socks in my skates anymore, and the sticks are so nice.” Mateo’s eyes gleam with excitement.

“Maybe later we can shoot around a bit,” Clayton smiles back.

The twins cheer at the idea before running off to tell their mom.

“You bought them gear for their new season?” Ines furrows her brows.

“Yeah, I have my connections,” he tries to play it off.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“No, but last season they had all that hand-me-down gear, it was literally the least I could do for getting them into the sport in the first place.

Ines nods.

“Lovebirds, we’re taking shots in your honor,” Teresa calls them over to the rest of the adults and hands them cups.

“¡Arriba, abajo, al centro y pa’dentro!”

The tequila goes down smooth, relaxing her enough to rip off the band aid.

“Well, we have something else for you to cheers,” Ines leans into Clayton’s side before reaching into her pocket and putting on the ring, “we’re engaged.”

There are screams, hugs, kisses, and even some tears. Ines feels the alcohol going to her head far faster than it should. Another glass being thrust into hand and another toast.

“Felicidades mija,” Ines’ dad brings her in close.

He’s a man of few words, partially because he never really learned the language of his new country. Those two simple words and the joy in his eyes makes Ines want to weep. He turns to Clayton, placing a strong hand on his shoulder and holding his other hand out.

“Bienvenido a nuestro familia.”

“Uh, gracias Hector, soy muy um–“ he leans over to Ines “how do I say I’m very excited?”

“Está muy emocionado, papi.”

“¡Más tequila!” He shouts and the family cheers.

“He’s happy for us, right? Not trying to kill me?” Clayton ribs Ines.

“I think this might be a test, if you die you wouldn’t have fit in anyway,” she smiles back.

“So, when are you going to get pregnant, mija?”

“Jesucristo mamí,” Ines furiously blushes, “couldn’t you have at least asked that in Spanish?”

“It takes both of you, I thought he should understand too.”

Her family is a little less embarrassing the rest of the party, they genuinely seem excited for Clayton to join the family. Her niece and nephew ask if Clayton is finally their real tio while she watches them pass around a ball on the sport court in the backyard.

Her heart aches with the truth.

It’s keeping her up in her bed. Usually, after that much tequila she’d be asleep within minutes, but there’s too much going on in her brain.

Her door creaks open and Clayton creeps into the room.

“How drunk are you still?” Ines tries to suppress the smile in her voice as Clayton clumsily crawls into the bed.

He merely grunts in response and moves around to get comfy.

“And you’re in here why?”

“I think the air conditioner isn’t getting into my room,” he mumbles and drapes an arm over Ines, burrowing his head into neck.

He can’t see her epic eye roll; she knows the air conditioner is probably fine and there are two other guest rooms he could use.

“You don’t have to lie, I know you like to cuddle when you’re drunk, babe.”

She winces at her casual use of a pet name, feels Clayton freeze for a second too.

She runs a hand through his hair until he relaxes again, “since my family tried to poison you, I’ll make you a hangover-approved breakfast before practice tomorrow.”

He hums in response, breath evening out until he’s asleep.

Ines is quick to follow, the weight of his arm a grounding comfort.

⁄⁄⁄

A month into the regular season and Ines still hasn’t been to a game. Kat warned her some of the significant others were starting to talk. Rumors of her breaking up with Clayton before the off-season had been swirling around. Sure, those rumors were true, but there was no concrete reason to believe them until her recent absence.

From what Ines heard about other teams, this group wasn’t particularly cliquey or gossipy. But sometimes that meant when there was something to talk about, they were hyper-focused. And that seems to be the situation now.

So being the girlfriend/fiancée/wife/whatever the hell she is to a member of team leadership, she invited the group over for dinner and drinks to watch an away game.

In actuality, it comes at the perfect time. Ines likes planning and organizing and it’s the perfect way to keep her mind off everything else. The most pressing being that Clayton is in St. Louis and made her promise to Facetime with him and his parents after the game. Keeping up appearances when she didn’t travel for the first game with her future in-laws.

Coming in at a close second is the fact the Blues are playing in town the day before Thanksgiving, so his mom thought it was a great time to visit for the holiday. Especially since Ines couldn’t make it out to Missouri this trip.

She’s already nauseous at the thought of moving her stuff back into the master bedroom, hiding all evidence of the truth. For now, the door is locked, so no nosy and/or drunk women pop in tonight.

“Pour yourself a drink and sit the fuck down Nez, the game is about to start,” Kat warns from her spot on the couch.

Ines stops organizing the growing pile of mail and rolls her shoulders back. She grabs a new bottle wine, knowing this group has already emptied the ones on the table before the anthem is even finished. She settles in the middle of the couch and cuddles into Kat’s side.

It’s nice to be back with a group of friends. Ines always gets lonely in the summer when most of them go back home and she’s stuck here, but this summer had been especially brutal.

“Ines, what the hell is that?” Claire shouts moments after puck drop.

Ines’ eyes dart around the room, looking for a scorpion or something that made it into the house.

“The ring on your finger!” Claire is grabbing her hand; the game is quickly forgotten in favor of this.

“Clayton proposed,” she feels her mouth attempt to smile, but it feels all wrong.

“Finally!” Someone cheers from behind her and the rest of the group seems to concur.

She didn’t mean to leave the ring on, it still feels so bulky and foreign. But she’s trying to at least wear it to work, so it doesn’t seem like some secret green card relationship. Though maybe keeping it from the WAGs makes it seem like a dirty secret.

In her mind it’s easier to cut and run from work acquaintances if this all blows up in her face. Clayton is stuck with most of these people, and Ines can’t imagine hurting him when he’s being so kind.

“Look how red she’s turning, no wonder she was staying away from us, Nez hates the spotlight,” Claire laughs.

“How did it happen?”

Ines wants to melt into the couch.

“Nothing special, he just brought me my favorite hangover breakfast and proposed while I was still in bed,” she shrugs, not wanting to lie more than necessary.

“Makes it convenient if you’re already in bed,” Kat waggles her eyebrows and Ines punches her arm.

“He knows I wouldn’t have accepted anything that wasn’t lowkey.”

“Yeah, except that gorgeous diamond, good work Kells,” Claire adds, giving the ring one last look before the action onscreen grabs back their attention.

Ines is a little wine drunk by the time the ladies clear out. Her face feels flushed and warm as she tries to clean up wine glasses and plates.

There’s one bottle with a little wine left and she pours herself another glass while she waits for Clayton to call. She starts to go through the mail she tossed aside before the game. A reminder for a dentist appointment, a credit card statement, a letter asking to go paperless for billing.

Her phone starts to buzz against the kitchen island, she answers the Facetime wishing it were a phone call instead.

“Hi arcilla, you played well tonight,” she’s actually not positive he played well, she mostly drank and caught up with her friends.

She looks down to the mail again, an official looking envelope addressed to her stares back at her.

“You, okay?”

“Yeah, sorry I’m a little tipsy,” she holds up her glass of wine for him to see.

“You had fun then?”

His dimple is on full display when he smiles and it reminds her of when they used to do this all the time; a call before either went to bed just to say hello or see each other’s faces. Ines knows what every hotel wall and headboard looks like in the NHL.

She plays with the corners of the envelope, “This is great and all, but I thought this was so I could say hi to your parents.”

Clayton starts to move, “they wanted to give us some privacy first.”

“Did they think we were gonna have quick phone se-ehh,” Ines peters off when his parents appear on screen.

Clayton is trying to hold back a laugh while Ines feels her flush grow brighter, “Hi Kelley, hi Bryan.”

“Hi honey, when are we gonna get you out here?” His mom asks.

“Sorry ,work never seems to be in my favor.”

She lies, it’s easier than saying she hasn’t been on a plane in 20 years because she’s afraid she’ll get deported. She’s never seen Clayton’s family outside of Arizona or somewhere within driving distance. They haven’t seemed too bothered, but she’s always worried they’re just good at hiding their true thoughts.

“One day,” she smiles, “we’re excited to see you in a couple weeks, is there anything you want us to make special for Thanksgiving?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re coming to our house.”

“Let me be a mom and take care of it” she scoffs, “you are my first daughter.”

Ines just nods because her voice might crack if she speaks.

“We’re getting a late dinner, so we’ll let you go. But can’t wait to see you, Ines,” Bryan says and gives a wave.

“Yeah, should be fun, enjoy dinner,” she waves back.

“Bye babe, love you,” Clayton waves, his eyes go wide before the call ends.

She’d give the moment more thought if she wasn’t itching to rip open the envelope in her hands.

Notice to Appear.

December 11th.

Suddenly the walls feel like they’re closing in.

⁄⁄⁄

When Clayton gets home from the road trip Ines is in the hot tub. Her muscles having felt wound tight for the last week.

“Saw you’re all moved in,” he says as he dangles his legs into the tub.

Ines doesn’t open her eyes to look at him, just nods.

“And you have your immigration hearing in December.”

She nods again, she left the letter out by the table where they put their keys. She didn’t want to talk about it, but she had to tell him.

“I’ll be in Buffalo that day, but I–“

Ines opens her eyes, gives him an exasperated look, “You’ll play a hockey game and I’ll be fine on my own.”

“It’s not–“

She moves closer, almost to the space between his legs, “you’re doing so much for me, please don’t fight me on this. Just go play hockey.”

“Okay,” he nearly whispers.

Ines thinks about how easy it would be to give him a blow job right now, let her mind go blank for a bit. Shut up Clayton for a bit.

Before she can actually act on those thoughts, he places a hand on her cheek, running his thumb across her cheek bone.

“And you’re doing, okay?”

She honestly doesn’t know, but she does know she doesn’t want to talk about it.

So, she grabs Clayton’s wrist and pulls him in closer. She doesn’t wait for him to catch up, smashing their lips together and pushing her tongue into his mouth before he even starts kissing back.

He’s quick to catch up to her. Pulling her flush against him, filling the space between his legs. It’s the first time they’ve done this since they got married, it feels like all the building tension is finally exploding. Ines feels molten.

Clayton unties the back her bikini top and tosses it somewhere behind him with a wet splat. His hands cover her chest and she can’t help but shiver, maybe from the cold air but probably not.

She grabs his hair and pulls him away from her, “we should take this inside.”

Without second thought he pulls her out of the hot tub and towards the house, the strings of her bottoms undone and left outside as well. Ines paws at his shirt, trying to get her own fill of skin.

He pulls it over his head in one fluid motion as he maneuvers Ines towards the bedroom. Her back hits the mattress before she realizes they’re in the master bedroom.

They haven’t done this here since the break up six months ago, like it’s too intimate, too full of the past.

Clayton is hovering over her, the chain with the wedding ring dangling. The room is filled with her belongings again and she feels like she’s in some alternate universe. A world where they never broke up, where marriage was a logical step in the future.

She tries to clear her mind again, pulling Clayton down for a kiss because she wants this.

⁄⁄⁄

An alarm starts to blare and she feels the other side of the bed move.

“Sorry, that’s mine,” Ines apologizes and turns it off.

She lays back and stares at the ceiling for a bit. It feels too familiar to wake up in here, naked in the softest sheets she’s ever felt. But nothing has actually shifted, she’ll get out of bed and everything will be as it was.

She rubs the sleep from her eyes and gets out of bed to take a shower. Clayton is getting ready for practice when she gets out of the bathroom.

“I forgot how nice that shower is, you should redo the one guest bathroom, it could have better water pressure,” she jokes, though it doesn’t really land.

She wanders into the walk-in closet where she’s haphazardly put away some of her clothes, she feels Clayton follow her in, even though he’s mostly dressed.

“My parents get in today; do you want to go to the game with them tonight?” He sounds like he’s asking out a girl for the first time.

“The twins have a music recital or play or something I said I’d go to, but they can take my car to the arena so you don’t have to worry about that.”

She drops the towel on the floor and starts getting dressed for work, stopping before she zips up her dress, reading between the lines of Clayton’s question.

“But I’ll be at the game with them on Wednesday, I mean if you can get me a ticket,” she turns to flash a smile at Clayton to find that’s he’s only a step away.

“I think I can manage that,” he turns Ines around, moving her hair out of the way and zipping up the dress for her, fingers lingering at her neck for a second too long.

Ines stops herself from shivering and turns around, “I have to leave, but see you after the game.”

She gives him a quick peck against her better judgement, “good luck.”

The casual touches don’t disappear in the following days. Ines can’t tell if they’re putting a show on for his parents or not. The touches seem too instinctive to just be a spectacle, but maybe that’s because they’re sharing a bed again and can’t seem to keep their hands off each other behind closed doors.

Though that seems to be seeping outside of the bedroom, too.

The morning after his parents arrive, Kelley is in the kitchen making coffee and gives them a knowing look when they come out of the bedroom, as if to tell them they were too loud even from the other side of the house. Ines decides to pick up breakfast on her way to work rather than sit through breakfast at home.

That night Ines is laid out on the couch not paying attention to the football game playing on TV. Clayton lifts her head up and then places her back down on his lap when he sits.

She groans as she tries to get more comfortable, “You make a terrible pillow, you’re too bony.”

“I think it’s the titanium rod in my leg,” he says back, squirming underneath her to make her more frustrated.

“You were bony before then too,” she rolls her eyes and pretends to focus on the game and ignore Clayton’s fingers brushing under her shirt.

Wednesday is a half day for Ines, she gets home to a surprisingly empty house and enjoys drinking a beer and mindlessly watching Tiktoks in peace.

“Hey, wasn’t expecting you home,” Ines jumps when Clayton comes up behind her.

“Wasn’t expecting to find an empty house,” she shrugs.

“My parents are picking up Jake from the airport,” he wraps his arms around Ines’ waist, “I was about to take my pre-game nap, but I wouldn’t say no to some company.”

He presses a couple kisses into her neck, “an afternoon nap sounds nice.”

She barely finishes the sentence before he’s walking her to the bedroom. Clayton is a little handsy as Ines crawls into the bed.

“I’m serious about an actual nap, I won’t be held responsible if you have a bad game.”

Clayton rolls away, hands up in surrender.

Ines rolls towards him wrapping an arm around his middle, “For all your suffering, I’ll give you a blow job if you win tonight.”

“A victory blow job? You didn’t even do that when we were dating,” he chuckles, the sound amplified with her ear on his chest.

“What can I say, I’m in a giving mood,” she kisses his pec and closes her eyes.

Clayton’s alarm goes off and Ines groans.

“You can sleep longer,” he runs a hand through her hair before slipping out from under her.

“Nah, I’ll just be more tired later,” she rolls over but doesn’t get out of the bed, watches Clayton go into the closet.

“You should wear the green suit from the awards, it’s a special request from Marisol.”

“Oh yeah?”

“She thinks I have a say over what you wear and she told me it’s her favorite,” she watches Clayton start to get undressed, “you did look hot in it,” she smirks when he fumbles with a hanger in response.

When he comes out dressed, he still has bedhead. Ines gets up to fix it, he jokingly bats her hands away as they leave the room.

“Just let me fix this one piece arcilla, you look like we just fucked,” she stops in her tracks at the sight of Clayton’s family, “Hi Jake, good to see you.”

Jake nods in her direction, not particularly friendly, but she can pretend it’s because of the awkward conversation they just heard.

Ines knows Clayton told his brother everything, or more than Ines would like. She’s not sure exactly what he told his parents about the break up, but they seem to have forgiven anything pretty quickly. She knows Jake is a little weary of her now, and maybe her motives.

Clayton is either oblivious or just trying to play it off and gives him a bro-hug before he heads off to the game

The awkward air between Jake and Ines remains, not that they were ever specifically close, but this feels extra icy. She tries to avoid sitting next to him, but the two get caught between the parents. And she’s not even in her usual seats near Kat to have a buffer.

The game is a bit messy, passes aren’t connecting, the power play might as well be missing, but the crowd is into it. Mullett is small enough to feel like you’re always in the game, which helps Ines because before Clayton she knew next to nothing about hockey. Being this up close means she’s 99% sure she understands the rules, except goalie interference.

The second period ends with the Blues up by one, which isn’t too bad considering how the game is looking.

“Have you two talked about any wedding plans?” Kelley turns to Ines,

On her other side she hears Jake snort on his drink, she makes a mental note to double check how much Clayton has told his brother.

“Not really, I had a quinceañera so I already had my big party and fancy-dress moment,” it’s the truth, her 15th birthday fulfilled a lot of princess dreams she may have had.

“You’re both still young, you can have long engagement to figure it out if you want.”

Ines feels the anxiety seep out of her bones.

“You two could even get married at a courthouse if that’s that you wanted.”

The tension comes back so quickly it almost gives her whiplash.

Jake shoots up and mumbles something about food. Ines would follow him, but she’s not sure a public confrontation is the best idea.

Thankfully there’s some more hockey to distract her, the Coyotes end up clawing back but lose in OT on a poorly timed line change.

There’s not a great place to wait for the boys at Mullett, so they sit in their seats for a while before meandering down.

Kat jumps on Ines the moment she sees her.

“Look who’s gracing us with her presence,” Kat kisses her cheek and slides off her back before she can accidentally knock them to the ground.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, bad WAG alert,” Ines swats her away.

She hears Jake mumble something, but can’t quite make it out. That’s when Kat actually seems to comprehend that Clayton’s family is here.

“The two lovebirds have been busy being cooped up, we haven’t seen them both in the flesh for a while,” she gives a cheeky smile and winks at the Kellers.

“We’re in the same house and they’re having a hard time keeping it in the bedroom, so consider yourself lucky,” Bryan laughs with Kat while Ines cheeks burn.

“Oooh la la Nez, loving this pre-honeymoon phase for you,” she gives Ines a meaningful pinch on the side, a warning they will be talking about this later.

“Speak of the devil,” Kelley laughs and pulls her son into hug.

“Kells show me some of this PDA everyone is talking about,” Kat is clearly not above egging this on despite the sharp look Ines gives.

Clayton pulls her in tight, ducking his head so he can whisper to her.

“Sorry, I didn’t live up to our end of the bargain. No prize for me,” he fake pouts.

“Cause I’m still in a giving mood, here’s a consolation prize for a one-point night,” Ines pulls Clayton in for a kiss, ignoring the catcall from Kat.

“That’s it?” Clayton her pulls her in tightly to his side.

“Don’t push it,” she elbows him in the side, ignores the knowing look Kat is directing her way.

Ines manages to convince everyone the brothers should ride home together, since they don’t see each other enough. Partially, to prove to Kat that there’s nothing going on; partially hoping that Clayton and Jake will talk through whatever weirdness is going on.

⁄⁄⁄

“Do you have to go golfing and leave me alone with your mom?” Ines complains before stuffing her face in the pillow

“You like my mom,” Clayton rolls back onto the bed and rubs her back.

“Yeah, but preparing Thanksgiving is like serious mother-daughter shit, I’d love some backup.”

“You could come golfing.”

“Cause I’d love to get made fun of instead.”

“Those are kind of your two options,” he kisses her shoulder.

“Fine, staying home it is,” she flips over onto her back, “can you at least make sure Jake won’t be weird when you guys come back.”

“He’s just looking out for me, doesn’t want you taking advantage of me,” Clayton absentmindedly traces up and down her arm.

“Did you tell him this was your suggestion? And that I signed a pre-nup? I won’t take advantage and steal your money if that’s what he’s worried about.”

His hand stills for a moment, “I’ll talk to him again, don’t worry about it.”

He stands up again, “have fun cooking.”

“I hope you lose!” Ines calls back.

Ines wanders into the kitchen an hour later, Kelley already deep in prep.

“Sorry, I went back to sleep. Though I’ve never cooked Thanksgiving so I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”

“You’re a great cook, I think you’ll be fine,” Kelley laughs before instructing her on how to finish prepping the stuffing.

Ines takes off the engagement ring and places it in the middle of the island, out of reach. She rubs the naked finger and notices there’s already a faint tan line. She flexes the fingers, like that will give her some answers. Like why taking it off doesn’t feel like unhooking an anchor that’s pulling her under anymore.

She looks up to see she’s been caught by Kelley. If she has some thoughts, she doesn’t share them with Ines.

They work mostly in quiet, the Thanksgiving Parade playing on the TV in the other room. Kelley stopping every once in a while, to watch or tell Ines about watching the parade growing up. How Clayton used to worry the balloons were going to eat the people holding them when he was a toddler.

“This is your first turkey?” Kelley says as Ines puts the bird in the oven

“Yeah, I spent most of my Thanksgivings helping my mom with housekeeping, so can’t do this but ask me to make a bed, I got you,” Ines laughs.

“This calls for a toast then,” Kelley finds some Bailey’s and pours it into their coffees, “To sharing my secrets with my new daughter.”

She clinks her mug against Ines, the sound scrambles something in Ines’ heart, “You know Clay and I broke up right?”

Kelley takes a long sip of her coffee and hums.

“He told us you needed some time apart. Because of all the uncertainty around the team and some things he didn’t really get into,” Kelley trails off.

“It’s understandable you’re both so young and had to go through some really intense things together. I think it was really mature what you two decided, but I’m really glad you worked it out, you make Clayton so happy. I think happier than hockey, if that’s possible.”

Ines lip starts to wobble, she tries to stop the tears. But how can she when even Clayton’s mom believes their lie? How can she break her heart down the line?

“Oh darling,” Kelley pulls her into a tight embrace that only a mom can give, “love is never easy, and if down the road it’s not right anymore, that will be okay too. It’s privilege to find love at all.”

That sends Ines into another wave of sobs. She buries her face into Kelley’s shoulder as she gently rubs Ines’ back and sways them side to side.

Once her cries seem to calmed down to sniffles, Kelley moves away enough to see Ines’ face. She wipes away the few stray tears, “I see the way you two look at each other when you think no one’s watching, I think you’ll happy together for a very long time.”

Kelley smiles, her eyes a little glossy like she might cry too. And with a shaky breath Ines tries to give her a smile back.

They hear the door open and the boys start to come into the house.

“Who won?” Kelley calls out as they come around the corner.

Ines tries to busy herself by rolling out the pie crust they had forgotten.

“Jake squeaked one out,” Bryan comes around the island and kisses Kelley, “smells great ladies, you need any help?”

“Not right now, we were gonna take a break soon,” Kelley winks at Ines.

Clayton comes and leans into Ines from behind, his hands boxing Ines in. He kisses her cheek before he notices her eyes rimmed red.

“You, okay?” He whispers, kissing below her ear.

“Yeah, whatever onions we bought were like tear gas,” she cracks a smile and leans back into him.

“We had to evacuate for a while, I think we just got it under control before you guys came home,” Kelley smiles and pulls Bryan out of the kitchen, following the sounds of a football game Jake put on.

Ines turns around, still boxed in by Clayton. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and hangs her weight on him, feeling a bit tired. He moves his hands to her hips, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“Was it rough morning alone with my mom?”

“No, it was really nice, actually.”

She pulls back to give him a genuine smile, plays with the ends of his hair, “And did you talk to Jake?”

“Yeah, and I let him win so I think he’ll be in a good mood.”

“Wow, you did that for me?”

“Yeah, of course,” he smirks before dipping down to kiss her.

“Why can’t you let me win?” Ines pouts when the pull a part.

“I can’t act that well,” he’s biting back a mischievous grin, “but if you ask nicely, I can help you improve your back swing.”

He’s gently moving her hips side to side when Ines gives him a playful shove, “Keep it in your pants Keller, your family is in the other room.”

“Hasn’t stopped you much this week,” he pulls her flush against his chest, his hands wandering to her ass.

“Oh my god, there’s not gonna be that kind of giving today.”

Clayton’s about to respond, “Is it safe to come into the kitchen or are you two fondling each other?”

Ines moves Clayton’s hands off her butt and to his sides, “All clear Jake, your brother was just leaving to take a shower, a cold one,” she whispers the last part.

Jake makes a gagging sound, “you two are gross.”

“One day you’ll have someone to fondle other than yourself,” Clayton punches his brother in the arm on the way out of the kitchen.

⁄⁄⁄

Ines and Kat are sitting on the steps of the courthouse, finishing their coffees. The coffee was probably a mistake, it’s sitting acidic and heavy in her stomach.

At least the universe wasn’t cruel enough to have her hearing at the same courthouse as she got married. She doesn’t think her heart could take the irony.

Kat is jittery, her knee bouncing erratically. Caffeine doesn’t have that kind of effect on her, so Ines knows it must be something else.

“I think I’m supposed to be the nervous one.”

“I still don’t understand why you broke up with Clayton in the first place.”

Ines whips her head around like there’s someone waiting around the corner to record this kind of damning evidence.

“You said you’d explain, but you never did. And it’s clear you still have feelings for him.”

Ines scoffs.

“Fine, you don’t love him, then tell me why you broke up and why you never moved out? You had plenty of time to find a new place, Nick and I would have let you move in.”

“I was tired of holding him back.”

Ines gulps down the cold remnants of her drink.

“It was so exhausting telling him no. No, I can’t go home with you to meet your parents. No, I can’t go to the All-Star Game in Florida cause it’s not in driving distance. I can’t be your date to a wedding because I can’t get on a plane. I can’t have bye week with all our friends in the fucking country I was born in because I may not get to come home!”

She tries to take even-keeled breaths; she doesn’t want to start crying before her hearing even starts.

“And he couldn’t tell people because what if someone slipped up and I got deported, or worse they found my parents or Soledad. She has kids!”

Kat puts a gentle hand on her knee.

“And he shouldn’t have to deal with that, he could find someone less complicated and someone who could actually be there for him.”

“Did he ever tell you those things were a problem?”

“No, but I could see how frustrating all those little things were becoming; how upset he’d get with every new thing I couldn’t do.”

“Yeah, he’s upset because you couldn’t live a full life without worry. Because he loves you, Ines! He’s still in love with you.”

“No, he isn’t. He’s just nice. He would have said something by now, not just married me and suffered in silence.”

“Oh, he should have said something? Like you’re saying something because you clearly still love him, too?”

Ines just blinks at Kat, like her brain can’t possibly comprehend what her friend is saying. She doesn’t even get the chance to argue because her alarm goes off.

“You have a court hearing, but don’t think justice will stop us from talking about this later,” Kat says sternly.

In the court room, Ines sits between her lawyer and Kat. Her brain feels too fried to keep up with the basics the judge opens up with.

“Now it says the couple was wed on September 14th of this year. Just a few days before the official report was filed about Ms. Ruiz’ status. You’ll understand why this seems a little convenient.”

“Yes, your honor,” Sierra stands up holding a file, “but the couple was engaged before any officially filings were made. And you can see in the documents we have a receipt from when Mr. Keller bought the engagement ring back in March of this year. If you need to see Ms. Ruiz’ ring for confirmation she can approach the bench.”

“That won’t be necessary. Seeing as all the applications are going through the appropriate channels, I see no reason to hold Ms. Ruiz in custody while she waits for her green card interview.”

The gavel bang echoes in Ines’ head, but the judge is already moving on to the next case. Sierra and Kat help lead her out of the courtroom. They’re excitedly chattering, and Ines knows she should join in, knows this is good news, but she hasn’t quite caught up.

She sends Clayton a text: Hearing went well, won’t be going to prison, then promptly turns off her phone.

⁄⁄⁄

Ines gets two days to stew before Clayton comes home.

He picks her up and spins her around in excitement the instant he sees her. His smile falters when he sets her down and sees the borderline grim look on Ines’ face.

“You bought the ring in March?”

Clayton doesn’t know what to say, shocked by the realization.

“They brought up the receipt during the hearing, to help prove that it wasn’t just a last-minute wedding.”

Ines bites at her thumb nail, the ring catching the light. Clayton feels some relief that she hasn’t taken it off.

“You wanted to marry me before we broke up?”

“You breaking up with me kind of ruined my plans,” Clayton shrugs, not sure the direction this conversation is taking.

Ines laughs in spite herself.

“There were all those weddings you couldn’t come to and I thought you needed a chance to think without any pressure from my life, I didn’t expect it to be permanent.”

Ines audibly swallows, they’re walking around the heart of the issue, both too scared to be the first to show all their cards.

“I still got to marry you, not in the way I wanted. But I don’t regret that, no matter what you think.”

Ines moves to take off the ring, Clayton holds his breath while his heart clenches painfully.

“Ask me again.”

“What?”

Ines hands him the ring, her voice wavers a bit, “ask me again.”

He fumbles with the ring for a second before dropping down to one knee.

“I- uh don’t have anything romantic to say. But I love you Ines and I want to be with you as long as you’ll have me. So will you marry me?”

Ines lets out a small sob before covering her face, “Oh my god I can’t believe I’m a girl who cries when she gets proposed to.”

“Is that a yes? Cause otherwise this is really fucking mean.”

“Shit, sorry, yes. That’s a yes,“ she clambers to get Clayton standing again and kisses him desperately.

“I love you arcilla, I’m sorry it took me a while to realize I never stopped,” she says between kisses, not wanting to stop now.

Clayton laughs and pulls away enough to put the ring back on, “it was worth the wait.”

This time Clayton pulls her into a kiss, savoring the moment he imagined for months and months.

#clayton keller #clayton keller fic #arizona coyotes #arizona coyotes fic #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #hockey fics #nhl stories #nhl fics

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greazyfloz · 1 year

Note

Hi requesting the “you’re gonna be sore tomorrow” with Clayton Keller?!! I love the stuff you’ve written with him!

Smut: 20. “You are going to be sore tomorrow” w/ Clayton Keller

They Can Wait

Clayton has two moods after a tough game. 1. He is quiet or 2. He likes to be rough in bed. Tonight I watch Clayton get slammed into the boards way more then usual but also watch as the other team gets away with dirty plays.

After the game I make my way down to ice level just in time. Clayton walks out of the dressing room just was I walk out of the elevator. I approach Clayton and give him a hug

“Hey babe” he says and I smile knowing I’m getting rough Clayton tonight.

I pull away and he sees I’m still smiling and he smiles back curiously, “what’s got you in a good mood”

“you’ll see you later”

He takes my hand and we walk out of the rink to his car then drive home. Once we get home, we walk in the walk into the kitchen and he throws his keys on the island.

He opens the fridge and grab the glass of water, and then turns and smiles at me “some of the boys are gonna come over” he tells me

“tonight?” I whine

“yeah why, we didn’t have plans did we?”

“not plans that were set in stone“

“what did you have a mind?“ Clayton asked me. instead of answering him I take my shirt off and throw it at him. He throws my shirt onto the floor as I unclasp my bra and throw that over at them next

“you should cancel” I say standing up and unbuttoning my pants

“Y/n, I can’t”

“Okay then, I’ll just fuck myself” I say, as I walk off naked into our bedroom. I lay on the bed and rub my Clit for a second but it doesn’t feel the same.

Clayton walks in, just as I pull my hand away from my Clit and shut the door behind him. “I bought us 15 minutes.“ he says he makes his way over to the bed. “you’re gonna be sore tomorrow.”

He strips himself on the way over to the bed, and then immediately presses his lips on mine and we begin to make out. “ we don’t have a lot of time for foreplay.“ Clayton says into the kiss

“ then fuck me Clay” I say, and he makes his way between my legs. Without warning, he pushes himself hard into me, thrusting back and forth, fast and with a lot of force. He continues as a moan out his name loudly.

He continues thrusting hard without changing paces making me reach my high fast. I whimper loudly: “clay!” As I cum on his cock.

As he becomes sloppier but more rough as he pulls my head back by the hair to suck my neck and pound harder into me, we hear a knock at the door.

“Fuck” Clayton says continuing to thrust inside of me, “they’ll have to wait, I’m close”

He thrusts in my a few more times before cumming inside of me and quickly jumping off the bed and getting changed. I make my way ti the bathroom and Clayton kisses me on the way by him.

“I’m going to shower than I’ll be right down” I tell him kissing him once more before entering the bathroom

#clayton keller #Clayton Keller smut #Clayton Keller x reader #Clayton Keller imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl smut #nhl imagines #nhl writing #hockey writing

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cellythefloshie · 1 year

Text

ＩＭＡＧＩＮＥ: Kissing Clayton Keller's Wounds Celly’s 300 Follower Appreciation

-you didn’t like this new habit Clayton had gotten himself into

-and you couldn’t remember a time it had gotten this bad

-it seemed every time he had gotten home from a game or road trip he had been banged up in one way or another

-bruises were expected

-hockey was a brutal game after all

-but then came the busted knuckles

-and it all gave you flashbacks to the time he had to be stretched off the ice

-it was not something you liked to be reminded of

-thankfully he hadn’t had an injury as bad since

-there was always the opportunity for one

-but this was his career and you would never ask him to walk away from it

-so instead you did what any good partner should

-you took care of him when he needed it

-and he was needing it more often than not it seemed

-especially since this was the third time he had come home with a busted lip this season

-you were tired

-it was late

-and it left you sighing at the sight of his swollen lip

-“what was it this time?”

-your tone was gentle as you pat a space on the couch for him to come to sit in

-he always lets you take a good look at it

-and you did

-not that you didn’t trust the trainers or medical staff

-you just wanted to make sure nothing had gotten worse on the drive home

-Clayton usually sat beside you, facing you

-but today he lay out on the couch, his head in your lap

-he was tired

-sore even

-it must have been a high stick

-it hadn’t needed stitches and had already begun to scab over

-you stroked his cheeks with clean hands and a delicate touch

-and down over his jawline slowly

-Clayton’s eyes were framed by the faint and almost healed bruise as they fluttered shut at your touch

-he had always found comfort in it

-carefully you listed his head from your lap and you slid down onto your knees beside the couch so that he could lay flat across the couch

-you continued your gentle caress and leaned in carefully

-your kisses were feather-light as they met Clayton’s tender skin

-kissing the fading bruises first

-and then your lips travelled down, over his cheekbones and around to the angles of his jawline

-then you hesitated, gaging just how bad the cut on his lip had been before you leaned in and kissed it softly

-you could feel the swelling and taste the iron in his blood against your own lips

-and you could hear a heavy exhale leave his lips slowly as you drew back to take hold of each of his hands

-one and then the other you kissed his knuckles before helping him back up into a sitting position

-“how about we get you to bed?”

-and he didn’t protest you

-even if your kisses always left him wanting more

-he knew that sleep was what he needed

-and he could always enjoy you in the morning

-when his lip wasn’t so swollen and could kiss you in return

#clayton keller #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #nhl rpf #hockey rpf #;;300

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sergeifyodorov · 4 months

Note

of the teams w the old captains who do u think are going to be their successors/if u could replace all the captains who would you replace them with

not entirely sure but: for every team with no captain OR a pending UFA captain, here's my thots:

ducks: this team does not appear to have a leadership group at all? is that normal? like no one with any letters??? anyway i predict mason mctavish will get the captaincy. it was probably flirted with to give it to trevor zegras at some point while the getzlaf era was fading and then they quickly realized it's like. trevor zegras. terry/vatrano/maybe gudas? will probably get some kind of A situation

kraken: i don't traverse kraken fandom spaces a lot but it is my understanding that yanni gourde is the sort of spiritual captain already? i also am going to assume that shane wright will get a full call-up next year, considering he's no longer slide eligible. i imagine the plan might be to sort of. ease him into Second Official Captain Of The Seattle Kraken type deal

blackhawks: jesus that jones contract is bad. like Bad bad. i can only imagine out of some misguided hope (because i am not Entirely sure hawks management knows what they're doing) they want to give the captaincy to The Sacred Child but again, he's like 3 and doesn't really seem attuned to that so it would be a bad idea imho. maybe seth jones then? i do feel the need to state though that There Is No One On This Team. it's nick foligno connor bedard seth jones and a dream.

avalanche: now i know i said in cases of no captain or UFA captain only but. i'm saying it now, i don't think landeskog is coming back. maybe he will pull a carey price -- hack out a couple games at the end of this season or next, to raucous applause and the game is good when he's in it, but for all intents and purposes we have witnessed the end. that being said they're no doubt going to give it to cale makar, which will be a mistake

utah hc: it should be clayton keller as i've been saying

sabres: exciting exciting !! the sabres have a history of trading their captains which means sabres captaincy is solidly a Cursed Thing To Bear which i enjoy. anyways mostly because he appears to be being set up for it (youngish player, touted prospect, wearing the A already) and also in the interests of torturing the blonde man i think it should be rasmus dahlin

lightning: not that there isn't a pretty significant chance of him returning to tampa but should stevie stamkos leave in free agency i think they'll probably pull a marchy-in-boston and name victor hedman captain. mostly because they don't really have any notable Youths to Pass The Torch too, other than, like, mikhail sergachev, and as cunty as he is he's not really like. captain material <- as far as i'm aware (plus he doesn't even have an A)

#asks

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puckgoss · 5 months

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Haha glad it was interesting! I have a few more but IDK if it's too relevant.

Nathan Mackinnon absolutely despises having to do media. He is sweet but very much like Cale stiff AF. He complained all the time about having to make videos for social media, but he didn't come off as rude. More so like, when asked to do one,9 he said "holy... another one?" looked around, then sighed. LOL. And it was like that all the time. Also it appeared as he was annoyed at the presenters. He said something like "some of us actually want to play hockey". Again, still really sweet to people. Just a very business-driven person. Jake Oettinger and Clayton Keller were quite friendly with each other. Also saw Crosby having a conversation with Paul Bissonnette, cute considering they used to be teammates. Paul also tried to get with Tate LOL.

There was kind of a Justin Bieber concert thing after one night, players LOVED it. Matthews is a big fan, Jenner and his wife were there dancing together, Kaprizov, McDavid (having fun for once in his life), they all just looked like fangirls singing. Also looked like fanboys watching Tate perform. They knew Greedy by heart haha. Some of them even went out to watch her but can't remember who. Also remember Connor Hellebuyck was kinda avoiding Tomas Hertl. Heard they had private issues because of a teammate of Connor.

ty for coming back!!!

nathan mackinnon - this info tracks, he is super intense and serious, all hockey all the time lol that's the dawg for ya. u gotta love him

otter & keller - they played together on the NTDP for a few years so they've been good buddies for a long time!! super cute

biz - ya him n sid get along well, sid is always very gracious w everybody. completely unsurprising that biz tried to get w tate, can't imagine the diseases on this man

biebs concert - ya him n matthews are boys! i think biebs might be a bigger fan of matthews than matthews is of biebs tbh LOL. nice that so many of them were there enjoying themselves. n ya i think it was marner and someone else who went out to watch?? maybe hertl?? someone will remember.

helle & hertl - intereesstiiinngg i'm trying to pick my brain to figure out who this teammate could be

LOVEEEE all this tea thank u anon!!!

#ask!#p. bisonnette #a. matthews #c. keller #j. oettinger #c. hellebuyck #t. hertl #s. crosby #n. mackinnon

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slafkovskys · 1 year

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imagine going on a golf date with clayton keller and you are really bad at golf. like you are kind of upset at how bad you are playing and he is encouraging you, giving you tips and being really sweet

you’re just there to drive the cart, okay? but he insists on you taking a couple practice even though you despise the sport. though he does spend one off day a month with you at the nail salon so you don’t get bored (feed you french fries) so you guess that you could compromise and take a couple of swings.

it’s when he starts trying to put his two cents in that you start getting a little annoyed. for example,

“you’re not supposed to hit it towards the water, y/n.”

“well, i was just doing what you do.”

he stops bothering you after that, but you do have to kiss away his pout.

requests are open for soft thoughts sunday!

#clayton keller #soft thoughts sunday

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starrybethany · 4 years

Text

Clayton Keller: Part 10

Word count: 2063

Clayton went on the trip without me. And I know that not because he told me or threatened me or asked me, but because I follow Christian on Instagram and he posted a picture of the large group at the beach.

Despite the animosity with Clayton, I can’t help the aching in my heart to be there with everyone. Despite the month-long break I just had from school, I didn’t get to do much of anything besides partying and hanging out with Clayton and my friends.

And I will admit, I miss the hockey player for the week that he’s gone.

I can’t help the desire to feel his arms wrap around my waist again or for him to tell me some stupid joke that I don’t really understand but laugh at just to see his smile.

Hell, I even miss Christian cockblocking us.

He opens the front door and for the first time ever, I feel nervous in Clayton’s presence. He stares at me blankly, like he doesn’t know why I’m standing right in front of him even though we’re contractually obliged to one another.

Maybe it’s more than just the contract, though.

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” He asks, no sign of lightness in his tone.

I have to hold back a wince at that.

“I thought you would want to see me,” I begin, screaming at myself for sounding so arrogant in the back of my head. He tilts his head to confirm my thought. “You know, after not seeing each other for a week.”

“Did you want to see me?” He questions.

“Well I’m here, aren’t I?” I joke. My smile fades once I realize he isn’t laughing. I guess he isn’t in the joking mood. I sigh, staring deep into his eyes. “What’s your deal, Clayton? Why are you so pissed off at me?”

“There is no way you can sound like you don’t care less,” he notes.

“Well I do care because you tried to screw me over and now you are mad at me,” I begin to raise my voice out of frustration.

“Get in here, I don’t want my neighbors to hear us arguing,” he mumbles, stepping to the side to let me into the house.

I quickly scan the living room and kitchen, noticing that Christian is in neither. So either he’s not about to hear this heated fight or he’ll have to listen to all of it from his bedroom.

“I can’t do this anymore, Y/N,” Clayton states.

I turn around to face him, eyes narrowing into a glare once I see his exasperated face.

“What the hell do you mean? What can’t you do?”

“This!” He throws his hands up. “Pretending like I don’t have actual, genuine feelings for you. Pretending that I haven’t since the first night I met you months ago and you shot me down at the bar because you’re too busy to be in a relationship. I can’t keep falling in love with someone who is not falling in love with me.”

My face softens as I examine him. His Adam's apple bobs nervously as he swallows and if you didn’t look close enough, you’d think that he’s looking at me. I can tell he’s looking at the wall behind me.

I start gently, trying my best not to ruffle his feathers. “Clayton-””But you think this whole relationship revolves around the contract, right? Don’t worry, I can keep sending you your paycheck until the contract ends. And I’ll add in a bit more to go shopping, like I normally would with you, but I can’t spend anymore time with you right now. It just hurts.”

“Are you done?” I inquire softly once he finishes his rant. He nods hesitantly. “Clayton… it was about the contract at first. It was about the sex and the money and the clothes and then… it was about you.”

His head snaps up from staring at the hardwood floor, fixating on me now. I can’t read his expression but at least it’s not the harsh one he gave me when he opened the door.

“I stopped caring about how busy I was and how I didn’t want to settle down, instead rearranging my schedule to fit you into it. And I didn’t want to tell you this, but I watch your away games sometimes just to see you shine.

“It’s you, Clayton. It’s you with your trashy songs that you like to play in the car and the shoes that you spend too much money on and your stupid roommate.”

“I heard that,” Christian shouts from his room. So I guess we do get an audience today.

Clayton and I giggle at that, nervously, still anxious about where we go from this point.

Our giggling fades until we’re just staring at each other, waiting for the other person to make the next move.

“I don’t want you to be just my sugar baby, Y/N.”

I can’t help but snort at the use of the term and the brunette bites back a smile.

“Will you, um, would you, go on a date with me, maybe? Like a real date?” He questions shyly, looking like he would run straight out of his own house if I said no.

I don’t want to say no, though. Despite my hesitance and lingering questions, I want to try this. I want to try us.

“Yes I would.”

He sighs in relief, reaching forward to pull me into a tight embrace. My eyes widen in shock at the action but my arms wind around him, tugging him just as close to me. He pulls back so that we’re a couple of inches apart, eyes connecting with mine.

This already feels different than all of the other times that we’ve touched one another. I can’t put my finger on why, but it just does.

He leans forward slowly, giving me the chance to pull away if I want to. I don’t want to. My head presses forward, my lips connecting to his. They move against each other slowly, sensually. Like they’re getting to know each other for the first time despite how many times we’ve kissed before.

They’re getting to know each other on a deeper level now, a more intimate sensation.

And I don’t ever want it to end. I pull away from him once I run out of air and his lips chase mine, forming into a pout as I reject his kisses.

“Clayton, I need to breathe,” I giggle. “Not all of us can be professional athletes.”

“I just want more kisses,” he plants single kisses on my lips in between each word, emphasizing his point. I roll my eyes but nothing can stop my heart from swelling.

He steps back suddenly and this time I’m the one pouting, causing him to smirk at me.

“Come here,” he grabs my hand, leading the way to his bedroom.

“You really want to have sex with Christian in the house? I didn’t know you were into that type of thing, Keller,” I tease.

He gives me a look, dropping his hand to dig through his closet. “Where is it?” He mumbles to himself, moving to one of his nightstands after he’s unable to find what he’s looking for.

“You know it would be much easier to find what you’re looking for if you cleaned and organized your room.” I look around at the disaster. I’ve been begging him to go through his bedroom since however long we’ve been together but he refuses, claiming this way he can see where everything is.

Clearly not if he’s still not finding what he’s looking for after searching through the other nightstand.

“Aha!” He cheers, pulling a stack of papers out of his desk. I recognize them almost immediately, my heart racing at the sight. It’s the contract we both signed when we agreed to the sugar-daddy-sugar-baby arrangement.

“For us to be official and try this dating stuff without being too caught up with anything else, I think we need to get rid of this.” I didn’t realize he picked up a pair of scissors until they’re in his other hand, the tip of the scissors brisking the bottom of the sheets.

“I still need the money, though,” I admit. “I need to pay my tuition and rent somehow.”

“I can pay for your tuition. And you can just move in here, with me,” he responds like it’s that simple.

“Yeah, I’m sure Christian would love that,” I snort.

“Listen, I can pay for your tuition and rent and stuff until you graduate and get a job and on your feet. It’s what people who love and support each other do, right?” He reassures me.

“You would do that for me?”

“I would do anything for you,” he states seriously, then his face transforms into a cheeky grin. “Why do you think I tried to screw you over in school?”

I roll my eyes, not wanting to get into that situation right now. The moment turns serious again as his eyes flicker between me and the scissors, unsure of his next move.

I know it’s all up to me now. The ball is in my court, the cards are on the table, whatever other stupid sayings there are. I get to decide where my relationship with Clayton goes from here.

He’s made it clear where he wants it to go. And as stupid as I am for pushing his feelings to the side earlier, it’s now time to either stop leading him on or start a full-fledged relationship with him.

And I know exactly what I want to do.

I nod. “Okay.”

His eyes pierce into mine and he repeats for confirmation, “Okay?”

“Okay.”

We both watch as the blades of the scissors tear through the multiple sheets of paper, the quiet sound of the cutting the only noise in the room. One side of the stack, the side that Clayton is not holding onto, drops to the floor and scatters throughout the room.

“Well, that was very dramatic for a melodramatic ending,” I say.

He chuckles but nods in agreement, setting the scissors and contract down on the table before stepping closer to me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

His head bends down and he presses his forehead against mine. I can feel his cool breath fanning across my face. I don’t know how I didn’t realize this earlier, but Clayton Keller is a very touchy-feely person.

I don’t mind it, though. In fact, I quite enjoy it.

“Where do you want to go on our first date?” He questions, swaying us to imaginary music.

I lift my hands to rest on his broad, strong shoulder, closing my eyes and imagining some cheesy Taylor Swift song. “Where do you want to go on our first date?”

He lifts one of his hands to lightly jab me in the ribs, teasing me. “I asked you first.”

“I guess we could do the classic dinner and a movie,” I suggest.

“A good movie, though. Nothing close to those shitty Netflix originals that you like to watch,” he protests.

“They’re good movies!” I defend.

“Sure, if you’re a twelve year old girl,” he jokes.

I just huff, knowing better than to argue with him about this right now. We’ve argued about this topic so many times that it’s actually ridiculous. I guess that’s our thing, arguing over stupid television shows and movies.

“Would it scare you if I told you that I love you?” His voice is hushed, like if he speaks louder it’ll scare me more.

This boy has had me reject him so many times that he thinks I’m going to do it now, even after letting him cut the contract and sharing the best kiss of our relationship- no, my life- with him.

I can’t blame him for being afraid. But now, I’m sick of pushing myself away from him and love. I want to give myself, and him, the love that I know we both deserve.

“Would it scare you if I told you that I love you?” I repeat his own words back to him.

A wide grin begins to spread across his face and he leans forward, pressing his lips to mine. It’s all teeth and spit, but it’s also all worth it.

#NHL imagine #NHL imagines #Clayton keller imagine #Clayton keller imagines #arizona coyotes imagine

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ilyasorokinn · 1 year

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can you do clayton keller where y'all get into a huge argument & you walk out, so he freaks out and drives around to find you

WORK PARTIES

i love clayton keller so much and he deserves so much and he is so slay! also, i kind of changed the prompt around a little, but it mostly follows it.

"clayton, i'm sorry, i really am, but it's just one party." you sighed, rubbing your forehead.

"where's marcy? why can't she go with you?" he asked.

"she has plans. i tried to find someone else to go with me, but you really are my last resort. i already signed up with a date."

every year, your company would have a little party just so everyone could mingle and clayton hated going to those things. he hated team events because he didn't like faking smiles for hours and sweet talk people. it was overstimulating for him at times.

"so why can't you just go without one?"

"because i just can't." you sighed.

"y/n, i don't want to go." he groaned.

"fine." you grabbed your bag and headed for the door, slamming it as you walked down the hallway.

as the door slammed shut, clayton was left alone with his thoughts and the more he thought about it, the more he realized how much it really meant to you.

he groaned, rubbing his eyes as he realized what he had to do. he got up and, as quickly as he could, got dressed in the most formal outfit he could put together on short notice.

he was in the car and driving through the streets near your house, trying to find out. your office was fairly close to your apartment, so you usually walked to work.

luckily for him, you didn't make it too far and were walking down this street, a sad look on your face which successfully broke his heart.

"y/n..." he rolled down the window and shouted. you froze, "i'm sorry." he drove slowly alongside you as you kept walking, "i know it means a lot to you for me to be there, so here i am."

"that's the worst apology ever." you crossed your arms.

"i know." he sighed.

"i know you hate these parties, and i really did ask everyone i knew but for some reason, today is a very popular day to plan parties cause everyone else was busy."

"well, i'm here now." he smiled, stopping the car.

you sighed, "last one, i promise."

"are there those finger sandwiches? that was always the best part of those parties."

"yes, i checked just for you."

"we might just survive this party then." he switched gears before reaching for your hand as he drove off.

again, requests are closed :)

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wannabehockeygf · 2 months

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Could you write something about Clayton where he and the reader are those friends who are really into each other but never find the moment?!! Like, when one is single, the other is not, they are always pinning for each other, have kissed a couple of times,... But then he moves to Utah, she lives there too (oops) and they are finally both single

Those Eyes - Clayton Keller

“When we’re apart, and I’m missing you,

I close my eyes, and all I see is you,

And the small things you do.”

summary: best friends for life, until you realize you love him and everything seems to keep you apart.

word count: 5.9k

pairing: clayton keller x fem! reader

warnings: alcohol

notes: - ty for the request!! i loved writing this & i hope you love reading this! - i really like flashback stuff, so this is kinda that but more like life phases. - this includes the use of Y/N... don't worry i hate it too. - this was originally called "casual" because i wanted to write a literal representation of "knee deep in the passenger seat and you're eating me out" but it didn't feel right here. - ^ clayton keller is definitely a munch... just saying. if anybody wants to request that I will happily do it. - this is mostly proof read, although there may be a mistake here or there.

forever thinking about his dimples

***

Being best friends with Clayton Keller wasn’t for the faint of heart.

He drove you off the walls. You didn’t know why, but every time you saw him interact with somebody else, anybody else, even his best friends, he was different. More cocky, egotistical, albeit still a good guy.

It was just when he turned his head, and those eyes that were either blue or green, you could never tell, met yours and he switched up. He didn’t dap you up and ask you ‘what’s good.’ He would, instead, pull you into his arms, tell you he missed you no matter how long it had been since you last saw each other, and run his hands through your hair gently.

And this had been happening since you were both young, awkward and growing into your bodies. Clayton always had this soft spot and it was driving you absolutely nuts that you couldn’t figure out why. Why did he treat you so well? You were just friends, right?

You’ll get over it.

***

Fifteen years old

The tears are flowing, and you feel sobs wracking your body as you pedal, pedal as fast as you can on your rusty bike to find some escape. Rain patters down on you, trees going by in blurs, mocking you and this indescribable, screaming pain.

Finally, you reach your destination, wiping your runny nose with your forearm as you discard your bike carelessly on the driveway and run up to the front door. The ring of the doorbell lingers in your mind, providing a small sense of semblance before the door finally swings open.

When Clayton opens the door, his familiar presence is like a lifeline in the darkness. He’s wearing an old band t-shirt and gym shorts, his hair tousled as if he’d just woken up. He takes one look at you, his eyes widening in concern, and without a word, even though you’re completely soaked, he pulls you into a hug. He smells faintly of some citrus that you couldn’t put your finger on as you shove your face into the crook of his neck, your cries still all-consuming.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, just holds you tight, one hand cradling the back of your head, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back. His embrace is warm, a stark contrast to the chilly rain. The rough fabric of his shirt, which was dampening by the second from a mixture of your tears and the rain, was comforting against your face, grounding you in the moment.

You’re unsure how long you stay there, enveloped in Clayton’s arms. Minutes, hours—it all blurs together. But gradually, your sobs lessen, turning into hiccups and shaky breaths. He doesn't rush you or ask any questions, just continues his soothing motions, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions.

The sky begins to deepen into twilight, casting long shadows across the yard. The gentle chirping of crickets and the distant sound of traffic create a symphony that fills the silence between your breaths. The rain is persistent, carrying the earthy scent of the approaching night.

Finally, you pull back slightly, your cheeks stained with tears. Clayton looks down at you, ignoring that the both of you are still standing under the elements, his eyes searching your face with concern. His thumbs gently brush away the remnants of your tears, his touch feather-light.

“What happened?” he asks softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes, in this light, seem more blue than green, like the sky right before dawn.

You take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady yourself. "He broke up with me," you manage to say, your voice cracking. The words seem so inadequate, unable to capture the tumult of emotions inside you.

A scowl replaces the expression on Clayton’s face, and he immediately pulls you back into him. “That asshole,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, “I’ll fuckin’ kill him.”

Clayton’s words are a fierce growl, rumbling through his chest and into yours, but it only makes you clutch him tighter. The warmth of his body is the only thing keeping the cold at bay, the cold that has seeped into your very bones since the breakup that happened no less than forty-five minutes ago. You can't help but think how he always knew just what to say—or not say—to make you feel better. Tonight, it’s the protective anger in his voice that makes you feel seen, cared for.

He releases you slowly, keeping his hands on your shoulders as he steps back to look at you. His gaze softens, and the fire in his eyes dims slightly, replaced with a gentle concern. He runs a hand through his wet, tousled hair, a gesture that’s become so familiar to you over the years, and sighs.

“Come on,” he says, his voice firm but tender, “let’s get you inside.”

***

Eighteen years old

“With the seventh overall selection in the 2016 NHL Draft, the Arizona Coyotes are proud to select Clayton Keller.”

Immediately, you rise to your feet, squealing at the top of your lungs. You hug the first person you see, which is your little brother to your left, and then turn the other way, hoping to get one of those hugs that you love more than anything else, but you can’t.

Because you’re not there. You’re at home in St. Louis, watching the draft in Buffalo from your living room with your family.

Your eyes are locked on the screen, watching the camera pan to Clayton as he stands up to hug his family, immediately shaking off his suit jacket to make his way up to the stage. You watch him shake hands with the officials and put on the Coyotes Jersey and hat, but you can’t help that your heart aches looking at it so normally when all you want to do is be there with him.

Stand up on your tippy toes and let him pick you up, twirl you around, and hold onto you for as long as he can before it gets awkward.

It never did. But that was just your bond.

Best fucking friends.

This young man with the disheveled, mousy brown hair, was once a little boy. A little boy that you always loved dearly, although you never told him that. A child who always stood up for you when you got picked on, and then a teenager who always wanted you to come to his games; stayed up with you on long nights, talking about everything and nothing. Talk. You needed to talk to him, now.

That’s why you decided to skip out on the basic ‘Congrats’ text. You wanted to stand out because recently, you didn’t feel like best friends. You felt like an outsider in his dream; the side character in the fairytale where the prince finds the fair maiden and locks her up, and they live happily ever after.

You wanted to be the one getting swept off her feet.

So that night, you’re hunched over your laptop which is perched on top of your puffy white comforter, scrolling for cheap flights to Phoenix. He was going to be there tomorrow, and you weren’t going to miss out on your opportunity – this was your grand romantic gesture, your attempt to finally tell him what you’ve been keeping bottled up your entire childhoods.

Grabbing your phone which had been lying beside you, you tap the first person in your contacts, and let it ring out. And it rings for a while, long enough that you think you’re getting ignored, but when the call finally gets accepted, you’re so excited you don’t even provide any greeting. “Clay, I had an idea, and what if I come to Phoenix tomorrow? We can celebrate after you’re done your team stuff, just the two of us, and I think I have enough money saved for the flight. If I don’t, I can–” You start ranting, only to be cut off by a voice, a voice that’s definitely not Clayton’s.

“He’s busy right now.”

The abrupt, unfamiliar voice stops you mid-sentence, and your excitement crashes into a wall. You pull the phone away from your ear to check the screen, confirming that you did indeed call Clayton.

“Who is this?” you manage to ask, trying to keep your voice steady despite the unease creeping in.

The woman on the other end of the line chuckles lightly, but there’s an edge to it that sends shivers down your spine. "His girlfriend,” She starts, her tone bitter, “Clay’s busy. You do know he just got drafted, right?" she continues, her voice dripping with even more condescension.

Your heart stops. Girlfriend. The words bounce around your mind, refusing to settle into a coherent thought. You’re sure you’ve heard him talk about her before, in passing, but you always assumed she was just another one of his fleeting flings, someone who would come and go like the others. Now, though, it feels like she’s cemented her place in his life, in the space you once thought was yours alone.

“Yeah,” is all you can manage, your voice a mere whisper. Your fingers grip the phone so tightly that your knuckles turn white. The air in your room feels suffocating, your once bright idea now crumbling into dust.

“So he’s kind of busy with the draft and all,” She continues, her tone annoyingly polite. “But I can tell him you called. What’s your name?”

“My name?” You feel a sting of anger rise in your chest. “I’m his best friend. I’m… I’m Y/N.”

There’s a brief silence on the other end, and you imagine her realization dawning, her eyes widening in recognition. “Oh, right. He talks about you sometimes. Anyway, I’ll let him know.”

The call ends before you can say another word. You sit there, staring at your phone, the screen going dark. The weight of the conversation presses down on you, a heavy, suffocating blanket. The room feels colder, the glow of your laptop screen a harsh reminder of your now-crushed plans.

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath, trying to collect your thoughts. The reality of the situation sinks in, the words repeating in your mind: girlfriend, girlfriend, girlfriend. Clayton has a girlfriend. You’re not sure why it hurts so much, why the idea of him with someone else makes your chest ache. You’ve been friends for so long, shared so many memories, and yet… there’s always been something more, something between you that you’re sure you weren’t imagining.

***

Twenty-one years old

It’s New Year’s Eve in the biggest party city in the desert, you’re barely legal, and you’re surrounded by some of the most attractive people you’ve ever seen.

The crowd around you is electric, buzzing with excitement as the countdown to midnight approaches. You find yourself in a posh club in Scottsdale, the kind of place with velvet ropes, bouncers in crisp suits, and a DJ spinning tracks that make the floor vibrate beneath your feet. The lights are dim, save for the flashes of neon that paint the room in hues of pink and blue. Bodies move in sync with the music, a sea of laughter and joy as people celebrate the end of one year and the beginning of another.

You scan the crowd, your eyes searching for the one face you’ve been dying to see since you landed in Phoenix. Clayton had invited you to celebrate New Year’s with him, insisting that it wouldn’t be the same without you. He’s somewhere in this crowd, and the thought of him sends your heart racing, although you hadn’t seen him yet tonight.

The anticipation of knowing he’s in the same room as you, finally laying eyes on him, of feeling his arms around you, is almost too much to bear. It’s been months since you last saw each other in person, and the distance has only made your feelings more intense.

You make your way through the throng of partygoers, your eyes scanning the room for any sign of him. The music pulses through your veins, the bass thumping in time with your heartbeat. You pass clusters of friends taking selfies, couples sharing intimate moments, and groups of guys cheering over shots. The air is thick with the scent of expensive perfume and cologne, mingling with the faint aroma of champagne.

Finally, you spot him. He’s near the bar, leaning casually against the counter, talking to a few teammates. His presence is magnetic, drawing your eyes to him like a beacon in the chaos. Clayton looks effortlessly handsome, as always, his mousy brown hair slightly tousled while attempting a slick-back, his eyes catching the light in a way that makes them seem more green than blue tonight. He’s dressed in clean, black slacks paired with a short sleeve white button-up with the top buttons undone, and you can see enough bare skin that it makes your heart race.

As you approach, Clayton's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, everything else fades away. His smile widens, and he excuses himself from his friends, making his way over to you. The sight of him walking toward you, his arms opening wide, feels like coming home.

"You made it!" he exclaims, pulling you into a tight hug. His familiar scent surrounds you as he lifts you off your feet, a mix of cologne and something so distinctly Clayton. You cling to him, burying your face in his shoulder, trying to memorize the feeling of his arms around you.

"Of course, I did," you murmur, pulling back slightly as he puts you down to look up at him. "I wouldn't miss this for the world."

He grins, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Come on, let's get a drink and catch up." He takes your hand, leading you to the bar. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but wonder if he feels it too.

You settle into a corner booth, his friends and teammates surrounding you, the noise of the club muffled slightly by the high-backed seats. Clayton orders your favorite drink without even asking, a small gesture that warms your heart– something only someone who had been to copious amounts of bad highschool house parties with you would know.

When the waitress leaves, you turn your head only to be met with the entirety of the group, mostly men but a few women, glaring at you. A tall man with dark features and a moustache speaks up first, “So, Kells, who’s your friend?” He asks, smiling while his gaze flickers between the two of you.

“This is Y/N,” Clayton says, his voice warm and steady as he introduces you. His arm moves from his side, discreetly enough that you don’t even notice until it’s wrapped around your shoulders, his hand gently toying with the strap of your dress. “My best friend.”

Your breath immediately catches in your throat, and you feel as if the room is closing in on you at his touch. You’re here, in this glamorous club, surrounded by the bright lights and pulsating music, Auston fucking Matthews just asked for your name, but all you can focus on is Clayton—his proximity, his touch, his smile, and the way he holds you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world.

The clamor of the party fades into the background as your gaze locks onto Clayton’s face. He’s laughing with his friends, his eyes crinkling at the corners, revealing that light green that never fails to mesmerize you. You catch glimpses of his confidence, his easy charm, the way he commands attention without even trying. And yet, when he turns his focus back to you, it’s as if the rest of the world evaporates. His eyes soften, becoming a private universe where only the two of you exist.

As the night progresses, you find yourself progressively more drunk, along with everyone else, and those gentle touches that Clayton had been giving you escalate into something so much more. Everyone’s sweaty and shitfaced, so what’s there to do besides dance? Dance crazy and fast, dance with whoever you want, dance against anyone you want.

Which was what was happening between you and your best friend.

The pulsating beats of the club seemed to sync with the erratic rhythm of your heart as you danced with Clayton. The music wrapped around you both like a tangible force, drawing you closer together, drowning out everything but the immediate presence of each other. His hands roamed your back, fingers grazing the fabric of your dress, and you felt each touch like a spark igniting a long-simmering ember in your chest.

The world outside the booth seemed to blur, the lights and faces turning into a vague, colorful haze. All you could focus on was the sensation of Clayton's body pressed against yours, the heat of his breath against your ear as he leaned in, whispering something you couldn't quite catch over the music. It didn't matter; his voice was a soothing murmur, a balm to the constant ache that had been building in your heart.

Every movement, every glance, is a tormenting reminder of what’s been left unsaid, a history of suppressed emotions and unspoken confessions. Clayton's touch, as it grazes the bare skin of your upper back, sends shivers down your spine. It’s not just the heat of the club or the effects of the alcohol—though both contribute—it’s the sheer weight of the feelings you've been holding back.

The beat of the music slowly fades into the background, replaced by the rhythmic sound of your heart pounding in your ears. His breath is warm against your neck, and you can hear him this time when he speaks, his voice is low, almost lost in the cacophony of the party. “You’re amazing, you know that?” His words are a whisper, but they pierce through the haze of noise and excitement, landing straight in the pit of your stomach.

A small gasp escapes your lips, the sound barely audible over the music. You can’t trust yourself to speak without betraying the raw emotion bubbling just beneath the surface. Instead, you lean into him, feeling his warmth seep into your very core. Clayton's hands wander to your waist easily, his fingers tracing the edges of your dress, the sensation both comforting and electrifying. The way he looks at you—eyes half-lidded with a mixture of affection and something deeper—makes you feel as if you’re the only person in the room. It’s a gaze that holds secrets and promises, a look that makes your chest tighten.

The countdown to midnight begins, and the excitement in the club reaches a crescendo. The anticipation of the new year is palpable, but it’s overshadowed by the realization that this night, this moment, is slipping through your fingers. And as the countdown reaches zero, the club erupts in cheers. The room is filled with the dazzling light of confetti and the sound of fireworks outside, the euphoria of the new year is a sharp contrast to the bittersweet sadness that you feel. Clayton’s arms tighten around you, pulling you closer, his lips grazing your ear as he murmurs something along the lines of “Happy New Year.”

You know it’s a bad idea. Everything in your fucked-up mind is telling you to stop, but all you can do is pull back. Just enough to see him with a slight look of confusion, and to grab his face and bring his lips to yours, with everything about it feeling so insanely right.

***

Twenty-four years old

“I’m moving to Salt Lake City.” You hear yourself blurting out, still looking straight ahead of you at the big screen of the drive-in movie you were at. He doesn’t say anything for a while, and you can only pick out the shallow sound of his breathing before he finally speaks up, “What?” He says, simply.

"I'm moving from St. Louis," you repeat, your voice softer this time, almost drowned out by the hum of the car engines around you. You dare a glance at Clayton, his profile illuminated by the glow of the screen. His jaw is clenched, eyes fixed ahead, but you can see the flicker of emotions playing across his features—confusion, hurt, and something else you can't quite place.

"Why?" he finally asks, turning to face you. His eyes, now a deep shade of blue, search yours for answers. "Why now? Why so far away?"

You swallow hard, trying to steady your voice. "He.. got a job offer," The words feel hollow, rehearsed, even though it’s the truth. You had been dating your boyfriend for two years, and things were getting serious enough that you agreed to move with him halfway across the country.

As the words hang in the air between you, the silence becomes suffocating, pressing down on your chest. Clayton's eyes bore into yours, searching for the truth behind your explanation. The movie screen flickers with images, casting shadows and light across his face, making his expression unreadable.

"Why now?" he asks again, his voice softer but edged with a hint of desperation. "I thought you were happy here."

"I am," you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. "I mean, I was. But this job... it's a big opportunity for him. It could change everything."

"And what about us?" The question is heavy, heavier than you would like. Clayton's gaze never wavers, his eyes reflecting the turmoil inside him. "What about me? I come back here to see my family, am I just not going to be able to see you anymore?"

“This isn’t about you, Clay,” you say, your voice trembling. But even as you said the words, you knew they were a lie. Everything had always been about him, about the way he made you feel, about the unspoken connection that had tied you to him since you were kids.

Clayton's jaw tightened, his hands gripping the steering wheel as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. "Bullshit," he spat out, his voice a low growl. "You think I don't know you better than that? You think I don't see through your bullshit?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision. You tried to blink them away, but they spilled over, running down your cheeks. "Clay, please," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Don't make this harder than it already is. This is my future.”

"But what about our future?" Clayton urges you. The word "our" reverberates in your mind, stirring up memories of shared laughter, late-night conversations, and the countless times he had been your rock in moments of despair. You see the pain in his eyes, a pain that mirrors your own.

“There’s no ‘our.’ there’s no ‘us.” You find yourself admitting, and it hurts. It hurts really fucking badly, worse than it should for a person that’s in a so-called happy relationship. It feels as if every little bit of effort you’ve put into you and him has dissolved, leaving only a heady mix of disorientated tears.

Heartbreak. You were heartbroken, and you didn’t know why. You shouldn’t be.

You hear Clayton take a deep breath, one that goes all the way into his chest then out again, before speaking. “Do you really mean that?”

A lump forms in your throat, making it impossible to respond. Instead, you look down at your hands, clenched tightly in your lap. The car’s interior light illuminates the shadowy outlines of your fingers, trembling slightly. The sight makes you feel small, as if the weight of your decision has become too much for you to bear alone.

The film on the screen blurs into an abstract dance of colors and light, and you find yourself caught in the same whirlwind of chaos. The movie's characters smile and laugh, their lives moving forward in a way that feels painfully out of reach. The contrast between their joy and your heartache makes your chest tighten, as if the world is conspiring to remind you of what you're losing.

"I didn’t want it to come to this," you finally manage to whisper, your voice cracking as you look out the windshield at the blurry lights of the drive-in. "I never thought it would hurt like this."

Before you could even process what you just said, Clayton’s leaned over the centre console, and his mouth is on yours. His lips are urgent, desperate, as if he's trying to pour all the words he's never said into this one kiss. All the pain, confusion, and uncertainty vanish, leaving only the heat of his mouth, the press of his body, and the overwhelming intensity of this moment.

Clayton’s hand cradles the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer as if he can’t bear to let you go. You can feel the desperation in his kiss, the way his breath hitches when you respond, parting your lips to deepen the connection.

Your hands find their way to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his shirt, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. It mirrors your own, a frantic rhythm that speaks of all the years you’ve spent dancing around this, all the unspoken words and suppressed emotions finally breaking free since the last time three years ago. The taste of him is intoxicating, a mix of the familiar and the unknown, and it makes your head spin, your thoughts a chaotic whirl of longing and fear.

When you finally pull back, gasping for air, Clayton’s eyes search yours, his gaze intense and searching. His lips are slightly swollen from the kiss, his breath coming in shallow pants. “Why does it have to be like this?” he whispers, his voice raw with emotion. “Why can’t we just… why can’t we figure this out?”

“Because,” you say, your voice breaking. “Because I have to go. I made a commitment. I’m in a relationship. And you… you have your own life in Arizona, your own dreams. I can’t be the one to hold you back.”

He pulls back slightly, searching your face with those eyes that have always seen straight through you. “You’re not holding me back,” he says softly. “You’ve never held me back. You’re the reason I’ve gotten this far. You’re fucking it for me, on everything I am.”

Tears continue to spill down your cheeks, and you can feel your heart breaking all over again. "But we can't keep doing this," you manage to say, your voice trembling. "We can't keep pretending that we're just friends when we're so much more. It's not fair to anyone."

Clayton's eyes search yours, his expression a mixture of pain and determination. "Then let's stop pretending," he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Let's be honest about what we are, about what we feel. I can't let you go without a fight."

The words hang in the air, heavy with possibility and fear. You look into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability and the hope that mirror your own feelings. It’s a terrifying and exhilarating moment, something that could either heal or break you completely.

Taking a deep breath, you make a decision. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

*** Twenty-six years old

It’s funny how the world closes in on itself, and everything comes back around.

The Arizona Coyotes were no more, due to numerous reasons, and now your best friend is a Utah… Hockey Club. You hadn’t really kept in touch, but as soon as you heard the news, you called and said you had to meet up since you still lived in Salt Lake City, even after your relationship ended.

The day was today, and even though you didn’t want to cancel, you had to since a massive storm had hit and it was pouring rain.

You stare out the window, watching the rain pour down in sheets, drumming against the glass like a constant reminder of the storm inside your heart. The storm had hit unexpectedly, drenching the city and canceling your long-awaited reunion. You sigh, feeling a mix of disappointment and relief. Disappointment because you wanted to see him, relief because you weren't sure if you were ready to face the feelings that had never truly gone away.

You close your eyes, remembering the way he looked at you that night at the drive-in, the desperation in his voice as he begged you to stay. You can still feel the warmth of his lips against yours, the way he held you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. The pain of leaving him, of saying goodbye to the one person who understood you better than anyone else, still lingers in your heart.

You open your eyes, wiping away a tear that has slipped down your cheek. You can't keep doing this to yourself. You need to move on, to let go of the past and embrace the future. But how can you, when every fiber of your being still yearns for him?

And then there’s a knock on your door.

The knock echoes through your apartment, cutting through the quiet hum of the rain. For a moment, you freeze, your heart skipping a beat. You weren't expecting anyone—certainly not today, not in this storm. A flicker of hope ignites in your chest, an irrational, wild thought that maybe, just maybe, it's him.

You push the thought aside, scolding yourself for being so foolish. But as you make your way to the door, your breath quickens, the anticipation coiling tight in your chest. You open the door, and there he stands, soaked to the bone, rainwater dripping from his tousled hair onto his pale cheeks. Clayton's eyes meet yours, and the world seems to still.

He's here. He's really here.

"Clayton," you breathe out his full name, your voice barely above a whisper. A thousand thoughts race through your mind, but they all jumble together, leaving you speechless. All you can do is stare, taking in the sight of him, his presence both a balm and a wound to your heart.

He doesn’t say anything. He’s panting heavily, the amount of emotion in his eyes hard to even begin to decipher, because before you can get another word out, ask why he’s here, his hands are on your face, pulling it towards his.

He’s kissing you, and you hope it’s for real this time.

As Clayton's lips press against yours, everything you've been holding back crashes over you like a tidal wave. The warmth of his touch, the urgency of his kiss—it’s all too real, too overwhelming. Your hands find their way to his hair, tugging at the damp strands, and you can feel his heartbeat through the soaked fabric of his shirt. It's beating as fast as yours, a wild, erratic rhythm that speaks of all the time lost, all the words unspoken.

The rain pounds against the roof, a steady drumbeat that echoes the chaos inside your mind. You can taste the salt of tears mixed with the rain on his lips, and you wonder if they're his or yours. There's a desperation in the way he kisses you, as if he's afraid this moment might slip away if he doesn't hold on tightly enough. And maybe he is. Maybe you both are.

You pull back, gasping for air, your foreheads resting together. The world around you is a blur, the only thing in focus is him—his wet hair clinging to his forehead, the way his chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, the intense look in his eyes that makes your knees weak. You search his face, trying to find the right words, but they elude you. How do you explain the years of longing, the pain of being apart, the confusion and guilt that comes with loving someone you're not supposed to love?

Clayton's eyes soften, and he brushes a strand of wet hair away from your face, his touch achingly tender. “I couldn’t stay away,” he confesses, his voice raw and vulnerable, “God, I tried, trust me, but even if it’s just one day, I can’t take the risk of letting you slip away like I have my entire life.”

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of his words settle over you like a heavy blanket. How many times have you dreamed of hearing him say those words? How many nights have you lain awake, your heart aching for him, wishing that he would finally acknowledge what you both feel? And now that it's happening, it's almost too much to bear.

“I thought about you every day,” he continues, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Every time I step onto the ice, every time I score a goal, every time I’m alone in my hotel room, I think about you. About us. And it hurts, because I know we could have had something amazing if only I didn’t waste my time on other people who could never make me feel the way you do. If I had the courage to say something sooner. To tell you I’m in love with you.”

You stand there, drenched and trembling, your heart pounding in your chest as Clayton's words hang heavy in the air. The weight of his confession, the raw honesty in his eyes, feels like a knife twisting in your heart. You come to the conclusion that, yes, you’ve dreamed of this moment for years, imagined how it would feel to finally hear him say that he thinks of you, that he wants you. But now, as the reality of it crashes over you, all you feel is a mix of relief, fear, and an overwhelming sadness for the time you've lost.

The rain continues to fall, a relentless patter against the roof, creating a rhythmic backdrop to the storm raging inside you. You look up at Clayton, his face inches from yours, and you can see the vulnerability etched in every line, the uncertainty in the set of his jaw. It’s a look you’ve seen before, in moments of quiet intimacy, in the fleeting touches and stolen glances that spoke of a connection deeper than words. But this time, it’s different. This time, there are no barriers, no pretense. Just the two of you, standing on the precipice of something terrifying and beautiful.

You want to say something, anything, to ease the tension, to reassure him, to tell him that you’ve felt the same way, that you’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. But the words won’t come. Instead, you reach up, your fingers trembling as they trace the outline of his jaw, feeling the rough stubble beneath your fingertips. The simple act of touching him sends a jolt through you, a reminder of how much you’ve missed him, of how much you’ve tried to deny the truth of your feelings.

Clayton’s breath hitches at your touch, and you see his eyes flutter closed, as if savoring the sensation. The air between you is thick with unspoken words, with the weight of everything you’ve been holding back.

You’ll never know the colour of his eyes, and that’s okay because he’s here. With you.

And in that moment, you realize just how much you’ve been lying to yourself. Your entire life, you’ve told yourself that you could move on, that you could be happy without him, but deep down, you’ve always known the truth.

There's no moving on from Clayton Keller.

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