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radstronaut · 4 years

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And This is How I See You | Sebastian Aho

this work is inspired by Serendipitous by @lulucanwrite warnings: n/a word count: 3490 note: this is a gift for @lulucanwrite and basically serves as a prequel/spinoff/inspiration from Serendipitous, which is one of the sweetest stories ever. it reads like an imagine fic, but really it’s a lovely little story about two people who have loved each other forever and who will always love each other, featuring pining, friends to lovers, reconnections after many years apart, some found family feels, and a healthy dose of soft angst. highly recommend because it is extremely good. this is an imagining of the two in her story, the year that the main character leaves for America, and Sebastian knows he has to say goodbye, but doesn’t know how to say “I love you,” or maybe, actually, he does. (title inspiration from Sarah McLachlan’s Wintersong)

“We still have to get our tree and visit dad,” she says, her voice laced with uncertainty. “I’m just not sure.”

“Please? I want to go throw snowballs at windows. Like when we were little. Come with me, one last time,” Sebastian implores. His face is twisted, trying not to show any of the emotions brewing deep within his belly, trying not to let any of his feelings towards her spill out with every word that tumbles from his lips.

Everything is laced with the knowing that this is their last Christmas together. Even the cups of coffee neatly placed on the table between them suddenly feel less warm. Sebastian can feel the time slipping away from them the longer they both sit there.

She seems to consider the proposition but she is stoic. Sebastian can’t read her. She thins her lips and pulls her cup of coffee to them, drawing in a long sip. Sebastian realizes that he’s holding his breath when she sets her cup down, looks up to the ceiling and back down, then speaks.

“Okay,” she says softly, still wavering and unsure. “But I need to be back in time to pick a tree with my mom.”

He cracks a smile at her agreement, brown eyes lighting up, and continues to push his luck. “What if we pick a tree and bring it for her, what do you think?”

“She will want me home soon,” she sighs, a small frown forming on her lips. “We’re supposed to spend the day together.”

“It’s not even ten,” Sebastian counters. He is determined to suck the marrow out of their last Christmas together and he’s been planning each detail meticulously for a few weeks now. Plus, he may or may not have already run it by her mom, but he wants to keep it a surprise, so he adds, “And I think your mom will be okay with it.”

Her eyes narrow, and she draws the mug of coffee to her lips like a seasoned veteran at only thirteen. God, Sebastian thinks, she has already lived an entire life in her eyes. It’s as if it has taken it all out of her, watching her dad get sicker and sicker, and then… well, yeah. He can’t even imagine that word, it feels too foreign. But he does know that losing her father changed her.

He remembers a time, back when they were younger, that her eyes would sparkle and her laughter would fill the room. Now, her laugh is maybe fewer, further between; she measured and guarded. But those moments where she lets her guard down completely, throwing her head back and laughing, filled his heart with joy. Each time she laughed, his heart felt softer and softer towards the world. It was her laugh. That’s how he knew.

“What do you mean, you think she’ll be okay with it?”

She tosses a lock of brown hair over her shoulders with a free hand, carefully gripping her mug with the other while she does so. Sebastian watches, his lips curling upwards into a telling smile. “Nothing,” he says plainly.

“You can’t hide anything from me,” she lifts a brow. The mug thuds dully against the table of the coffee shop as she sets it down.

“You can’t hide anything from me,” he retorts, a little stupidly, pursing his lips before immediately bursting out laughing, and she laughs, too, unable to control herself. “Okay, okay. She said I could steal you for a while, I asked.”

“Why would you--”

“Ah-ah,” he lifts a finger and waggles it back and forth. “No questions.”

“Wow,” she raises her hands in surrender. “Remember me when you’re famous.”

He grins, but doesn’t grace her with an answer. He stands and takes her now-empty mug to return and tosses her napkins in the trash for her, a silent gesture of both affection and nudging her along. She gathers her things into her little bag: a small notebook and pen, a napkin where she’s jotted something so fast that Sebastian can’t read it, and her wallet, which is navy blue and patterned with fading gold stars.

Christmas music plays softly in the background, a gentle jazzy rendition of Last Christmas, and right before they reach the door, Sebastian stops. The music envelops them, making the air feel warmer, the light in the spacious cafe a little more golden. Sebastian smiles as she looks at him, and she stops, too, and then reaches a hand towards his cheek. His heart flutters. She simply adjusts the scarf pulled around his neck, and reflects his smile. “It’s cold,” she says.

“Oh,” Sebastian breathes, as she slides past him and swings the door open. The cold air rushes in, and they step out together, Sebastian right behind her, as she turns around to face him.

“Where are we going?” And then, at the same time he opens his mouth to reply, “Right, you said no questions.”

He grins as he jumps and steps in front of her to lead the way, taking a leisurely pace as they head out into the open air. Flurries of snow float about as they stroll down the street, and a gentle silence falls upon the two of them. It’s always been this way. She and him were comfortable enough that they could sit quietly together for hours, her with a book in her lap and him scribbling his way through his math homework, or the two of them side-by-side, quietly watching TV. It was the sort of friendship where he never felt pressured to have something to say or worry about taking up space, because the way their presence mingled with each other was enough to take up that quiet space.

Before, he didn’t think about it at all. It was just a simple part of who they were together, the same way somebody liked pasta or the color blue. Now, he takes notice, carving out the feelings of every second spent quietly together in his mind. A part of him wonders if he will ever find a friendship like this again.

A part of him also knows that this isn’t friendship, and it hasn’t been for some time. The way they walk together in perfect sync reminds him of it. The comfortable silence whispers to him how much he loves her. His father would say, Son, you’re thirteen. You don’t know anything about love. He’s thirteen, sure, but he has never been more certain about anything in his life.

As they walk, he feels their fingers brush together. Normally he’d let the soft tingle of their bodies touch linger as a memory but today he grabs her gloved hand and holds it in his own, and she doesn’t resist. They settle like that as the snow from days past crunches underneath their feet, leaving their memory behind in a little trail of footprints, two sets right beside each other.

The town, too, is quiet, just like it so often is on the morning of Christmas Eve. Families are scrambling to decorate their trees and prepare meals, but here, the two of them walk quietly side by side through the center of town as if there’s nothing else in the world but them. Sebastian imagines his family hurrying about the house--his mother, especially, he can see her hard at work--and for a second a flash of guilt for not being home comes over him, but it’s gone as soon as he looks over at her, and she smiles back at him. He’ll be home later. It’s fine.

He tries to commit her gentle smile to his memory as he speaks. “If your mom wants, I can come help with the tree.”

“You should be with your family,” she replies so quickly, without even having to think. “Besides, she can handle it.”

“I know you both can handle it,” Sebastian says, “but I want to help, if you need.”

“I think that your own mom would be very upset if you weren’t home to help decorate your own tree. It’s fine, seriously.”

He hums to himself before responding, “All right.” And then, “But if you need anything, you know you can always ask.”

Her smile radiates with the gentle warmth of the hearth on a frozen day, loving and thankful. “Don’t worry. I know.”

He can’t help himself but to reply, “I know you know,” and then let a little laugh out through his nose. “But still.”

She’s quiet now, and so is he, but he remains unworried. They are past where the road is lined with shops and have started to come upon homes with lit windows standing against the dimness of wintry daytime and the steam of heaters or the smoke of fireplaces billowing from their roofs into a cloudy sky. Sebastian stops and turns to face her.

“What?” She asks, raising a brow quizzically.

He lifts a finger to his lips, raises a brow, and then leans down, scooping up a ball of snow in his hands and begins to pack the snow together. She opens her mouth and takes in a breath to say something, but before she can speak he’s packed the snow tightly and wound his arm back. Sebastian leans his whole body into his throw as he lets the snowball go and watches with childish delight as it bursts against one of the lit windows of a house.

“Sebastian!” She cries, but her look of judgement and surprise quickly dissipates into a fit of laughter as Sebastian, unbothered, bends down again and starts to pack another handful together and takes off running.

“Come on!” He yells at her, gesturing with his snowball-filled hand for her to run after her. “You can’t get caught!”

“That,” she huffs as she starts to jog behind him, “is so childish!”

“Don’t be lame,” he says as he turns around and backpedals, a smile splitting open across his face. He whirls around and once again uses the whole of his scrawny, adolescent body weight to chuck the densely-packed snowball at another house window. “Your turn!”

She frowns a little and rolls her eyes, but he knows that deep down it isn’t even a question for her, and he’s right, because she leans over faux-reluctantly and scoops up some of the powder and runs ahead of him, giggling as her gloved hands palm over the snow in her hands. She turns and lifts a leg, aiming for a window. Sebastian’s grin grows even further and then he’s hit square in the chest with her snowball before he can even process that she’s spun around to face him.

“Ha!” she bursts out, cackling, mouth wide with delight.

For a moment, he is completely stunned. Sebastian swears he can feel time stop right in that moment, with a chorus of her laughter mingling with the snow swirling softly in the air. Her mouth is wide open, and she’s grinning, eyes squinty and nose scrunched just a bit. Flakes of snow catch in her dark brown hair, and she clasps her hands gleefully in front of her chest.

He takes it all in, every single detail, because underneath their laughter, underneath the crunching snow and the powder of snow that’s spread across his chest, both of them know that this moment is decidedly a last. Their last Christmas, their last snowball fight, the last chance for him to make this something more.

And then, just like that, he snaps back to reality and is laughing, too, packing his own snowball together before hurling it at her as she dashes away from him and he follows behind. They go at it for a few blocks, gathering snow and making balls and pitching them as hard as they can at each other, until she heads into an open patch of untouched snow and flops herself down into its softness.

He flops down right beside her, breath leaving in tired puffs, the hot breath burning his throat in the cold of December, staring up at the grey-white sky and watching the slightly-darker snow swirl through the air.

“Thank you,” she says after a second, and he turns his head to look over at her. She meets his gaze with a pink-cheeked smile, and continues, “for helping me forget about everything.”

He stares at her, watching her breath leave in puffs of condensation in the air, pink lips parted slightly as her chest rises and falls. A strand of hair lays astray on her forehead, but she’s ignorant to it and to Sebastian it is just another sign of her beauty. She closes her eyes and sighs softly, and she’s so fucking beautiful he can barely breathe, or maybe he just can’t catch his breath because he’s been running, he can’t say. Either way, he lays there for a second, drinking her in, before he speaks. “Of course. Anytime.”

“I just… really appreciate you.”

Each word drips with more meaning than he can fathom into thoughts, much less words. The way her eyelashes flutter as she blinks. The pink of her cold nose. Her fingers laced together, laying across her chest. The way the sky is so pale and pastel and how the snow falls and the town is so quiet that they can hear the strange crystal drizzle as it lands on different surfaces.

Sebastian can feel the words he wants to say to her forming on his lips, and he draws in a breath to say them. Time slows down around them until it’s just the two of them, laying there in the snow. Nothing else but them. God, he knows this is his chance to say it. He meets her eyes and she smiles a smile so familiar to him that it has come to feel like home, and he feels those words on his tongue and on his lips, wanting to fall out.

He swallows. Takes in a breath. Then thins his lips, and smiles back at her. The air is thick with expectation, with the words he can think over and over in his head but just can’t bring himself to say.

“What?” she asks, a sparkle in her eyes. “You looked like you were about to say something.”

“Nothing,” he answers, breathy and hopeless. “I appreciate you, too.”

She responds with a thankful look and turns her head back so she’s staring straight up, watching the snow fall into her face. He does the same. He feels the moment slip away from them and instead of grasping on, he lets it go. Maybe he’s a coward who will never say it, but maybe there’s no point in telling her what they both already know.

They lay there in silence until finally, he stands up, and extends a hand to help her. She grabs on and stands. Her hand lingers. Sebastian doesn’t want to notice this, but his gaze drops to the pink of her lips and just as quickly he has dropped his eyes, he looks back up into her eyes, pulls his hand away, smiles an easy smile, and says, “Let’s get you home.”

She nods and they start off together, footsteps in sync. Sebastian can tell from observing their surroundings that they’re only a block or so from her home where her mother is already cooking a feast and waiting for her.

“This is our last Christmas together,” she says after a moment, her words a coming-to-terms. “It just doesn’t seem real.”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’m going to miss you so much, I don’t even know what to do.”

“It’s not forever.” But she bites her lower lip, an edge to her voice, because really, who can promise that? And he knows, too, that’s what she’s saying. She spent months saying goodbye to her dad, not knowing which goodbye kiss would be her last, and now Sebastian knows that you can’t ever bet on a goodbye as not the last.

But you also can’t bet any goodbye is the very last, either. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Sebastian grins. “Maybe you’re not hopeful, but I know I’ll find you. Even if it’s years from now, even if it’s when we’re twenty-six. I’ll just show up on your doorstep with a ring.”

She laughs out loud, a glorious, radiant laugh. Her eyes squint a bit and her nose scrunches slightly, and she tilts her head back. “I can’t believe you remember!”

“Of course I remember,” he laughs, “We’re basically betrothed, right?”

“Technically, it’s a marriage pact,” she says, shoving him in the side.

He giggles, playfully stumbling from her less-than-powerful shove. “Whatever you say!”

There is a pause as the laughter fades away. Then, she speaks.

“Promise me you’ll keep in touch?” Her voice is tiny, afraid.

“Okay, first of all, you’re not leaving tomorrow, so don’t be so dramatic,” Sebastian starts. “Second, you know I will. And you know we’ll see each other again. It’s not like you’ll never come back to Finland.”

“Or you can come to New York,” she says, hopeful. “I know we aren’t leaving tomorrow, but I had to say it sometime. I know I’m leaving. I just don’t want to lose you.”

Sebastian stops in his tracks, and turns, stepping in front of her, facing her now. His head tilts slightly to the side, and his dark brown eyes soften in the light of the snow. He takes her hands, squeezing gently, and says, “You can never lose me. I promise.”

Her hands squeeze back, and she lets out a shaky breath. “Okay,” she whispers. “Okay.”

He lingers there for a second, before turning back around to step beside her again. Her house has come into view, with warm lights on in the front room, and he knows she will be home soon. Unspoken words hang heavy on his tongue, but he knows that what he wants to say, he already has said, in an unspoken way.

“Hey, you two!” A voice calls from just ahead of them, and he sees her mom sticking her head out of the door. “You’re back just in time!”

“I told you I’d bring her back,” Sebastian quips as they reach the front of her house.

“And I thank you very much for that,” her mother answers. “Why don’t you come in? I just made a late breakfast.”

“No, thank you. I really have to get home to my family, too.”

“I can’t believe you let me go,” she says to her mom, making a face. “I know how sacred Christmas is to you.”

“That is exactly why I let you go,” her mother answers, then meets Sebastian’s eyes, giving a knowing smile.

“Okay, then,” she replies, then turns around, wraps her arms around him and pulls Sebastian in, hugging him tightly. She rests her chin on his shoulder, and he breathes in her hair and the smell of her and really takes note for the first time that she has a specific scent to her, and that it’s warm and it’s comfortable and it’s good. His hands clutch at the small of her back, and he leans his head slightly against hers.

It’s him who finally breaks their embrace, murmuring a quiet “love you” as he pulls away.

“Did you say something?” She asks as she meets his eyes again.

“Nothing,” he says, his features soft and a little bit sad. “I’ll see you after Christmas, yeah?”

“For sure,” she nods, and then wraps an arm around his side, giving him one last squeeze before stepping up and into the doorway.

He notices now that her mother has made herself busy somewhere else in the house, having disappeared in the last few seconds, and he adds, “And tell your mom it was good to see her, please?”

“Of course.” Then she steps inside, closes the door behind her, and he’s standing there, alone. Just him.

For the first time all day, he realizes how freezing cold it is, and involuntarily rubs at his arms. Despite the fact this isn’t a final goodbye, he can’t help but feel the tug of knowing that there is still something between them, that there is something unfinished, waiting for resolve. Does he regret that? He isn’t sure. What he knows is that walking away feels wrong, and staying put feels weirder. So he gathers himself, and steps to the side of their door, right in front of the window that is illuminated with a golden glow that is a little more light than the winter morning.

Sebastian raps his knuckles on the frame of the window, trying to get both her and her mother’s attention. The two of them turn their heads, and when he sees that both of them are looking at him, he steps backwards. Then, he bends down, picks up a pile of snow in his hands, and throws one final snowball at their window. For good measure.

#sebastian aho imagine #sebastian aho fic #carolina hurricanes imagine #carolina hurricanes fic #canes imagine #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl rpf #nhl one shot #reader x sebastian aho #one shot #sebastian aho #I LOVE YOU LULU HOPE YOU REALLY LIKE THIS #this story is forever an inspiration and im so happy to be here while it comes to life #and also will always love it a little more than anybody else cuz im the daddy #anyways #mwah mwah here you go

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radstronaut · 5 years

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Take a Breath | Teuvo Teräväinen

warnings: n/a word count: 1730 note: hi yes i more or less created this blog to post this fic specifically so here we are, this is pretty much for @lulucanwrite who i love dearly, and also technically beta’ed this fic so ♡

Why you agreed to stand in the heat and watch a group of unruly boys in their twenties swing pieces of metal at plastic-covered rubber balls would be completely beyond you if you weren’t completely smitten with Teuvo Teravainen. It’s nearly ninety degrees--this is North Carolina after all--and despite your magical sweat-wicking shorts and tank top, you’re definitely sweating through your clothes. If Petr weren’t the sweatiest human you knew, this would probably embarrass you. Coupled with Martin bouncily seeking approval for everything he did and Teuvo and Sebastian’s banter with each other, you were okay with just about anything-- your complete inability to play golf included.

It was hard to say why the group had invited you along. Maybe because you took great photos they could share on Instagram, or because you were known as “the person who always brought bomb food to parties”, or maybe just because you were easy to get along with. You’d spent so much of your life feeling like you were weird and unlikeable, but somehow you’d found solace in a group of professional hockey players from Europe.

Ha. Just thinking that sentence makes you snort a little to yourself.

“Are you laughing at Sebastian?” Teuvo asks, peering over your shoulder. You’ve got your phone clutched in hand, a boomerang of Sebastian swinging back and forth looping on your screen.

“Nah, just thinking about how weird I am,” you reply, hitting ‘post’ and clicking your phone off.

“Why won’t you take one of me?” he asks, a pout on his face.

“Because,” you answer, voice breezy and light, “You’re not my favorite.”

Your response sends Teuvo into a spiral of “whats” and “buts” that secretly gives you life force. You float away, sashaying up to Martin and Petr, who are talking about clothes of all things, and look at you like you’ve just interrupted the single most important conversation in the entire world.

“Please tell me you don’t think this is cute, too,” Petr says, shoving his phone in your face.

It’s a non-offensive, baby-blue suit, and you’re not sure what to say, other than, “I think it’s fine?” To which Martin grins gleefully, waving his arms around to show off his little victory.

“You cannot be serious,” says Petr, like it’s the most obvious thing. “It’s ugly! Who wears suits this color?”

“I would!” Martin exclaims, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. “Light blue is totally cool.”

“Maybe for a springtime pinterest Easter wedding in Alabama,” Petr says.

There are a lot of references here to popular American culture going on here that you weren’t even sure he knew, but you laugh nonetheless.

These dorky, soft boys always made you laugh. You look up, watching Teuvo as he winds up and swings his club. It makes the satisfying sound that metal swung fast makes, and you watch as the golf ball flies through the air for what seems like forever. Even for somebody who knows nothing about golf, you can tell he’s got an amazing swing. Every muscle in his body moves with intent; his follow through is gorgeous. He even has the cute little golf foot thing at the end, something you are sure has a proper name, but you’re ignorant of it.

“Careful, you’re drooling,” Petr says, squeezing your shoulder.

You all but jump where you’re standing, and raise a hand as if you’re about to play-swat him. You’re flustered, and it shows on your face as you try to play it off. “Come on,” you hiss, making a face. “I’m not drooling.”

Petr shrugs as Teuvo makes his way back to his bag to retire his driver. You watch, crossing your arms over your chest almost in defense.

“Your turn!” Teuvo calls, and Sebastian snickers from where he’s sat in the one square foot of shade that the golf cart provides. He turns and points at him, frowning, “You better stop laughing!”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, and hands you the driver that he’s been holding since his turn. You don’t own a set of clubs, so Sebastian graciously agreed to share his with you. “You know how to do this, right?” he asks you with a cheeky smile.

“Shut up.”

All eyes are on you as you stroll up to the tee and set down the golf ball. They’re hungry for your failure. You can feel it. It’s like the four of them have gathered here exclusively to watch you wind up and whiff so they can have a laugh and get back to actually playing golf after their comedy break. You take the club in hand, holding it just like you were shown one time forever ago, with your thumb and fingers interlocked, and steady your position.

It’s not that hard, you remind yourself, trying to calm yourself down. You know that making it out to be a big deal will only make you more nervous, so you take a deep breath in as you wind up, and exhale as you swing--

And stop right before you hit the ball. Ugh. Getting nervous is honestly worse than whiffing, you think, and so you decide to set yourself up again. You spread your feel the right distance apart and try and settle in place. You’re just about to hype yourself up again when you feel a hand rest warmly on your shoulder, and you let out the breath you’d been holding.

It’s Teuvo, who looks at you with gentle eyes and a calm smile. “Let me help you.”

Normally you’d be way too prideful to admit you needed help from any of these clowns, but it’s Teuvo, and he looks so genuine that you don’t really mind. “Okay,” you breathe as he stands behind you, resting his hands over yours.

Your heart jumps into your throat as he steadies your grip. His chin hovers right above your shoulder, his face so close you can feel the breath on your neck.

“You’re so tense,” he says, voice light and private. “Relax your shoulders.”

How you’re supposed to relax with his body practically pressed flush against yours evades you. You let out a shaky breath. “Okay.”

“Good,” Teuvo says gently, but with authority. “Swing your arms back and forth and let the club’s weight lead.”

You listen.

“Now,” he says, “When you feel ready, wind that back a bit more, keep your eyes on the ball, and swing.”

You’re having a hard time focusing on feeling ready when his hands leave your hands and he takes a step back, making the air touching your arms feel even more empty than it had before he was there. Your skin misses his immediately. You sigh softly to yourself.

Then, you wind up and swing.

The driver hits the golf ball with a satisfying sound and you watch as it seems to float through the air and land across the course-- much further back than your friends, but still, further than you thought it would go.

You turn back, seeking Teuvo’s approval, but he’s already clapping his hands and grinning from ear to ear. “That’s really good!” He cheers. “That’s really really good!”

You beam with pride.

“It’s going to be your turn again,” Sebastian teases from his seat, “Since you barely hit it at all.”

“Come on, Sepe, let it go!” Teuvo defends, waving his hand in front of Sebastian’s face.

“You just want an excuse to get all up in Y/N’s space again.”

He doesn’t protest, but rather hands you a club from Sebastian’s bag and, with a hand on the small of your back, ushers you out to where your ball has just landed.

This is very forward of Teuvo-- very, very forward. He typically wasn’t so outwardly flirtatious, but maybe it’s Sebastian’s comments that embolden him as you make your way down the green.

“Is this okay?” He asks after a moment, dropping his hand from your back to make eye contact with you. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You smile simply, grabbing his hand and placing it on your back again. “It’s perfectly fine,” you say.

Once you arrive, Teuvo hands you the club and looks at you. “Do you want my help again?”

“Please?” You ask coyly, practically batting your eyes at him. Whoah. Maybe you’re feeling emboldened by his flirtatious energy as well.

With a grin, Teuvo steps behind you, chest against your back, and rests his hands atop yours again. This time, you relax into it-- you feel less nervous, more loose this time, feeling much more confident than before. His lips brush your ear as he leans forward, and reminds you to keep your eye on the ball, and not to worry how far it goes. The hairs on your arm stand up.

You’re about to pull back and swing when you hear the golf cart whir past you, and from the driver’s seat, Petr yells with a shit eating grin: “kiss her!”

Sebastian and Martin echo the sentiment with a chorus of “kiss her! kiss her!”

Pink creeps across your cheeks, and you tilt your head to look at Teuvo over your shoulder. Time completely stops. The humid air hangs still and heavy between you with heat and energy, and you feel his lips inches away from yours. You aren’t sure how long you stand there, moments away from each other, thinking about what it would feel like to close that distance and feel his lips against yours.

And then it happens. Teuvo’s arms wrap around your waist, and he twirls you around, pulling your chest flush against his and kissing you, hard, all in one fell swoop. You feel your entire body tense up and then relax, your heart racing as you melt into him, kissing him back with the same fervor. His arms wrap around your waist, and yours twist around his neck, fingers grazing the sweat-damp hair on the nape of his neck.

The boys are cheering behind you. Cries of “yes!” and “finally!” fill the air as Martin whoops and hollers, and Sebastian even gives the little golf cart horn a celebratory toot as you both smile into your kiss, toothy and wide-grinned.

“Finally,” Teuvo breathes against your lips, and you can’t help yourself from bursting into laughter, leaning your forehead against his. “Finally,” you agree, giggly smile splayed across your face.

He leans in and kisses you again.

#teuvo teravainen #teuvo teräväinen #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #teuvo teravainen imagine #teuvo teravainen imagines #reader x teuvo teravainen #hockey fic #hockey imagine #carolina hurricanes imagine #carolina hurricanes imagines #welp here it is #i whole entire wrote this #so what's good #aaaaa

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