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#Mikko Rantanen imagines
sc0tters · 5 months
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Push It | Mikko Rantanen
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summary: when Mikko sees you getting stressed late one night, he feels obligated to step in to help.
kinkmas: day nine (squirting)
warnings: sexual themes, p in v, oral (fem receiving!), thigh riding, swearing.
word count: 3.39k
authors note: this is my second time writing for Mikko and I have to say that I am kind of in love with this one? it also took me way longer to write it than I would actually like to admit either but we now only have three days left in kinkmas! if you want to read more from kinkmas you can find the playlist here!
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Mikko swore you were doing this to punish him.
What for? Now Mikko didn't have the answer to that one just yet. But with Christmas a mere few days away and his family arriving on Sunday, you were in full swing wrapping presents. You had met his family for the first time in the summer when Mikko convinced you to come home with him. So it was suffice to say that you were beyond stressed out by the fact you were hosting his family for Christmas. His parents adored how happy you made their son but that didn’t bring you any comfort as you stayed up well beyond an appropriate time.
It frustrated Mikko as he woke up to an empty bed when his alarm clock flashed 3:00AM. With him being home for a couple of days before another road trip with the team all Mikko wanted was to spend time with you, something that became a challenge as you stressed about preparing the house for his family's arrival. Begrudgingly he pushed the comforter off of his chest as he got up sliding his slippers on in an attempt to bring himself some warmth in the battle of combatting the Colorado winter.
The lights in the dining room illuminated Mikko’s path down the staircase as he could hear you mumbling incoherent things to yourself in frustration. His footsteps were quiet as he stood at the door to see what looked like Christmas had thrown up over the table. Wrapping paper and ribbons covered as much of the wood as the eye could see “muru?” Mikko cleared his throat as he called out stood at the opposite end of the table.
Scents of the gingerbread house you made during the afternoon traveled around the bottom floor of the house “hey.” You forced a smile onto your lips as you pressed your hands onto the table. Concern was evident on his face as he walked over to you “come to bed.” Mikko’s voice was soft as he crouched down placing his hands on your knees.
You shook your head turning to look back to focus on the final presents in front of you “not yet love.” You mumbled avoiding his eye as you could feel his burning gaze.
Mikko ran his fingers over your bare thighs trying to capture your attention “I can’t sleep.” You explained chewing at the inside of your cheek “have a way I could help you.” He smirked pressing a kiss against your shoulder making you squirm.
He smiled hearing you whimper as you stopped wrapping the present as though you were contemplating hearing him out “what is it?” You sighed raking your fingers through your hair as you turned to him “if I make you come before finish wrapping then you come to bed.” The offer made you squirm as your cheeks turned red.
You ran your tongue over your teeth “and if I finish before?” You tried to puff your chest out in an attempt to keep your nerves calm “then I’ll wear that sweater of yours for the party.” Mikko hated the sweater you had gotten him for the team end of year holiday party, so either way you were truly winning.
Mere seconds passed as you thought about what you would do as you eventually nodded “deal.” You shifted to the back of your chair “need you to get up so I can get you out of these.” His voice was coarse as he tapped your thighs when he repositioned himself to sit under the table.
He watched you listen to his instructions leaning towards the table as your ass was in the air “you knew you were gonna do this didn’t you?” Mikko smirked seeing your pink panties that had a wet patch that formed on the center “won’t make you wait Rakas.” He cooed bringing your panties down to your ankles.
You sat back down shifting your legs so that your cunt was in line with his face “such a pretty little pussy.” Mikko mumbled pulling you closer to him as you sat on the edge of your seat.
The hockey player could hear you weren’t moving anything “you want to start before you lose baby.” Mikko clicked his tongue making you whimper as he pressed his lips against the inside of your thighs “right Mik.” Your voice was shaky as you nodded beginning to continue wrapping those presents.
His lips were soft against your skin as they left a trail of sloppy kissed until he teased your folds “can’t believe you’ve stayed up all night.” Mikko urged not giving you the chance to respond as he pressed his tongue flat against your slit making you groan.
It made your thighs tense “god Mikko.” You blew your lips into a raspberry as your hands clenched around the scissors “such a sweet cunt.” He praised you as he locked his arms around your thighs bringing you even closer to him.
You used all of your strength to focus on what was in front of you. Mikko latched his lips around your clit letting his tongue swirl around your sensitive nub “getting so needy already.” He mumbled against your cunt sending shivers up your spine making your hands shake.
Mikko had always been skilled with his tongue and tonight was truly no different. Treating you like you were his last meal. The starved man beneath you let his tongue lay flat in your cunt stretching as far as he could possibly go. You did you best to not think about the sheer levels of pleasure you felt as you tied a bow in the ribbon that wrapped around the box.
One down, three to go.
Your cunt tasted sweet on his tongue as it almost egged him on “r-right there!” You stammered feeling his nose hit your clit “the way you’re acting has me thinking you didn’t want this.” Mikko pulled his lips away from you as he moved his hand to tease your clit staring up at you “you aren’t even trying.” He clicked his tongue as he shook his head.
You whimpered in response gripping at the packaging of the box “I am!” You nodded figuring that if you said it with enough conviction you could actually believe it.
He watched you try to continue and part of him contemplated putting the bet off wanting please you properly but as your legs began to shake. The ideas of going east on you left Mikko’s mind “just let yourself go y/n.” Mikko didn’t often call you by your name as he usually settled for a nickname in Finnish since you loved his mother tongue.
The desire to let yourself come built in your belly as your eyes began to flutter “not yet.” Your jaw froze as you tried to put it off. But as Mikko swiped his tongue over your clit he slotted his fingers into your cunt making sure that you didnt have the chance to not come “fuck Mikko!” You groaned feeling his smirk press against your thighs letting your hands pull at his curls.
His free hand was soft against your stomach as he felt you grip his fingers “don’t stop.” You moaned driving your hips against his face as you came letting the pleasure wash over you. Mikko smirked as he began to slow his movements feeling your cunt loosen around his fingers.
Your body shook as his lips left you with a pop. Mikko pushed your chair back as he smiled getting up from the ground “looks like you lost muru.” He clicked his tongue seeing the second present only being tapped up.
It was clear you were trying to still recover as you were too dazed to even care about what he had to say “no.” You whimpered pushing your back against the chair as you tried to hold your ground “why don’t I help you then?” Mikko proposed placing his hand on your shoulder as he wasn’t prepared to leave you down here just yet.
Mikko loved how you were right after an orgasm. The way your lips were plump because you had bitten them trying to suppress your moans. Your eyes were always heavy as he always made sure to put you through the wringer. Usually that was enough for him to do once and then he’d feel content, but tonight Mikko wanted to push you that little bit further as sleep was now nothing more than a distance thought in his mind.
His hand was gentle as he helped you up, giving him just enough space to slip into the seat beneath you. Your head fell against his shoulder as you straddled his leg “let’s do it together muru.” Mikko cooed making you melt against his touch as you nodded.
But as you leaned forward his thigh tensed beneath you resulting in you letting out a moan “fuck!” Your cunt was already wet from your first orgasm of the night quickly coating the skin of his thigh.
Mikko smirked feeling his cock grow hard against his boxers “you giving up on the gifts?” The hockey player teased watching you begin to ride his thigh “nope.” You shook your head letting your tongue dart out of your mouth as you began to focus on the gift in front of you.
This quickly turned into round two of your little bet as Mikko bit his lip writing on the little piece of card as he made little effort to trying to help you. Signing it from the both of you before he moved to the next one. But during the time he did that Mikko didn’t lose sight on the fact that you were enjoying spreading your juices over his thigh “you should see how pretty you look.” Mikko mumbled as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.
You were in one of his old camp shirts that looked like it was a dress over you “didn’t tell you to slow down.” He nipped at your ear lobe making you shiver.
Mikko watched how your body responded to his cold fingertips grazed over your skin up your shirt “meanie.” You huffed making him laugh as he ghosted over your nipples “promise I’ll make it all worth it soon.” Mikko offered flexing his thigh to make your clit hit it at a different angle.
He couldn’t help but smirk as you gave up on wrapping for a second time as you had finished the second present and rather than moving onto the next one you pushed them all away to the front of you. Finally revealing a clear space on the table “please Mik.” You begged as you felt his fingers roll your nipples between them.
The hockey player groaned as he wished he could see the reactions you had as all he wanted was to finally watch you come. But as Mikko felt his cock hate his boxers for keeping his boner pressed against his skin “gave you your first orgasm princess.” He clicked his tongue squeezing his hands around your breasts “this one is all on you.” His words made you whine as if you had a choice in how the rest of the events tonight were going to go.
This was one of the moments that you were glad you were in a house as it meant you didn’t have to worry about any neighbours hearing the devious acts that you and Mikko were getting up to tonight “want your cock.” You blurted out making the boy wish that he was dreaming as he found himself full of desire to lift you off of his cock and place you on his dick instead.
You fell back against him as you pressed your body against his “be a good girl and maybe I’ll give it to you.” Mikko had to silently praise the gods for making him come downstairs when he woke up “think you could do that f’me?” He asked watching your eyes lock with his.
If the walls could talk they would have brought up how embarrassed they were being forced to see you in your fucked out state when you hadn’t even seen his cock tonight “anything f’you.” You nodded bringing your hands up to cup his as you no longer needed the guidance to drive your clit against his thigh.
It was clear you both oozed desperation as Mikko wanted to bring you to your second orgasm of the night whilst you were trying to do everything to snap the coil your stomach had built up “go make a mess on my thigh baby.” Mikko’s soft voice was a total contrast to how you felt as your body began to shake as you pushed against him rutting your hips against his skin as you felt your eyes begin to struggle to stay open.
The sounds of your moans echoed through the house like a ghost dancing as you whimpered “I’m gonna- fuck!” You cried shaking your head as you gave up not being able to compose yourself anymore as you felt yourself come for the second time tonight. Mikko kissed your cheek as he mumbled soft words of affirmation in Finnish trying to hold himself quiet as he felt his thigh grow wet.
He was sweet in the way that he kissed your shoulder bringing you back to reality as Mikko brushed his fingers through your hair "think you can give me one more muru?" His voice was hushed as he pinched your nipples teasing the peaks as it caused you to jump.
You didn't have the energy to argue as you felt his cock press against your back making you moan as your mouth began to water "gonna let me fuck you with my cock?" He added drawing another moan from your lips as you squirmed.
A needy nod came from you as your head bobbed "sit up on the table then." He ordered as he pushed the chair back giving you space to quickly follow his instructions. It made him smile as watched you spread your legs "give me a kiss pretty girl." Mikko slotted into the space you created where he cupped your cheeks tilting your jaw upwards so that he could kiss you.
In the moment of feeling his tongue slide over your lip you took the moment to run your hands down his bare chest in an effort to bring him some comfort as your fingers danced over the waistband of his boxers. The cold feeling of your fingers made the hockey player jump "naughty, naughty girl." Mikko shook his head as he mirrored your actions with the shirt you were wearing "think it's about time we get you out of this." He mumbled tugging at your shirt as you raised your arms up.
It felt like the world stopped spinning for Mikko in that moment as he watched your naked body sat on the table like it was meant to be served to him on a platter "fuck this will never get old." He confessed making your cheeks turn red as you smiled.
Mikko could see how you stared at the bulge of his cock that could could see on his red boxers "you want my cock?" The Finnish man asked pulling his boxers down to show you how his cock hit his torso making you feel all that more warm as you nodded "I gotta fuck you baby." Mikko groaned as he pumped his cock in his hands a mere three or four times before he drove it's head over your clit.
He watched your jaw go slack as he thrusts his cock into your cunt upon deciding that you were wet enough to take it "still such a needy little girl huh?" Mikko wrapped hands around your waist bringing you closer to him as your legs locked around his hips.
Your face contorted as your eyes screwed shut "wanted your cock all day." It was true after a video came up in your snapchat highlights of Mikko taking you from behind after the Stanley Cup win where you had his winners cap on.
The boy found himself smiling as he pecked your lips "but instead you've been wrapping those fucking presents." He scoffed making your cunt clench around his cock as the walls of your core hugged him "for your family." You shot back shutting yourself off as his cock grazed your g-spot.
There was a mischievous look in his face as he watched your breasts bounce with each thrust that he made grazing your hips with his pelvic bone "you want to be a good girl and get to come or not?" He shot back making you moan "already let you go twice tonight." The hockey player added reminding you of the desperate acts that you had done throughout the night.
You went quiet unintentionally then encouraging Mikko as he dropped his head down to your breast "Mi-" your moan was shortlived as his tongue swirled around your nipple. It made you jump as you whimpered.
His teeth caught your skin making you tug at his curls trying to pull him off of you "relax princess." Mikko grumbled shaking his head as he moved his focus to your other breast not wanting that nipple to get jealous of the first "I can't." You shook your head wanting to give up as the sensitivity from your previous two orgasms brought you to where you were now.
The room felt hot as if the heating was no longer needed, whilst your bodies were burning up against each other "Mik, I'm not gonna last." You shook your head slotting your fingers between your bodies "know you can do it for me." Mikko had never pushed you that far in one night, not even as you celebrated the Stanley Cup win. Part of him didn't know what was going to happen but that seemed to only egg Mikko on more as he slapped your hand away replacing it with his as he used two fingers to swirl around your clit.
Your eyes struggled to stay open as your lips quivered struggling to form a coherent word that was stronger than a sound "c-can't Mikko." You cried out feeling your head begin to grow light as you would have fallen flat on the table.
Mikko smirked as his cock pulsated "gonna make you come sweets." He mumbled hovering his lips over yours as tears formed in your eyes "jesus christ mik." You moaned feeling you body go numb as all of you feeling was directed straight into your cunt as it fluttered around his cock "let it all go f'me princess." With those words came the green light you so desperately needed nodding your head as your mouth formed an o shape.
The feeling that came from your cunt wasn't something that you had ever experienced "shit, shit, shit!" You chanted feeling your eyes roll back into their sockets as your orgasm brought on Mikko's "right there my girl." He grunted beginning to fuck you through it.
Instead, you tried to pull away shaking your head "enough please." You begged as your throat began to feel raw "fuck that was hot." Mikko spoke to himself as he looked at his lower torso to see it glistening from where you had squirted.
He had too admit that he was proud of himself for getting you to that point but as he could see the look of shock on your face Mikko instead went into a comforting mode "you did so good tonight y/n." Mikko spoke seriously as he kissed your head desperate to make you feel the same way he did.
All you found yourself doing was nodding as you tried to get up before you realized that your legs were far too shaky for that to happen "why don't we go have a bath?" Mikko offered quickly picking you up as he brought your head to his chest. A subtle yawn left your lips as you blinked giving him the go-ahead too take you up to let the warm water comfort your skin.
Colorado was quiet as the sunrise was still a few hours away Mikko was sure that you two were apart of the mere few still awake at this time. But as snow fell on the earth outside Mikko had to admit that the time he spent with you tonight was better than any kind sleep he had ever had.
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withwritersblock · 3 months
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Lover
~Lover by Taylor Swift but the Niall Horan cover~
Author's Note: Cale fluff ! Summary: Cale's plans to propose Word Count: 2,108 Cale Makar x fm!reader
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“What about this one?” Gabe pointed towards a large diamond that was oval. Cale scrunched his features together as he shook his head. He leaned his arm on the glass as he leaned forward. “What about that one?” Gabe pointed towards the one directly beside it. Cale let out a huff of air.
“You’re not helping,” he muttered as his gaze moved away from the glass box towards Gabe.
“We’ve been here for an hour, just decide,” Gabe groaned as he smacked his hand against Cale’s back. Cale clenched his jaw as he looked down towards the case again. His eyes scan each individual ring, overanalyzing each small detail.
“You’re supposed to help me figure out which one she’ll like,” Cale groaned as he lifted his gaze towards the poor old lady who’s been trying to help them find the perfect ring. “She doesn’t like-” he paused, seeking out the right word, “flashy,” he muttered. She nodded, walking away from them.
“Well, you should’ve brought my wife,” Gabe muttered as he ran his fingers across his chin. “She knows these things,”
“Your wife can’t keep a secret,” Cale countered as he shot Gabe a glare. “Plus, you’ve done this before, I don’t know what I’m doing,” he gestured towards him. Gabe smiled as the old lady came back with a new collection of rings for him to look at. 
Cale groaned as there were at least forty more rings in front of him. They were less dramatic and more Y/N style. He continued analyzing each of them, trying to picture her reaction as he opened the box. “I went through her jewelry box and found something that was similar but more expensive,” Gabe said with a shrug. 
“She doesn’t wear rings, I have nothing to compare it to,” Cale argued. 
His eyes stopped as he saw a ring with a small diamond in the center and even smaller diamonds fading out beside it. It was elegant and not flashy. The center diamond wasn’t too much bigger than the ones on the side. It was silver, all over. Something he did know about her was that she hated gold. 
“This one,” Cale mumbled as he pointed towards it in the case. Gabe scrunched his features together. “Yeah, this one,” he nodded again as the old lady opened the case to hand him the ring to get a closer look.
Gabe looked towards the ring, nodding his head. Pulling his lips together while he slapped his hand against Cale’s back. 
Cale examined it, picturing it on her finger for the rest of their lives together. “It’s perfect,” he said, handing it towards the old lady.
“Do you want to hear the price?” she asked, giving him a concerned look, Cale shook his head before turning his gaze towards Gabe. To anyone that didn’t pay attention to the NHL the pair looked like two average guys. Especially the hoodie covering Cale’s frame, and his messy hair. He didn’t look anything like a millionaire.
“Confident man,” Gabe muttered while nodding his head. Cale rolled his eyes, his cheeks flushing bright red as he fought off the smile on his lips. “Now, how do you plan on doing it?” 
Cale’s eyes widened, “I didn’t think that far ahead,” he took a deep breath, “I don’t know, maybe just surprise her in the living room with it,” 
“You can’t do that, come on,” Gabe crossed his arms over his chest, “It’s gotta be more special than that,”
“She doesn’t like flashy or over the top,”
“Special doesn’t mean flashy or over the top,” Gabe said with a sigh, “Kid, you’ve got a lot to learn,”
~one week later~
He laid on his hotel bed with a handful of his teammates scattered throughout his room. Killing time before they had to start getting ready for the game. He tossed a lacrosse ball into the air continuously as he half-listened to whatever Bo was saying. 
Ever since he bought the extremely expensive ring, the idea of how he was going to propose continued to circle his mind. The idea that it had to be special kept him up at night. Special was hard to decipher. A super intimate candle lit dinner in his apartment would be special but he knows she would love to have family and friends around. But too many people could overwhelm her or make her suspicious.
A few months back, they talked about marriage and where in the timeline of their life would getting engaged be perfect. She said she was ready whenever he was. He asked her so he wouldn’t be one of the horror stories where the girl says no. He couldn’t survive the embarrassment if she said no.
“Caler, wake up man,” Bo shouted towards him. Cale began tossing the ball in his other hand as he hummed as reply. Nate smirked as he took a sip of his water.
“He’s struggling on how to propose to Y/N,” Nate let out, Cale catches the ball from the air as he glares towards Nate. Only Nate and Gabe knew on the team. 
“Dude! That’s awesome!” Bo shouted.
“Since when?” Mikko let out.
“Hell yeah,” Devon expressed, he furrowed his eyebrows while tilting his head to the side, “What’d you mean you don’t know how you're going to do it?” 
Cale shrugged his shoulders as he tilted his head back against the headboard.
“Do you have a ring?” Bo asked.
“Oh he has a ring. Nine thousand dollars worth of a ring,” Gabe let out as he walked out of the bathroom towards the small group. Cale nodded his head as he held a tight lip smile. 
“Holy shit, dude,” Bo mumbled, “Wait, is that normal? Like is Kailey going to expect me to spend-”
“No, it’s not normal. The lady looked at Cale like he was crazy when he picked it out,” Gabe interrupted.
Cale nodded as he ran his hand over his chin nervously. “She was more shocked to see the card I handed her was a debit card,” Cale let out as his cheeks pinked up. The group chuckles as he fiddles with the lacrosse ball in his hand. “It’s gotta be special but not over the top but not boring. I don’t want her to hate it,” he explained.
“Landy’s throwing a get-to-together at his house once we get back from this roady, do it there,” Bo offered. Gabe’s eyes lit up while nodding.
“That’s a lot of people, I think she’d hate all that attention,” he muttered as he shook his head. 
“I think you’d hate all the attention,” Mikko offered. Cale rolled his eyes. He was right. He would hate having everyone’s eyes on him as he made a speech about his love towards her. It wouldn’t feel genuine. 
“You have to wait for her nails to be done, she’d be pissed at you if you porposed to her and she didn’t like her nails,” Devon pointed out, “My wife made us redo our engagement pictures because I didn’t wait until she had “pretty” nails,” he said while holding air quotes around pretty.
The boys chuckle as Cale nods as he mentally notes to make sure her nails are up to her standards. “I mean she gets them done all the time, it should be okay, whenever right?” Cale asked, his heart rate picking up. Devon and Gabe chuckle.
~four days later~
He laid on the bed staring towards the suitcase that he hadn't unpacked. The ring box laid at the bottom of it waiting for the right moment to be pulled out. She walked into the bedroom, her hair loosely tied up away from her face, a small smile on her lips.
“I’m so glad you’re home,” she muttered as she climbed on the bed. He opened his arms, allowing her to lay on his chest. He rested his hand on her lower back as he slowly ran his hand along her back. 
“Me too,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips against the side of her head. 
Her eyebrows furrowed as she stared towards the suitcase, “You haven’t unpacked yet? Your suits are probably super wrinkly,” she let out as she pouted her lips.
“I’ll get to it later,” he mumbed, tightening his grip along her waist.
“Cale, honey, it’s been sitting like that all day,” she said as she lifted her head from his chest. She looked down and met his blue eyes. His gaze shifted towards the suitcase back to her eyes. She leaned down and delicately pressed her lips against his for a brief second. She tapped her hand against his chest, “Come on, I’ll help you unpack,”
“No,” he let out, widening his eyes. She squinted her eyes as she pulled her head back. “I’ll get it done later,” he muttered. She opened her mouth to object, “I promise,” he raised his eyebrows as he pursed his lips forward.
He lifted his hand up and pulled her head towards him and kissed her. Trying to distract her from the suitcase and the ring sitting inside of it. 
~Three Days Later~
It was a gorgeous night, it was clear skies as they walked hand in hand together down the street. The street lights held string Christmas lights. It was still Novemeber but it was nice to see the white lights blinking in a nice cadence. 
Cale was wearing his long grey coat that hid the ring box in his pocket, his hand gripping it so tightly. Many of their dates throughout their relationship have been to the same restaurant as well as the same walk down the scenic street. 
“You’re quiet,” she mumbled as she wrapped her arm around his, inching closer to him. The wind is slowly picking up.
“Just thinking,” he mumbled while shrugging his shoulders.
She hummed as she bumped into him, “Yeah? About what?” she dragged out her words. He took a deep breath and stopped walking. She furrowed her eyebrows as she slowly faced him. 
“I love you,” he mumbled, his heart beating hard against his chest. She smiled widely as she met his eyes.
“I love you too,” she whispered back. She leaned towards him and planted a soft kiss on his lips. Once she pulled away she tried tugging him to continue their walk, but he remained planted in the spot. “Lover, whatcha waiting for?” she asked teasingly. He smirked as his cheeks pinked up. 
There were thousands of words in his mind the entire night. Filled with every amazing feeling he had towards Y/N. He had rehearsed so many words that resembled exactly how much he loved her and how in love he was with her.
But in this moment, staring into her eyes, all he could think about was the four words. The four biggest words in his speech. If he could get those words out, that’s all that would matter.
Letting go of her hand, he nervously pulls the ring box from his pocket as he kneeled down on one knee. “Cale,” she let out barely above a whisper.
“Will you marry me?” he asked, his voice shaking. She stared towards him as her lips began to quiver. She smiled widely. 
“Is this real?” she asked as she felt her eyes fill with tears. 
He smiled widely and nodded his head, “Will you marry me?” he asked again. All she could muster up was a dramatic nod. He stood up and quickly engulfed her in a huge hug, careful to not drop the ring box in his hand. “I had a speech, but I forgot it,” he mumbled against her hair. 
He lifted her up from the ground and spun her, she ran her fingers through his hair as they continued holding onto each other. “You just proposed,” she let out while shaking her head. She pulled away from him, her hands still resting on his neck as she looked into his eyes. She leaned towards him and kissed him as the sound of cheers erupted around them. 
Her eyes widened as she pulled away, at first her eyes landed on her best friend walking towards her. Her eyes shifted back to Cale and she saw the box in his hand. His eyes widened before he opened it once more to show her the ring. “I didn’t know your ring size, I hope it fits,” he mumbled. Her mouth fell open as she was admiring it.
“Cale, this-this is perfect,” she muttered as she met his gaze once more before she leaned towards him and kissed him again. “God, I love you,” she muttered against his lips.
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comphy-and-cozy · 1 year
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Bad for Business - Mikko Rantanen
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Pairing: Mikko Rantanen x massage therapist!Reader (f)
Summary: Mikko has a crush on his massage therapist.
Word Count: 4.2K
Author’s Note: I don't know where this came from and I’m not sorry. I didn’t research if this is anywhere near factually accurate (I’m pretty confident it’s not), but it does the trick.
Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY). Language, unprotected sex, risqué sex, voyeurism (kind of?), size kink, morally/ethically gray professional decisions (don’t fuck your clients people), Mikko’s a little bit of a simp.
NHL Masterlist
Hockey is and always will be Mikko’s first true love. The feeling of stepping out onto a fresh sheet of ice, the sound of a puck hitting a stick right on the tape, the euphoria of scoring a goal under bright lights and the eruption of thousands of fans—it’s something he’ll never, ever get tired of.
The other perks—millions of dollars, private jets, personal chefs and five-star cuisine—are all great, but not why he got into the league in the first place. They certainly don’t hurt, though, especially not the myriad of girls at his disposal. His DM’s are chock full of them, some more blatant than others, but either way, he’s definitely a fan of the accessibility his celebrity provides.
And then there’s you. One of the team’s massage therapists, but you’re undoubtedly everyone’s favorite, considering the other two are middle-aged men. You’re not employed directly by the team, so you technically have other clients, but the Avalanche are certainly your highest priority and most important. 
Most of the guys certainly prefer when they’re on your schedule, but they don’t complain if it’s one of the other two. Mikko, on the other hand, specifically requests you, a half-assed excuse that your smaller hands work his muscles better. But really, he just likes getting to talk to you afterwards. 
It’s safe to say he has a crush. A hopeless crush, one that’s surely unrequited, but it doesn’t stop him from asking you about your day, your weekend, and of course, your cat.  
What he doesn’t know, what you’ve never told him, is that he is your favorite client for that exact reason. For the most part, all of your clients are polite, especially the Avalanche players, but Mikko’s the only one who’s made a real effort to talk to you, to get to know you past the usual salutations. Sure, a few of the guys flirt a little, but it’s all surface level, while something about Mikko seems so genuine.
You’re not sure you’d use the word “crush,” but you certainly feel a flutter in your chest when you see his name on your docket for the day, pleased that he’s your last appointment. Maybe, if you’re lucky, he’ll walk you to your car so you can spend a few more minutes bathing yourself in his sweet smile and the deep boom of his voice. 
So, maybe it is a crush. Whatever. 
It’s a quarter to 4, and Mikko’s knee bounces as he pulls into the parking lot. He likes to arrive early even though he’s already filled out the paperwork, just in case you’re free to spend a few minutes chatting before the session. Today, he’s disappointed when it’s only the receptionist that greets him with a smile, offering him a lemon water and asking if he needs to be walked back to the locker room.
He doesn’t, instead glancing down the hall toward the massage rooms, wondering if you’re in one and who you’re with. Once he’s changed into his robe, he sips his lemon water as he waits for you.
“Hi, Mikko,” you greet him with a smile, and he smiles nervously back. “How are you?”
“Hi,” he breathes, his heartbeat quickening at the sight of you—the exact opposite of what it should be doing. “Good, and you?”
“I’m good,” you say, and he hopes that he’s part of the reason why.
He follows your lead into room 4, appreciating the intimacy that’s created when you quietly close the door behind you. 
“The usual, right? Swedish deep tissue massage?”
“Actually, I’ll take the Finnish massage,” he jokes, then immediately wants to kick himself for how stupid it is. You laugh anyway, and he feels warmth emanating in his chest.
“Any problem areas?”
He grimaces. “My shoulders and my quads are pretty tight. Think I might’ve strained something in practice.”
“We’ll take a look at it. You know the drill by now,” you say, gesturing to the table. “Dress to your comfort level, and we’ll start with the back first—so face down on the table. I’ll give you a few minutes to get situated.”
Mikko nods, watching you step out and shut the door quietly, finally breathing once it latches. He hadn’t realized he was holding his breath. The robe is soft on his body, discarded and set on the table beside the massage table as he climbs in the warm bed, letting the sheet cover his back. He adjusts so his face is resting on the cushion, enough room for him to breathe. 
As promised, you return a few moments later, knocking softly and pausing before gently pushing the door open. Mikko listens to the sound of you preparing the towels and nods when you quietly ask if the temperature of the heated table cushion is okay.
He can feel himself tense even before your hands touch him, when they’re still collecting the oil you’ll soon rub into his back. He almost jumps when your hands come into contact with his shoulders, soft and warm and already working sinful magic on the sore muscles between his shoulder blades.
“Is the pressure okay?” you ask, voice soft. 
All you hear in response is a low groan of approval, followed by a muffled, “Perfect.”
For the next while, it’s quiet except for the sound of the aromatherapy steamer humming softly in the corner and the slick sounds of your hands and arms rubbing over his back. Mikko can’t tell what feels better; the way your fingers expertly massage out the tension in his back, or the gentle, smooth glide of your hands on his skin. Either way, he’s in heaven, lost in the haze of your presence. 
When you carefully pull his arm out from under the sheet, you gulp almost audibly when you see the size of his bicep. It’s strong and prominent in your hands as you work your way down his forearm. When you reach his hands, he feels the tingle where your fingertips caress his, threading your fingers with his to maneuver his wrist. Mikko closes his eyes and pretends that you’re just holding his hand because you want to, and not because you’re being paid to.
He has to stop himself from huffing in disappointment when you let go, placing his hand back down. Then it’s on to his other arm, and he gets to enjoy your fingers laced together for another few precious moments. 
Every time you’re finished with an area, he’s filled with a brief despair before you’re moving onto a different body part, and he’s appeased again once your hands return to his skin. This time, you’re moving to the end of the table, shifting his left leg out from under the sheet. It isn’t until you’re halfway up his leg that you realize there is no additional fabric barrier around his hips—he’s naked.
This time, you can’t help the gasp that leaves your throat. You can feel your cheeks turn hot, embarrassed even though he chose this; you did tell him to dress to his comfort level, after all. It certainly isn’t your first naked client, but it is the first one that’s stopped you dead in your tracks, mind shamelessly wandering to what lies between the apex of his massive thighs. 
You keep yourself contained, though you can’t help from glancing at the edge of the privacy sheet that’s bunched near his ass, part of you wishing he’d had a sore glute so you could have an excuse to touch it. The second leg is a little easier, and you lose yourself in the motions and the feeling of his strong muscles beneath your fingertips.
“Mikko,” you whisper, unsure if he’s fallen asleep. He hums to let you know he hasn’t. “I’m going to lift the sheet over you, and I want you to flip over onto your back and scoot down, okay?”
“Mmhmm.”
It’s only once he starts to turn around that he realizes he’s got a problem—one that’s throbbing against his leg. Before he can do anything to adjust himself, you’ve laid the sheet down over him and made a small gasp of surprise as you, too, realize his situation. There’s a tent—a big one, you think as you gulp—in the sheet, and for a moment all you can do is stare. You don’t know if you should acknowledge it or ignore it, teetering on the edge of indecision.
Mikko stammers an apology, mortified, his cheeks pink as he tries to tuck it between his legs. He wishes he could melt into the massage table and never show his face again. 
“It’s okay,” you say gently. “It happens more often than you think.”
You meant for it to be comforting, but all it does is make Mikko blind with jealousy, the thought of your hands on his teammates and witnessing their boners. He wonders, have any of them ever made a pass at you? Do you wish any of them had? Is there any part of ou that wishes he would?
He clears his throat in an effort to vanish some of the discomfort that hangs in the room, accepting the weighted cover you place over his eyes, grateful for an excuse to hide his face. If you’re flustered, you don’t show it, though part of him is disappointed you didn’t react—selfishly, he wants you to be impressed, or turned on, or something. Mostly, he’s glad that you didn’t instantly kick him out, never to speak to him again.
You pull out his tree trunk of a leg, tucking the sheet underneath in an effort to keep him protected and contained. Your work on his leg begins, intimidated by the sheer size of his thigh that’s staring at you. The bareness of his hip reminds you of his lack of clothing, and you’re once again struck with the revelation that only a very, very thin sheet lies between you and his most private possession.
You do your best to ignore it, but as your fingers massage his leg, it’s difficult to avoid brushing him in more delicate places. But, hell, maybe you want to.
It’s on the next leg that your knuckles graze against something soft between his legs, and he lets out a guttural groan that has your low belly igniting in a blazing flame. You mutter an apology, even though you don’t entirely mean it.
The first time was an accident. The second, less so. The third time—well, now you’re just playing with fire. 
A warning flashes through your mind, a memory seared into your brain of ethics and boundaries, and part of you can’t believe you’re really considering crossing them, here, now, for this man in front of you. His eyes are covered, but you’ve seen him lick his lips enough times to wish his tongue was your own, and you’ve stared at the aromatherapy steam puffing and billowing for long enough in an effort to avoid the dilemma that’s still standing proudly before you.
The question is out of your mouth before you can stop it. Though, once it’s out, you don’t regret it.
Mikko’s eyes shoot open from underneath the covering over his face, hearing the way you purr the words. He doesn’t know if it’s real or if he imagined it, not until he feels your fingers tracing the inside of his thigh in a massage technique he’s pretty certain is not something you learned in school.
“Do you want me to take care of that for you?”
He can’t nod fast enough, the words caught in his throat as he tries to swallow his sharp inhale. His hands fight against the sheet over his torso, quickly ripping off the face covering to find you smiling.
“You don’t—I—you—” he stammers, his cheeks flushing a gorgeous shade of pink.
“I don’t? You don’t want me to?” you pout. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head when he sees your hands move to the buttons on your polo.
“No—I mean, fuck yes I do—” he gulps, eyes darting down to the shadow of cleavage that you reveal. “I just want to make sure you’re sure.”
It’s sweet, so incredibly sweet, that you can’t help but smile. You walk to the head of the table so you’re looking upside down at him as you gently lay him back down, only this time, instead of covering his body with the sheet, you’re working it down his torso. Your movement is slow, deliberate, holding his eyes as you press forward. 
“I’m sure, Mikko.”
His mouth surges forward, blindly mouthing at the material of your uniform as he pulls your body to him. The next thing you know, his hands are tugging the material of your top down to get a better taste of your breasts. It’s clumsy, given your position, but neither of you care; he’s just happy to finally get his hands on you after so many months the other way around. 
Mikko maneuvers your body with ease, pausing frequently to grope your body and press his lips against any open skin he can find, ultimately getting you where he wants you: on top of him on the massage table. The new position is intimate, somehow more intimate than you with your hands all over his naked body; this time, you can feel the width of him as your legs straddle his hips, the sheet barely covering his modesty—and certainly not covering the cut muscles of his torso. 
His hands run up the sides of your legs, scorching you even through the material of your uniform pants. You’re distracted as you trail your hands up the firm muscle on his stomach, one of the few places on his body you’ve never touched, and certainly never at your own leisure. Mikko flexes his abs, hard and tight as he gives you a cheeky wink, allowing you to admire the fruits of his labor. What’s the point in being a professional athlete if not to have pretty girls ogle your body?
Before long, your desire urges you to move past his muscles—though you’re convinced he’s got nicer tits than you do—and lean down until your face is inches from his. His expression is soft despite the darkness in his eyes and the pulse in his neck that’s heightened with every touch on his body. 
Mikko pauses, waiting for your action, itching to know what it feels like to have your lips against his own. His eyes are drawn to the way your tongue darts out to wet your lips, slow and teasing in a way that has him twitching between your thighs. 
“I could get in so much trouble,” you murmur. There isn’t an ounce of hesitation in your voice; instead, it’s replaced with desire, a compulsion to do something bad.
“We don’t have to,” he says quickly. He means it, but he’s hoping—praying—that you won’t change your mind.
“Maybe I want to get in trouble,” is your reply. Mikko doesn’t even wait for you to say anything else before he’s lunging forward to kiss you, finally capturing your lips with his. It’s just as magical as he thought it’d be, even better that he’s already naked.
His tongue slides into your mouth, meeting yours for the first time, and you moan when your hips begin to move of their own accord, dragging your core over the flimsy sheet and his throbbing length. It doesn’t take long for the temperature to reach searing levels, his hands fumbling with the hem of your top before you’re helping him to tug it off, tossed haphazardly on the floor. 
Mikko’s frozen in place, staring at the way your breasts sit, perfect, in your bra. Part of you wishes you’d put on cuter undergarments today, but then you remember you weren’t exactly planning on this happening. He doesn’t seem to be fazed by the ‘boring’ nude, too transfixed by the way your breasts feel in his large hands. Before you know it, he’s shifting you so he can sit up, pressing his mouth against your chest while his hands work their way to the clasp of your bra, expertly flicking it open. He barely pauses when the fabric falls between your bodies, flinging it blindly out of the way before his mouth is attaching to your nipple, hot and wet in a way that causes you to gasp.
“Mikko,” you sigh, and he decides in the moment that the way his name sounds in your mouth is his new favorite sound. He hums against your chest, switching to grant your other breast attention while his hand is quick to replace his mouth against your now wet nipple.
His hum morphs into a groan when your hand snakes between your bodies to stroke his erection, almost painfully hard now. Your eyes widen when you feel how fucking thick he is, barely able to fit him in your fist, and you let out a mewl as you imagine what it’ll feel like inside you.
“Fuck,” he grits out, mouth trailing up to the sensitive place where your neck meets your shoulder, careful to nip gently to avoid making too big a mark. Your hands are magic, having worked miracles on the majority of his muscles, though this time undoubtedly takes the cake for his favorite session with you.
He can’t wait any longer, his hand sneaking past the elastic waistband of your uniform pants, teasing at the hem of your panties. His fingers dance over your mound, familiarizing himself, before he’s probing at the damp fabric at the apex of your thighs with a curse, deeply aroused at how wet you are. A choked moan leaves your throat, vibrating against his lips that are trailing across your neck.
When his fingers slip into your panties, the mere heat of his hand against your clit is enough to make you moan. The feeling of his finger slipping inside your walls has you throwing your head back, relishing the way he grunts at how snugly you squeeze him. 
“So tight, baby,” he murmurs, voice muffled as he laves at your collarbone. A second finger joins his first and immediately they curl together to hit the spot that makes you see stars. He grins when he feels your hand clutching onto his shoulder as he works you, drawing out the sweetest whimpers. 
After a brief pause to shove your pants further down your hips to grant him more space, his fingers are back in your greedy cunt, eagerly accepting the long, thick digits. Mikko knows what he’s doing, knows exactly where to put his fingers, knows how much pressure to use, knows the perfect way to circle your clit with his thumb. He wants to drink in the erotic noises that spill from your mouth, heart beating faster at the way his name sounds like in a moan.
“Mikko, I’m—s-so—”
His lips press kisses against your jaw as your eyes squeeze shut, an explosion erupting in your belly. Your hips roll against his hand, dragging out the waves of your high as you feel him hum against your skin. He’s pleased with himself, feeling the way his balls clench at the way his entire hand is soaked with your juices. 
“Fuck, gotta have you,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, before he’s wrenching his hands away from your core and flipping you onto your back. Your legs can’t kick off your pants fast enough, his hands smoothly slipping your panties over your thighs. Once all of the offending garments are removed, Mikko takes a moment to admire the sight of you, spread out and naked for him after all this time. He’s sure none of his teammates have had this type of session.
His calloused hands are rough on your skin as they slide up your thighs, spreading them apart slowly to create space for his hips. As he sits up on his knees, the privacy sheet slips from his body, freeing his erection. Your jaw drops as he releases one of your legs in favor of stroking it, and your mouth waters watching it slide in and out of his hand. Unconsciously, your leg falls open as you begin to imagine what it’s going to feel like inside you, part of you wondering if it’s even going to fit.  
Mikko smirks at the way your legs spread for him, taking in the lust in your eyes. He can’t believe he’s here, right now, with you, and he wants to pinch himself. But, he thinks, if it is a dream, he’s not ready for it to end quite yet—not when he hasn’t even been inside you.
He has to squeeze his eyes shut at the mewl you let out when he lets the tip of his cock bump against your swollen clit. Repeating the action, Mikko bites his lip as the sound trails directly to his balls. He isn’t sure how much longer he’s going to last before he loses control, but he pushes through it as he guides himself down, positioning himself at your entrance. 
“You sure you want this?” he asks with a smile that tells you he knows you want it and that he just wants to hear you say it. 
“Yes, Mikko,” you whine out, bucking your hips until he rewards you with the very tip pressing into your entrance. With a frustrated sigh, you add, “Fuck me, Mikko.”
He groans at your words, eyes shutting again as he wills himself not to finish right then and there. Another call of his name brings him back to the present, eyes connecting with yours, powered by the desperation in them. Slowly, patiently, he pushes forward, feeling the way your pussy grips even the first inch of him. He watches the way your eyes roll backward, relishing the way he stretches you.
It’s delicious, and as much as you want to tell him you can take it, part of you loves how he takes his time, letting you feel every single ridge and vein as they ease past your drooling lips. Before long, though, he’s sheathed inside you, feeling the flutter of your walls surrounding him.
“Holy fuck,” he groans, face buried in your neck. “You feel so fucking good.”
“You f—so—” gasp— “big. Fuck, Mikk—”
He wants to celebrate the fact that he’s rendered you almost speechless, that you’re a whimpering mess stuttering about how big his dick is, but he needs to move or he’ll die. He does, and he’s rewarded with your fingers digging into his shoulder blades—which is impressive, considering they’re covered in massage oil.
You’re in awe of the sheer size of him and the way that he reaches places you didn’t know existed. He reveals more of them each time he punches his hips forward, and you’re absolutely positive that he’s touching your organs when they nestle against the back of your thighs. It’s hot, it’s raw, it’s real, the way his skin feels on yours and the hot puffs of breath he exhales onto your neck.
Mikko is loving the way you mewl in his ear, determined to keep drawing those delicious sounds until you’re crying out his name and creaming on his cock. A hand slips from his shoulders to frantically paw at your clit, adding fuel to the fire that’s now roaring in your core. He can feel how wet you are, how tightly you’re squeezing him, the way your body is begging him to let you come.
The way you orgasm is ethereal, he thinks, how your mouth falls open and your head tilts back and your eyes flutter closed as the ripples of your release flow through you. The sound of the cry of his name is even better. He drinks it in, using it to drive himself home inside your quaking walls. A few pumps later and he’s pulling out to shoot his load on your lower stomach with a groan. Your pussy clenches at the sight, already wishing for a round two as you gaze up at him and how big he looks kneeling over you.
With a shy grin, Mikko slides off the bed and grabs an extra cloth from the counter to clean you off. It isn’t until after he’s pressed a few gentle kisses to your lips that he searches for your clothes and hands them to you; as the moment returns to normal, the reality of what you’ve just done sinks in and you gasp.
“I can’t believe we just did that—I—this is so unethical,” you say, envisioning the Board tearing your license to shreds.
Mikko frowns, slipping his robe back over his shoulders. “I’m not going to tell anyone, you know.”
You glance at him gratefully but shake your head. “It’s not just that—it’s so taboo and—I mean, a relationship is one thing, but just sex is so demeaning to myself as a female massage therapist—”
“Do you want to go out with me?”
“—and I—what?”
“Like, to dinner.”
“What?” you repeat incredulously.
His pinks turn pink and he casts his eyes to the floor. “Oh, it was just a question—”
“Mikko, I’d love to go to dinner with you.”
With the excitement of a child, your heart melts at the way his eyes light up in an instant. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you nod with a smile. “You owe me for making me risk my career.”
“I think that’s more than fair,” he grins. “But I can’t honestly tell you I’m sorry.”
“Me either.”
Six days later, when you’re panting through your third orgasm of the night, Mikko’s name a prayer on your lips, you think to yourself it was more than worth the risk. 
282 notes · View notes
ilyasorokinn · 2 years
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AVS NATION WOOO can you do 20 and 48 from dialogues with ej or mikko?
FINALLY
going with mikko. also, no idea which trope you want it from so i went with fluff. also, i changed the prompt a little so i hope that's cool :)
TAYLOR'S AVS NIGHT!
20. "maybe i'm just lucky." 48. "stop flirting with me, i'm not gonna fall for it." (from this prompt list)
you and mikko weren't dating but he wanted to. he had the biggest crush on you, one of which you knew about because he made it very known. you were friends with one of the girls so you came to parties as often as you were invited.
one of the parties you were invited to was the cup party.
you were getting yourself another drink when he walked into the kitchen, "didn't think you'd come."
"almost didn't." you shrugged.
"i'm glad you did." he smiled.
"stop flirting with me, i'm not gonna fall for it." you tried to be angry but the smile on your face was a telltale sign that you weren't upset at all.
"i'll stop flirting if you go on a date with me."
"will you?"
"absolutely not." he shook his head.
you smiled, "fine, i'll go on a date with you, and depending on how this date goes, maybe there will be a date 2." he smiled too.
right at that moment, your friend walked in, "only took you 3 months to finally secure that date, rantanen." she joked.
"you finally did it?" her boyfriend popped her head in, "lucky you."
"maybe i am lucky," he smirked.
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typical-simplelove · 10 months
Text
Summer Baby (M. Rantanen)
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Summary: Throughout one summer, you're reminded why you fell in love with Mikko all those years ago.
Author's Note: This is my submission for the 2023 Summer Fic Exchange, put on by @wyattjohnston. This is written for the ever-lovely @buttercupjosh. I truly hope you enjoy this!
Warnings: implied!female reader; LOTS of pining; kind of stupid idiots in love; mentions of alcohol; a few curse words
Word Count: 11.7k
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When an internship brought you to Denver, Colorado in the summer of 2016, you never thought you’d fall in love. It was supposed to be ten weeks of learning more about the industry you’re working to get your undergraduate degree in. It was supposed to be ten weeks of exploring Denver during the weeknights and exploring the state's beautiful landscapes on the weekend. You weren’t expecting to fall in love, but then you bumped into him on that one trail on your second weekend in the city and everything changed. 
He wasn’t a native; his accent made that clear. You couldn’t figure out exactly where he was from, but it seemed to be European. It was his second summer in the city, and he chose to stay in the US instead of returning home. Something about training, he said. Turns out that “training” was preparing for the next hockey season. 
Mikko Rantanen, a player for the Colorado Avalanche, stole your heart in ten short weeks, and you never managed to recreate that same love ever again. 
In those ten weeks, you got to know him, and he seemed to insert himself into your life, into the crevices that no one else seemed to seep into. He managed to pull out of you emotions, reactions, secrets, and more that no one else in the world seemed to see. He opened up your walls and gates and managed to make himself a permanent mark in your heart, life, mind, and soul. 
There was no doubt that you were going to fall in love with him, and halfway through the summer, you knew you did. Your heart burst whenever you had dinner with him, hiked one of the local trails, took a trip to some small town a few hours away on the weekends, talked to him, and watched him train on the ice. Every hug, call, smile, word, and touch had you falling in love with Mikko, piece by piece. 
You couldn’t tell if he fell in love with you, but it didn’t matter. You knew that once the internship was over, you’d be heading back to your hometown for a few weeks before moving back to your off-campus apartment. It was never going to work out with Mikko in the long run, so you opted to fall in love with this beautiful, funny, caring, talented, and handsome man who seemed to get you and understand you in a way that no one else on this planet seemed to. 
You fell in love, and that final goodbye at the airport was the worst. He kissed your cheek and held you as tightly as he possibly could. He held your hand tightly all the way through the line to check in, and he held on tightly as you walked to the security line. He wrapped an arm tightly around your waist as you waited to get to that first checkpoint where only ticketed passengers could enter. He kissed your forehead and held you tightly when you were second in line. When it was you next in line, he whispered, “thank you for giving me one of the best summers of my life.” 
That’s when you realized he fell in love with you just as much as you fell in love with him. Your heart broke right there as he let go of you for the last time and exited the line so that you could go through security. The realization that he loved you was lodged deep in your throat as you mindlessly went through security, towards your gate, and onto the plane. You thought of all the things you could have been doing over the past ten weeks if just one of you was strong and brave enough to tell the other your feelings. But then, you thought about it, and you knew that ten weeks (less, really) wouldn’t have ever been enough with Mikko. As much as you wanted to hold him, taste him, feel him, and do so much more than friendship with him, you knew that once you had a taste of Mikko, you’d only want more. You wanted everything with Mikko, so never getting to experience more than friendship with him was a gift because if you had to say goodbye after knowing him more intimately than possible, then you wouldn’t be able to find the courage to keep going. 
Mikko was your greatest love story, and that wasn’t ever going to change, even when you both eventually lost contact due to his hectic travel schedule and your busy schedule with school and work. You didn’t ever forget him. When things got tough, you thought about that one summer with Mikko, all the sunsets and pool days and hikes and shared water bottles.  There wasn’t a day when you didn’t think about him. You wanted to search for him online (you unfollowed him a few months after the conversations stopped), but you knew your heart couldn’t take it. It would have been so easy to Google his name, but it took so long for you to come to terms with the ache in your heart; you couldn’t do that to yourself again. 
Your heart would always ache for Mikko, that wasn’t going to change. 
When you returned to Denver seven years later for relocation for work, the ache in your heart grew. It’s as if your heart and soul knew you were returning to the place where you met Mikko. You weren’t sure if you wanted to see him again. What would it even be like to see Mikko again after seven years? Would your heart still burn for him? Would he still light up the room and the world—your world? Would he still manage to seamlessly seep into your crevices and walls and gates and make you feel safe? 
Did you still love Mikko with your entire heart? 
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A few weeks after you moved to Denver and settled into your new apartment, you were off to a friend’s wedding—the first wedding to mark the start of the summer wedding season. Late June weddings were always your favorite (maybe because at that point they were still fun). 
You weren’t sure what to expect as you didn’t know anyone. This was one of the friends you made during that internship all those years ago who you managed to stay in touch with. She was born and raised in Colorado and still lived there, and she was really one of the only people outside of work that you knew (besides Mikko, but did he count?)
As you took a seat at the reception in the middle back of the venue, you took in the beautiful scenery. The heat was starting to get you, so you began to fan yourself with your program. You were looking down at your phone, reading a book, when something deep in your stomach urged you to look up at the group of men walking up the aisle to find a seat together. At first, you were confused because you didn’t recognize them. You almost looked down, but then a familiar mop of hair and shoulders sauntered up the aisle and slipped into the last empty seat in that row. It looked like him, but it had been so long that you couldn’t be sure if it even was him. 
You keep glancing at him, your eyes darting between him and the arch at the head of the aisle. He needed to turn his head to the side, but he kept leaning forward to talk to someone in front of him. You tried to see if you could hear him (you’d recognize his accent and voice anywhere), but it was too loud. 
Thankfully, your stressing over him came to an end when the wedding song began to play and the bridal party began to make their walk down the aisle. Your eyes were trained on the bridesmaids and flower girls when you felt a familiar pair of eyes on the side of your head. The warmth that rose on your face at the feel of his eyes looking at you warmed every blood vessel and nerve in your body. You never knew that you were so cold until his eyes landed on you at exactly that moment. You wanted to look over at him because you knew it was him, but you didn’t know what that would do to your sanity, so your eyes remained trained on the bridal party. 
When the warmth slowly faded from your body, you knew that he looked away and retrained his focus on the wedding party. That’s when you finally looked at him. Of course, it was him. If the warmth that spread through your body was any indication, it was him. Of course, he managed to still elicit this reaction out of you. 
Mikko Rantanen always had a special effect on you that you couldn’t understand. 
You kept wanting to look at him throughout the rest of the ceremony, but you kept your eyes firmly trained at the front of the venue where the ceremony was taking place. From the corner of your eyes, you could see him looking back at you throughout the program. You so desperately wanted to look at him and stare deep into his eyes; however, you knew that the minute you did, you’d become still and your body will light on fire. You wouldn’t be able to function, so you kept your eyes strictly fastened on the bride and groom or down on your lap at the program. 
He was right there, after seven years, and you were without a doubt still hopelessly in love with him. You thought that after all these years his effect on you would have diminished, but it hadn’t. 
As the wedding ceremony ended, you remembered cheering and clapping loudly, but it was all a haze. Mikko was sitting a few rows up, and it took everything in your willpower not to jump over all these people and launch into your arms (that and the fact it would be very embarrassing). 
Slowly, you made your way toward where the cocktail party was taking place. You did your best to blend into the crowd and be as inconspicuous as possible. You wanted to see your friend and her new husband, so you joined in the line to greet them. You prayed to whatever deity existed in the world that Mikko wouldn’t see you and wouldn’t walk up to you. You weren’t sure if you could handle talking to him or seeing his stupidly, beautiful face. 
Thankfully, after glancing behind you briefly, he and his friends were in line and talking amongst themselves. He was nursing a drink and his back was to you. If things went well, then hopefully you’d be able to make it through the night without talking to him or seeing him. As much as you wanted to return to the center of gravity in the world (him), you worked so hard to heal your heart and soul after having to leave him. 
By the time you reached the bride and groom, you were mostly out of your head in stress, anxiety, and overthinking. You hugged her tightly and congratulated her before heading over to the bar and getting a drink. With a drink in hand, you entered the reception area and found your table. You took longer than normal to find your place card because you wanted to see where Mikko was sitting. Thankfully, he wasn’t at your table, and he was at table 11 while you were at 15. Hopefully, that means he’s quite a ways away from you. 
You took a seat and introduced yourself to everyone else sitting at your table. As the guests lingered inside, you managed to strike up a conversation with a few of the bride and groom’s coworkers. If this kept up, then you’d be able to make it through the night. 
It was forty or so minutes into the reception when you felt that same warmth. This time, it spread from your back to your front. It took you a few moments to collect yourself. You wanted to turn around, but from the sounds of it, the people behind you were chatting away and hadn’t sat down. If he was standing right there, then you couldn’t turn around to look at him. You weren’t ready for that. 
He was laughing and talking with someone, and just hearing his velvety voice was enough to send your heart into overdrive. Mikko was right there (right behind you!), and you were just about to die from your heart beating too fast and overheating. 
You’re saved, though, by the DJ announcing the entrance of the bride and groom, and you heard the chairs against the marble floor of the people behind you. As much as you wanted to look at him behind you, the way the bride and groom were entering was facing you perfectly, so that meant that if you turned around, you’d see Mikko perfectly and he’d see you perfectly, too. 
Someone has to give your willpower a raise because it’s working overtime right now to keep you from turning to look Mikko in the eyes for the first time in seven years because it knows the minute you do, you will be captivated and hypnotized by him, erasing all the work it took for you to continue on with your life. 
The rest of the evening carried on, with speeches, dinner, the first/final dances, and the eventual migration of everyone to the dance floor. From the sounds of it, Mikko and his table were on the dance floor, so you felt it was safe to turn and watch. As you suspected, he was right there. You couldn’t help but break out into a wide smile as you watched him dance with the flower girl and twirl her around. He was so vibrant and happy. That’s why you fell in love with him, you remind yourself. He always lit up a room and a life, and right now, he was lighting up the life of that little girl. 
You needed a drink, fast, to manage the emotions you felt, so you walked over to the bar, not even thinking that you had to walk right past Mikko. As you were maneuvering through the drunk dancers, you had to slow down, and you heard him call your name. It was loud in the ballroom, but you could hear him perfectly. It sent a wave of ice through your bones before a warm sigh settled. The line at the bar was long, and you could hear him catching up to you, so you took a detour to the washroom. 
Just as you opened the door to the washroom, you felt a few fingers on your arm, beckoning you to turn around, but you walked into the washroom, shutting the door as fast as you can. As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you were so clearly flushed and overwhelmed. Your body was radiating heat like wildfires; you were afraid the heat would melt the ornate decorations in the washroom.
Wanting to calm yourself down, you washed your hands in cold water. You didn’t know how long you were going to wait in that washroom. How long would he wait for you? Thankfully, though, there were some couches, so you took a seat and scrolled through the phone you remembered to grab. 
Five minutes went by, and you wondered if Mikko was still out there. You wanted to go back to enjoy the wedding, but you couldn’t in good faith run into Mikko. Just as you were ready to leave the washroom, a woman walks in. 
“Excuse me,” you interrupt. She looks at you, slightly startled. “Would you mind telling me if there are any men waiting outside the bathroom?”
“Are you in trouble?” she ardently asks, worried. 
Shaking your head, you reply, “I just don’t want to run into an ex.” That was kind of the truth, right? 
“Just my husband, I believe, but I wasn’t looking at hard,” she replies. You thank her before she walks into a stall. Taking a deep breath, you walk out of the washroom, your hand still firmly on the handle just in case Mikko is out there, and you need a quick escape. 
He isn’t, just that woman’s husband, so you make your way down the corridor. Just as you’re about to think you’re in the clear, a clear, Finnish-accented voice called your name. On instinct, you turned around and tried to make your way back to the washroom, but his hand lightly grasped your wrist. It wasn’t too tight. You could have easily slipped your hand out and walked away, and your heart gleamed at the thought that Mikko gave you an easy and quick escape if you weren’t comfortable. 
“Please,” he whispered, taking a step closer to you. The familiar notes to a slow song echoed through the ballroom. “Dance with me?”
You nodded. “Let me just put my phone down on my table.”
“No,” Mikko says, taking your phone out of your hand and slipping it into his pocket. He guided you toward the dance floor, and you bet your entire life savings on him muttering, “I’m not letting you go again.” 
At the dance floor, Mikko guided you into a slow sway with one hand on your waist—his thumb stroking small circles on the thin fabric of your back—and another gripping your hand, holding it close to his heart. He was looking down at you, but you were looking at everything except for him. You felt his eyes on you as you mimicked a middle schooler who was too afraid to stare at their crush during the slow song. 
“I didn’t know you were going to be in town,” he whispers, his mouth close to your ear. 
“Yeah, I moved here a few weeks ago,” you tell him, softly, angling your head towards his, slowly. You closed your eyes, not ready to look at him yet. Mikko moves his head, slightly, so his cheek is resting against yours. You both dance like that for a few beats before Mikko slips his hand out of yours and wraps it around your waist and pulls you flush against his body. On instinct, your hand joins your other around his neck, and you pull him close to you. 
You. Love. Him. So. Much. 
“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispers, his breath tickling you and the vibrations ricocheting off his chest to yours. “That you moved here?”
“I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from me,” you reply, your thumbs playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 
Mikko moves his head back so quickly that it feels violent. You know he’s looking at you, trying to search your face, but you’ve angled your face away from him, staring off at someone or something else—anything that’s not him. He shifts his head so it's right in front of your line of sight, but you’re quick to look away. That game continues a few times before Mikko sighs and rests his hand beneath your chin, angling his head towards yours. Again, his touch is soft, so you can quickly pull away. 
Your fact is angled in a way that he can look you directly in your eyes, but you close them, not ready to look at him. 
“Why won’t you look at me?” he asks, his voice strained and hurt. 
“I can’t let my heart break again,” you reply, putting all your force into keeping your eyes again. 
Mikko’s grip on your waist tightens as he says, “please look at me. Please.”
That second please is what gets you, so you open your eyes. Your eyes are met with his piercing blue ones, and your breathing and heart rate dramatically increase. 
“Mikko—”
You’re not sure what you’re trying to say or what you want to say, but you’re just looking at him. He’s blinking fast, and you know that’s his tell that he’s nervous and scared. He takes his hands off your chin and briefly brushes some of your hair to the side before his hand returns to your waist. You do the same, brushing some of his curls further up his forehead, before leaning closer. You wanted to feel his heat and warmth. You never wanted this cocoon he wrapped you in to end. 
“You gave me one of the best summers of my life,” he says out of nowhere. “Of course I’d want you to call.” His voice is low, quiet, rough, and dangerous. You know that if you kissed him right now, he’d kiss you back, but can you do it? Can you let yourself fall into him again knowing how long it took you to fall out of him again? Would the cages and locks and chains on your heart open up again, even though it’s Mikko? 
His eyes flicker down to your lips before he stares intently into your eyes again before leaning closer. You’re going to let him kiss you, but thankfully, you’re saved when the DJ says the groom wants to make a small speech. You pull back, and your hands go from around his neck to sliding over his shoulders, down his chest, where they rest on the shirt covering his upper chest. 
When the groom starts to talk, you take your hands off him and slowly slip from his hold on you. You slowly reach into his pants pocket and pull out your phone. Mikko’s fingers are lingering on your skin as you look up at him one more time before you slip out of his orbit entirely and back to your table. You grab your clutch and wrap before making your way out of the ballroom and towards your car. 
You once let yourself fall into Mikko’s orbit and gravity, and it was one of the best experiences of your life, but it hurt when that orbit and gravity floated away. 
You loved him still without a doubt, but would your heart let you open back up and slip back into his orbit? 
Mikko was already back in your orbit if tonight was any indication, but could you let yourself fall back into his? 
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It was a few weeks after the wedding, and you were still reeling from seeing Mikko. You tried your best to forget about him and the feel of his arms wrapped around you, but you couldn’t. When you went to bed each night, you fell asleep, dreaming about his warm body from that one dance at the wedding, and you woke up each morning, sad that your bed was cold because his large, warm body wasn’t right next to yours. 
Did you make the right decision to leave? Should you have stayed and talked to him? What more was there to say? (So much more, actually). 
Ultimately, though, you weren’t ready to delve into all those emotions with Mikko when you weren’t even sure what you were feeling. Mikko was going to kiss you; it was without a doubt, and you were going to let him. Once he kissed you, though, what came next? For you, that kiss should be the start of something with him. It should be a healing of the ache over the past seven years, and it should tie a bow to the story from seven years ago and start the sequel right now. But you weren’t sure what Mikko wanted.  Was it just going to be a kiss because he had someone pretty in his arms? Was it going to mean as much to him as it did to you?
All this overthinking made you realize that maybe it was better that you didn’t kiss him and left. Until you could exactly articulate in words, out loud what you wanted from Mikko, you shouldn’t make any contact with him. It was already so hard to even see him, so going in confused and unsure wasn’t going to solve anything.
That seemed mature, right? 
Or were you just running away because you were scared? 
One night, you were laying on your couch, one of your favorite sitcoms playing in the background, as you were scrolling through Instagram. You swiped to check a message that one of your friends sent you in response to something you posted on your story. The little (1) next to the requests tab surprised you, so you clicked on the tab and threw your phone across the room when you saw who it was. 
Of course, Mikko was acting maturely and reached out to you. 
After taking several deep breaths, you got up to retrieve your phone and opened Mikko’s message. From the looks of it, he messaged you a few days after the wedding. He wrote: 
Hey. It was really great to see you, and I’d love to see you again to catch up. I have a day off on Saturday and planning on walking and hiking at Cherry Creek Trail. Feel free to join me. I’ll meet you at ten? I’ll wait for you for half an hour. See you soon, hopefully! 
He wanted to see you, and he wanted to do it at one of your favorite hiking locations, and he sent this to you three weeks ago. You can’t imagine the emotions he must have been going through to both send this message and wait those three days for Saturday to come. Then, the emotions during that half-hour, waiting for you, and then his heart shattering when you didn’t show up.
You had to text him back. What would you say? How do you apologize to a man who has been nothing but amazing and understanding to you?  
After typing, deleting, and overanalyzing your message, you finally sent: 
Hey. It was great to see you, too, and I’m sorry that I didn’t see this until now. Your message wasn’t on my main screen, so I didn’t see it. If it makes you feel better, I would have been at the Trail. If you’re free, I’d like to have a raincheck. Let me know! 
Once you sent it, you turned off your phone and went to bed. You didn’t know if he was going to make you wait a few weeks like you did. You went to bed that night fearful and excited. You were scared he was going to turn you down, but you were so excited about what could happen. 
Turns out, he didn’t make you wait a few weeks. When you turned on your phone the next morning, Mikko responded only a few minutes after you sent your message. 
Does this Sunday at 10 work? 
After staring at the message for a few moments, you replied, confirming the time worked, and got ready to go to work. 
Sunday was only three days away, and if he still hiked and walked like he did seven years ago, then you know your heart was going to go into overdrive.
By the time Sunday rolled around, you parked your car outside the Trail at 9:30 and got out to sit on a bench. You wanted to wait in your car, but you wanted to make up for a few weeks ago when you completely missed Mikko. By the time you sat down, you could see Mikko’s figure jogging over to you from the corner of your eye. 
“Hey,” he says, taking a seat next to you. He was in sunglasses, a white T-shirt (you were totally acting normally about this), and black shorts that really only covered his ass. He hands you a bottle of water and says, “this is for you.”
You hold up your own bottle. “I have one.” 
“Yeah, but I know you don’t use electrolytes in your water as I recommend,” he replies, a smirk on his face. “I’ll even hold it for you.”  
“If you insist,” you tease, shocked that you actually have the power to tease him right now. Your entire body was in overdrive because Mikko looked stupidly handsome right now. Would there ever be a time when he didn’t? 
Mikko holds the two bottles in one hand and extends the other to you to take. With a deep breath, you put your hand in his and grasp it tightly. You let yourself soak in the feel of his large hand wrapped around your hand. You can’t look into Mikko’s eyes because you know you’ll see an emotion you’re not ready to address. 
“Ready to go?” Mikko asks, breathlessly, as if the hike was finished and not in its current state of not even being started. 
“Yeah,” you murmur, taking your hand out of Mikko’s. You still feel the ghost of his hand in yours. 
The first half-hour of the walk is awkward as both of you can’t find the right words to say. What would you even talk about? Do you address the elephant in the room? Do you pretend you haven’t talked to him in seven years? It used to be so easy talking to him, and now, it’s as if it’s a blind date. You wanted to get back to that point with Mikko, but would you ever be able to? 
Thankfully, Mikko breaks the silence first. “It was really nice seeing you at the wedding.” 
“Even though I left immediately after we danced?” you ask, putting out a laugh in an attempt at a joke. 
“I’d rather you ran away from me than me not seeing you at all,” Mikko says, dead serious, his eyes locked on your walking frame. You look at him, and the intensity of his look on you is enough to make you trip and lose your balance. In true Mikko fashion, he wraps an arm around you in time to help catch you before you fall. Your breathing rate picks up as he keeps his arm wrapped around your waist as you both continue to walk. Mikko must think it’s because you’re dehydrated, so he hands you the water bottle (already opened) he brought for you. 
“Thank you,” you murmur, before taking a sip. 
“Anyway,” he says, clearly as off-kilter as you are. “Tell me what brings you back to Denver.” 
So you told him, and that opened up the floodgates of conversation between you and Mikko that you remembered. You told him all about finishing school, work these past few years, your family, and your life, and he tells you about the hockey season, winning the Stanley Cup, and the recent disappointment in the post-season. You both noticeably leave out any mentions of romantic partners. 
In your defense, though, you’re not sure if you’re ready to say that the reason you haven’t been in a true relationship in the past seven years is that you’ve been trying to find someone who made you feel the same way that Mikko made you feel. 
When you’ve come up to a peak on the trail, you and Mikko stop and take in the sights. Seeing a big boulder, Mikko pulls you over to sit. He sits first and pats the empty side of the boulder for you to fit. Taking a deep breath, you sit next to him—your entire right side is up against and aligned with Mikko’s left side. The feel of his sweaty arms should repulse you, but he smells amazing. You always knew he smelled amazing, but sweaty, Mikko smells like a Greek god. 
Just the feel of Mikko up against you makes you wobbly, and you almost fall off the side of the boulder. Mikko wraps an arm around you and holds you tightly against him so that you don’t fall again. You both sit there, breathing in sync, as you stare out at the sight before you. 
“Did you miss me as much as I missed you?” Mikko asks, not looking at you. 
“How much did you miss me?” you reply, meekly. 
“I missed you so much that I could barely breath,” he confesses. “My entire heart has ached for you over these past seven years, and not a day went by where I didn’t think about you.” 
You blink a few times before turning your head to look at him to find him already looking at you. “I definitely missed you as much as you missed me.” 
He smiles his smile, and it’s enough to almost make you fall backward, but Mikko’s arm tightens around you, almost knowing the influence he has on you.  You lean into his side, content with the feel of your body against his and just his body overall.
“We could have been doing this for years,” you whisper, not sure if you want Mikko to hear you. 
“Then let’s make up for it now,” he replies, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. His hand around your waist is stroking soft patterns on your left side as you let yourself sink into Mikko’s hold. He has a way of making you feel safe and comfortable and loved. 
If this hike has shown you anything, it’s that Mikko was your future. His gravitational pull was always going to pull you in and keep you close and secure no matter what. You loved him with your entire soul and being, and maybe one day, you’d be ready to tell him. 
“Ready to go back down?” Mikko asks, his breath tickling your forehead. 
“Yeah,” you say, reluctantly, and get up. When was the next time you were going to be this close to him? 
Once Mikko gets up, he peels off his shirt, and your mouth goes agape at the sight of his chest. His chest was magnificent when he was just twenty, but now, it looks like it’s been sculpted by the heavens. How could someone’s chest be that beautiful? You knew he was going to take off his shirt when he got too sweaty, and you thought you had prepared yourself for it, but you never suspected that he would grow into himself so handsomely. 
Mikko smirks at you, knowing exactly what he was doing. He needed all the extra points from you if he was going to convince you he was enough to spend the rest of your life with. 
“I’m going to start,” he says, turning around. “Catch up when you’ve caught your breath.” 
When he turned and revealed his back to you, your knees wobbled. This man was going to be the actual death of you. 
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Mikko had opted not to return to Finland for the summer to try to work on his training in Denver, so he proudly said that he was all yours for the summer. You weren’t sure if you wanted all this undivided Mikko attention, but then when he texted you on a random Wednesday asking if you wanted to meet him for lunch during your lunch break, you realized it was a good thing, all this attention. 
He met you at a restaurant down the street from you and was waiting outside for you. When you walked up to him, he opened his arms and pulled you in for a hug. You breathed in his scent and realized that he hasn’t changed his cologne in all these years. The fact that it hasn’t changed somehow made your throat tighten up. It took everything in you not to cry. He was still the Mikko you loved seven years ago. 
“Ready?” he asks, a smile wide on his face as he linked in hand to yours. You nodded and allowed him to lead you inside the restaurant. 
Once seated, you and Mikko didn’t say anything as you both peered over the menu, but every now and then, you both would look up at the same and catch each other’s eyes before guiltily looking back at the menu, your faces warm with embarrassment. Finally, though, you decided what you wanted to order, so you closed your menu and decided to observe him as he poured over the menu. He was wearing a white button-down shirt that was tight in all the right places. He had a few of his top buttons undone, giving you a sneak peek at that perfect chest. When he thinks, he always sticks out his tongue, slightly, and he was doing just that. You wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and taste him. How was it possible someone was so pretty? 
“Take a picture; it’ll last longer,” he teases, not looking up from his menu. 
“Great idea,” you reply, pulling out your phone and taking a perfect picture of him. If he put on a pair of dark glasses, then he could look like a handsome college professor. 
Mikko just shakes his head and laughs softly. “What am I going to do with you?” 
“Buy me lunch?” you suggest, playfully. 
“Always was the plan,” he answers, closing his menu. He opens his mouth to say something, but the waiter comes over to take your order. From the corner of your eye, you watch him deflate a little at not being able to say what he wanted to say. You wonder what he was going to say to you. 
After the waiter walks away, Mikko pulls in his chair to get a smidge closer to you. In the process of doing so, he manages to knock his legs with yours, but you don’t jump or move at the touch. Instead, you let his lower legs rest against yours as he sits. You and Mikko always were heavy on the physical touch. 
“Tell me about your current project at work,” Mikko says. As you explain to him about your current work project, he can’t help but love the way you get animated about work and talk with your hands. The features on your face are lit up by both your emotions and the lighting in the restaurant. And when you lean forward to talk to him as if you’re telling him a secret, Mikko is pretty sure that you can hear his heartbeat—it’s racing. He leans forward, too, creating a cone of isolation from the rest of the restaurant as he listens to you talk. You always could captivate him more than anyone else in the world could. 
It’s no wonder he fell in love with you all those years ago and never fell out of love. 
You’re so close to him that he could kiss you. He’s still listening, but he’s also thinking about how much he wants to kiss you. He could just lean forward an inch or two and rest his lips on yours. He could finally settle the question about what you taste like, and he can finally convey to you how he feels. 
He never was good at words, especially when it came to English, but with you, it was even harder. He had all these things he wanted to say, both in English and Finnish, but he could never get them out. His mother suggested writing them out and giving you a letter, but where would he start? Would he start with how you were his entire world? Would he continue with how your magnetic force always pulled him in regardless of how far away you were?  Would he mention that he’d give up everything to be by your side forever? Will he write about how he wanted to take you home with him to Finland and recreate all his memories there with you because he wanted everything with you? 
There were so many things he wanted to say to you, but he never had the courage to do so. 
You were still talking, and he desperately wanted to kiss you, and he was going to. He was really, really close to your lips, but then the fucking waiter shows up and ruins the moment again. 
You both pull away, and you clear your throat to clear your head from how you were pretty sure Mikko was going to kiss you. 
As you both start to eat, it’s difficult to get back into that cone of isolation that you were both in, but you’re still drawn to him like opposite sides of a magnet. 
The rest of lunch goes normally as you both catch up more and talk. Still, you're yearning for that cocoon of isolation and intimacy from before. You know you've always had Mikko's undivided attention, but the way it was a few minutes ago made your heart burst. He paid attention only to you, and he wanted to make sure that you knew that. 
The only comfort from leaving that cone was the fact that Mikko's leg was still resting against yours. That warmth was enough to keep a smile on your face. That's why I loved him, you remind yourself. He always knew what to do to keep you smiling. 
At the end of lunch and a brief argument over who's paying the bill (Mikko won), he's walking you back to your building. 
"Hey, when you have a free weekend, do you want to drive out to Aspen?" he suggests. "We can go hiking or just hang around the downtown area. We could rent a small cabin and just hang out." 
"That sounds perfect," you reply. "I'll call you one day this week, and we can plan it?" 
"Yeah," he replies, a wide smile on his face. 
When you got back to your building, Mikko kissed your cheek and whispered goodbye before he stepped away and watched you walk back into the building. 
You were going to be the end of him. 
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After planning and discussing and filing for PTO, you and Mikko were off to Aspen for a four-day weekend late on a Thursday night. You managed to get Friday and Monday off, so you and Mikko were going to spend four days hanging out and relaxing in the Aspen mountains. As you were packing, you couldn’t help but wonder what this weekend was going to do for your emotions and feelings for him. Often rather than not, you spent your free time with him, taking walks around the city, going for hikes, having movie nights, or going out for dinner and/or drinks. None of that was helping. Four days in the mountains with Mikko? Your heart was going to be working in overdrive. 
It was roughly one hour into the drive when your GPS alerted you that there was a slow down up ahead, causing delays of up to sixty to ninety minutes. As Mikko’s car came to a standstill and the automatic shut-off came on, you and Mikko glanced at each other and laughed. You thought that leaving on a Thursday night after work would allow you to miss any traffic, but clearly, that wasn’t the case. 
“Good thing we have snacks,” you mention, reaching into the back seat to grab the cooler of snacks you packed. 
“Hopefully, we make it before the office that’s holding our keys closes,” Mikko muses when you hand him a bottle of water. 
The office closed at nine. There was going to be a chance that you and Mikko wouldn’t make it in time. As if sensing your anxiety, Mikko takes your hand in his and says, “don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.” 
His warm and large hand in yours was all you needed to calm you down. It always was your cure for any bouts of anxiety you’d feel. 
For about half an hour, no one in traffic was moving. Everyone was still at a standstill, and as the night sky turned into a golden haze of sunset, there was no doubt in your or Mikko’s minds that you weren’t going to make it in time.
“It looks like everyone’s turning off their cars to conserve gas,” you say, noticing the lights of many cars turning off. “Thankfully, it’s not too hot.”
“Yeah,” Mikko responds, turning off his car right after opening some windows for a breeze. “This wasn’t how I thought this weekend would go.” 
“We’ll still find a way to make it fun.” 
Mikko looks over at you with a soft smile on his face. Your heart nearly stopped at seeing him looking at you with all the love in his eyes. His stupid, beautiful face was looking at you as if you were the queen of the world. He was looking at you as if he wanted to devour you and longingly love you for the rest of his life. And with the sun setting behind him and all the colors creating a beautiful backdrop, your entire body warmed and clenched at the idea that you got so lucky as to know him and his stupidly, beautiful features. How did you get so lucky not only to meet him but have him as a friend and fall in love with him? 
Well, falling in love with Mikko wasn’t luck. Mikko was easy to fall in love with. It took no effort. With one look, it was fated that your heart would always be his. Even if you went to the far ends of the universe and saw and met some of the most beautiful and amazing people in the universe, your heart would always beat and return to Mikko. That was the hold he had on you.
Your heart and soul were always his. That’s what was written in the stars at their first moment of creation. 
“Are you okay?” Mikko whispers, not wanting to disrupt you. He could tell you were deep in your thoughts, but you were staring and observing him, so he wanted to know what you were thinking. His head was blocking any of the sunlight from reaching your face. His dark shadow was on your face, causing a cascade of light to halo around your form. You were sitting there, in his car, like a dream. 
There were so many times over the past seven years when he’d get in the car and look over and hope and beg the universe that you would be sitting there next to him. He wanted to drive you around and show you off, and he wanted you to be right there next to him for all of his adventures in life, and he wanted to be right there next to you in all your adventures in life. 
You were sitting there, looking so stunning and a replica of his dreams, and the sun was shining around you, enshrining you in a halo, looking like someone sent from up above. 
You are the love of Mikko’s life, and his heart aches to know you’re right there but also so far out of reach. 
“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say, your voice sounding dry and hoarse. “You just look really fucking beautiful with the way the sun is shining around you.” 
“I could say the same thing about you,” he replies. He tries feeling around his (super short, in your opinion) shorts pockets to find his phone, but he can’t, so he reaches across your lap for your phone to take a picture of you. He readjusts his head so that he can illuminate you in that same glow before he snaps a few photos of you. You give him a soft smile for the pictures, and he knows right then and there that every centimeter of his heart is yours. All the blood that courses through his veins and heart, all the nerve endings throughout his body, and all his bodily metabolic processes are yours. His body beats and moves and functions and acts for you. It’s always been for you. 
“Please send it to me,” Mikko requests, his throat suddenly dry. 
“Of course,” you reply, swiping through the photos before you pick your favorite to send to him. 
“All of them,” he growls. 
You look at him and give him a funny look. “But some of them I don’t look good in.” 
“That’s your opinion, not mine. I want them all. Please.”  
You scrunch your eyebrows and forehead in laughter and send them all to him. Once you do, you begin, “Your turn for photos, Mr. Always-Beautiful Man.” 
His heart sings for your praise and words of calling him beautiful. That was the highest compliment anyone has ever given him. All of his hockey awards and praises combined do not compare to you complimenting him in any shape or form. 
You turn in your seat to get a better angle of Mikko. Not satisfied, you place your phone on the center console before you reach over to place your hands on his face to readjust the angle and shape of his face. You brush your hands over the hair on his forehead before softly stroking his cheekbones and settling back in your seat. 
Yes, Mikko’s heart is beating so fast that the force could launch his heart through his sternum into your lap. 
As you’re snapping photos, Mikko hopes that you can’t tell how much he loves you. Is it possible to see, in his eyes, that he wants you in every single possible way but he’ll wait until you say the word? With one word, you could build up his world and universes, and with one word, you could make him yours. Then again, he always was at your will, and that truly never will change. He was fully yours seven years ago, and now, he’s completely yours, just heightened. 
“I hate how photogenic you are,” you comment, swiping through the photos, taking Mikko out of his thoughts. “It’s not fair.” 
“Sorry,” Mikko says, looking at his phone and setting one of the photos of you as his home screen. 
“Sure you are,” you reply, turning to face the front of the car and rolling your eyes as you begin to munch on a snack. 
He really wasn’t. He wasn’t going to apologize for captivating you with his looks when you do the same every damn time he looks at you. 
Five hours later, well after the 9 pm deadline to pick up the keys, and close to midnight, you and Mikko reached the rental cabin in Aspen. You called ahead, trying to see if they would leave your keys under the welcome mat, but they replied, saying it wasn’t safe. 
“Should we find a motel?” you suggest, sitting in the car trying to figure out what to do. 
“We could always just sleep in the car,” Mikko counters. “I’m not sure if there will be any rooms open.” 
“So, we just roll back the seats and sleep?”
“Yeah,” he replies, getting out of the car to find his pajamas in his overnight bag in the trunk. You quickly follow and do the same. “You can change in the car, and I’ll change out here.”
“Okay,” you reply, breathlessly. You were going to be changing into pajamas with Mikko just a few feet away from you. You’ve done that before, but normally, there are walls blocking his view, but this time, he can look right through the windows and watch you. Did you want him to watch you and see parts of your body he’s never seen before? Just the idea of him getting to see more of you sets your body on fire. 
When you’ve pulled out your pajamas and sweatshirt, you move to the driver’s seat, knowing he has more legroom because he’s taller. You close the door but don’t start changing. You can see, through the driver’s side mirror, Mikko has pulled his shirt over his head and is folding it up before putting on his pajama shirt. Oh, that back. Yeah, you’re waiting until he’s done changing before you do anything. When he pulls down his shorts and is standing there in only a sweatshirt and boxers, your heart begins palpitating. You knew he had massive thighs and ass that can win a competition but in only boxers? It was no wonder your brain was malfunctioning. This man was beautiful and handsome in every single possible way.  
This kind, compassionate, caring, talented man had a body that can win first place in any beauty competition. It wasn’t fair that he was the most amazing person you’ve ever met and ridiculously, stupidly, handsome. 
Of course, you fell for him. 
When he was done changing, he looked over his shoulder to see if you were done changing, and you were quick to turn your eyes away from the mirror. It was dark, so he probably couldn’t see that you were staring at him as he changed (like a stalker), but still. 
As you began to change, Mikko turned his back to you and waited until you opened the car door to signal you were done. It took everything in his willpower not to turn and see you change. What would it do to him to see even more of you? He knew you inside and out, and he knew everything there was to know about you, and he loved it all. To see more parts of you that you’ve never shown him? His entire body would fall in on itself. 
He’s twiddling with his thumbs when the horn of the car makes him jump. He turns his head to see what the matter is. When he sees your bare shoulder, he knows it was an accident, but he’s frozen in place. All he’s getting is your bare shoulders and an inch of your upper back, but it’s enough to put his entire body in a haze. He never knew shoulders could be so perfect, but yours were incredibly fucking perfect. He wanted to rest his hands on your shoulders in support, he wanted to kiss your shoulders as he held you against his body during movie nights, and he wanted to brush away hair from your shoulders and back as he helped you put on a necklace. 
Mikko quickly looks away, but he knows that during this weekend, he’s going to fall more and more in love with you. 
When you get out of the car after changing, you and Mikko are both warm and exhilarated from seeing bits of the other changing that you both get ready to sleep in silence. The only sounds are the crickets outside and you and Mikko lowering the seats. When you both lay down, you finally look over at Mikko to find him already looking at you. The moon was illuminating his skin and figure perfectly; it made you burst with love. 
“Goodnight,” you whisper.
“Goodnight,” he murmurs in reply. My love
You’re quick to get into a comfortable position; however, a chill racks through your body, so you scrunch into a ball to make you warm. 
“Cold?” Mikko asks. You can hear the concern in his voice. 
“A little,” you lie, not wanting to make him worry. 
“Come over here,” he suggests, opening up his arms for you. He takes the sweatshirt he was going to use as a pillow and dangles it as a reward. 
Slowly, you maneuver yourself over the center console and onto Mikko’s seat. It’s not big, so you’re entirely wedged up against him. You take the sweatshirt from him and put it on; you let the warmth engulf you. You knew that Mikko was kind and caring, but to provide you with everything you needed at that moment was a new level of kindness and heart to Mikko you never knew possible. 
He pulls you flush against him and wraps an arm around you. You wrap your arms comfortably against your chest and let yourself soak in his warmth. 
“Are your hands still cold? Your legs?” he asks. 
You nod, letting your forehead fall to the space between his collarbones. In one swift motion, Mikko wraps a leg around your legs, letting the warmth from his sweatpants-clothed leg send warm sensations through your body, and takes your arms and moves them beneath his sweatshirt, allowing his sturdy chest to warm you. 
“Thank you,” you murmur, feeling the sleep induced by his warmth coming. 
“Whatever you need,” he replied, resting an arm tightly around your waist. “I’ll give you whatever you need.” 
You’re half asleep when you hear the last sentence, but it warms you nonetheless. Here was this man who was willing to give you the shirt off his back. How were you ever supposed to love another man when Mikko set the standard? 
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Since the Aspen trip, the rest of the summer went by in a haze. The remaining weeks were spent hanging out in Mikko's backyard, picnics in local parks, movie nights on your couch, and dinners in the local restaurants. Before you knew it, training camp was around the corner, and more of Mikko's time was spent in the gym, getting ready for the upcoming season. While it hurt to spend less time with him, you understood, and this time around, you went and watched him on the ice. You knew Mikko was an excellent hockey player, but you never once watched him in person. It was so enchanting watching him set up plays and glide across the ice. Who knew the love of your life was so incredibly talented? 
The weekend before training camp started, Mikko planned on hosting a barbecue to welcome the team and their families back to Denver. He invited you. At first, you were going to say no because you didn't feel like you belonged at the event, but you knew that Mikko would pout and sulk until you said yes. You didn't want him to know the kind of power he held over you. 
The day before the barbecue, Mikko called you frantically. He had no idea what he was doing and asked you to come over early to help. 
"What makes you think that I know anything about hosting?" you asked, taking a little jubilation at knowing there was something that Mikko wasn't good at (because he seemed good at everything!). 
"I don't. I just know you calm me down." 
Well, then. 
You showed up the next day, a bag of groceries in hand, ready to help Mikko host. You weren’t quite sure how you were going to help him in any way he asked (you’d do this, even if he wasn’t in a crisis). 
Carefully, you used the spare key he gave you and unlocked his house. You didn’t want to scare him, so when you entered and took off your shoes, you announced your presence quietly. He wasn’t in the kitchen, you noticed, so you placed the groceries you purchased in the fridge. Upon further listening, you could hear him singing along to a song in the washroom. He must be cleaning it. 
“Hey,” you said, poking your head into the bathroom. He was playing his music, loudly, as he scrubbed the toilet. 
“Hey,” he replied, looking at you, a smile wide on his face. “When did you get here?”
“Maybe five minutes ago. I bought you potato salad and hotdog and hamburger buns.”
“You’re the best,” Mikko replies, giving you a sweaty hug. “I’m almost done here, and then we can start preparing the food.” 
As he finished cleaning the rest of the washroom, you leaned against the door frame, watching him and talking to him. You tried your hardest to listen to what he was saying, but your eyes couldn’t help but drift to his arms as they flexed as he scrubbed the toilet. You knew he had large and attractive arms, but you weren’t ever aware he had such attractive veins. Finally, you understood what your nursing friends meant when they called veins “delicious.” All you wanted to do was run your fingers along his veins. 
When he finished, you followed him to his kitchen where he washed his hands and discussed with you what the plan for preparing was. The event was a potluck event with individual families bringing sides while Mikko supplied the grilled foods. 
“We’ll start with the grilling once people start to arrive,” he tells you, looking through the fridge.
“What did you pick up?”
“Hotdogs, hamburgers, turkey hotdogs, some bean hamburger that someone requested, corn, and zucchini,” he lists off. 
“So, should we just put out drinks and cutlery and set things up for people to get drinks and snacks?”
Mikko nods his head, his heart warming at the idea that he was hosting a barbecue with you. It was the domesticity of it all that was setting his heart aflame. 
By the time you and Mikko had set out snacks and drinks with small paper plates and napkins, the doorbell rang, alerting that the first couple of people had arrived. Mikko opened the door and welcomed guests while you opened up the sliding door towards the backyard to facilitate easy movement from the backyard to the inside of the house. 
The next hour passed as more guests arrived. Mikko fired up the grill while you helped in the kitchen, topping off drinks and organizing the dishes people brought. You didn’t get a chance to see Mikko or hang around him, but every now and then, you’d get a look at him, outside grilling, and your heart would pick up seeing how happy and in his element he looked. It also didn’t help that the sun was hitting his skin perfectly. 
A few times, Mikko would search through the crowd, looking for you, whether you were inside or in the backyard. He’d catch your eye and smile widely at you. Sometimes, he’d wink at you before giving you his signature grin. Some of the spouses around you picked up what Mikko was doing and made sure to tease you every time he did. 
They were convinced that he had feelings for you, but you kept denying it. Sure, maybe seven years ago he did, but you really weren’t sure where he was on the feelings-for-you spectrum right now. He was your best friend, that’s all. 
When he called out that the grilled foods were ready, a buffet line started with people starting at the grill, getting their choice of food before going inside for sides and topping off their drinks. Mikko stayed at the grill to help serve while you went inside to facilitate easy movement around the kitchen island and helped top off drinks. By the time the last people had gotten their food and were seated at the tables and chairs outside, you were about to make your way to the grill to start your own plate, but Mikko walked in first, holding two plates. He handed one to you and said, 
“I got you your favorites.”
Taking the plate out of his hands, your fingers lightly brushed his as you thanked him. He placed his empty hand on the small of your bag and guided you into the kitchen to fill your plates on the sides. 
When you and Mikko got outside, you started to walk toward one end of the table with some of the people you’d been talking to throughout the day, but Mikko had other plans. 
“Nope,” he said, a hint of jealousy and possession in his voice. He wrapped an arm around your waist and took you to an area of the table that had two empty seats. He’s never used that tone with you before, and it made the deepest parts of your body and soul come alive with fire. 
Throughout the meal, Mikko had his hand on your thigh the entire time. When he first rested his hand there, you nearly choked on your food. Sure, Mikko was touchy with you, but it was usually an arm hanging around the top of whatever chair you were sitting in or an elbow resting on your shoulder. He never put his hand on your thigh before, and he knew exactly what it did to you because as he watched you drink some water to clear your throat after a coughing fit brought on by his touch, he leaned down and whispered in your ear, his breath hot and exhilarating against your cheek,
“Are you okay?” 
Without looking at him, you knew he had a smug grin on his face. 
“Peachy,” you replied, not giving him any look. He chuckled in your ear in response and pulled back to continue eating, but his hand didn’t leave your thigh. 
When you were both done eating, Mikko leaned back in his seat. Deeming it wasn’t close enough to you, he scooted his chair closer to you and changed the position of his hands. The hand that was previously resting on your thigh migrated to rest against the back of your chair, parallel to your shoulders. His thumb was tracing soft circles on the soft skin between your neck and the point of your shoulder. His other hand took one of your hands and place it in his laugh. He intertwined his hands with yours as his thumb traced small circles along the pulse point of your wrist. 
This time, you weren’t shocked at the touch and leaned into his body. 
You and Mikko sat like that for the next half-hour as conversation filled his backyard and everyone got more food and caught up after a summer away from each other. 
Noticing that most people were done with their food and had thrown their plates and utensils into the trash, you asked, “Should we bring out the dessert?” 
“Sure,” Mikko said, mentally preparing himself to let go of you. As if seeing you both unwillingly moving from your seats, Gabe piped up saying he and a few other people can grab the dessert.
“You two have done so much already,” Gabe comments. “You two relax.” 
After giving him directions about where to find everything, you and Mikko relaxed back into each other, a breath you both didn’t know you were holding breathed out. 
A few minutes later, Mikko nudges you with his knee, and you look at him to find him already looking at you. He had a soft smile on his face as his eyes roamed across your face. You weren’t sure what he was searching for, but with a small smile, you knew he found what he was looking for. 
“Thank you for helping me, today,” he says, his voice quiet amongst the loud atmosphere in the backyard. With those six words, all the other voices faded away, even as cheers went up when the dessert was brought out. 
“You don’t have to thank me,” you reply, an earnest look in your eyes. “What else are friends for?”
“I’d say we put on a good event, no?”
“I’d say you’re right.” 
After that, neither of you says anything, but you’re both still looking at each other, searching over each other’s features for that secret message that neither of you truly knows what it is. It’s not until Mikko leans closer and his eyes go down to your lips does your heart stop and you get breathless. You and Mikko have been practically sitting on top of each other for the past hour, but it’s not until he leans less than a centimeter closer to you do you get breathless. 
The hand that was wrapped in your hand goes to cup your cheek. In a matter of seconds, he leans down and gently places his lips on yours. His thigh is bouncing up and down in nerves, and on instinct, one of your hands goes to cover his gargantuan thighs as your other hand goes to the back of his head to pull him closer to you. 
This, this is what you’ve been waiting for. 
His lips are soft against yours as he deepens the kiss, both his hands now resting softly against your face. Slowly and breathlessly, Mikko pulls away, his nose resting against yours. 
“I hope you know how much I love you,” he whispers against your lips. 
“I hope you know how much I love you,” you echo, still not quite believing that this was happening. 
“I fell in love with you seven years ago and never stopped. When I saw you at that wedding, it was like the universe gave me another chance. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you.”
You shake your head before placing a soft peck on the tip of his nose. “I could have told you how I felt, too.” 
“I love you,” he whispers, a wide smile lighting up his face. 
“I love you, too,” you murmur, closing the space between his lips and yours. When his lips touch yours again, it feels like the universe is perfectly aligned. Everything is perfect because finally, finally, you and Mikko are on the same page. 
Kissing him feels like summer, and you will always be catching feelings for him. 
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When you first landed in Denver at the start of the summer, running into Mikko was the last thing you wanted to do. You didn’t want to think about the feelings you had for him that one summer seven years ago, and you didn’t want to think about how hard it was to live your life in conjunction with those feelings after you returned home. 
You always knew that Mikko was the one for you. It was always going to be him. 
So
As you tape up your final box, four years later, you can’t imagine what your life would have been like if you didn’t have that dance with him at the wedding. It’s hard to imagine what your life would turn out to be if you didn’t see that text from him. It’s especially hard to see what your life would be like if he wasn’t the first one to confess. 
“Ready to go?” Mikko asks, holding a box, leaning against the door frame of your apartment. “If you’re not ready to move in with me, I—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” you interrupt. “I’m just reflecting.” 
Mikko smiles. “Then reflect all you want. I’ll be waiting for you. Always.” 
And with that, a new chapter in your life began. With Mikko at your side and you at Mikko’s side. 
The End
~~~
I hope you enjoyed this! Please let me know what you thought; any form of feedback is greatly appreciated!
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Do That (Mikko Rantanen)
Sorry I’m late! I got in a car accident, so I had to deal with that. Anyway, this is my fic for @kurlyteuvo for @wyattjohnston ‘s summer fic exchange! I feel like I could have written another 10k words of this, but alas, I didn’t have the time. Hope you enjoy!
Rating: T
Pairing: Mikko Rantanen/fem!reader
Words: 7789
Warnings: children involved (not the reader’s)
Summary: Reader meets Mikko at the park and things go from there
It was a one-in-a-million coincidence to meet him, but you’ve never been so grateful for a chance encounter.
Here’s how it happened:
You have a tradition of spending your days off at Skyline Park, reading or knitting or just enjoying the sunshine. It was a pleasant September afternoon, the fall chill having yet to set in. The sun was bright, the breeze not too strong. You were sitting on a bench, reading a new book your friend had recommended, a few dozen pages in.
Suddenly, someone was an inch away from you, making your head fly up in surprise. The person skipped and twisted, avoiding falling into you at the last second. He paused for only a second, throwing out a quick “sorry” before he continued his jog. There was no time to respond, having barely processed what was happening before he was gone.
You’re not sure if that really counts as your first meeting, since only one word was exchanged, but it had been the first time you’d interacted at all. You’d been more vigilant that day, waiting for someone to misjudge their footing and crash into you. Nothing of the sort had happened, but in looking up at every passing runner, you’d seen him three more times as he lapped the park. Those passes gave you time to look at him more closely, and the shock had hit.
The man who had almost fallen on you was tall and muscular, with curly blond hair and bright blue eyes. You’d seen his face on TV a hundred times, in replays and promos. Because the man was Mikko Rantanen.
Luckily, the awe had faded by the end of the day. There was an odd embarrassment in its place, despite having done nothing wrong. Whatever, you’d decided. It’s not like you were ever going to see him again.
Except you did.
Most times you went to the park, it was just a flow of regular people, nameless faces passing by. This time, you had been drawing. The scenery was beautiful, the architecture perfect for sketching. You were focusing on the concrete sculpture across the pathway, trying to get the lines perfect, trying to capture the look of joy on a little boy’s face as he climbed all over the boxes.
Just as you looked up from your sketchbook, he had passed by. Your eyes had met, and it sent a jolt through you that you couldn’t explain. Maybe it was simply because he was beautiful, the yellow-white sunlight making his hair glow like a wild halo. Maybe it was because he had been looking at you already, as if he recognized you despite the two weeks that had passed.
Again, you’d looked up at every passing runner that day, catching sight of him four more times. Your gazes met every time. You couldn’t explain the feeling, the way it seemed like he was looking for you, like he was searching for something in your eyes.
The third time, you were almost expecting it. Hoping for it, definitely. You had checked the Avs’s schedule that morning, seeing that they were off at home. With that knowledge, you brought along your sketchbook. You always saw him at around the same time, so you started on a new book to kill time until then.
When he makes his first pass, you switch to your sketchbook. It’s a little cloudy today, the fall having taken hold, weakening the sun and making the wind crisper. He goes by and you start sketching. It’s hard to get the features just right when you’ve only seen him in passing, so you give in and look up some references on your phone. He crosses in front of you again, and you do your best to take in the way the cloud’s shadows deepen on his face, carve out his features in stark relief.
He hadn’t looked at you on the second lap, and he doesn’t look on the third either. You’re a little put out, because this is the day that you want him to look the most. Nevertheless, you keep working on your art, filling the page with carefully shaded pencil sketches of his face at different angles. You’ve always been better at drawing nature and inanimate objects, but you think you get his likeness down pretty well. He doesn’t look on the fourth lap.
You had gotten distracted by working on the line of his jaw, tweaking it until it sloped just right, when a shadow fell over you. You looked up, thinking that the weather had turned quickly, as it’s wont to do. You didn’t want to get rained on, especially when working with paper.
Instead, it had been Mikko, standing a foot or two away. His gaze wasn’t piercing, really, but it felt like it dug into your core anyway. He stared; you stared back.
“Oh, um,” you said finally, sitting up a little straighter, “Hi.” A small smile had turned the corner of his lips at that.
“Hi,” he replied, going quiet again, as if he was waiting for something. You weren’t sure what you were supposed to do in this situation, not used to interacting with strangers. Let alone very famous, very handsome strangers.
“How’s your run going?” you ask, grasping for anything to say. His smile grows with the words.
“It’s good,” he says, eyes flicking down to your lap before coming back to rest on your own, “How’s your drawing?” It’s then that you realize the sketchbook is sitting face-up on your lap, your work fully visible to him. A furious blush heats your cheeks immediately, his smile blossoming fully.
“Uh,” you say, eloquently.
“I’m sorry if that’s weird,” you apologize quickly, worried that he may think you’re some kind of stalker, “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” He chuckles, shaking his head a little. The corners of his eyes crinkled with happiness.
“It’s not weird,” he replied easily, motioning to the book, “They’re really good.” You swallow hard, still nervous. At least he doesn’t think you’re some kind of weirdo, probably.
“Thank you,” you say. Words evade you after that, and there’s a short pause. He extends his hand toward you, huge palm open.
“I’m Mikko,” he said, still smirking. You took his hand, letting it nearly envelop your own as you shook it.
“I’m Y/N,” you officially introduce yourself. His shiny white teeth peek out from between his lips.
“It’s nice to meet you,” he said. And that’s how it started.
After that, he had taken to sitting with you for a while after his run, listening to your stories and updates and sharing his own. Your schedules didn’t always align, but you got to see him at least every few weeks. Quickly, that wasn’t enough. You were fascinated by him, by the way you felt so comfortable with him so quickly, with the way it was so easy to open up to him in a way you rarely did with others. You wanted to be around him all the time. It scared you.
You feared you were becoming infatuated with him, that your brain was latching onto a pretty stranger to distract from something. You were terrified that you would put him on a pedestal, would convince yourself you were falling for him, only to break your own heart.
Over time, it became clear that that wasn’t what was happening. Yes, you wanted to spend all your time with him. But you didn’t neglect responsibilities or other friends to do so. You stuck to your encounters in the park, not pushing for anything more. You felt safe around him, but not because you deluded yourself into it. You felt safe because you had been vulnerable with him, and he had shown over and over again that it was okay to do so. It was easy to open up with him, but you didn’t feel the need to spill your entire life and all of your secrets to him. You were a little obsessed with him, but it was a soft, happy, fond kind of obsession. It didn’t interfere with your life, only added to it.
The pattern continued for months, the two of you even meeting up in the dead of winter, clearing snow off of the bench to huddle together against the cold. The spring is welcome when it finally comes, though it brought buckets of rain along. You would take walks together, Mikko holding a big red umbrella just above your heads.
Usually, you welcome the warmth and light of early summer. When it started to arrive that year, you dreaded it. You knew Mikko would be going back to Finland for the summer, and you didn’t look forward to being alone again. He told you ahead of time when he’d be leaving, and you couldn’t help but count down the days you had left.
The last day you’d get to see him, there was a solemn air surrounding your interactions. You presented him with a going-away gift, a light grey cable-knit hat. He’d have no use for it during the summer, but it would help during the hockey season. And maybe you’d been afraid that you’d never see him again, that he would go away for months and forget all about you, and you wanted to give him a memento. And even if the memory of who gave it to him faded, you’d still be able to keep him warm in the vicious winters.
He’d thanked you profusely, hugging you tight. You tucked your face into his neck, trying to imprint the smell and feel of his skin into your brain. He pulled it on immediately, heedless of the hot sun beating down on him.
When it came time to part ways, he slipped you a neatly folded piece of paper. Please use it, he had said, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline before departing. You had watched him go, your forehead tingling from his touch. When you unfolded the paper, you were met with twelve numbers. The format isn’t familiar, but the plus sign at the beginning and the note underneath reading text me make it clear that it’s a phone number. Under the note, there’s a username as well, with Whatsapp scribbled next to it. You’d tucked the note into your sketchbook, slipping it into your backpack. Your heart had sung and beat off-rhythm the entire way home.
With a line of communication open, the floodgates opened. You were able to message any time you wanted, working around the nine hour time difference. Even when one of you was asleep, you’d leave messages for the other to read when they woke. It still wasn’t ideal, but when he sent you pictures of him and his dog, he didn’t feel so far away.
His return to Denver was highly anticipated. You’d agreed to meet at the park two days after he landed. The first thing he did when he saw you was wrap you up in a tight hug, twisting you side to side like his happiness made it impossible to stand still. You had squeezed back, as hard as you could.
A month into the season, he had invited you out with some of his teammates to celebrate a win, and that had been the beginning of the current era. It was the first time you had seen him outside of the park, the first time he’d introduced you to some of the other people in his life. It had broken the seal, and the next invitation had solidified the knowledge that he wanted you to be a part of his life, too.
Another year passed, the two of you growing almost unbearably close. He came to your apartment after tough losses, holding you close under the covers of your bed for comfort, nearing the line between platonic and something else. You never crossed it, though, even when you laid between his legs on the couch, when he FaceTimed you every night on the road, when you fell asleep with your face smushed into the crook of his neck so much that you were imprinted with his scent upon waking.
Then, your sister-in-law has a baby.
It’s her and your brother’s third child, a beautiful little girl named Rose. You go to the hospital the second they’ll allow you, begging out of work early. You congratulate your brother and sister, talking for a little while you wait for the nurses to bring Rose back from wherever they’ve taken her. If you tear up a little the first time you hold her, well, no one else needs to know.
The next day, your brother invites you over that weekend to see all of the kids, and you excitedly accept. It’s been a little while since you’ve seen the other little ones, and the promise of getting to play with them carries you through the rest of the week. Even when your boss gets on your ass to finish a report a week before it’s due, you’re soothed by the thought.
On Friday, you get a text from Mikko. Well, you get texts from him every day, but this is the important one. He only has practice on Saturday, so he asks if you want to hang out afterward. You always do, hell, you want to spend all of your time with him. Unfortunately, he wants to get a late lunch together, and that’s when you’re supposed to be at your brother’s. Something holds you back from saying no immediately, the gears in your head turning.
Half an hour and a text from your brother later, you finally respond to Mikko. The proposition is this: you can spend time together, but he has to come to your brother’s with you. It’s a long shot, since he’s only met your siblings once, but you want to have your cake and eat it too.
You’re surprised when he responds less than thirty seconds later, just the word “yes” in all caps, with three exclamation points for emphasis. Beyond the surprise, there’s something about his eager certainty that warms your heart.
The decision to invite him had been mostly impulsive, but as soon as you see his face at your apartment door, you know it was the right one. His smile is wide and bright, buried in your hair as he hugs you in greeting. You grab your bag from the hook on the inside of the door and head out. The drive isn’t exactly short, but traffic isn’t too terrible at this time of day, so it’s not as bad as it could be.
It also helps that Mikko spends the drive alternating between talking and singing, turning the music up when a song he likes comes on, then turning it back down so he can continue regaling you with stories. He’s not a great vocalist, but his enthusiasm and joy more than make up for it. You keep glancing over at him, loving the way the sun turns his hair golden, messed up into a shining halo around his head.
Derek meets you at the door when you arrive, wrapping you up in a hug. He gives Mikko a quick once-over before shaking his hand. Mikko thanks him for allowing him to tag along, always polite. Luckily, neither Derek nor Heather watch hockey, so you don’t have to worry about any fannish behavior.
He leads you around the corner into the family room, eyes softening as soon as he sees Heather on the couch with Rose in her arms. It’s sickeningly sweet. Briar and Florian run to you immediately, shouting your name and latching onto your legs.
You bend over a little to run a hand through their hair, urging them to step back so you can plant kisses on their foreheads. Their smiles are brighter than the sun, and they both start telling you about their days, talking over each other. You laugh, hauling them up, one in each arm. They keep talking as you make your way to the couch, sitting next to Heather and kissing her cheek.
After a minute of the kids’ chatter, you remember that Mikko is here, still standing awkwardly at the edge between the kitchen and family room. You beckon him over, patting the spot next to you. He sits, and Briar crawls into your lap, never having been a fan of strangers. He curls up, turned away from Mikko with his face hidden in your chest. Florian’s speech about preschool has stopped, and he’s staring at Mikko like he’s trying to figure out what to do. After a few seconds, he climbs over your lap, balancing with one knee on your leg and the other on the couch, reaching around Briar to shove a hand toward Mikko.
“Oh,” Mikko says, taking Florian’s hand and shaking it twice, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Mikko.” Florian nods, brow furrowed like he’s investigating the odd man his aunt brought.
“I’m Florian,” he introduces, “That’s a weird name.” Mikko lets out a startled laugh at that, but doesn’t seem offended.
“I’m from a different country,” Mikko explains, “So we have different names.” Florian thinks for a second, then nods again, resolute.
“Are you Aunt Y/N’s boyfriend?” he asks. You say his name, ready to chastise him for asking inappropriate questions. Mikko speaks first.
“No,” he says, shrugging, “But we are really good friends.” This seems to be a sufficient answer for Florian. He crawls out of your lap and over Mikko’s, sitting cross-legged on the couch facing him.
“What’s your favorite dinosaur?” he asks, bringing a smile to both Mikko and your faces. Mikko angles himself slightly toward Florian, engaging fully with the conversation. You’re relieved that Florian seems to like Mikko, especially because that means Briar will have an easier time warming up to him. Briar trusts Florian’s intuition, so he’ll give someone a chance if Flo likes them, but will never get anywhere near someone he doesn’t approve of.
You turn back to Heather and she hands Rose over without you even having to ask, physically moving Briar into her own lap so you have space. Briar doesn’t mind, just cuddling into his mom’s arms.
As you and Heather talk, Flo dismounts the couch and Mikko stands, following him around the room as Flo tells him about all his toys. After the tour, they sit on the floor together, Flo showing Mikko how one works. For his part, Mikko does a fantastic job of seeming interested, nodding and humming and asking questions to encourage him to continue. It’s incredibly cute.
Eventually, Flo moves on to a different toy. This one is Briar’s absolute favorite, you know, but you’re still surprised when he plops down to the floor to go join the other boys. He still doesn’t say much, but he does give little comments in his quiet, lispy voice.
“He’s good with kids,” Heather says when she catches you watching them for too long, giving you a sly look. You can feel a little heat rush to your face, biting your lip.
“Yeah,” you agree, looking back down at Rose’s sleeping face, “Didn’t know that.” Heather chuckles, but returns the conversation back to its previous topic. You’re grateful, not wanting to think too much about the feelings that have started pressing at the edges of your consciousness the past few months.
After some more gabbing, Briar comes over to tug at your pant leg. You turn your gaze to him, filled with love at the sight of his chubby face. He points toward the stairs, then starts walking over to them. You pass Rose back over to Heather, your knees creaking when you stand. Briar has stopped halfway to the stairs, staring back at Mikko and Flo. After a moment of deliberation, he goes back over, face determined as he tugs on Mikko’s sleeve. Once he has his attention, Briar points to the stairs again. Mikko seems surprised but stands anyway, letting the little boy lead him upstairs.
It takes a second to shake your shock, but you follow along. There are very few people Briar feels comfortable taking up to his room, and you hadn’t expected him to decide Mikko should be added to that list. Especially so quickly.
Since you’re a few steps behind them, Briar has already climbed up onto his bed by time you get to the doorway. You watch as he grabs one of his stuffed animals and gives it to Mikko, telling him the stuffie’s name and the backstory he’s created for them. Mikko offers it back once Briar has finished speaking, and it gets exchanged for the next. Seeing Mikko kneeling next to the bed, knees surely aching, paying rapt attention to every word Briar says… something grows in your chest that’s far too soft to not be a threat to your sanity.
Briar beckons you over when he gets to the last stuffed animal, the only one you don’t recognize. You join Mikko on the floor, leaning into his side while you listen to the story Briar has come up with for the newest addition to his collection.
Once he’s finished, the three of you go back downstairs. Heather is standing now, rocking Rose back and forth in her arms. Mikko steps up to her, but keeps a respectful distance as he admires the baby, complimenting both her and Heather. Flo pulls at Mikko’s pant leg, dragging him away and through the glass door into the back yard. The rest of you follow, Derek reappearing from his office to join.
Flo and Mikko are running around in an instant, playing a two-person game of tag. It doesn’t take long for Briar to join, and Heather gives Rose to Derek so she can follow. You want to play too, but Derek sidles up to you. You don’t get much time to talk to him, so you pass up on tag to sit in the lounge chairs with him.
He’s been working on a few tough cases lately, but obviously can’t tell you much about them. Attorney-client privilege and all that. He talks vaguely about work, before switching to the family news. He mentions your little brother getting a new job, a good one, and laughs when he realizes Matt had forgotten to tell you.
“What does Mikko do?” he asks. You probably should’ve expected the question, but you didn’t.
“He, uh,” you hesitate, “He plays for the Avalanche.” Derek’s eyes widen at that, surprised and impressed.
“That’s pretty cool,” he says, looking to Mikko, “How did you two meet?” He looks back to you expectantly, and it hits you all at once that the way you’d met was kind of insane. A complete stranger came up to you, and you had not only started talking to him, but had accepted his number and used it. Stranger danger is real, and you’d overlooked the concept because… why?
“We met at the park,” you explain, not interested in going into details, “He almost ran into me when he was running, and. Well.” It’s written plain on Derek’s face that he wants to ask a thousand more questions, but he holds himself back. That’s one thing you’ve always loved about him: he knows when not to ask.
“Are you dating?” he asks, eyes focusing in so he doesn’t miss any part of your reaction.
“No, we’re just friends,” you reply, waving a hand dismissively. Derek looks skeptical, readjusting in his chair. You want to look away from his piercing gaze, but he has this magnetism that prevents it. It’s always been kind of freaky, the way he reads people.
“Do you want to be dating?” he asks. You know he sees the way your throat moves as you swallow hard, the way your eyes dart to Mikko for the barest second. You should say no, but something stops you. You’d never really thought about it, more than grateful to just be Mikko’s friend. Your friends had joked about it, of course, but there’s something different about Derek asking. The way he asks so seriously forces you to consider it, to review everything you know about Mikko, trying to find an answer you had anticipated would be obvious.
“Okay,” Derek nods, bouncing Rose the tiniest bit when she starts to babble. He changes the subject, telling you some story about your uncle that you don’t really care about. Unfortunately, your mind is stuck on it now, trying to imagine what dating Mikko would be like, trying to decide if that’s something you’d want.
Not that it would matter if you did, because Mikko will never see you that way. You know the kind of woman hockey players go for, and you’re not it. You don’t have a business or some fancy degree, you aren’t charismatic and congenial. You’re not a trophy. Maybe a fourth place ribbon, if that. Mikko is going to find some beautiful, talented, lovely woman to love, and there’s no point in musing over dating him.
Except he comes over, and Derek effortlessly hands him Rose without even having to ask, and you realize. Seeing him hold her so carefully, the look of adoration he has for a baby he has no connection to, makes something click into place. Which is probably the worst thing that could’ve happened.
As much as you try to focus and be present for the remainder of the visit, you find yourself drifting. It’s not really the baby thing. Hell, you’re not even sure if you want kids. It’s the fact that it’s your niece, your nephews, all comfortable around him, immediately welcoming him in. It’s the fact that Heather is overly protective of her little ones, and yet had no protests about Mikko holding Rose, letting him keep her as long as he wanted. It’s Briar plopping down in front of the chair Mikko sits in, leaning back against his leg in a way you’ve never seen him do.
When it comes time to go, you hug each of the boys tightly, before kissing Rose’s head. You give a matching kiss to Heather’s cheek, and Derek squeezes you tight afterward. Then you watch Flo and Briar hug Mikko of their own volition. You watch Heather lean forward to kiss his cheek as you had hers. You watch Mikko duck down to place a kiss on Rose’s forehead, so carefully, so gently. You watch him shake Derek’s hand, some type of look passing between them.
The drive home is much the same as the drive there, though you know you’re smiling and laughing less at Mikko’s stories than usual, too lost in your thoughts to be a good audience. When you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, he’s already looking back, concern turning the corners of his lips down.
The plan had been to have dinner together after the trip, but you can’t find it in yourself to be in public. Instead, you retreat to your apartment, begging out of the meal with the excuse of a headache. It’s not completely an excuse, because you do have a headache, but it’s more what’s causing the headache that’s making you want to curl up under the covers in your dark room. Luckily, Mikko doesn’t argue much, seemingly knowing something is wrong and not wanting to intrude.
You lie in bed for a while, the blankets pulled up over your head. Sometimes your brain gets stuck on something, turns it over and over in your mind, won’t let you escape the cycle. It had started with He’s great with the boys, My family loves him, Oh my god do I love him? At some point it had switched, I want him around always, He’ll never love someone like me, Oh my god I’m in love with him.
You’re in love with him.
And that’s the sticking point. That’s where all the problems begin and end. You’d taken a chance on a stranger, it had worked out, and now you’re going to ruin it all with your stupid feelings. You know what you have to do, but you’re not sure you can manage it. Obviously, you can’t tell him. It would make things weird, and you’d lose him, either slowly or all at once. So you have to pretend. You wonder if you can, and if so, how long you can keep it up. Can you pretend forever?
By the grace of whatever deity may or not be above, you don’t have work the next day. Sundays are when you have a standing date with your best friend. Despite wanting to keep hiding in bed, you get up and ready, sighing before you step out the door.
Jackie looks lovely, as always, wearing a sundress and leggings to enjoy one of the first warm days of the season. Being around her always makes you feel underdressed, but you know she’d never judge you for your jeans and button-up. You hold her for a couple extra seconds when you hug hello, breathing in the smell of her perfume to calm yourself.
You mean to bring up the Mikko situation, you really do. There’s just no appropriate time to segue into it. Instead, you talk about work and family and Jackie’s new apartment. It’s pleasant, and you don’t want to ruin that. You try to convince yourself that this is what you need, some time with someone you love, away from your thoughts. You know better.
The two of you take a walk after lunch, Jackie’s kitten heels clicking on the pavement. The trail is short, winding through the trees surrounding the restaurant. Despite your inability to find a way to bring it up, Jackie takes advantage of a lull in the conversation to ask about Mikko. She gives you a sly look when she does, and it makes your stomach turn. Of all the people who joke about you and Mikko being in love, Jackie is the most frequent offender. You’re already mentally preparing for the teasing, squaring your shoulders and biting the inside of your cheek.
“He’s good,” you reply, already queasy. It must come across in your words or body language that something is off, because Jackie stops dead in her tracks. You stop a couple steps ahead of her, turning to look at her. She examines you, her big brown eyes surely seeing right through you.
“Oh honey,” she says, eyes going soft. Her mouth pulls in a tight, pitying line, one side of her lips tipped upward just enough to show a level of affection. Her brow is furrowed, her head slightly tilted.
“You realized, didn’t you?” she asks, taking a step toward you. You feel your cheeks heat, and your eye twitches the way it always does when you want to cry. Most of what she’s said about you and Mikko has been jokes, but it would seem that she knew about your feelings before you did.
“I’m in love with him,” you whisper. Saying it out loud is simultaneously relieving and overwhelming. It’s out there in the world now. It’s real.
“Honey,” Jackie says again, taking the second step necessary to pull you close. You cling to her, willing your wet eyes not to spill. She keeps one arm around your torso, the other coming up so she can put her hand on the back of your head, encouraging the way you’re burying your face in her neck. She presses a firm kiss to your hair, making your breath hitch. You focus on breathing, four seconds in, seven seconds out. You’re okay, you tell yourself, you’re okay.
“You’re never going to tell him, are you?” she asks, the still-fresh hurt rising up to fill your chest, to crowd out your lungs. It’s not really a question, and you know she already knows the answer. You’ve been friends since your teenage years; she knows you too well. You keep breathing, ignoring the way the air stutters in and out.
“I can’t ruin it,” you reply. The cosmic stroke of luck that brought Mikko into your life is too unlikely and wonderful to give up. You can’t bear the thought of losing him, this wonderful person who makes you feel seen and heard and understood.
“Okay,” Jackie says into your hair. You loosen your hold on her and she lets you go, still looking almost as heartbroken as you feel. She’s always been too empathetic when it comes to you, feeling your emotions so strongly that they become her own. It mixes with her protective nature, wanting to find solutions for all your problems, wanting to stop any hurt the second it starts. You love that about her, but still feel guilty that you’re hurting her, even unintentionally.
“I get it, and I’m not going to pressure you,” she says, giving you a heavy look, “But I think you should tell him. You don’t have to, but I think it’ll go better than you’re expecting.” It’s not unexpected. While most people joke about you and Mikko dating because they think the way you interact is funny, Jackie does it because she really believes you should be together. It’s been a subtle encouragement, hidden with smirks and laughs. Of course she would think you should tell him.
“I’ll think about it,” you reply, though it’s mostly to appease her. You’ve already thought of telling him, anyway, and the reactions you imagine are the reason you’re not going to do it. After a pause, Jackie gently shoves your shoulder with her fingers.
“You have a crush,” she sing-songs, smiling. The childishness of the action makes you smile in return, the air around you losing some of its weight.
“Oh, so you want to talk about Cale?” you ask rhetorically, pushing her in return. She groans dramatically at the mention of her own crush. It makes you laugh, remembering the way she’d gone shy and speechless when she’d met him. The rest of the afternoon is much less serious, and for the thousandth time, you’re grateful for her.
Somehow, the conversation makes it easier to be around Mikko. At least you have someone who knows what’s going on and supports you, rather than being alone in your feelings. He’d gone on a roadie after your visit to your brother’s, so you can’t be physically close to him for another week, but your nightly video chats are less awkward than that first day. The more you talk to him, the more you’re able to return to the friendly spirit you’ve cultivated over time.
When he comes home, you spend a night cuddled up on the couch watching a new show. His touch had almost burned when he pulled you close, but it subsides and you’re able to settle into him. When it’s late enough that you’re both trading yawns, he urges you up from the couch, leaving the snack bowls to be taken care of in the morning. He ushers you into the bedroom, assuming that you’ll stay the night without having to ask.
You’ve done it a hundred times, but it’s different this time. He shucks off his shirt easy as anything, stripping down to his boxers with a complete lack of embarrassment. Logically, you know it’s probably because he gets fully naked in a room full of other people on an almost daily basis, but you’re not one of the guys, and he doesn’t seem to mind anyway. Part of you thinks it’s a display of trust and comfort. Another part of you thinks it’s a sign that he doesn’t view you as any different from his teammates, that he sees you so platonically that the implications of being nearly naked in front of you could never mean anything.
Lying in bed together isn’t too different than usual, luckily. Yeah, you’re thinking of how much you want to fall asleep with his arms around you every night, but it’s not overwhelming. The room is dark and quiet when he presses a kiss to the back of your neck, sending sparks down your spine.
“Is everything okay with Derek?” he asks, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the whir of the fan. The mention of your brother reminds you of that day and you tense, knowing he can feel it. His tone is too grave for the question to just be checking in, so he knows something is wrong.
“Yeah, of course,” you reply. The fact that he asked specifically about Derek means that he’d noticed the change in your demeanor after the conversation on the back patio. Asking about it a week later means he hasn’t stopped thinking about it. You’d hoped that he would forget, or that acting normally tonight would keep him from asking. But Mikko never seems to forget anything when it comes to you.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asks after a pause. That’s the last thing you want him thinking, so you thread your fingers with his and squeeze.
“No,” you say simply, firmly. You’re not going to let your own issues make him feel guilty or insecure. There’s another short pause before Mikko speaks again.
“Are you sure?” he asks, adding, “You can tell me.” You’ve told him before when he’d messed up, so you already know you could. But that’s not what’s happened, and you’re not sure why he’s convinced it is. You release his hand, wiggling a bit as you roll over to face him. The moonlight filtering in around the edge of the curtains is just enough to make out the outline of his features, his light eyes silvery with it.
“Mikko,” you say his name for emphasis, “You haven’t done anything wrong, I promise.” He doesn’t say anything, just looking at you. It kills you that he doesn’t believe you. You curve one hand around his cheek, tilting his head down so you can kiss his forehead. You nudge his face back up to force him to look at you, repeating the sentence in Finnish. You still don’t speak much, but you at least know how to say this. Finns don’t say things they don’t mean, so you hope he takes it as the reassurance it’s meant to be.
“When did you learn Finnish?” he asks, startled off topic. You give a little laugh. Maybe this will distract him from his clearly morbid thoughts.
“I started studying when I met you,” you answer. You don’t mention that you’ve already completed all the lessons Duolingo offers, and may have spent actual money on a real lesson program.
“Oh,” he says, pauses, asks, “So nothing is wrong?” He sounds less grim than before, so you’ll count this as a success.
“Nothing’s wrong,” you confirm. The conversation ends when he replies okay, and you feel like you should turn back over, but something in his expression stops you. There’s some other question there, one he’s debating on asking. Turning away might keep him from doing so, so you stay in place. The silence hangs between you, but it’s not uncomfortable.
“Why are you learning Finnish?” he asks. You shrug as best you can while lying down.
“So you have someone to talk to when you miss home,” you reply. Being so far away takes its toll on Mikko, and there are no other Finns on the team, so you want him to be able to have at least a little comfort sometimes. You’d intended to keep it a secret until you were conversational, but this seems like a good reason to out yourself.
Again, there’s something in his face telling you that there’s more he wants to say, something stuck right behind his front teeth begging to be let out. You wait patiently, but he just takes a deep breath and says thank you. That’s where the conversation really ends, and you fall asleep with your head tucked under his chin.
After that, it’s your turn to think something is wrong. Mikko isn’t known for being a quiet or pensive person, but this thing keeps happening with increasing frequency. The two of you will be doing something innocuous when he’ll freeze, gaze fixed on you in some inscrutable emotion, sometimes something akin to fear. The idea of him being afraid when he’s around you doesn’t sit right, and you do your best to figure out what about you is suddenly scaring him.
You try to take note of what you’re doing when it happens, thinking that maybe there will be a common thread you can pluck out. Once, it happens when he comes home from a game and you present him with his favorite dish, a recipe you’d used your limited Finnish skills to get from his mother. Another time, you’re meeting him in the hall after a game, wearing the jersey he’d given you with his name plastered across the back. Other times included looking up to him from your sketchbook when you were at the park together, him coming home from a roadie to find that you’d gotten groceries for him, even just sitting on the couch together watching a movie.
There’s no specific action tied to the reaction that you can find. It’s always preceded by the same look, though. You’ll meet his eyes, his face will go slack, the corners of his mouth turning up just the slightest bit, his eyes bright and hazy. His mouth will part slightly, and then the surprise and fear will overtake him.
For the most part, you’ve tried to ignore it, but you know you’ll end up asking him eventually if it continues. You’re pretty sure it’s going to happen again tonight, because you’re in the middle of spooning some sauce over chicken breasts for him to eat when he gets home, one of his favorite comfort shows queued up on the TV to soothe him after tonight’s loss. It happens a lot after losses, so it’s reasonable to expect at this point.
He calls your name as he comes through the front door and you announce your presence in the kitchen. He sidles up behind you as you plate the food, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the top of your head. He compliments the smell of the food and you pat his forearm twice in greeting, thanking him and finishing your task surrounded by his warmth.
You carry both plates into the living room, giggling at the way Mikko shuffles along with you, refusing to relinquish his hold. After you place your handful down on the coffee table, you gently headbutt him to tell him to let go. He doesn’t, so you wiggle a little, making him laugh. He still won’t let go, so you start prying at his fingers, but he’s too strong, and then you’re both laughing. You whine his name through it, and he finally relents. You turn around to look at him for the first time since he’d come in and the look is there: that soft, fond look you’re tempted to call besotted.
You enjoy this part while you can, the clear blue of his eyes halfway overtaken by his pupils, the gentlest of smiles on his lips, the ever-so-slight tilt of his head. You only get it for a couple of seconds before his mouth begins to part, ushering in the dreaded terror.
“Why do you do that?” you ask before you’ve consciously decided to. You’d intended to wait to ask, to see if it persisted first, but it bothers you more than you care to admit. You never want to make Mikko feel anything negative. Maybe if you know what you’re doing to trigger the reaction, you can stop it.
“Do what?” he asks in return. He looks genuinely confused, his strong brow furrowed. At least he doesn’t look afraid anymore.
“Sometimes you seem so scared when you look at me,” you explain, reaching a hand up to cup his jaw, running your thumb along his cheek, “What am I doing wrong?” It’s probably not the best time to bring it up, right after a home loss, but you’ve already started. May as well get your answer.
“Nothing,” he replies, insistent, “You’re not doing anything wrong.” He takes a half-step forward, resting one hand on your hip and the other on the side of your neck. His touch is gentle, but it helps ground you.
“Then why?” you implore, suddenly desperate to know. There has to be something you can do, something you can change to stop this.
“I just–” he begins, inhales sharply, “Don’t worry about it, darling.” Typically, you love it when he calls you pet names, but it feels compensatory here, like he’s trying to make up for not giving you an answer. But you need an answer, need to know what’s gone wrong.
“Mikko,” you say his name quietly, as softly as you can manage, “Please tell me.” He hesitates, conflict writ across his face.
“Please,” you repeat, searching his eyes for something, anything. The two contrasting expressions you’ve been agonizing over return, mixing on his face. His mouth quirked in a tiny smile, his brow furrowed, his eyes dilated, somewhere between affection and apprehension. He takes a deep breath. You wait.
“You make it so hard not to tell you that I love you,” he finally says.
Okay. That’s– okay.
That’s definitely a love confession, right? There’s no way anyone could think otherwise, but your brain is trying to find another angle. The dissonance is strong, the statement going against everything you’ve convinced yourself of for months. Guys like Mikko don’t go for girls like you, except apparently they do, because he’s saying he loves you. You can feel how stupid you look, face slack with shock as you just stare at him. Mikko loves you.
It must take you too long to respond, because he starts to step away, his hands falling from your body. Your free hand flies up to grab his shoulder, holding him in place. He could pull out of the grip easily, but he doesn’t, standing stock-still and waiting.
“You should do that,” you say. Your mind is starting to shift, to push past all the bullshit you’ve been telling yourself, to take in what he’s saying and maybe, just maybe, starting to believe.
“Do what?” he asks. Your chest is tight, a smile beginning to pull at your lips.
“Tell me that you love me,” you reply. The short, disbelieving laugh Mikko lets out is the second best thing you’ve ever heard. Because the best thing you’ve ever heard is when he takes your face in his hands, looks deep in your eyes, and says:
“I love you.”
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equallyshaw · 1 year
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soft launch feat. Cale makar x reader
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@y/username: canadas not too shabby
678 likes, 54 comments.
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@mel.landeskog: love this 🙊
@y/username: love u 🫶🏻
@mikkorantanen: wait this is so cute 🧐
@y/usarname: hehe
@bestfriend: breakfast of champs 🤌🏻
@y/username: 🥑🥑🥑🥑
@bigh0rny: pls tell me you learned how to play golf
@y/username: u know i only went for the drinks and golf carts
@syddbad: the only way to golf 🙌🏻
@y/username: you already know !
@gabelandeskog: I already know that this is cheeks
@y/username: 😌😌
@calemakar: stunna
@y/username: u the stunna
@jtcompher: glad my Christmas gift is coming in handy
@y/username: the bass pro hat 😭😭
@bestfriend: now come back I miss u
@y/username: me too :(
@bestfriend1: he stole her away 😭
@nathanmackinnon: not the toast
@y/username: hehe always
@bobyram: ur short
@y/username: not everybody can be a hockey player😾
@bestfriend1: rUdE
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@calemakar: california ain’t too shabby.
89.9k likes, 2.9k comments.
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@gabelandeskog: there’s no way that you dressed yourself
@bigh0rny: NO CHANCE
@jtcompher: who’s this cale?? Never seen this man I’m my life
@mikkorantanen: 🧐🧐
@mel.landeskog: CHEEKS
@y/username: cHeEkS
@nathanmackinnon: the kid is in love
@gabelandeskog: they grow up so fast 🥹
@bobyram: I wanna go to cali with u cheeks :(
@y/username: come out shortie
@bobyram: rUdE
@y/username: stunning view
@calemakar: ur the stunning view
Hope you guys enjoyed! Pls like and reblog if you did :)
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toffoliravioli · 2 years
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"is it fun to win the stanley cup"
"sure...." LMAO MIKKO-
315 notes · View notes
bitchinbarzal · 10 months
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hi lulu! could you do 31. "Just one kiss?" with mikko pleeeease?
xoxo @comphy-and-cozy
Mikko headed home to Finland every year, that didn’t make it any easier.
So here you were sitting on his bed, pouting, while watching him pack. At one point you began pulling the clothes back out the case.
He sighs “y/n you can’t-“ another hoodie pulled out “y/n! stop”
“Why do you insist on leaving me?!” You cried.
“Babe, i have to go home you know this. My family miss me” he explains, and you know that deep down you’re just being a clingy girlfriend.
“I know” You whine “I’m just going to miss you!” You exclaim, holding up his workout gear in your hands now.
He chuckles “How about you help me pack, huh?”
“That’s the opposite of what I want to do”
“For every piece of clothing you pack I’ll give you a kiss” he tries to bargain and you frown “Just one kiss?”
“Fine, two!”
You smile “Okay! Where’s your trousers?!” You take off into the other room and he just stares at the doorway in awe.
That’s his girl.
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happer08 · 2 years
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rakastan sua
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as promised! i used google translate so please be kind also translations are at the end 
"Why are you hiding -muru?" Mikko hummed from where he pressed his thighs to the bed he had just laid you on. His big soft hands pushed up under your shirt, his finger rubbing ghostly circles over your heated skin. "You’re handsome," your voice was high and desperate-sounding. Mikko, honest to god, chuckled, looking over your laid-out figure like you were a meal, and he was a starving man. His hands slid further up your body till his fingers pushed against your lacy bra, one of Mikkos' favorites. His breath hitched when he realized what he touched; his lust-wide eyes fluttered shut before opening again slowly. His too pink tongue darted over his bottom lip, more of his body leaning over you. "On purpose?" he muttered, low and heavily accented. "Always," you breathed. He muttered something in Finnish, laying his body down on you more, leaving you some breathing room before pressing his lips down to yours, wet and hot. Mikkos kisses were always intense, a wet slide that never seemed to end but had a zip of electricity. He bit gently at first, then a little harder, a heavy moan escaping your mouth, pushing right into his. Mikko swallowed the sound moving your legs around him, grinding down on you, heavy, hot and dirty. You could feel him hard in his too-tight pants grinding into you, a familiar throb overtook you, and you moaned, chasing the filth grind of his hips. "I-" You pulled your lips away; Mikko found purchase on your neck, his teeth dragging on your skin as his hands had a solid grip on your sides just under your ribs.
  You tried to speak again; as you opened your mouth Mikko pushed against you again, his, what had to be painfully hard, cock pressed against your jeans, and instead of words, an incoherent moan left your mouth. Dragging your hands up Mikkos' back and over his shoulders, you threaded your fingers into his hair. "Mi-Mikko, please," You pleaded as the assault on your neck and collarbones continued. “ puhu minulle (talk to me)” "I need you." Mikko pulled back, an almost sleazy smile pulling over his lips. Usually, Mikko would take his time, undress you, worship you, and pull you apart just to put you back together by the end. But tonight was different. You both undressed quickly, your clothes landing in various corners of the room even though it felt like his hands never left your skin. Mikkos' bare chest pushed into yours as he laid back on top of you, though now you were both naked. You wrapped your legs around him, and he slowly and gently guided himself inside you. His massive frame shook above you as he buried his face in your neck for a moment till he was settled; a slow-burning stretch came along with him, pushing deeper. It took your breath away despite the years you'd spent together. You both took a moment, enjoying the feeling of each other and attempting to settle the overwhelming feeling bubbling inside your chest. "Not gonna last long," Mikko mumbled; he'd been hard and ready to go since the car ride. "Just fuck me, please," You pleaded, nails digging crescents into his back. It started with a slow drag. His body was shaking as you wanted to keep him inside you. He cursed in Finnish, pushing back in, somehow finding deeper spots inside you before starting to fuck into you in earnest. His hand slide over the bedding, finding and lacing your fingers, kissing you, a distraction from the eruption bubbling inside you both. "Go with me?" Mikko pulled back enough to ask the question into your mouth. The only answer you could muster was a high whine. "That's it; cmon," Mikko praised, nosing at your jaw, drawing your impending orgasm out of you with ease. You and Mikko came with similar low-pitched whines shaking and grabbing onto each other. He stopped moving, feeling you squirming under him from overstimulation, and rested his weight on top of you, mouthing wetly at your neck. The warm sensation of him filling you made you feel like a completed puzzle. "Gotta clean up," you yawned, rubbing up and down his back, his skin soft and warm to the touch. "Hmm," Mikko hummed into your neck between licks to your skin. Mikko decided it was best to carry you to the shower and join you once the water was at the right temperature. He tucked you into his chest, carefully not suffocating you while running a soothing hand up your back. “rakastan sua”
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sc0tters · 7 months
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Fights and Feelings | Mikko Rantanen
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summary: when Mikko sees you with one of his teammates he realises that he wants to be more than just your friend.
request: yes/no
trope: friends to lovers
warnings: swearing
word count: 1.36k
authors note: here is the first avs player I’ve written for and I’m happy to say that this was really cute. If you want to read more of the celly then you can check it out here!
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Mikko didn’t know how much longer he could keep quiet.
Tonight was the third night in a row that you were coming home because you were spending the night with Nathan. The Canadian had gotten the chance to take you on a date and he made sure to make the most of it before Mikko changed his mind.
The two of you had been living together for the last year and a half after your lease on your previous apartment ended. In 2017 your coffee order got mixed up with his and from the moment he offered you a conversation whilst you both waited for the second one, you haven’t looked back.
Your giggle could be heard from down the road as Nathan shut the passenger door to his car when you got out “you don’t have to walk me back again!” You smiled as the Canadian wrapped his arm around your shoulders “but I liked doing this.” Nathan shot back as he helped you back up the steps.
It was icy in Colorado not just because Mikko had seemed to be avoiding you but also because it was reaching the end of October so with that the cold front was rolling over Denver “I should go so I don’t wake Mikks up.” You sighed knowing that your best friend was still awake as he couldn’t sleep without knowing you were in the house.
Nathan nodded ignoring the disappointment that coursed through his veins “I’ll see you sometime soon?” His voice was hopeful as you smiled “of course, have a nice night MacKinnon.” You mumbled leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek.
That broke Mikko’s heart as he watched you through the ring camera as he sat on the couch “have a nice night?” Mikko repeated your words as he watched you walk into the living room.
You nodded as you slid your sneakers off of your feet “you finally done being an ass?” You shot back raising your eyebrow as you hinted back to the entirety of the morning.
Mikko hadn’t spoken to you at all, and if he did it wasn’t more than basic conversation. To you it seemed that he merely didn’t like that you were going out with his teammate. Once Nathan was a good friend of his but now Mikko couldn’t say two nice things about the Canadian as he seemed to worry that he would break your heart “I am just looking out for you y/n!” Mikko groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
He watched as you crossed your arms “I’m not twelve Mikko.” Very rarely did you ever call him by his actual name as you usually settled for a nickname “besides he’s a good guy.” The addition was softer as you looked at the ground.
It made Mikko get up from his seat “he’s my teammate, I know him better than you do.” If his mother knew what he was doing she would have been on the next flight over from Finland “there it is again!” You complained shaking your head.
You felt hurt that your best friend couldn’t be happy for you as you finally found a guy who could treat you well “I am sorry but why can’t you just act like you are happy that I’m happy!” You felt like you were going in circles with him as you weirdly craved his approval.
The hockey player groaned “because I don’t want to stand here and watch you get hurt!” Mikko yelled causing you to shift back a few paces “then you don’t have to.” Venom laced your voice as you turned around and marched yourself to the front door.
Mikko sighed as he watched you open the door “where are you going?” The hockey player asked as he placed his hand on his hip “far away from you.” The response came from your lips as quick as you shut the door behind you making sure that you grabbed your car keys beforehand.
Tears clouded your eyes as you drove off not really knowing or caring where it was that you landed up at. Rain began to fall around you all as you continued until your eyes couldn’t take it anymore “I know it’s late but can I come in?” You begged knocking on the door as tears streamed down your face.
It might not have brought you as much comfort as he might have thought but Mikko had the worst night of his life. He slept on the chair in your room as he hoped to see you if you came back. Right after you left was the first time that he truly realized the potential for consequences due to his actions. The hockey player called Emily, a girl you worked with in the hopes that she could tell him where you were. Of course she didn’t but rather left him with the message that if he truly had no clue where you were then maybe he wasn’t as good of a friend as he once thought.
Practice had gone horribly as Nathan made sure to go tough on the boy until Gabriel was there to put an end to the fight that the boys almost had “enough you two!” He groaned standing in between his teammates in order to stop them from hitting each other.
All they did was glare at each other as their drama went beyond the team dynamic “what the hell are you playing at today!” Mikko grumbled as he spat at his teammate “maybe you should be asking y/n that.” As those words left Nathan’s lips Mikko’s clenched fist swung at his teammate.
You made your way into the arena as your sandals hit the floor “what are you doing here?” Mikko looked up from his icepack to see you stood there “Gabriel didn’t want you going home alone.” You grumbled crossing your arms .
It took him seconds to get up and follow as you spun on your heel “wait up!” He complained grabbing his duffel bag as he made sure to follow you “look let’s just get you home so I can leave again.” You should have said no to the captain, you would have told Gabriel that you had better things to do but instead you didn’t want to say no because you didn’t want to leave Mikko.
Even as you were irritated at him you watched his bruised hand brush over your thigh “I’m sorry.” He mumbled locking his pinky with yours.
The gesture made your heart swell “for punching him or for being a dick?” You sent him a glare as you pursed your lips together.
Mikko felt his heart pound as you walked back to your car. He weirdly didn’t have an answer for you which caused you to both sit in pure silence.
Orange and yellow leaves painted the windows of your car all the way until you drove him back to the house.
You chewed at the inside of your cheek as you turned to Mikko “I think we should take some time apart.” You gripped your hands around the steering wheel as you sighed.
The hockey player clicked his tongue “wait.” He stopped himself as he looked at you “I love you.” Mikko blurted out causing you to go silent.
Scanning his face for any part of a lie yet it was clearly all true “I’m should go.” Mikko sighed as he went to unlock his door but you were all too quick and beat him to it as you kept it locked.
Mikko furrowed his eyebrows as he frowned “look you clearly aren’t interested in what I said so just let me-” his complaint was short lived as your lips locked into his.
It took him a few moments before Mikko kissed you back letting his hand hold your head as it kept you there “Mikks-” you moaned as his tongue slid over your lower lip.
You felt his other hand go to your waist “wait,” you pulled away “I love you too.” Your words made him laugh “you think I didn’t get that from the kiss?” Mikko ran his fingers over your cheek.
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Colorado Avalanche
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How to Navigate:
❤ Heart = Fluff  ★ Star = Taylor Swift Song Fic  ⬥ Diamond = My Favorite Italics = No Work Posted Currently
Cale Makar 
Pool Party
Nathan MacKinnon
Erik Johnson 
Mikko Rantanen 
Gabriel Landeskog
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comphy-and-cozy · 5 months
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Bad for Business II - Mikko Rantanen
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Pairing: Mikko Rantanen x massage therapist!Reader (f) - part of Bad for Business universe
Summary: Mikko learns to accept that his teammates are your clients, too.
Word Count: 2.5K
Warnings: Smut (18+ ONLY); unprotected sex, risqué/voyeuristic/public-adjacent sex, a little bit of everything: size kink, praise, dirty talk. Jealous/slightly toxic Mikko, secret relationship, morally gray professional decisions. Once again I am here telling you to not fuck your clients (or have sex in your workplace). Also do NOT have sex in a sauna!!!!
Mikko is buzzing with excitement as he pulls into the parking lot. Putting the car in park, he takes a swig of water from his Avalanche-branded bottle and sets his phone to Do Not Disturb. With a quick glance at the clock, he notes that it’s 3:55pm. It’s a Wednesday, and after a string of travel, and a few grueling practices—including one earlier today—he finally has the day off tomorrow. He’s looking forward to a chill night tonight and a relaxing morning sleeping in. If he’s lucky, he’ll have a pretty massage therapist in his bed; at least, that’s what he hopes to lock in after his 4:15pm massage.
On his way into the spa, he casts a glance at the silver Audi in the space beside him. The parking lot is far from full, so it’s hard not to notice the vehicle that he knows isn’t yours. He thinks he recognizes it, but can’t place who it belongs to until he sees the Florida plates as he passes by. 
In the spirit of being good-natured, Mikko is prepared to greet him, clapping a hand on his back, making a little small talk, maybe asking what his day-off plans are. Everything a good friend would do. Except that when he arrives to the suite, he sees Ross leaned against the countertop, talking quietly to you. 
In the two months you’d secretly been seeing each other, Mikko had quickly had to come to terms with the fact that you rubbed your hands all over his teammates’ bodies for a living. Did he like it? Fuck no, but he had accepted it—mostly. But this, seeing it in person, happening live in front of him, makes him rethink all of his pledges to remain polite.
By all rights, it’s not an unusual interaction in your place of work; Mikko has made plenty of post-massage small talk with you. But, then again, he was trying to fuck you. And by the looks of it, Ross is too, pressing a gentle hand against the back of your arm and speaking in a tone that’s at least an octave lower than his usual speaking voice.
Ross flashes his handsome smile at you, his fuck-me eyes far too obvious, and Mikko’s fist clenches involuntarily. Blood boils low in his chest when he sees you return a smile, your hand pressing gently against his bicep, and he has to take a breath and tear his eyes away to prevent himself from mauling his new teammate in the entryway of the high-end spa.
“Same time next week?” 
“Already got you booked,” you reply with a smile. “See you then.”
“Can’t come soon enough,” Ross says, his saccharine smile dripping with charm. Mikko doesn’t miss the quick wink in your direction before he’s forcing himself to offer a nod at his teammate as he makes to leave. Fuck the small talk. 
“Mikko, hi,” he hears your voice say, and he glances up to find you looking at him, seemingly unbothered by Ross’ antics. “I just need a few minutes to get the room ready for you.”
“M’gonna go in the sauna,” he grits, swallowing the rage that’s simmering just beneath the surface. “Unwind a little bit. Take your time.”
The humidity and the steam is an instant comfort to him, his muscles relaxing in the damp air. With a groan, he scrubs his face with his hands before letting his head rest on his palms, elbows digging into his thighs. The image of your hand on Ross’ arm, the nauseatingly syrupy smile on his face, the way he was practically fucking you with his eyes—all of it flashes through his mind, each thought more infuriating than the last. 
You’re supposed to be his girl. Unofficially, at least. Though, if Mikko thinks about it enough, your budding relationship is still a secret, so everyone else thinks you’re single. Doesn’t change his sudden desire to slam Colton into the boards a little extra hard at practice, though.
A soft knock on the door has him looking up. Your head pokes in, and you can’t help the way your eyes are immediately drawn to the white towel drawn taut between his thighs. You know what lies between those thighs now, have felt it on multiple glorious, life-altering occasions, so there’s an involuntary reaction in your gut. It makes you swallow thickly, quickly darting your gaze away to the floor in an attempt to maintain at least some level of professionalism. “You ready?”
Mikko looks up at you, and you see the scowl on his face before it disappears in a split second. He glances behind you, then rises to his full—read: huge—form and takes the few steps to close the gap between you. His hand reaches for yours, thumb affectionately rubbing over the back of your hand.
“I’m not—I’m not misreading this, am I? We have something going, right?”
Oh, we’re doing this. A small panic settles into your chest, paranoid at one of your colleagues walking by and hearing. You toe your shoes off, tearing your hand away from his to remove your socks and step fully into the sauna, closing the door behind you. It’s unhygienic, and frowned upon, but you can tell that something’s bothering him, so you do it anyway.
“Mikko, we shouldn’t talk about this here.”
“We do though, don’t we?” 
There’s something about the look in his eyes that makes you give up the attempt to move the conversation elsewhere. Already, there’s a fine sheen of perspiration spreading across your skin, probably damp to the touch. “Yeah, Mikko. I like you. I thought that much was obvious.”
He smiles then, an expression of—relief, maybe?—settling across his features. Before you have a chance to ask him what’s up, he’s closing the gap between you and seizing your lips in a red-hot kiss. It’s enough to send the air whooshing out of your lungs, hands moving to his arms that have wrapped around you to hold yourself steady.
“You think Ross could kiss you like that?”
All at once, everything clicks into place, despite feeling like your brain has suddenly melted into a warm, pleasant liquid, sloshing about in your head (this is a normal occurrence after he kisses you, you’ve learned). He’s jealous.
“Mikko, he’s a client,” you say, doing your best to hide your amusement. “I’m not sure if you know this, but it’s my job to touch people.��
“It’s not you I’m concerned about.”
This time, you don’t hide your reaction, rolling your eyes at his dramatics. “He’s being friendly.”
“Trust me, he wants to be much more than friends,” Mikko’s voice is low. You notice the way his eyes trail down to your chest, down at the skin peeking through the two unbuttoned buttons of your polo. “He was basically undressing you with his eyes.”
“Like you are right now?” you quip back. 
There’s a brief flash in his eyes, like he’s temporarily been pulled out of his jealous rage. His shoulders slump. “M’sorry. Jus’ hate seeing other guys look at you ‘cause they don’t know you’re mine.”
It’s sweet, actually, the sentiment. You’ve been contemplating the dilemma of your relationship and the impact it could have on your career—dating a key member of one of your client groups certainly doesn’t seem like the best idea for maintaining integrity in your profession.
“Mikko, you know we can’t be public about this. Not yet. I like you, but I’m not going to sacrifice my career for you.”
It should be disappointing, but all it does is turn Mikko into titanium steel beneath his towel, the firm independence of a woman who worked hard for what she has. It’s hot, hotter than if you were desperate enough to sacrifice all of it just to get fucked. 
“I would—I would never ask that,” he says instead. “Just don’t get mad at me if I accidentally slash him with my stick.”
Your eyes roll again. “Okay, Mr. Tough Guy. Let’s get you onto that massage table, yeah?”
You’re turned to leave, stepping toward the door when you feel warm hands wrap around your elbow. He whips you around to face him, cheeks flushed in the heat.
“I may not be able to stop your hands from touching other people, but I sure as hell am gonna be the only guy touching you.”
Mikko’s lips reclaim yours, tugging your hips toward him as he walks backward. When he hits the wooden bench, he transitions you seamlessly to straddling his lap, your scrubs instantly growing moist when they touch the dampness. Any protest you might have building in you dies on your lips when his large hands grip the globes of your ass, pushing and pulling so your core runs over the bulge that’s mere inches away from exposure. 
“Better get these off before I rip a hole in ‘em,” he warns, tugging impatiently at the waistband. “Need you, baby.”
Once you’ve slid off his lap, he’s pawing at your waist to get you naked. The hot, humid air kisses your skin, mingling with the dampness between your thighs. Mikko mumbles something in Finnish, all but ripping off the Egyptian cotton towel wrapped around his waist. His cock is hard, drooling at the tip, standing proudly now that its cover has been removed. “Gotta have you.”
Your mouth opens to protest, to tell him anywhere but here, where there’s no lock on the door and anyone—client or colleague—could walk in at any moment. But then two thick fingers are teasing between your legs, his other hand gently coaxing you forward again, and instead of an objection, you let out a soft sigh.
“C’mere, kultaseni,” he coos. Sweetheart. “Let me feel that pretty little pussy.”
Mikko’s never been like this, so talkative, but you really, really like the way it sounds rumbling out of his broad chest, the depth of his voice and the thickness of his accent somehow making him feel even larger. You like it enough to crawl back into his lap obediently, eager to do anything to hear more of it.
He smiles easily, a smug chuckle sounding from between his lips; the sound is so delicious that you find yourself leaning forward to taste it. His tongue is quick to find yours, allowing you to explore the seam of his lips where his smile blooms, enjoying the way you feel seated in his lap again.
Of course, he teases you, his fingers brushing gently against your folds the only warning before a digit is dipping into your heat. He curses, leaning forward to nip at your collarbone as he pushes through the tightness of your walls, gently working you open to—hopefully soon—accommodate something much larger. 
One finger becomes two becomes three, and he’s got a mark blossoming at the junction of your neck and shoulder, dark pink and sure to be a mauvey-purple come tomorrow. Your chest is heaving now, panting in the moistness of the air as he works you to a frenzy.
“You ready to take it now, baby?”
Your nod is desperate, as is the way you sit up to make space for him when he lines himself up with your entrance. He eases the tip in, shallow at first, dipping in and out in slow and steady movements. Gradually, he slips deeper, working his sizable length into your tightness until you’re wrapped snugly around him.
“Fuck,” you whisper. “S’big, Mikko.”
“Yeah?” his quiet reply lilts eagerly, almost hopeful. “You like that?”
Your reply is more of a slurred moan, walls fluttering dreamily around his cock that throbs in time with the beat of your heart. He smirks against your chest, pleased at your inability to speak coherently already—and he’s barely even moved. 
Under the coaxing of his strong hands on your waist, it isn’t long before you’re bouncing in his lap, tongue tucked between your teeth as you do your best to temper your moans. You’re thankful that the thick walls of the sauna keep noise inside, but toeing that line feels like playing with fire.
When Mikko tugs your top off, bra falling unceremoniously to the floor, your nakedness feels stark. Something about being nude in a place you shouldn’t be invokes a sense of wild freedom in you, drawing energy and adrenaline to your hips as they keep their frantic rhythm.
“Colton fucking wishes he could get this treatment,” he growls, eyes glued to your tits as you ride him to high heaven. 
“Can y’not talk about another dude while you’re balls deep inside me?”
“Why? Just want to remind you that he can’t make you feel this way,” Mikko smirks, large palm massaging one of your breasts leisurely. “Have you mumblin’ nonsense on it. Cryin’ out my name, not his.”
With a flex of his hips, he’s pushing deeper into you and you let out an involuntary cry. No, you think, you’re pretty sure there’s no one else out there that can rest fully in your guts and still have you crying out his name.
“Who else you think can fill you up like this?” he questions, thrusting again for emphasis. It’s enough to have your eyes rolling, fucked completely stupid on his dick. 
“Nobody,” you gasp, and you mean it. “Jus’—jus’ you. Only you.”
He hums, smug when his thumb moves to press your clit, the pressure enough to make you shiver. You feel the way your muscles flex around him, the brush of his tip against your g-spot with every bounce in his lap. 
Your skin is on fire, less from the heat of the sauna now and more from the flame that he builds inside of you, your body hot to the touch as your sweaty skin slides against his. It’s impossibly warm, each gentle circle of the pad of his finger against your clit stoking the coals and sending another wave of heat coursing through you.
“Need you t’come,” he pants. “Please, baby.”
Thighs burning, you let your hips find their rhythm, drawing closer to that ethereal climax. You can barely even remember your own name, let alone register that you’re inside a sauna, inside your place of work, riding one of your clients like your life depends on it—which is why you let out a loud cry of Mikko’s name when the wave washes over you. Your mouth presses into the crook of his neck too late, panting hot against his skin while he weakly resumes the thrust of his hips, pushing himself over the edge and spilling into your sated, satisfied cunt.
Mikko’s thumb rubs gentle, soothing circles against your hip while the two of you catch your breath. A groan escapes your lips when you realize that you’ve yet again broken your own promise to yourself and defiled yet another surface at your place of employment. 
“You gonna charge me a cancellation fee if I say let’s skip the massage and I’ll take you to dinner instead?” his voice is low, murmured softly against your shoulder before he presses a kiss to the skin.
Ten minutes later, you’re walking through the lobby, coat over your shoulders and keys jingling in your hand. Hannah, the receptionist, watches with her jaw dropped as Mikko’s fingers thread with yours, holding the door for you and offering a polite nod in her direction on the way out.  
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ilyasorokinn · 2 years
Note
for the avs thingy, “hiding their face in the other’s neck” from the hug prompts with mikko? thank you!💕
DON'T WANT TO
mashing two together :)
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TAYLOR'S AVS NIGHT!
10. "hiding their face in the other's neck" 24. "hugging with a height difference" (from this prompt list)
proud wasn't a big enough word that could describe what you were feeling. your heart swelled with pride as you watched mikko hoist the cup over his head.
with your hands intertwined with a few other girls, you made your way down to the ice. you all separated when you saw your guys.
he spotted you and the biggest smile you'd ever seen found its way onto his face. he opened his arms and caught you as you jumped into his arms.
he set you on the ground without letting you go and shoved his face into your neck. pictures were being taken and videos everywhere around you, but the only thing that mattered at that moment was you and mikko.
you pulled away and cupped his face, wiping the few tears that had fallen. he laughed, wiping the tears too before pulling you back in for a hug and kissing the top of your head.
the cup was passed around to each of the families so they could take photos with it. when it finally was your turn to take it, you were almost apprehensive to touch it.
"you can touch it." he laughed.
"i don't know if i want to." you stared at it wide-eyed. after staring at it for a good 15 seconds, you finally touched it, "wow."
"right?" he laughed, holding up one side of it so you could hold the other. you got all your pictures with it before handing it off to someone else.
he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and leaned his chin on top of your head. you wrapped your arms around his waist and looked up at it.
no words were exchanged, only smiles and kisses.
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drewsbuzzcut · 6 months
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So I’ve also been working on a mikko fic and I want it finished by or before christmas, but idk if I will be able to do that
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wyattjohnston · 2 years
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What about Mikko and “you’re driving me crazy here.” ❤️
The haircut was a shock at first. Mikko woke up, said he was going to get a haircut and came back without much at all. You were expecting a trim. He’d walked in and you were unsure, but it didn’t take long for you to begin to adore it.
Your hands are running over his hair almost every second you get. Sometimes you’re just passing him in the house and other times you stop him in his tracks for the very specific reason of doing so.
He’s watching the television, some show you’re not interested in, when you sit down beside him. You’re half paying attention to the television, lost to the plot line and far more interested in the feel of his hair beneath your fingers.
“You’re driving me crazy here,” he tells you after what may have been five minutes or thirty.
Your smile is devilish—it may not have been intentional to get him worked up, but it’s never a bad thing.
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