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#but a few months ago things were really bad i was at my lowest weight (under 90lbs)

hockeyboysiguess · 4 years

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how to cross a hurricane | m. rantanen

a/n: well... she’s finally here. i’ve had this idea in my head since early july. i’ve rewritten parts of this a ton since then, but it’s finally here. i’m really proud of this fic and i hope you all really love it! shout to @nolypats (who has been with me through EVERY version of this story, god bless you) @slapshot-to-the-heart, @jasondickinsons, and @danglesnipecelly for all of your supportive words. this would not have been finished without any of you. all that’s left is to say enjoy!

word count: 40,379 (eeeep!)

warnings: some swearing, a little vague smut at the end.

wine pairing recommendation: something with a low alcohol content because you’re going to be here for a while honestly. whatever you have in your fridge with the lowest alcohol content.

After eight months on the road, twelve countries, seventy-two cities, without more than a few days stop at the house she owned in Los Angeles, the apartment furnished by some local interior designer who thought they knew her tastes but never actually asked her what she liked, felt as good a home as any other. Really, after eight years of consistent travel, near constant comings and goings, the next stretch of time, the almost year in her calendar that was completely blank, was going to be the single longest Josephine Evans had spent in any one place since she was fourteen and still lived with her parents.

Taking time off, an entire year, wasn’t Josephine’s idea. She was a workaholic to the levels practically unheard of, but it was hard not to think about work all the time when her work was the only thing she had ever really wanted to do, a childhood dream made reality that people constantly tried to take away from her. She had almost broken when her manager, Krista, acting more like a general sending a soldier home from war than a manager, told her to pack a bag, pack a lot of bags, and get the hell out of town for a while. It hadn’t been a suggestion. There hadn’t been any room for debate. She made it clear to Jo, who she had known from the time she was eight years old, that this wasn’t a discussion. Jo had tried to argue for a month off, that was all she said she needed, but that had earned her a one-way ticket out of Los Angeles, and a firm ban on stepping foot in New York City either. Krista had told Jo that the fact that she was a twenty-three year old woman who worked her ass off every single day, but couldn’t even take a month off at a beach somewhere was something that needed to be rectified, immediately. Jo couldn’t do anything halfway, all or nothing, everything or bust, so she was chased out of a town she sort of ran with a wave of Krista’s hand, telling her that the world would continue to turn without her. Krista added insult to injury when she told Jo the world she ran would probably spin better if she actually took the time to rest her voice, get her head on straight, and deal with the recurring issues in her life before coming back.

Jo walked over to her fridge, finding nothing but the takeout she had picked up on her way to the apartment, her apartment, from the airport, and instead going for the wine fridge under the opposite counter. No one had stocked the fridge for her, but Krista had made sure the wine fridge was stocked and honestly, what more could she want? It took Jo a few attempts to find the wine glasses, mentally making a note to move them to a shelf she could reach without climbing onto the counter, taking her glass and a bottle of something white and sweet looking to the only part of the apartment that was exactly her taste, the massive, pillow-filled couch.

The wine was thankfully almost as sweet as it looked when Jo finally poured herself a glass. She let out a long, deep sigh, willing some of the stress of the day to melt away. No one in her life seemed to get that the very act of trying to take a break was stressful for Jo because all she was thinking about was everything she wasn’t doing, everything that was going undone, and what the results of the lapse in activity might be. Could she really put her entire career aside for a year? Jo had kicked and scratched and clawed her way to success in spite of a veritable army of men who thought they knew better than her. They tried to tell her she wasn’t talented enough, that she wasn’t a good enough song writer, that she wasn’t a good enough singer, that she didn’t have the “it” factor to make it. She had looked those men in the face, spit on their blatant sexism, and won every award they said she couldn’t, made number one album after number one album, sold out headline arena shows, all before she turned twenty-four. She was, unfortunately for them and the bets they made against her, a ubiquitous in the most unavoidable way possible.

The only problem was it was also unfortunate for Jo, something she hadn’t even been aware of when she was six dreaming of being the one on stage on the television, something she didn’t fully understand all the repercussions of when she signed that record deal when she was fifteen. Twenty-three-year-old Jo was now reaping the rewards of that contract, and the even more lucrative extension she had gotten two years ago, but paying a steep price for them. She got to live in penthouse apartments like the one she was in and pay for a sweatshirt that didn’t need to cost anywhere near as much as it did while not giving a damn if she spilled wine on it tonight. She got to go to parties people would die for just a glimpse of and hang out with people others dreamed out. But now, Jo didn’t feel like a little girl whose greatest wish came true. She felt absolutely and utterly alone, staring out at the beautiful Denver skyline, high rises and mountains sharing the landscape, without even her work to distract her.

Jo picked Denver much to the surprise of almost everyone in her life. She had grown up here. Well, Jo had done some of her growing up here. Her parents picked up and moved to Los Angeles for the sake of Jo’s dream that wasn’t even close to a career when they did. Jo left before she was even double digits and had tried her hardest for years not to spend too much time here. Nostalgia was a dangerous thing when experienced unchecked. Being in Denver was a veritable fire of unchecked nostalgia for Jo. She looked out and remembered her childhood with those same mountains in the background, remembered when things were simpler, when dreams were just dreams and not her everyday reality. Dreams were meant to be inside one’s head, not out in the world. They were always tainted during the move from one’s head to the real world. Being here in this city, Jo remembered when the life she lived was the purest dream she had ever had and she longed for simpler days.

Jo debated texting one of the few friends she knew was around the city; people were always coming in and out of Denver, which was just a hop away from her unfortunately beloved Los Angeles. Actually, Jo deeply hated LA and she didn’t really feel all that bad for saying it. She hadn’t grown up there, an LA transplant like almost everyone she knew, so there was no loyalty. The best things in Jo’s life had happened in LA, but so had the worst, some of the things Krista has been referring to when she had told Jo to get her head on straight out here in Denver. Jo wasn’t going to deal with any of that tonight. Instead, she was going to try and think of all the things she could possibly do in Denver that she couldn’t do in LA, both for the constant paparazzi and for the fact that LA had summer and not as much summer as its only seasons. Plans calmed her, even when she wasn’t supposed to have them.

She could go skiing, or, she could learn to ski anyway, maybe in the winter. It was only September, not exactly peak skiing weather. Winter reminded Jo of Denver always, a place she rarely made it back to anymore since her parents had since moved to Florida, like it seems most people’s parents do eventually. Jo’s success had just allowed them to go sooner than they would have otherwise. Winter made her feel like a kid again, the one that lived here in Denver with big dreams and missing teeth and frizzy hair that was supposed to be curly but no one had known how to take care of it. Jo couldn’t wait for the first snowfall, even though the leaves hadn’t even started to change color yet. Maybe she could go ice skating, if she wore a scarf around her face. Maybe she could build a snowman, even if she had to do it all by herself, and even if she didn’t have any gloves yet.

Maybe a return to Denver would be good for her. The mile-high air could lighten the heavy weight on her shoulders of people’s expectations and the pressure she put on herself because of them, letting her take a deep breath of non-suffocating air, nothing like what she was forced to breathe in LA. Maybe Jo might just learn how to take a break and give herself a break for the first time in a really long time, maybe in her entire life. Tonight though, tonight wasn’t going to solve anything. Tonight, Jo found the bottom of a bottle of cheap wine, the only kind she really liked, and then fell asleep in foreign sheets, but she didn’t really know what her own sheets were supposed to feel like anymore, so it didn’t make a difference. Jo slept like shit anyway.

Jo woke up not enough hours later, but when she was up, she was up. It had always been one of her biggest problems with remaining rested and level headed on the road; she couldn’t sleep just anywhere, anytime, no matter how tired she was. She stumbled into the kitchen with a sliver of hope Krista had supplied her with coffee along with wine, but her hopes were dashed further and further with each cabinet she opened, until her hopes were nonexistent. She knew her only option at this point was going out, not her strong suit, but a baseball cap from a local sports team, some old Levis, a plain white t-shirt, and pair of Raybans might have hid all of her best features, but that’s exactly what she was looking for at seven shitty in the morning on her first full morning in Denver.

Jo managed to get through a Starbucks drive through unseen and ended up just driving around under the guise of wanting to get a better feel for her new neighborhood, but really just needing to drive for a bit. A bit turned into hours and hours turned into needing to get gas. She finally checked her phone that day. Her phone was usually the first thing she did in the morning, the last thing before she went to bed, and a whole lot of what she did in between. She scrolled through, a few from her mom, asking about the apartment, some lingering group chats about some party going down in LA tonight, and one from her friend Helena that was actually relevant.

Hey Jo! Welcome to Denver!!!!! The hometown gaining the BEST old/new resident :) anyway, having a thing at my place tonight, chill people only, I promise. Think you might wanna show that Vogue covergirl face???

Chill people only was LA code for people who wouldn’t take her photo and post it all over the internet with a glazed over look in her eyes that the media would only infer terrible, inaccurate things from. Jo didn’t even get to think about her response before a second text came through.

Also some REALLY cute REALLY single guys if you’re looking for a little Denver somebody ;)

Jo was absolutely not looking for a little Denver somebody. Jo was looking for a little Denver nothing. After a series of relationships that all ended the same way with guys who were all essentially variations on the same concept of a man, Jo was not looking for anything at all. Jo thought a lot about love; it’s the reason she wrote music, in a bid to understand her emotions, love being the one she understood the least about. Jo knew that she was difficult to love, at least, that was the core behind every breakup she had ever gone through. The circumstances surrounding her, the ever present hurricane of the media and fans and the prying eyes of naysayers, made her almost impossible to reach, even though she tried desperately to make herself available for people to love. Josephine tried so hard, but the answer was always the same. She would always be too hard to love, require more effort than another nice, pretty girl with good intentions. Nothing about her was worth fighting through the category five hurricane made by the crowds in the stadiums she performed in, and the people outside the walls of them with pitchforks and daggers. No one ever got out from her attempt to love unscathed. She always caused the people she loved immense, insurmountable pain, and there wasn’t a fucking thing she could do about it. She just sat in the eye of the storm because she knew what it felt like to walk through it. She had tried over and over again, each time coming back to the calm of the eye, battered and bruised and worse for wear than the times before. It was uncrossable and as long as it was uncrossable, Jo would be unlovable. So, no, she wasn’t looking for anything in Denver, absolutely nothing at all.

Jo did need more than a couple of friends in Denver and drinking a bottle of wine alone in her apartment for the second night in a row wasn’t exactly the image she tried to portray. She shot Helena back a quick text asking for the details for tonight. Helena was a good person with even better intentions, but if Jo let it slip to even one good person with good intentions that she wasn’t looking for anything, she should prepare for a rumor to get out that she was seeing someone, which would start the witch hunt through her Instagram and Twitter follows, through every public record to find someone it could be. No one Jo trusted, Helena least of all, ever meant to; their intentions were pure. Someone would just tell a slightly wrong person that Jo wasn’t available who would tell another even more slightly wrong person and so on until the game of telephone reached the ears of someone whose mouth would move for a price from the gossip columns. Jo ignored her racing thoughts, rejected the option for a receipt at the gas pump, then drove to the apartment that didn’t quite feel like hers.

A delivery of groceries, a hot shower, and the removal of some odd pieces of art and decoration someone else had placed did go a long way in making Jo feel like this was more of a home. Jo had fussed around enough for ten people already before noon, so instead she dusted off her old list of shows she swore to various people she would get around to watching when tour was over, letting Netflix play episode after episode until it was actually time to get ready. Jo didn’t take a lot of time to get ready for things, much to the surprise of most people. She preferred sleep, something that she often lacked, so her getting ready routine was condensed to exactly the things she wanted, no more, no less. She wasn’t too picky about outfits either. Almost everything she owned for casual purposes went together. She wore extravagant, out of the box things all the time. Sometimes, it was nice just to be able to put on black jeans, ankle boots, and a black cropped long sleeve shirt and head out the door without any fussing. People fussed about her enough; Jo wasn’t about to join them.

The address was close enough for Jo to walk, something else she rarely got to do, just go for a walk outside. The early September air was chillier than she thought it would be and she briefly wished she had brought a jacket, but she would be drinking her jacket for the walk back and drunk Jo was liable to forget everything that wasn’t in her pockets. She punched in the code to the building Helena had given her, and made her way up to the penthouse suite, thrilled to find the party already in full swing when she arrived. Arriving too early usually gained her a lot of stares and whispers that made her regret ever getting off her couch.

Jo walked through the party with her head hung low, in search of Helena and her bright red hair. She was the easiest person to spot at a party because you could hear her from a mile away and if the music was somehow louder than her, she had fire engine red hair you could spot from across town. She was in the living room, tucked among a crowd of people Jo didn’t recognize anyone in, so she veered toward the kitchen instead where the drinks were most likely to be found, grabbing the first thing she could get in a hand on, none too picky after too much time being picky when she was younger and everyone wanted to impress her, to be her friend based solely on their own self-interests. Now, Jo drank anything she could get herself without making too much of a fuss.

“Hey, are you Josephine Evans? There’s no way, but my buddy swears you look just like her. ”

Jo let her eyes droop shut as she mentally searched for the right personality to put on for this occasion. The problem was Jo wore so many faces, so many different personalities put on in an attempt to protect the real her, that she felt buried under all the faces and the expectations they represented. People always wanted her to look a certain way, talk a certain way, act a certain way, be a certain, pleasing way. What was pleasing to some was abhorrent to others and Jo had fractured herself a very long time ago, putting pieces of her in all of the faces she wore, just enough so they were all believable as the true Josephine Evans. She used to think the faces were entirely false, things she created to protect herself. But if Jo’s time alone so far had told her anything was that there really wasn’t much of her left when you stripped it all away. And she already knew she was a bad actress.

Jo settled on the version of her that was cool, calm, and collected, could both crack and take a joke without feeling too much about it. The ideal party version of her that contained most of the self deprecating humor she possessed. Jo spun on her heels to face the guy who had spoken. Your standard man, tall but not too tall, medium colored hair, eyelashes that were too nice, a trait too many boys had, and a smile his parents paid good money for. Nothing to write home about, nothing to shrug your shoulders at, a median household income of a human being.

“I hope you didn’t make a bet on that,” Jo let herself, more like forced herself, laugh it out, “because, yeah, that’s me. Just call me Jo.”

Just call me Jo was probably one of her most used phrases, the ultimate ice breaker. For some reason, people were convinced that using her extremely public and logical shortening of her name opened a door to friendship, and guys tended to think the door was to her bedroom. It was just her name, like anyone else. The guy was talking and Jo wasn’t listening, hoping her neutral expression with active eyebrows was doing the work for her. His name started with a J, Jacob, Jason, Josh, something like that; all Jo knew is he was hitting on her, swinging way out of his league for the potential experience of Josephine Evan and well, Josephine Evans didn’t really give people who thought like that the time of day. She excused herself from the conversation shortly after it started in search of Helena or really, anyone else at the party who wasn’t like that guy had been.

Helena was virtually free, as free as a hostess could get, when Jo saw her next and took her opportunity to slide in next to the tiny redhead.

“Oh my god, it’s so good to see you!”

Helena wrapped Jo up in a crushing hug, impressive given how small Helena really was compared to almost every other person at her own party. She left an arm around Jo’s shoulders, somehow, after releasing her from her grasp.

“It’s good to see you too, H,” Jo sighed, taking a sip of her beer. “Thanks for the invite.”

“For you, Jo? Always,” Helena assured her. “So, how’s the time off going?”

“It hasn’t even been forty-eight hours,” Jo reminded her softly, beer hanging near her lips as she spoke to take another sip when she finished.

“You and I both know that’s practically a lifetime for you,” Helena laughs. “Wouldn’t surprise me if you’d driven yourself mad or taken over a small country with half that time.”

Jo nodded softly. Helena might not have been too far off with driving herself mad in all reality. She has too much time to think. Jo with too much time to think led to far too many introspective thoughts that almost always became negative. She couldn’t help it though; she had always and probably would always be her own worst critic, including the people who were paid quite a lot of money to critique her. Jo did it for free, well, at the cost of her relationship with herself, and they lined their pockets with the profits off their critiques of her poorly wrapped as critiques of her art.

“Well, you know me,” Jo laughed it off.

“That I do, that I do,” Helena mused softly. “Which is why I single handedly have brought together Denver’s most eligible bachelors for you.”

“H,” Jo started, but Helena waved her off.

She grabbed a flower from the vase on the window sill, a daisy, but the sentiment was still the same, and tucked it behind Jo’s right ear, much to her chagrin. The look she was giving Helena could melt glaciers, but Helena just smiled wider at her friend, resisting the urge to crumble under Jo’s icy stare.

“Come on. You’re going to be here for a while. You can’t honestly tell me you want to be alone,” Helena’s small hands gripped Jo’s shoulders and pointed her toward the general population of the living room, “your whole time you’re here. Plus, there’s some real untapped snacks here and you need to broaden your horizons.”

“My horizons are exactly as broad as I want them to be,” Jo quipped back easily, the response sliding off her tongue effortlessly.

Helena scoffed and Jo could hear her friend’s eyes rolling, before she verbally blew past Jo, “Anyways, some Broncos players, some classic rich elite who live here because they just really like it, a couple of Denver Nuggets, and I hope you like hockey players, because I think the Avalanche boys are your most solid options in terms of looks and being decent human beings.”

“H, I’m not interested,” Jo said firmly, fingers crushing the daisy under her fingers as she yanked it out from behind her ear. “I don’t care what sports team they all play for. I’m not looking.”

“Oh, come on,” Helena groaned softly, popping up and down on her heels a little, making Jo scoff this time. “I get to live vicariously through you.”

“You assembled all the hot guys in Denver you wish you could fuck so I could do it and then tell you about it?”

If this was anyone other than Helena, Jo would’ve already been out the front door for this stunt. Helena deserved Jo’s presence more than almost anyone. There was no one who had stuck with her through more tsunamis of bullshit in Jo’s career than Helena. Helena actively supported Jo through thick and thin, ups and downs, diagonals and double-backs and every single ebb and flow. Also, Helena truly did mean well; she just couldn’t read between the lines to save her life.

“Hey, I did this for you,” Helena pushed back. “You haven’t been seen with anyone since whatever his name was, I can’t remember, they’re all the same. It’s time for you to, you know, dust off the vaginal cobwebs and have some fun.”

“I could engage with that,” Jo tipped her beer back and took a healthy swig, “but I’m not going to. I appreciate what you tried to do, but it’s just not where my head’s at right now. Maybe in a couple of months or something, but you know me. Too invested for casual, not enough time for serious, forever just drifting in the weird in between, destined to die alone.”

Helena breezed past that, knowing Jo long enough to know she was trying to change the topic by forcing Helena into a corner where the only way out was to accept the change of topic and correct Jo’s self deprecation. Helena knew well enough to know she wasn’t actually in a corner at all, just being made to seem like she was in one.

“Whatever.” With a shake of her head, Helena surrendered for the night. “Just talk to some of them though. They’re decent guys and you could use more than one friend in Denver.”

Helena failed to mention that apparently all of these men had geared themselves up for a night on the Bachelorette. Four conversations in that all seemed to start nicely, asking her about her tour, her asking about their seasons or whatever else they did, restaurant suggestions. But restaurant suggestions became asking her on dates. Asking her how she was liking Denver turned into neighborhood recommendations where they just so happened to live.

By the fifth conversation, some rich guy whose dad paid for him to have an apartment nice enough and a car nice enough that he knew people he didn’t have the talent or personality to know, Jo had officially had it. She needed a break, eyes scanning the party for Helena, but there wasn’t any red hair to be found. She could’ve ducked into the cluster of women in the far corner, but she couldn’t differentiate a single one of them from any of the other girls who looked and dressed exactly like they did at parties crazier than this one in LA. They could’ve been the same women, but even if they weren’t, they were trying to be the same as them and Jo wasn’t in the mood to be asked to follow them all on Instagram and if they could tag her in their stories. Jo spotted the next best thing, a back stairwell tucked out of the way, vacant of any other partygoers, and slipped away from the guy with more hair product than her to make a break for it.

Any empty rooftop greeted her at the top of the winding staircase and for that, Jo couldn’t have been more grateful. The rooftop air was cool, cooler than when Jo had walked over. She let out a long, drawn out breath, hands gripping the railing’s edge to ground her. She felt weightless in the worst way possible, without substance, like she could float away with the nighttime breeze. Despite the fact that millions of people would probably miss her, Jo felt like no one would if she floated away right now by a breeze from another realm taking pity on her, carrying her to some place that wasn’t this life. People would miss Josephine Evans, their favorite singer, their idol, the girl they could sleep with and instantly catapult themselves to a new level of fame, the girl whose coattails they could ride to the highest of heights. But no one really knew Jo, not even Jo herself, so who would actually miss her?

Jo felt the tears fall down her cheeks before she even registered that her eyes were cloudy. They came too fast for her to notice. Maybe it was dumb, letting something like too much attention from guys, something a lot of women would kill for, make her cry, but it was all too much for Jo. It just made her feel hollow, like only the faces she presented mattered, not her. Jo was really crying because she knew under the faces people liked and wanted to be seen with, between the girl who went to galas and toasted with ungodly expensive champagne, between the one who Jo consciously chose to be at this party tonight and the brave face she put on for in depths interviews, there wasn’t a whole person left, just a few unused fragments, the least likable pieces of her. That's what was making her cry and had been making her cry for a long time.

Jo apparently wasn’t even allowed to cry in peace because the door swung open in the middle of her moment.

“So, now is a bad time then, huh?”

The voice was deep, deeper than she expected, a thick accent, either Finnish or Swedish if she was venturing a guess. Jo wiped her eyes, but didn’t turn to look toward the voice, so she was genuinely surprised when she heard the dull thud and felt the vibrations of a body making contact with the railing next to her.

“Definitely a bad time to tell you I think you’re pretty, huh?”

Jo couldn’t help but laugh, but it was clogged, the laugh catching on the lump in her throat from crying. She wiped her nose on the back of her hand and shook her head softly. A weak, pitiful smile pulled at her lips. She sighed before turning her head to look at the owner of the voice.

“Definitely a bad time,” he said, his voice softly than before. “Need to talk about it?”

He was everything Jo had expected, but somehow more. She was right to think Swedish or Finnish, but his hair was blonder than she had expected, gentle waves at the ends. Jo wanted to know if they were as soft as they looked. Even in the dark, she could tell his eyes were a stunning shade of blue, the kind that looked like the oceans that he grew up near, the kind people wrote albums’ worth of songs trying to find the right words to describe. His jaw was sharp, cheekbones even sharper, but softened by dimples between them, endearing in a way that made Jo wish she was a better person for a moment. Even with him leaning against the railing, Jo could tell as soon as he stood he would make her feel as physically small as she felt inside right now.

“No offense, but I’m not interested,” Jo managed to get out in a way that vaguely sounded curt.

“I’m not anymore either, so glad we’re on the same page,” he told her with a smile that had to have cured cancer somewhere once. “You seem like you need a friend more than you need some other guy telling you that you’re pretty tonight.”

“And you, random rooftop guy, want to be my friend?”

Jo couldn’t help but snort a little and roll her eyes at her own question.

“I’m Mikko,” he told her, “and yeah, I do. I think you could use a friend and I’ve been told I’m a bad texter, but a pretty good friend.”

“You come up with the intent to what, hit on me, and switch gears into friendship like that?” Jo asked with a snap of her fingers, her voice heavy with disbelief.

Mikko nodded softly, “Yeah, just like that. I came up because Helena said we’d get along and you’re pretty. That second thing is still true, you are, but you need friends more than you need some guy asking you out. So, guess I’ll take the upgrade to friendship.”

“I think you mean downgrade,” Jo corrected him gently.

“No, definitely upgrade,” Mikko laughed. “I don’t have to buy you dinner or try and impress you, but I still get to hang out with a cool new person who needs a cool person in her life. That’s an upgrade, baby.”

Jo was careful about the people she considered friends, the people who got to see her cry. Before her life became something unrecognizable to the little girl with a dream, Jo had still been careful about her friends. Jo used to understand that she wasn’t for everyone when she was younger, that she was who she was and people could either take her exactly as she was or they could leave. That girl didn’t exist anymore and her reasons for being careful about her friends came from a place of looking to protect her reputation and her career over herself, because what, in truth, was she really even protecting? But Mikko was different. Jo had moments like this, of someone attempting to become her friend at a party, but this wasn’t that. He already felt like her friend. He felt like someone the little girl with a big dream and no idea what would come out of it would have been friends with too. Jo hadn’t met someone like that in a long time.

So, Jo took a deep breath and did what seven-year-old Jo would’ve done; she made a friend.

------

Jo pulled herself out of bed the next morning, displeased but unsurprised at the pounding in her head. She drank and she cried, two things bound to make her head pound the morning after. It was Advil or bust for the first thing she would do today, even before checking her phone, something she religiously did first. Jo let herself fall back into her covers after swallowing three Advil, eyelids drooping closed for another half an hour as the medication kicked in well enough so she could actually do her normal routine the next time her eyes opened.

She dragged her phone off the nightstand, groaning at the volume of texts that were waiting for her. Thankfully, it seemed to be largely group chats and could just be cleared and ignored. One text stuck out, just two words from an unsaved number, less than an hour old.

Hey friend :)

Memories of last night, technically this morning if you were into technicalities or booked a lot of airline tickets, flooded to the front of Jo’s sore head. Mikko. Her thumbs hovered over the keyboard, debating on if she, now sober, was really going to entertain this or not, which hinged entirely on if she really believed he had set aside any intentions he had walking up onto that rooftop and was capable of keeping them set aside. Jo’s thumbs twitched over the screen, debating on what she should do, but one thought kept coming up again and again. She wanted to understand why she had thought about him like she thought about friends when she was a kid, full of nothing but wonder, still believing in forever and magic and the idea of everlasting happiness. He had reminded her of all of that and Josephine needed to know why.

Hey friend

Keeping it easy breezy, beautiful, Covergirl. Jo rolled out of bed after saving his phone number then ditching it in the covers before going to wash her face and start a pot of coffee for the day. After the coffee had started to drip into the pot, the best sound hungover Jo had ever heard, she went back to collect her phone, seeing she already had a reply from Mikko.

Still down to do lunch today? Or are you too hungover from all those tequila shots? ;)

Jo furrowed her brows down, but she couldn’t help but smile a little at the message.

I don’t do tequila shots, must have me confused with some other girl who you bullied into being your friend on a rooftop last night ;) but lunch is still good

Mikko hadn’t taken no for an answer yesterday on having lunch with him today. He had insisted that friends who caught other friends crying on rooftops during parties didn’t let the aforementioned friend have lunch alone the next day. Jo told him it wasn’t a rule. Mikko said it should be. The bit went on for far too long considering Jo was just fighting about lunch and the fact that Mikko seemed nothing but persistent, a fact he had proven true by texting her before ten in the morning after a night out to confirm her presence at said lunch. Luckily, lunch was at her place so she didn’t exactly have to commute anywhere. Lunch out was risky for her and Mikko’s eyes had lit up at the prospect of being able to wear sweatpants to lunch because if he was going out with her, he could be photographed and might have had to wear jeans, something he’d been horrified of last night. Jo looked over the menu Mikko sent her, pleased that he picked a taco place because tacos were very publicly Jo’s favorite food of all time, and sent him her order. He said he’d grab it on the way to her when practice finished later.

By the time Jo managed to pull herself together enough to shower, she needed to get ready. Well, as ready as someone had to get for lunch at their own apartment with a new friend who had already committed to showing up in sweatpants. Jo figured matching his style commitment was her best play, comfortable joggers and one of her dad’s old Colorado Rockies t-shirts she had confiscated years ago. It reminded her of home, of the city she was in now. Jo was home, technically, even though it didn’t feel like it just yet.

Mikko more than fulfilled his end of the bargain when he showed up, in sweatpants and a sweatshirt, both carrying the logos of the team he played for, and two bags of take out definitely too full for what they’d ordered, even taking into account that Mikko could definitely out eat her based on body mass alone. Jo didn’t account for the fresh from practice look though, hair still damp, waves more pronounced now than they had been last night. There was a small cut on his cheekbone that looked fresh, making them appear even sharper somehow. In the bright light of her kitchen, a smile like a lazy afternoon on his face, Jo, who was very used to being around very pretty people, was getting a little bit distracted by Mikko Rantanen in her kitchen. Until he spoke, anway.

“I should get you an Avs shirt,” was how Mikko said hello after already pushing his way into her apartment. “You’ve got to rep the best team in Colorado.”

“I thought you,” Jo opened a cabinet opposite Mikko who was already ripping into the bags and spreading the food out, “were supposed to be supportive of all of the local teams.”

Mikko smiled at her and Jo felt like that smile could fix a heartbreak and cause it at the same moment, “I am! I just think you need to be more supportive of your friends.”

“When would you have liked me to have gotten this?” Jo asked Mikko after grabbing two water glasses from the cabinet. “We just became friends twelve hours ago. Is water okay, by the way?”

“I thought it would be a top priority for you. And yeah, water’s good.”

Mikko laughed as he talked, something Jo was realizing was common place for him. He was fidgeting, feet tapping on the hardwood floor, unable to settle, but it wasn’t from anxiousness like Jo’s almost always did. Mikko seemed to just have more energy than he knew what to do with, energy fed by pure childlike joy he had possessed every second Jo had seen him so far. His hands fussed with the takeout containers, his right foot hadn’t stopped bouncing, but he was doing it all with a smile on his face, dimple showing itself almost constantly. His energy was overwhelming Jo who was used to people completely unlike him. She was used to people who were so bogged down by the lives they lived that continuing to live them was exhausting in a way that bred negativity and squandered joy. Mikko seemed genuinely happy to be here in Denver in Jo’s apartment with her right now and more than that, he seemed genuinely happy to be Mikko Rantanen, something Jo just couldn’t understand.

“You seem eager, so get me one and I’ll wear it,” Jo threw back at him, an easy smile coming across her face as she started to fill their water glasses from the fridge.

“Oh yeah?” Mikko raised his eyebrows at her. “You can afford to get your own. Plates are where?”

“Wow, rude,” Jo scoffed, but it was fake and Mikko knew it before she’s even finished her rebuttal. “But if you can get me one for free, why would I buy one? And upper cabinet to the right of the stove. Silverware is the drawer below that.”

“Because you want to support the Colorado Avalanche organization because your friend is a part of it,” Mikko retorted, snagging two plates and way more silverware than Jo thought they needed from the drawer. “I got a few extra things I thought you should try, by the way, since you’re looking at me like I got too much food. I did. I did it on purpose. ”

With everything spread out and open on the table, Jo placed the waters, her only contribution to the spread, by their plates and sat down in a previously unsat in chair. Everything around here was too new. Things like this would make it feel more like her place eventually. Mikko had pretty much gotten one of everything on the menu as far as Jo could tell from her brief memory of reading it over earlier, but she could see why he had with the pretty incredible smells and sights laid out on her table.

“Half and half of everything, yeah?” Mikko asked Jo, fork and butter knife already in motion to the taco closest to him.

“You know,” Jo reached out and placed her hand on Mikko’s hand holding his fork, ignoring how warm and soft and large his hand was under hers, “I’m going to dip into traditional gender roles for a sec and briefly force them on you. How about I get a real knife and do the cutting?”

“That’s definitely a better idea,” Mikko agreed, the ever present laugh in his voice ringing more prominent.

Jo grabbed a knife out of the block on the counter and got to work cutting everything in half. Mikko took his half as she went, until his plate was full. Jo may have hit him with her elbows a couple of times and whined he was getting in her way. Mikko was apparently experienced enough with being elbowed over food due to having two sisters and the team that he just continued on, acquiring half of each taco, burrito, and side dish he could fit.

“I’m coming for my other halves,” he threatened Jo emptily with his fork when she finally finished the cutting. “Don’t get greedy.”

“Mikko, I consider myself a woman who can really eat,” Jo informed him, nabbing two half tacos to start, “but I think eating even my half of everything is beyond me.”

“Quitter,” Mikko smirked before shoving a large bite of a taco into his mouth.

“Not a quitter,” Jo countered before taking a bite of one of the half tacos on her plate. She almost moaned at the taste, but kept it inside. “I’m just a girl who knows her limits.”

As they both devoured their meals rapidly, Jo filled up much faster than Mikko who somehow cleared his first full plate and was creating a second, casual conversation flowing easily between the new friends. When Mikko finally reached a point where his inhalation slowed, his plate mostly cleared again, he looked over at Jo, who watched the smile fall from his face for the first time since she sat down across from him. She noticed instantly. It was easy to notice a lack of something that had always been there than to notice new things sometimes. All Jo saw was the lack of a smile on his face, not the genuine concern that had replaced it.

“Want to talk about why you were crying last night?” he asked Jo softly, watching as she pushed unfinished rice and beans across her plate to avoid making eye contact with him. “You don’t have to, obviously, but there’s no way there isn’t something worth talking about.”

“It’s nothing,” Jo tried to assure him, but Mikko wasn’t buying it for a second.

“Look,” he sighed, tossing his napkin onto his plate, “I said I was going to be your friend and sometimes friends tell you shit you don’t want to hear. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to, but it just seemed like that wasn’t the first time you cried at a party like that and I don’t think you should be crying at parties is all.”

Mikko was right. Even Jo, as stubborn as she could be sometimes, could admit Mikko was right. But Mikko could be right and Jo could still not want to deal with it. Those might be conflicting views, but Jo could deal with conflict better than anyone else she knew. She could put it in a box and ignore it, pretending it didn’t exist, pretending that it wasn’t eating her up inside how much she truly felt like there wasn’t anything good enough left in her to be worth anyone’s time, that the dream she first had here in Denver, the dream she had worked her entire life for, meant she lost herself. At least, that she had lost a version of herself anyone could love.

But that was too much for lunch on a Saturday with someone she had known for under twenty-four hours, even if she felt like she had known him for longer, even if he brought a blanket of comfort around Jo with his words, even if seven-year-old Jo would’ve liked him, even if he was asking.

“I don’t really want to talk about it. It was stupid,” Jo brushed him off.

Mikko sighed again and nodded softly, “Okay, you don’t have to talk about it, but it wasn’t stupid. How you feel isn’t stupid.”

How Jo felt was stupid though because she had more than almost anyone could ever ask for. She had apartments like this one. She had the ability to take a year off on a whim. She could go anywhere she wanted, buy whatever she liked. She had friends that other people would kill to even meet, even if a lot of them weren’t what people imagined them to be. She had a life millions of people would kill for, and yet Jo felt like no one really knew her. Jo knew that no one really knew her because Jo couldn’t even find herself, the real her, among everything she created to become that person that lived the life she lived. She didn’t think the real her existed. She was just the personalities and faces she created. It was almost hollow space underneath it all, with just a few useless fragments, the worst parts of her, left floating in the space.

“Thanks, Mikko,” is all Jo could come up with.

“You don’t believe me,” he told her, catching on to the sigh in the way she said his name. “It’s okay for today. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

Jo almost laughed at his words. No one kept trying and that’s how Jo wanted it. She didn’t want to admit everything underneath, the emptiness of it all, because then, if a person who cared enough to keep trying discovered there was nothing worthwhile under the facade of it all, they’d leave too and there was no way Jo could stomach that. Jo didn’t laugh though. She simply nodded and changed the topic to ask Mikko about the preseason game they had tomorrow. He noticed the look in her eyes when she changed the topic, but didn’t say anything. He just memorized it, how her eyes shifted, the heaviness in her face, the glossiness of her eyes, and put it in his growing folder of things he knew about Josephine Evans, even if he didn’t understand the expression at all. One day, he would. He would keep trying until he did.

------

Jo hadn’t gone more than four days without Mikko Rantanen showing up at her apartment post-practice, or requesting her presence at his when he was feeling particularly lazy, with wet hair, a dimpled smile, and some incredible smelling takeout since she moved to Denver a month ago. Even after training camp transitioned into the first games of the season, Mikko showed up, bag of food and charming personality in hand, ready to fight Jo’s demons. Really, just ready to crush her at Fortnite. He was horrified she had never played and brought over his old Xbox so he could teach her and they could play at her place too. Jo was terrible, absolutely tragic at it really, but Mikko made her laugh while trying to play, even though Jo was normally such a perfectionist she didn’t really want to do things she was bad at. Doing things she was bad at with Mikko was the exception.

A knock on Jo’s door let her know what time it was. Mikko didn’t even text beforehand anymore. He just showed up, several entrees in tow in case Jo didn’t like something he picked out after the olives incident. Mikko had brought Jo over some Greek takeout, a personal favorite of Jo’s because of the prevalence of olives in Greek food. Except Mikko ordered everything on the menu that didn’t contain olives.

“Why didn’t you get the little olives?” Jo had asked Mikko when he laid out the food on the coffee table. “The yummy marinated ones?”

Mikko looked at Jo with absolute disgust. His mouth dropped open, lips curling back, before he stuck his tongue out and made a gagging noise.

“You like olives? Gross, Jo. I don’t think we can be friends anymore,” Mikko told her, fake gagging when he said the word olives.

Jo shrugged off Mikko’s gagging, “Actually, it means we’re supposed to be friends, if you’re familiar with How I Met Your Mother anyway.”

“Nate talks about that show a lot and Tyson too, but I’ve never seen it,” Mikko told her, sitting down on the couch with a falafel in one hand and a messy plate of food covered in tzatziki in the other.

“It basically, well, they applied it to couples and stuff, but it totally works for friends too.” Jo caught herself before she could start, trying to walk back how the show had intended the meaning before she came off like she had feelings she was certain she didn’t have for Mikko.

“Anyway, it’s called The Olive Theory and it suggests that in every relationship, whatever kind of relationship, that there should be one person who likes olives, me,” Jo pointed at herself, “and one person who doesn’t like olives, you,” she pointed at Mikko now. “That way, I can eat all the olives I want and you don’t have to eat any. Plus, I can be your hero and rescue you from olives on your pizza so they don’t go to waste. It’s the whole like, two halves of a whole, opposites attract, people balance each other out, thing.”

Mikko nodded softly, thinking about Jo’s words carefully for a moment, before saying, “As long as I don’t have to eat any olives, this is good with me.”

Jo laughed before taking a bite of her falafel wrap, moaning openly at the taste. Mikko might be a shit teacher at Fortnite, and a kind of stupid boy sometimes, but he had figured out exactly the kind of food Jo liked and had never failed her. Mikko laughed a little at the sound, but he enjoyed that she liked something so simple as the food he brought over. Mikko liked Jo, genuinely and honestly and fully. Jo liked Mikko, cautiously at first, but even she, the self-coronated queen of denial, couldn’t deny that she did really like him. She liked being around him. She liked who she was around him and she couldn’t deny it. She noticed herself changing when he was around, that she felt lighter and more at peace, finding it easier to feel happiness and to laugh when he was around. Jo had spent a lot of time over the last month trying to figure out why she was feeling like that.

People could think about themselves as much as they wanted to, journeys of self discovery, self exploration, what have you, but part of it was looking through the eyes of other people at herself and the life she chose to live. Jo looked at herself through the rose-colored glasses of other people’s eyes all the time for affirmation, for support in her times of self doubt, but she also used it to validate her own negative views of who she was, finding the angriest, reddest view of herself when she felt like she deserved the worst pictures of herself that were out there. Jo had millions of eyes to view herself through, millions of slightly different versions of herself to see, to choose from at any point, but she couldn’t figure out which was the most accurate, many swaying too positive or too negative. It all was so jumbled, people’s misconceptions getting the way of seeing her with clear eyes and an honest mind. It overwhelmed her often. But the most overwhelming thing that had happened to Jo in a long time was realizing she was looking at herself through the eyes of one person a lot now, one person who seemed to actually see Jo, the real Jo she thought was lost in the hurricane forever ago. Jo was starting to think the way Mikko Rantanen saw her was her favorite way to view herself and it scared the hell out of her.

-------

Jo made it all the way to two days before Halloween before Mikko sent her an incredibly aggressive but incredibly Mikko kind of text.

Since you haven’t been to an avs game yet, I’m assuming you are only my friend because I bring you food. I will no longer be bringing you food until you come to a game. You’re in luck though because I reserved a box seat for you for the game tomorrow and have already pre-ordered one of everything our kitchen makes to the box for you because I do care that you eat, but I feel like our friendship is very one-sided right now and would like to see more effort out of you. Bring a friend if you want! See you tomorrow, Jojo!!!

The text was immediately followed by another with the information on where Jo could pick up her tickets and wristbands tomorrow before the game. As much as Jo had been trying to avoid public places, deeply enjoying the hunt the media was having, “Where In The World Could Josephine Evans Be?” Jo was excited about the prospect of getting to do something. She texted Helena, knowing she would reply immediately, which she did, and want to come with, which she did. Helena ordered a car for tomorrow to pick her up, then Jo, because Helena didn’t want to DD, a fair thing, and neither did Jo, also a fair thing, so calling a car was the only remaining option. Jo sent Mikko a quick text back, confirming her and Helena’s presence at the game tomorrow, and she had gotten a smiley face in return. The little smiley face text had Jo falling asleep with a smile, and waking up with it still on her face the next morning.

Despite earlier bullying less than a day into their friendship, Jo still lacked Avalanche gear, something that greatly upset Mikko when she had snapped a picture of her watching the first game of the season, an away game, team-spirit-less. His displeasure had been well known, a pouting photo of sweaty, post-game Mikko with his thumb turned down coming over in return that day. Jo still hadn’t acquired any Avalanche gear since that day though. As she was getting dressed later, she realized the closest she could get was a long sleeve burgundy t-shirt and that Mikko would just have to deal with it. She knew she’d get an earful after the game, especially considering since sport-averse until you were talking the athletes Helena was wearing an Avalanche t-shirt when the car picked Jo up later. She didn’t judge Jo for not though, just decided to leave it up to Mikko later.

Picking up the tickets was easier than Jo had thought it would be and a baseball cap low on her head in addition to the heavy crowds was letting her keep a low profile. Her and Helena managed to make it up to the box level without incident. Jo double checked the box number on her phone, confirming 256, before following the signs towards the box. As Jo got closer, she started to hear more and more people fussing about, boxes inhabited by people nearby. She stopped in her tracks when she reached 256, finding the door wide open, many voices floating out from inside. She glanced over at Helena, who shrugged, fearless in the face of the unexpected, and breezed past Jo to walk right in. Except Jo didn’t realize Helena had wrapped a hand around one of her wrists and pulled her into the box right along with her.

The first person who made eye contact with Jo, a girl wearing a Compher jersey, went wide-eyed when she saw Jo. Jo immediately wanted to spin on her heels and get herself anywhere but here when the girl turned and aggressively tapped the shoulder of a blonde wearing a Landeskog jersey. Helena on the other hand was already filling a plate full of snacks, blissfully unaware of Jo’s desperate need to throw herself out of this box headfirst to avoid whatever was next in a box of people who recognized her who she didn’t know. Jo was, fortunately, wrong about what she thought would happen next.

The blonde girl turned around and she smiled brightly when she saw Jo, making a beeline over to her. She wrapped her arms around Jo before she even said anything and Jo couldn’t hide her confused expression when the woman released her from a tight, crushing embrace.

“He didn’t tell you, did he?” she sighed, then shook her head softly. “I’ll have to yell at him later. I’m sorry. I’m Mel, Gabe’s wife. I’m sure Mikko’s told you about Gabe, right?”

Mikko had told her about Gabe. And Mel. He often came over to her place after being at the Landeskog’s, in search of a friend without a young child who would kill a bottle of wine with him without any judgement. Still, Mikko loved and idolized Gabe. That much was obvious from how he talked about his captain, and he talked about Mel almost like a mom sometimes. Jo took a deep breath, and then nodded softly, deciding to give Mel a fair shake herself, see what she thought.

“Okay, good,” Mel laughed a little. “Sorry Mikko didn’t tell you anything. I told him to give you a heads up what you were walking into here.”

“Yeah, he didn’t tell me anyone would be here,” Jo said, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, a naturally defensive posture.

“Of course he didn’t,” Mel groaned, head falling back in obvious displeasure with Mikko. She sighed before lifting her head to look at Jo again, “Well, this is where all the wives and girlfriends and I guess some friends watch the games usually. You’re welcome to food and over there’s wine and beer. Everyone’s really excited to meet you, by the way. Mikko talks about you a lot, you know.”

“He does?”

Jo didn’t mean for her words to come out as floored as they had, shock dripping from each letter. Why would Mikko talk about her to his teammates and their partners? Why was Jo watching the game from this room, of all places? Why would-

“All. The. Time.” Mel punctuated each word, cutting through the fog of questions in Jo’s mind. “We were wondering when he’d bring you around. I think he was trying to make sure everyone would be cool or whatever before he did. Oh, reminds me, he left something for me to give to you.”

Mel walked over to where she’d been sitting, then came back with a black bag and handed it to Jo, a wide, knowing smile on her face.

“There’s two seats open next to me after you put it on for you and your friend,” Mel told her before sliding back down to her seat.

Jo felt a little silly opening a sort of present right now, but Mel kept glancing over her shoulder at her encouragingly, waiting for her to open it. Jo looked into the bag and knew what it was. It wasn’t wrapped, so it wasn’t difficult to guess. She grabbed the small Post-It note sitting on top of it first, recognizing Mikko’s sloppy handwriting instantly.

Figured you wouldn’t pick up any Avs gear before the game because you hate me. Hope it’s not too big :) - Mikko

Jo pulled out the brand new Avalanche jersey from the bag, fingers tracing over the logo on the front, sliding over to the number stitched onto the shoulder. 96, Mikko and Jo’s birth year. She sighed as she flipped over the burgundy and blue jersey, Rantanen in bold letters across the shoulders. She knew as soon as she looked into the bag this was what it would be, but holding it in her hands, standing in a room full of the women who were actually with the guys warming up on the ice below wearing them too, Jo didn’t really feel like she should put it on.

“God, you two are so cute,” Helena whined at the sight of the jersey in Jo’s hands with a plate of food in one of her hands and a chicken wing in the other.

“H,” Jo sighed.

“I know, I know, I know,” Helena rolled her eyes in reply. “I know you’re not like, boning or whatever, but something is going on. You’re holding the proof and you better put it on. Don’t make me put down this chicken wing to fight you over it.”

Separating Helena from her food was one of the highest crimes Jo could commit. Plus, Helena’s threat to fight her wasn’t completely empty. Jo sighed, defeat sinking in heavy on her shoulders, before she tugged the jersey over her head without a second thought. She slid her arms into the sleeves, letting it settle over her, tugging at the shoulders and the neckline to try and make it feel more comfortable. It wasn’t the fit that was the problem. The name on the back made Jo feel like she was on fire and that fire was seeping into her skin, becoming burning questions Jo was trying so hard to think about. She didn’t want to know the answers to them. She didn’t even want to think about them. She took a deep breath and let it out forcefully, trying to blow out the flames, turn the questions into ash, and forget about it. She was partially successful and that was probably as close as Jo was going to get today. She picked up the Post-It note from where it had fallen on the floor and folded it up carefully, sliding it into her wallet for safe keeping. His handwriting was terrible and his gift was causing her mind to race in directions she didn’t want it to go, but they were both reminders that Jo knew at least one really, really good person. Some days, one good person was more than enough.

Jo watched the game from her seat between Mel and Helena, mind everywhere but on the rink in front of her the entire time. She was so zoned out, she missed when Mikko even scored, but she didn’t miss his name and face across the Jumbotron for what felt like ages after the puck hit the back of the net. Jo couldn’t catch a break to think about what the gift of a jersey with his name on it along with a ticket to sit among the wives and girlfriends of his teammates meant. There were no other friends present; Mel lied. Jo couldn’t take a break from his face on the screen, his name emblazoned on what felt like every inch of the building, on the screen, on the backs of the fans in front of her. She couldn’t find enough air to try and think about what it all could mean and took it as a sign from the universe that maybe the question needed to go back into the box, into a mental vault, for the time being. A sign that now wasn’t right. She wasn’t supposed to complicate this, just let a jersey be a jersey and a ticket be a ticket and a Post-It note be a Post-It note. Jo took a deep breath, and locked the question of intent in a deep vault and threw away the key for now.

She joined the wives and girlfriends down by the locker rooms after the game, getting Mikko straight from the shower, hair fully wet as her reward. He smiled bigger than Jo had ever seen when he saw the jersey actually on her, shuffling over to her with his head rocking side to side with each step. He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up off the concrete, making her yelp in surprise, before setting her down quickly. He was laughing as he did, an open mouthed smile on his face, eyes crinkling shut.

“Did you have fun?” he asked her.

“I did,” Jo nodded softly, leaving out the internal turmoil she had been working through throughout the game and left purposely unfinished. “Congrats on the goal.”

“And assist,” he added with a playful smirk. “Were you even watching?”

“I show up and you critique how I watch? That’s rude of you, Rantanen,” Jo verbally tossed back at him, a smile pulling up the corner of her mouth as she looked up at him.

“Eh, guess a guy can’t win them all,” Mikko shrugged. “Want to come back to my place? We can watch a bad movie, well, part of a bad movie until I fall asleep. It’s closer.”

“Was sort of counting on it,” Jo admitted. “Kind of already told Helena she could leave if she wanted to.”

Mikko put a hand over his heart, face twisting into shock as he faked like he’d taken a shot to the heart. His knees even buckled slightly, trying his best to sell it.

“Using me for my couch, huh?” he asked Jo with a shake of his head. “My couch and food.”

“Those are your only redeeming qualities,” Jo joked, scrunching her nose up at him as she smiled again. “Come on. Let’s get out of here and to that bad movie, yeah?”

Mikko threw a heavy, tired arm over Jo’s shoulders, and pulled her into his side for a moment as they headed out toward the parking lot. Jo let him drag her into his side as they walked, enjoying the warmth he gave off in the cool, fall Denver air.

“Everyone was good, yeah?” Mikko asked her softly when they neared his car. “I told Mel to make sure everyone was cool and not to like, take pictures of you and post them or anything. I really didn’t want to be the person that ruined Denver for you.”

Jo felt his words hit her chest and soften everything for a moment. The walls she built to protect herself shook from being hit with the full force of how much he cared about her, gaps forming in the walls that his words slid between and found her behind it all. Jo had never said she didn’t want to go to a game because of the risk of people finding out she was hiding out in Denver. Mikko had never even asked why. He didn’t ask because he already knew the answer. He was desperate to make it work for her, to try and make space for her in his life so she could be in it as much as she wanted without feeling like everyone in the world was watching. It had taken him a month to work out the best way to get her at a game, but let her have her privacy, let her be just Jo.

“Everyone was great, Mik,” Jo replied. “Thank you, for everything, honestly. Everything since I came here really.”

Mikko’s heart swelled in his chest. Not just for today, but for everything. It was small, nondescript, but the feeling behind the words rang true because it was. Without Mikko, Jo wouldn’t have started to feel at home in Denver. Without Mikko, Jo would know one person in this city. Without Mikko, Jo would’ve never found her favorite taco place and her third favorite Greek restaurant of all time. With Mikko, Jo wouldn’t smile so much.

Without Jo, Mikko wouldn’t know what it’s like to see someone and immediately realize that that person is supposed to be in your life. There was no rhyme or reason to that feeling, but Mikko had gotten it that night on the rooftop and every single interaction with Jo since had done was prove that feeling to be correct. Josephine Evans was supposed to be in his life and he was supposed to be in hers, the least complicated part of it all.

------

Jo didn’t think when the year started that this was how she would be spending her Thanksgiving. For most of November, which passed like October had seemed to, Jo didn’t think she would be spending her Thanksgiving like she would get to. Her parents usually travelled since Jo often wasn’t able to make it home for Thanksgiving and Christmas in the same year. One or the other was tied up in some performance or a series of flights that couldn’t time out to get her home when she needed to be for family dinner, so her parents often spent the holidays on a beach somewhere. However, with Jo semi-permanently parked in Denver for the time being, and her younger brother a short flight away in Los Angeles, Thanksgiving was coming to her for the first time ever. Her mom had promised to do a large chunk of the cooking, not because Jo couldn’t, but because her mom’s cooking was her favorite and Jo didn’t get to have it much anymore.

Jo was like a kid at Christmas, which her apartment was already decorated for, when she found out she was actually going to get her mom’s cooking for Thanksgiving and that her little brother, who was a little annoying but also one of the people Jo loved most in this world, was coming too. Mikko had been over when everything was officially confirmed and Jo started to worry if she had enough serving dishes or not.

“I’ve only done Thanksgiving a couple of times,” Mikko shrugged when Jo asked him if the stack of serving dishes she managed to collect would be enough, even though she had verbally gone through and assigned each one a dish on her family’s traditional menu. “I really couldn’t say, Jo.”

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” she asked him when she realized she didn’t actually know.

“Gabe and Mel usually host something? I’m not really sure actually. No one has really made any specific plans,” Mikko replied, horrifying Jo a bit.

Someone not having plans for the holidays? Josephine Evans’ true nightmare. She didn’t even think before she spoke.

“You could always join us,” Jo told him. “You know you’re always welcome with me.”

Mikko smiled so brightly in response to Jo’s words, brighter than all the lights on her Christmas tree combined. He accepted her invitation easily, and promised to bring a dish before he seemed to remember he couldn’t actually cook. He promised to bring whiskey Jo’s dad would like instead of trying to cook, deciding to spare her family from the potential horror show that could be.

It didn’t surprise Jo when Mikko showed up thirty minutes earlier than she had told him to, her hands a complete mess of flour and pie dough when he knocked on her front door Thanksgiving afternoon. Jo groaned when he did because she wasn’t exactly in the position to get the door. Her mom was an equal amount of a mess next to her, elbow deep in the turkey, and her dad and brother were immersed in football. They hadn’t even heard the door. Jo rinsed off her hands as fast as she could, not fast enough not to earn a second knock from Mikko before she could get to the door.

“You’re covered in flour, Jojo,” Mikko chuckled when he saw her.

“And you brought a box?” she challenged, eying the cardboard box in his hands.

“Brought a couple of kinds of whiskeys Gabe told me to get,” he smiled at her, dimples prominent on his cheeks. “I’m not even going to pretend I picked them out. Anything I can do to help?”

“Yeah, stay out of my kitchen,” Jo laughed as she opened the door wider and motioned him inside. “You made a mean box of leftover Chinese takeout, but that’s about it, Mik.”

“We all have our strengths, okay?” he countered, scrunching his nose up at Jo. He shifted the box to his left hip to free his right hand up to tug on the end of Jo’s French braid, “This is cute.”

“It’s just a French braid,” Jo mumbled, brushing a few loose pieces out of her face in a vain attempt to hide the slight color that had risen in her cheeks from his compliment.

“It’s cute,” Mikko repeated as he kicked off his shoes, knowing full and well how Jo felt about shoes in her house. “Should I take these to the bar then?”

“Come meet my mom first, then I’ll introduce you to the father and the brother,” Jo told him.

He followed her, halving the typical length of his stride to do so, literally making space for Jo, something he did in the figurative sense all of the time. Mikko dropped the box off on the edge of the counter, as far away from Jo’s baking as he could get, when he reached the island. He didn’t want to even sort of maybe possibly get in her way and mess something up for her today. She had been talking constantly about it, smile growing impossibly wider each day as Thanksgiving got closer. Mikko had spent all of his Thanksgivings so far hosted by European transplants who knew next to nothing about the holiday itself. This one, with the Evans men screaming at the television in the living room, the Evans women in the kitchen where they loved being together, there was something in the air that separated this Thanksgiving out from the others Mikko had seen. Family. Mikko could feel it hanging heavy but comfortably in the air. There was a lightness to Jo though, something Mikko had only seen glimpses of before when he’d managed to temporarily lift the clouds. The lightness seemed constant today, something Mikko wished for Jo all of the time.

“You must be Mikko! We’ve heard so much about you!”

Jo’s mom reminded Mikko of Jo, but it was distant. Jo might have been thirty years younger, but Mikko swore Jo’s soul felt older. Their smiles were the same though, even if Jo’s was rarer, Mikko got it to show more than anyone else and knew it well enough to recognize it on her mom’s face. She was wearing earrings shaped like turkeys with multi-colored feathers and an apron with a corny pun Jo would never be caught dead in, no matter how old she got.

“Mom,” Jo groaned, giving her mom a firm look for her comment.

“Aw, Jo does like me,” Mikko joked before giving her a little shove that was a little too hard causing Jo to stumble sideways.

Mikko caught her wrist, keeping her from stumbling too far. She glared at him as he pulled her back solidly on her fuzzy sock covered feet. Mikko laughed at her glare, knowing Jo who was almost a foot shorter than him really couldn’t do a thing about her anger with him if she wanted to, regardless of her motivation.

“I like him,” her mom nodded in approval.

“I’m not even sure you liked me that fast and you gave birth to me,” Jo mumbled, not quite loud enough for her mom to hear, but plenty loud for Mikko to, who snorted in response.

Jo’s mom surveyed the two before deciding to let whatever she had just missed go in favor of returning to her bird, the turkey that was going to be her number one pride and joy that day, kids included. Jo tugged Mikko’s forearm to get him to follow her into the living room. Mikko grabbed his box on the way, bottles inside clinking together as he walked. Their entrance into the living room went entirely unnoticed by the men engrossed in the football game on the television. Jo cleared her throat as the whistle on the television blew, seeing an opening to introduce Mikko.

“Dad, Luke, this is my friend Mikko. He brought whiskey.”

Jo gestured over to Mikko, who put on his best smile, the one Jo still thought must have cured cancer somewhere once, and shook the box a little to make the bottles inside rattle. Her dad looked him up and down, the assumption among Jo’s family being that they were either dating or almost dating and for one reason or another not admitting it to anyone, so her dad was giving Mikko the look he’d given Jo’s past boyfriends.

“Dad,” Jo sighed, “cut him some slack. We’re friends and he brought whiskey.”

Mikko flushed a little when he realized he was getting the stare down because her dad thought there was something beyond what they could see going on between him and Jo. Mikko fidgeted with the edge of the box where there was a small hole, trying to avoid her dad’s harsh gaze. It was unearned, but it just reminded Mikko more of what he didn’t have, what he couldn’t have, which was all of Jo. Mikko was trying so hard, so incredibly hard, not to fall in love with Josephine Evans, but it wasn’t really working for him. He knew she wasn’t ready. He knew there was too much noise, the storm in her head was too strong, and that he would lose her if he tried right now because he wasn’t through it. Mikko wasn’t even sure he had gotten into the storm yet. He felt like he was just on the edge of it, staring into the darkness of it all, watching the winds pick up and toss aside everything. He couldn’t even see Jo through it all most of the time, but he caught a glimpse of her before, the real her behind it all and she was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, infinitely better than how he had ever imagined someone could be. He was going to get across it. He just had to wait, take his time, otherwise the storm would pick him up and deposit him miles away from her, battered and bruised, unable to even get back to the edge of it again.

“Whiskey?” her dad perked up, eyeing the box with a raised eyebrow.

Mikko nodded, dropping the box onto the wet bar in Jo’s living room. Her dad was up off the couch and next to Mikko before he could even get the box open all the way. Jo had understated how much her father loved nice whiskey, because his hands were already grabbing a bottle before Mikko could and Mikko was closer to them. Mikko pulled the other out while her dad read over the first one and Mikko thanked his lucky stars that Landy had not just recommended four bottles to get, but also took the time to run Mikko over each whiskey, the important flavor notes, how they were aged, and some basic information about each distillery. Still, he was grateful that the first one her dad had a question about was one Mikko had actually been to the distillery that made it before.

“Is this local? I haven’t seen it before,” her dad told him, eyes not leaving the bottle.

“Yeah, it is,” Mikko confirmed. “This local place, treats them sort of like a rye whiskey even if they aren’t. It’s a cool place too, actually. Jo and I have been. They have a bunch of small batch stuff, all really good.”

“Oh, that place we went with Nate and Landy?” Jo called out from the kitchen, hands already back in her pie dough, figuring Mikko’s personality plus whiskey could manage her father from here.

“That’s the one!” Mikko called back, grabbing a glass with each hand from the back edge of the wet bar.

“Ah, that was fun! We should do that again,” Jo replied, followed by a loud huff as she worked to combine the crumbly pie dough by hand.

“Luke, you want one?” Mikko asked Jo’s brother who hadn’t left his spot on the couch.

“Yeah, pour me whatever you guys are having,” he told him, obvious in his tone that his eyes were still trained on the football game.

Mikko dropped down on the couch, two glasses in hand, and passed one to Luke, Jo’s dad dropping down on the opposite side of Luke with his own glass in hand. Mikko watched her dad sip the whiskey carefully, and let out a breath of relief when he nodded softly in approval and went for another sip. Mikko didn’t know if he was ever going to have to impress Jo’s dad in the way he wished he would have to, but impressing him now would go a long way to making that future conversation easier for him. Her brother was much easier.

“So, catch me up on the game,” was all it took for Luke to start talking to him.

In the kitchen, Jo’s mom finally got the turkey in the oven as Jo started to roll out the dough for the apple pie. The game picked up in the other room, the boys all shouting at the television over something that happened. Jo’s mom used the increase in volume as cover to try to pull some information out of her daughter that she knew she would never willingly give.

“You failed to mention he looked like that,” her mom told her with a bump of her hip against Jo’s. “He’s a gorgeous young man. Seems sweet too.”

“Mom,” Jo groaned, her attention still on the pie dough on the floured counter.

“Josephine,” her mother countered, stealing Jo’s tone, “he’s a catch. Catch him already.”

“Mom, stop,” Jo sat the rolling pin down, pivoting with her hip now on the counter’s edge to face her mother. “He’s a friend, a good friend, but I don’t want to be with anyone right now. You know that. Being single is good for me right now.”

“Sweetheart, do you even notice how he looks at you?” her mom replied, exasperation heavy in her voice, but her volume staying low. “He looks at you like you say you’ve always wanted someone to look at you. You’ve literally written songs about how you wanted someone to look at you like he looks at you. He really likes you and it’s so obvious. So what if it’s not the best time?”

Jo wiped her hands off on a dishtowel as her mom spoke. Her mom was genuinely trying, something she often did, but she wasn’t really listening to Jo, something she often did as well. Her mom cared, deeply, but she cared about what she thought other people’s priorities should be, her vision for someone else’s life, more than what the other person actually wanted. Right now, and honestly moving forward into forever as far as she was concerned, Jo didn’t want to put anyone in the war path of her love. Her love wasn’t gentle. It was calamitous, life-altering in the worst way possible. People she loved lost their privacy, their independence, their ability to decide if they even loved her back without the pressure of millions of peoples’ expectations. They also had to endure all of Jo and the chaos in her mind. Jo wasn’t easy to love, so difficult she didn’t even see how loving her could ever be worth it to anyone. Even if someone was stupid enough to decide she was worth it, Jo couldn’t put anyone she loved through the experience of loving her. Least of all someone like Mikko.

“Mom, if I wanted your opinion, I would’ve asked,” Jo said curtly, knowing her mother would keep pushing if she didn’t stomp out any hope, blow out the candle she had lit for the idea of her daughter with the tall Finnish boy on her couch. “There's no chance that’s ever happening, okay? That’s not how I feel about him. It’s not how I want to feel about him. I want to be friends with him and I am. It’s not settling. It’s what I want. Please, stop pushing.”

Her mom threw her hands up and shook her head at Jo, displeasure evident on her face, but she let it go. She didn’t even call Jo out for the most bold faced lie she had told her since she was a little kid here in Denver and pushed her brother off the swing and broke his arm. Jo felt a hell of a lot of things for Mikko Ratanen friends didn’t feel, but her mom didn’t call her out on it because she knew her daughter was still lying to herself too.

By the time dinner was on the table and the Evans family plus Mikko sat around to eat it. Luke and Mikko were in a heated debate, well, heated for Luke, over if football was a better sport than hockey. Mikko wasn’t one to actually get heated. He was just enjoying getting to talk about one of his favorite things in the world, hockey, as much as he wanted with the brother of a person fast moving their way up the list of Mikko’s favorites. Mikko’s fork was in hand, moving toward his plate, ready to consume the amazing spread in front of him, but Jo’s mom cleared her throat and unnecessarily tapped her wine glass. It was unnecessary in a group of five people, but also unnecessary because the glass shattered when she tapped it just the wrong way with her knife. Thankfully, she hadn’t poured herself wine yet and it seemed to break in just a few pieces, but unfortunate because Mikko’s fork had to return to his napkin.

Jo was, as she often was, a step ahead of Mikko, collecting the shards in a spare cloth napkin. Mikko stood up to try and help, but really couldn’t figure out any way to help as Jo was already on her way to the trash can, glass shards in tow. Not even a step later, she was opening the cabinet to grab another wine glass, her mother still flustered and rambling apologies from the table. Mikko saw his opportunity to help as Jo looked up at the cabinet. He watched her shoulders drop when she realized a replacement glass was out of reach for her. Luckily, it was very much within Mikko’s reach. He headed over into the kitchen, sliding up easily behind Jo.

“Need a hand?” he asked her softly, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

She huffed in reply, knowing her need for his help was obvious and that he was just milking everything he could get out of her actually needing him openly for once. Jo needed Mikko Rantanen more than just for his height, but she definitely wasn’t ready to admit that yet. Jo’s eyes went wide, before she blinked to cover it up, when one of Mikko’s large hands rested on her waist from behind as he reached up with his free hand to grab another glass. The feeling of his warm palm over her shirt over her skin shouldn’t have been enough to send her mind racing, questioning, but it was. It was one simple touch and Jo was ready to do anything to make it stop so she wouldn’t feel her heart picking up in her chest anymore.

Mikko sat the glass down on the counter in front of Jo, a smug smile on his face as he looked down at Jo who had no choice but to tilt her chin up to look at him. Jo watched Mikko’s smile fall, soft pink lips parting a little as his eyes widened, pupils growing. She saw his eyes jump down from hers to her red wine stained lips, then back to her eyes, then back again. His head moved down just a little, almost imperceptibly, and Jo’s breath caught in her throat. Mikko knew he shouldn’t be doing this, but she was so beautiful and she was right in front of him, right there, with his hand on her waist, and her lips dark with wine, and he just wanted to know what it felt like to kiss her. But he shouldn’t. He couldn’t. Doing this now would mean his days doing it were limited, a trial period he couldn’t extend. He couldn’t do this. He forced a smile on his face, leaned down quickly, and tapped his forehead against hers briefly. He grabbed the wine glass and spun out from her, mind and heart racing with what could have been. He gave up that moment, for the chance at a lifetime of others with her. He’d give up any single moment for a chance at infinite ones. He made that choice again and again, like it wasn’t one of the hardest things he had to do.

------

November bled into December, Thanksgiving gave way to Christmas, and the last vestiges of fall disappeared under the first blankets of winter snow. Jo watched it all happen, from her apartment, from Mikko’s apartment, from the wives and girlfriends and Jo box at the Pepsi center. She felt the season change, stretching across the two months, but that wasn’t the only thing that was shifting. Jo was shifting towards something she didn’t want to say sometimes for fear saying it would ruin it. She was shifting toward happiness and it was all Jo could think about as the car rolled to a stop in front of Gabe’s driveway.

Jo she tugged at her sweater, pulling at the sleeves, at the slightly too tight bottom band, at the neckline, really any part that was touching her skin. It was itchy beyond belief, but she was pretty sure that she was about to take home the non-existent prize of ugliest Christmas sweater at the party tonight. Jo had been out with Helena for dinner, so she threw the sweater on in the car on the way over to Gabe’s and was regretting never having tried it on before this moment. But, the look on Mikko’s face when he saw just how ugly the sweater was would be worth her temporary discomfort.

She punched in the gate code at Gabe’s and made her way up the driveway, smiling the whole way, something Jo had been doing a lot more of lately than she usually did. She told herself it was the hometown air, mile high and clearer than any other city. She told herself it was the fresh snow falling regularly now, deep into December. She told herself it was Christmas and a lot of people were happier around Christmas. Jo’s happiness wasn’t temporary though. It was a shift, slow and steady, a constant pressure forcing her out of the mindset she settled in years ago, the one where she always needed to be pleasing other people to be happy, the one where she needed everyone’s approval to find her own joy. She knew the clearer air, the snow, and the holidays weren’t the pressure. The pressure was a tall, somehow clumsy Finn who wanted nothing more than to see Jo smile every single day.

He didn’t try to make her happy with jokes and gimmicks and other things that were essentially bandaids to Jo’s heaviness. He didn’t try to pull a funny face while jumping just high enough for Jo to see from the other side of the walls she has built to protect herself, the ones she thought were too high for anyone to climb. Mikko wasn’t climbing them, knowing full and well that him getting over them wouldn’t truly help Jo. It would make her just okay for a little while longer, make the way she lived a little more bearable, until it destroyed them both. Mikko was taking the walls apart, brick by brick, his patience and his steadiness guiding the way. He never got frustrated when some of the bricks went back up in the middle of the night while he slept. He got up the next morning all the same and went back to work, taking the walls apart piece by piece, at whatever pace Jo would accept. Mikko hadn’t given up in four months, and he wasn’t planning on it, not until all the walls were gone and the bricks were destroyed, crumbled back into dust, and Jo could see herself the way he saw her the few times he managed to make a hole in the wall and actually see her behind all her defenses.

Jo opened the door into Andre Burakovsky. It was an accident and he shouldn’t have been standing directly in front of the front door and he wasn’t hurt in the slightest, but Jo felt bad about it all the same.

“I’m dumb, it’s my fault,” he assured her. His mouth dropped open when he saw her sweater as Jo hung up her jacket in the front closet. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever seen and I wish we had a contest because you’d so win.”

“I would so win,” Jo agreed, fussing with her curls to get them reasonably back into place

“There should be a contest. Maybe you can bully Gabe into getting some sort of prize anyway because you deserve it, ” Andre told her, his signature wide smile on his face. “He’s in the family room last I saw him by the way, since I know you’re looking for him.”

Jo blushed at Andre’s words. He had caught her eyes tracking over the party that was in full swing, looking for the guy who had technically invited her, but she probably could’ve shown up anyway without his invite. She ducked out on Andre, blush still deepening with him laughing in the background, and made her way through the living room and kitchen into Gabe’s family room. She was old news by now, a days old newspaper no one wanted to read anymore, and it was Jo’s favorite thing about the Colorado Avalanche. She was Mikko’s friend Jo. Full stop. No additions necessary.

“Jojo!”

Jo heard Mikko before she saw him. She technically felt him before she saw him either as two heavy, muscled, ugly sweater covered arms wrapped around her stomach and lifted her off the ground, making her squeal.. He was laughing as soon as her feet left the ground. Jo’s hands gripped one of Mikko’s forearms around her waist to steady herself as Mikko rocked slowly side to side, weight shifting from foot to foot, with Jo in the air in his arms.

“Mikko!” Jo shouted through her laughter. “Put me down!”

“You’re so easy to pick up though, and now you can actually see the party,” Mikko pointed out unhelpfully.

He set her down anyway, knowing that when Josephine Evans made up her mind, such as wanting to be put down, she was a woman who would figure out how to get her way, Mikko’s shins be damned if that’s what it took. Mikko had a game to play the day after today and wasn’t excited about doing it with shins bruised by Jo’s boots.

“This sweater,” Mikko breathed out as Jo turned to face him. He was in disbelief as he looked at it, “Jo, this is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

“Are you proud?”

Jo spun slowly on her heels, letting Mikko take in the absolute monstrosity she had bought to wear just for this. Mikko was in disbelief, written plainly all over his face, as he observed the sweater in all its terrible glory. Jo had more than delivered when he texted her and said it was an ugly Christmas party. Mikko loved the sweater, a true ugly beauty, but he thought the best part was that Jo put her hair in those little half space buns, the rest of her hair in curls falling down her back. He thought she was the cutest person he’d ever seen and he only knew one way to deal with it in a healthy way Jo would actually appreciate.

Appreciate might have been the wrong word.

Mikko reached out with two large hands and gave her little half buns a squeeze while saying, “Your antlers are cute.”

“Mikko, I swear to god, one day you’re going to die and it’s because I kill you,” Jo informed him with a tone so casual you would think she had just ordered a breakfast sandwich.

“And what a way to go,” Mikko just laughed in response. “Mel made spiked eggnog. You interested?”

Mikko knew Jo was interested before he had even asked, which is why it didn’t surprise him in the slightest that she took off for the kitchen, dragging him by his hand to get to the eggnog. Mikko had released when he stepped into Jo’s apartment on November 3rd, almost two months ago now, just how much Jo loved Christmas, because it had already been decorated that day he walked in. She had offered no explanation for the decorations being up so early other than that it was her apartment, she could do what she damn well pleased, and if Mikko didn’t like it, he could damn well leave. He stayed. Mikko always stayed when Jo was involved.

“Those are some pours there, Jo,” Mikko told her as he eyed the cups Jo was already filling for them from the pot. “Trying to get me drunk?”

“You’re a growing boy,” Jo countered, shoving a full cup into Mikko’s waiting hand. “Drink your milk and maybe you’ll grow big and strong.”

Mikko couldn’t help but laugh. He might make Jo laugh a lot and Mikko laughed a lot in general, but no one made him laugh more than Jo. Even on his worst days, even on Jo’s worst days for that matter, she could always pry a full bellied laugh out of him. It wasn’t even prying. Mikko would willingly give it over to her even when all she offered him was a shitty joke in exchange. It wasn’t lost on Mikko why that was. It wasn’t lost on anyone in the room, or really anyone who had ever spent four minutes in the same room as Mikko and Jo. Mikko looked at Jo differently from other people. Debate what you want about loving someone or being in love with someone, Mikko knew Jo didn’t want him to be in love with her and he respected her wishes more than how he wished she felt, but Mikko Rantanen loved Josephine Evans and it had taken only a few months for it to happen. Mikko realized it the other day on the plane coming back from a road trip. All he wanted was for the plane to get to altitude so he could turn on his phone and text Jo about something funny that had happened since his phone had been in airplane mode. All he wanted to do was get home and see her. All he wanted was her. And that’s not how you feel about people you don’t love.

“Does the alcohol mean that the good stuff in milk cancels out?” Mikko asked Jo with one half raised eyebrow and one fully raised eyebrow.

He couldn’t lift one without the other, but he tried anyway. Mikko always tried.

“I don’t know,” Jo shrugged as she put the lid back on the pot, her full cup in her hand now. “Drink it and we’ll see if you grow some more. You’re still a little too small. A couple more inches and a few more pounds and you’ll be perfect to dress as Fezzik from the Princess Bride next year for Halloween.”

Mikko smiled and laughed through his reply, “I’d rather be the Wesley to your Buttercup though.”

“That’s actually a pretty solid idea. You’re even already blond, no wigs necessary,” Jo smiled up at him, lips at the edge of her cup.

“Hey, Mik, I need a pong partner.”

Josty was standing in the kitchen doorway, ping pong ball in hand, already with a slightly glazed over look in his eyes, a few drinks clearly already in him. Mikko definitely wasn’t the best pong player at the party, but his long arms meant he could be kind of shit and still get away with it.

“You good?” Mikko asked Jo, attention focused solely on her as he waited for confirmation.

Jo nodded and shooed him off with a wave of her hand to go play a round or two or seven knowing Josty. She could see the pong table set up in the corner of the family room from here and watched Mikko’s face light up when he sank the first cup. It might have been the bitch cup, but he lit up nonetheless. Jo lasted all of about thirty seconds at her observation point in the kitchen alone before Mel slid in, leaning up against the kitchen island next to her.

“Nice sweater,” Mel told her, giving the younger girl a little shove on the arm to get her full attention.

“It’s itchy as hell, but you know the sacrifices we make for beauty,” Jo joked with her, an eye still on the tall blond boy in the corner of the other room.

“You two are cute, by the way,” Mel told her with a smile edging at her lips. “I know there’s nothing going on, before you even say it. I’m just saying you two are cute together, that’s all.”

“Mel,” Jo groaned, but the older girl cut her off with a wave of her hand.

“I said what I said,” was all she offered Jo in response.

Jo was pretty sure every single member of the team had cornered Mikko and every single significant other had cornered Jo at least twice now since September about their friendship. Several people insisted they were hiding it, a “real” relationship. Jo always turned her nose up at the idea that friendships didn’t count as real relationships because her friendships had always been the most consistent, best kind of relationships Jo had ever had in her life. Her romantic relationships were unnecessarily complicated with what felt like the entire world feeling like they had a right to an opinion. She felt exposed, like she wasn’t allowed to love people without the world’s approval and even if she had it, she had to love at the pace they wanted, which was so fast that Jo felt all the air rush out of her lungs every single time. Romantic relationships thrived on patience and time, letting them flow as they were supposed to rather than forced up a river before the boat was big enough to handle the rapids. Jo had never gotten to do that and so, they all failed. Her friendships weren’t like that; they were genuine and pure and good, like Mikko. She would ruin him if she tried to turn this romantic, him and them at the same time. She cared about him too much to do that, so she never dwelled on the thought, never let it foster. She refused to witness what the world would do to someone as good as him.

“Don’t overthink it though,” Mel tossed into the mix of everything that was already swimming in Jo’s mind. “Don’t force it, obviously, but don’t resist it.”

Was Jo really resisting it if she tried, even though she wasn’t one hundred percent successful, to never even let a thought form about it? If she never even let herself for a single second daydream about what it might feel like to be loved by someone as good as him, did that even count as resisting it? Besides, Jo wasn’t even sure it was really on the table. For romance to be on the table, they both had to want it and Jo didn’t know if Mikko wanted that.

“You’re overthinking,” Mel sang softly. “Don’t sell yourself short, Jo, okay? For someone who loves to kick ass and take names, you won’t take the smallest risk here.”

Mel didn’t get it. Jo wasn’t risking herself. She was already so damaged, bent until she broke, utterly unlovable that it didn’t even matter. She would be risking Mikko. Mikko with his beautiful smile and his positivity and his determination to make Jo realize she was just as good as him when she knew she never would be. Mikko with his kind eyes and his warm hugs and his patience unmatched by anyone else Jo had ever met. She would be risking one of the best people she had ever met and Jo couldn’t do it. She wouldn’t let her life darken him with a permanent ink stain, coating everything bright and good with an inky black residue that would always weigh him down. There was a version of Jo, a version of her that she hated to admit ever existed, a version of her that believed people could be in love with someone and that their love would fix them, that wouldn’t have thought twice about it. She would’ve reached out and taken him anyway, hoping some of his goodness would transfer over to her without a care in the world for if she took everything he had from him. That version of Jo was thankfully dead, but the one that stood in her place only saw the harm she could cause him, would cause him if she exposed him to what loving her looked like. Jo wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t watch it happen, not to him, not if it was the hardest thing she ever had to do.

So, Jo drank her eggnog. She took photos and laughed and smiled and told Mikko he was her best friend, because he pretty much was at this point. No one else even got half of what he got from her. She wore that itchy sweater all night because Mikko thought it was the best thing ever. She wore it until she got to Mikko’s apartment after the party. His was closer to Gabe's and Jo didn’t feel like the effort of going to her place was worth it when Mikko had the best couch in the entire world. Jo kicked her shoes off and threw herself onto the couch the moment she set foot in Mikko’s familiar apartment. He laughed as Jo tucked herself into the cushions, letting herself be swallowed up in them.

Mikko vanished down the hallway for a moment, returning with one of his t-shirts and sweatpants for Jo to put on instead of her itchy, but iconic, sweater and jeans. Jo groaned as she took the t-shirt from him, knowing it meant she would need to get up to go to the bathroom to put them on, arm flopping down on the couch in disgust.

“Could be a little more grateful I’m providing a place to sleep and pajamas,” Mikko told her, not able to fake a scolding tone without laughing for more than a few words.

Jo glared at Mikko as she lifted her head from her spot on the cushions and slid unceremoniously from the couch to head to the bathroom to change. She changed fast, sleep calling her name from the couch she was forced to vacate, brushing her teeth faster than her dentist would approve of with her purple toothbrush Mikko had gotten for her specifically and left it next to his green one. The toothbrush had just shown up one morning after Jo crashed on the couch and Mikko left early for practice. It had been in the bathroom when she had woken up, a little sticky note with Mikko’s horrible handwriting on it.

Jojo’s toothbrush :)

They had never spoken about it, the sticky note being the only communication they exchanged. Jo had used it, her mind trying not to think about everything a toothbrush at his place was implying, and had put it in the holder next to Mikko’s, trying further not to think about how her toothbrush was next to his. Jo shook the thoughts from her mind again as she rolled the bottom of Mikko’s sweatpants up so she wouldn’t step on them on her way to the couch. Mikko had pulled her favorite blanket out of the closet for her and was waiting on the couch when she came down the hall.

“You’re so tiny,” Mikko practically giggled as he saw how big the sweatpants and t-shirt were on Jo. He’d seen it before, but he thought it was hilarious every time. “Little Jojo.”

Jo hated the nickname Jojo from everyone. Her mom didn’t even use it anymore because of the way Jo’s face scrunched up after she said it, disgust plain as day on her face. She let Mikko use it and it even made her smile sometimes, like just now, and like the toothbrush, Jo didn’t let herself think about what it all meant as she climbed onto the couch and snuggled up into Mikko’s broad, warm chest. Mikko was always the perfect amount of warm, enough that his warmth sunk into Jo’s bones, into the places that never seemed to warm up enough.

“You should sleep in your bed,” Jo mumbled as her eyes started to close.

“I’ll leave when you fall asleep,” Mikko assured her softly, letting his thumb rub her upper arm softly, crossing the edge of his too long t-shirt sleeve she was wearing on her skin and back gently.

“M’kay,” Jo sighed contentedly.

Jo’s eyes didn’t open again that evening. Her breathing slowed, naturally timing with Mikko’s deep breaths, his chest rising and falling against her back lulling her softly to sleep. She was almost asleep, just on the edge of it, when she heard Mikko’s voice whisper softly.

“I wish you could see how great you are, Jojo.”

It wasn’t meant for her to hear, so Jo didn’t reply. She drifted off to sleep, trying not to think about what that sentence meant. She also tried not to think about what the purple toothbrush next to his meant and why she slept better next to him than she ever did by herself. But that was a lot of things Jo couldn’t think about and instead, she fell asleep reminding herself exactly why she couldn’t dwell on all of those things.

-------

Christmas passed with Jo leaving Denver for the first time since she had arrived to spend it with her parents and brother in Florida. Mikko stayed in Denver, but his family came to him at least. She stayed through New Year’s, taking a week-long trip before her brother had to return to school in the Bahamas with her family. Being on a beach somewhere remote, the sun on her face, sand in her toes, made Jo miss Denver more somehow. A week on a beach in the Caribbean plus a week in Florida on a different beach and she was itching to get back to the snow, back to Avalanche games, back to the mile high air. A part of her brain whispered one more thing she wanted to get back to, back to Mikko. Jo already knew that was part of it, and she knew why that was. She loved him. There was no way around that anymore, no vault she could put it in that would even close due to the amount of ever growing love she had for him. Two weeks apart came with almost daily Facetimes and texts, the Christmas morning one standing out brightest of all. Mikko had sent Jo to Florida with his gift for her, covering in wrapping that would’ve made an eight-year-old proud, but horrified a precocious nine-year-old.

“Mikko, this is half tape,” Jo whined into her phone as she tried to break into the box.

“Not all of us can wrap like we’re a Pinterest mom, Jo,” Mikko scolded her softly, holding up the box she had wrapped for him as evidence.

“I’ll teach you.”

Jo laughed as she said it, and Mikko joined her, because they both knew Mikko couldn’t be taught how to wrap a present. He didn’t care enough about crisp lines and details like that. If it was wrapped, it was good for him. Jo had wrapped all of his gifts for everyone this year, except her own. Hers had been Mikko’s only present to wrap this year and he had done an absolutely horrible job. Jo finally managed to get through all of the tape and into the box. She tossed the tissue paper aside to reveal a candle. A candle, of all things.

“So, okay, remember how I said you have to come to Finland in the summer?” Mikko told her, offering up his explanation for the seemingly random gift in her hand. “Well, that candle smells like Finland. I did a bunch of research and got like, ten or whatever from Etsy, you know Etsy? Anyway, I smelled them all and that one does smell like Finland. I want you to know what it’s like before you get there and you really like candles and stuff.”

It was objectively a mediocre gift without the context. In context, it almost made Jo cry. The amount of thought behind it. The effort he went into to find the one that reminded him most of where he grew up. The fact that it was a physical representation of his wish to bring her back to the place he grew up. Jo almost cried looking at it. She popped the top off and smelled the candle deeply, ocean and forest mixing with some smells she couldn’t identify but hoped she would be able to soon. She smiled as she put the lid back on and set it aside.

“I love it, Mik,” Jo smiled at him now. “It’s one of the most thoughtful gifts I’ve ever gotten. Thank you.”

MIkko smiled widely, dimple popping out as it often did, “There’s a card in the bottom, but you can read it later. I want to open my gift.”

Jo laughed as Mikko took one last glance at her pristine wrapping job before ripping it to shreds, busting open the box in an effort to find out what was inside as fast as possible. The fact that he had the present under his tree for three days and hadn’t opened it yet was a miracle within itself. And besides, some beautiful things were supposed to be temporary. Jo felt some days like maybe she was one of those temporarily beautiful things and like her beautiful moments had already passed, then she would see the way Mikko Rantanen looked at her for a second and think that maybe some beautiful things were supposed to be beautiful forever and maybe she was one of those things.

“Okay, I really hope you like it-”

“Jo, I love it,” Mikko cut her off.

Mikko pulled the sweatshirt out of the box and immediately yankedit over his head, smoothing out the image on the front. It was a cartoon caricature of his dog back in Finland, who he missed constantly during the season and talked about often. Jo ordered Mikko’s actual size instead of his preferred too large one. It fit tightly, but comfortably around his shoulders and arms, sleeves managing to be just long enough to cover his arms and reach his wrist. It fit perfectly and Mikko was staring fondly at the image on the front. Jo had picked the cutest picture she could find, one of his dog wearing one of Mikko’s helmets on his head.

“Fits perfect,” Mikko told her, bright blue eyes lifting from the sweatshirt to his phone to look at her again, his dimple showing itself again. “I love it, Jojo. Thank you.”

“Always, Mik,” Jo smiled softly at him

Maybe it was the holidays getting to her brain, the warmth and comfort of it all, but Jo was inches away from spilling words she could never take back, ones that might alter the beautiful boy on the other end of the phone in a way Jo didn’t want for him.

“What are you thinking about?”

Mikko knew something was up, something was pressing itself forward in her mind, demanding to be said. He could always tell, even from that first night on the rooftop he could always tell. He was always checking, looking for the smallest signs since Jo had never given anything larger than a single grain of sand compared to a beach of outputs. Mikko knew he must have missed thousands of signs by now, so it was important for him to acknowledge all the ones he saw. The worried glance to the right, following by a tap of her short nails on the table, and a quick sigh. She was overthinking.

“I just,” Jo let out a long breath and Mikko waited. He just waited, giving her time and space to choose her words. Jo wanted to tell him she loved him, but she couldn’t use those words, so, instead, Jo let him in for a moment. “Um, remember how you asked me that, um, first day you came over for lunch why I was crying?”

“I remember, Jo,” Mikko assured her softly, support coming over through his words that somehow seemed to take a physical form, something Jo could reach out and grab onto now to help stay on her metaphorical feet and continue talking.

“I was upset because I just felt,” Jo took another deep breath and looked at the face on the screen. Mikko’s eyes were steady and true, grounding her, calming her nerves. “I just felt empty. I felt like, I don’t know, it’s stupid, but I just feel sometimes like I’ve worked so hard that I don’t really know who I am anymore, like there really isn’t anything left of me after everything, after everyone took something, I guess.”

Mikko smiled softly, but it wasn’t pity in his eyes. It was love, raw and real and true. But Jo couldn’t see it. She wouldn’t let herself see it.

“Jo, how could there be nothing left when you’re my favorite person I’ve ever met?”

Jo felt the tears well up in her eyes because she knew they were true. Mikko genuinely believed them. Mikko was a lot of things, but he was a terrible liar. He really believed Jo was his favorite person he had ever met. But what was he seeing that could possibly make him feel like that?

Mikko saw all of the fractured parts of Jo hiding in the pieces of her personality, the faces she put on, all living behind the walls she built. Mikko saw all the parts of Jo and he could put the parts together in his mind and see just how beautiful she was. Broken things could still be beautiful. Things that used to be broken and were put back together one piece at a time could also still be beautiful. Things didn’t have to be exactly as they were originally made.

The word Mikko didn’t know to explain it was kintsugi, an old Japanese tradition of repairing broken pottery with gold. It wasn’t about trying to make the pieces look like it had never been broken. If you tried to do that, the lines where it had broken before would always look like faults, like unsightly scars. But if you joined it back together with gold, you weren’t hiding the past. You were making it beautiful, letting past fractures create an even more beautiful, unique piece when it was all finally assembled again. That’s what Mikko thought about Jo, that all of her pieces were beautiful and that the person she had been before she fractured herself was beautiful too. But Mikko thought that Jo, stitched back together with trust and love like gold, would be even more beautiful, the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He could see her now and who she would be when she put herself back together, and he loved her all the same.

The conversation ended and Mikko didn’t bring it up again while Jo was in Florida and in the Bahamas with her family. He let his words sit with Jo and acted as a constant reminder of the care and love he showed her, confirming them every single day without ever talking about them again. Jo still didn’t know what Mikko saw in her, but he kept the daily FaceTime calls, never missing one while she was away.

When she got back to Denver, he picked her up from the airport, even though Jo had tried to tell him he didn’t have to. There was takeout in the car for her when she climbed in, the best gift a girl could ask for. Mikko had just laughed at her excitement and driven her home, taking his place on her couch, to go container and a fork in hand, and listened to Jo talk about her trip. Mikko was on that couch or she was on his practically every single day in January with the Avs on a stretch of home games for a good chunk of it and All Star break Mikko didn’t feel like traveling for. He wanted to spend it with Jo, so he did. It wasn’t a decision that required much thought for him, nor was it one he felt the need to defend to his teammates who kept pushing for him to go to a beach somewhere with them. He knew where he wanted to be for All Star break, the same place he wanted to be all of the time, with Jo.

Since the Christmas morning conversation, Mikko was getting more and more pieces of how Jo’s mind worked and what she thought of herself. They didn’t come in big reveals of insecurity like that one. The comments were small, something about missing being a kid without any worries, something about how Los Angeles felt suffocating, something about how she felt like Denver was too good to be true sometimes. After too many glasses of wine one night as January bled into February, Jo let one bigger thing slip out on Mikko’s couch, something that he couldn’t understand how she could possibly think when he was right there next to her, loving her louder than he meant to.

“I just don’t think I’m really all that lovable,” Jo admitted one night. “I think loving me is too hard for someone.”

It had almost broken Mikko’s heart, not because he loved her and she didn’t see him. It wasn’t about him. It hurt because someone he loved so deeply, who his love for kept growing every second he spent with her, someone he wanted to give all of his love to, didn’t even think they could be loved.

Mikko would keep showing up at her front door. He would keep loving her until one day she couldn’t deny that just because she might be difficult to love, that didn’t mean she wasn’t worth it.

-------

Let the record show, Josephine Evans vowed to do absolutely nothing other than eat the chocolates she bought herself and watch cringe-worthy Netflix romantic comedies for Valentine’s Day. It was a date she set up with herself and it only involved moving to her couch to attend the date, so she was pretty sure she wouldn’t have a problem making it and therefore wouldn’t let herself down. Until there was a knock on her door in a pattern that had become incredibly familiar to her since her third day in Denver. Jo groaned as she lifted herself from her couch, moving the chocolates to her coffee table and her blanket around her shoulders. He knew about her date with herself today. Why was he here?

“Mikko,” Jo groaned as she opened the door.

But she couldn’t be mad at the smiling face on the other side of the door. His dark beanie was pulled down over his ears, his coat buttoned up high on his neck to protect him from the chilly Denver air. His cheeks were flushed from his walk from the parking lot he had long received Jo’s second pass to; he was over so much, she finally surrendered and gave it to him. He didn’t have a key yet, but he was well on his way there. He sniffed a little from the cold as he offered her out a red envelope with her name scratched on it in his handwriting. She had never been mad at Mikko, not even for a minute, since they met. She wasn’t going to start now, even when he crashed her self-love date, with his sweet smile and a fucking valentine.

“If no one is going to be smart enough to ask you to be their valentine, then I will. Jojo Evans, will you be my valentine?”

Jo looked at the red envelope in his hands, then up to his smiling face, dimple prominent, eyes still a shade of blue Jo hadn’t figured out how to describe. Not an ocean, not the sky. Nothing was quite right. They were all too cold for how warm his eyes always were. Jo was brought back into the moment by Mikko scrunching his nose up at her and wiggling the envelope, waiting for her answer, even though he knew she couldn’t say no to him. Jo sighed and gave him her best displeased look, before snatching the envelope from his hand. Mikko smiled impossibly wider and pushed into Jo’s apartment, taking up residence on the chair by the couch after leaving his snowy boots by the door.

Jo ripped open the red envelope carelessly; she had never been good at opening envelopes. The card inside was cliche, sweet to the point of being cavity inducing. There was glitter and hearts and everything you would have put on a card in third grade when you made cards for your classmates, except Mikko didn’t hand make this one, which was probably for the better. He had definitely picked out the most obnoxious one he could find at the store though. It was his short note inside that had Jo clutching the card to her chest as Mikko scrolled through his phone in the living room.

Happy Valentine’s Day, Jojo-bean :) Hope you don’t mind me crashing. Wouldn’t want to spend today with anyone else

With shaky hands, Jo clipped the card to the front of her fridge, like her mom did with Valentine’s Day cards when Jo was little and still lived in Denver and the world was simple. Jo had been thinking a lot about her childhood, well, her early childhood anyway, when she lived in the suburbs of the city. She hadn’t even driven through her old neighborhood since she had been back. She was sort of afraid of it, not because her time there was bad, the opposite. Her time there was so good. It was pure, not yet ruined like Los Angeles where her family had moved after or New York City, where Jo had unfortunately learned what it was like to be an adult judged by millions of people for every micro-movement she made. That neighborhood in Denver was a safe place, housing memories of her childhood untouched by the harsh reality of twenty-four-year-old Jo’s life. She didn’t want to go and ruin it for herself. But she wanted to go. And maybe, maybe if she took the brightest human she knew with her, his light would cancel out her darkness and those memories would stay a safe haven.

“Hey, did you have anything planned?” Jo shouted out to Mikko as she made her way into her closet, reaching for a pair of jeans to throw on.

“Honestly, not really,” Mikko admitted. Jo could hear him talking around the chocolate he’d definitely stolen and was currently trying to hide from her in his mouth, but she let it go with a smile and a shake of her head. “Anything you want to do?”

“You ask a girl to be your valentine and you don’t even have a plan, Rantanen?” Jo chirped, well, as good as she could chirp, as she yanked on a comfy Avalanche sweatshirt Mikko had gotten for her.

Mikko laughed and played it off well, “I figured if I was crashing your plans, maybe I’d see what you wanted to do together instead?”

Jo grabbed her snow boots and a gray hat with a bobble on top she knew Mikko would bat at before they even made it out the door before heading back into the living room where he was waiting. There was chocolate on the corner of his mouth and there was definitely more than one extra empty space in the box, but Jo let it slide.

“Would you be down to take a little drive out to the suburbs near where I grew up?” Jo asked him as she sat down on the couch to start lacing up her boots. “I haven’t been since I got this place and I kind of want to go?”

She said it like a question, a bad habit she had picked up in an effort to sound more flexible to other people’s needs, diminishing her own at the same time. Mikko knew what she was doing as he lifted himself out of the chair to grab his boots, staying by the door so he didn’t track snow through Jo’s pristine apartment he’d never seen even a pillow out of place in until he messed it up himself. Mikko knew Jo was trying to hide the fact that she really wanted to go to her old neighborhood, so to her old neighborhood was where they were going to go.

Mikko drove since Jo really didn’t drive much anymore, at least, that’s why she told herself he drove. It wasn’t because she liked being able to look at him while he drove, large hands on the steering wheel, sunlight across his face, making his eyes look like a different color Jo still couldn’t describe for the life of her. That definitely wasn’t why Mikko usually drove. Mikko let Jo control the music. He’d play exclusively Finnish rap music if she didn’t and besides, music was her job. She had introduced him to so many incredible things he could probably never thank her enough, but really, he always let her control the music because she’d talk about it if he did. She’d walk him through the song, commenting on its construction, the originality, the way it fit together, her passion deep in each analysis. If you were ever lucky enough to hear a person you love talk about their deepest passion in life, you should let them talk as long as they want to. At least, that’s what Mikko thought and that’s why Jo always controlled the music in the car.

Jo directed them into the suburbs, streets becoming more and more familiar as they exited the city. A sense of home Jo hadn’t felt in a long time flooded her as Mikko took the turn into her old neighborhood, her memory flashing back to all the times her mom and dad had taken that turn with her in the backseat, all the times the school bus she rode as a little kid, all the times she turned that corner on her bicycle. She learned to ride it on this street. The feeling of home was distant, almost foreign in how far away it felt from her.

“Turn right at the next street, Mik.”

Mikko nodded, shifting to bopping his head to the music as he turned. Jo added the song to the playlist on his Spotify simply titled “Jo’s Music.” Any time she played a song in the car for him and he seemed to like it, she added it to a playlist for him, in case he wanted to go back and listen to it later. Jo didn’t know that Mikko listened to it every single day without fail. It was his everything playlist. When he didn’t have a specific type of music he was looking for, he put it on. It played when he first got up in the morning as he made himself breakfast and in the car on the way to the arena. It kept him company on flights back to Denver, flights back to Jo, after losing roadies. Every time he played it, he remembered these moments, moments with Jo and him alone, something he knew that when she left Denver eventually he wouldn’t get many of anymore. When each song played, wherever he was, he could hear her voice singing over it, hear the little comments she made, see her bad but still better than his dance moves in his passenger seat. He saw her when it played like she was right there next to him, living his life with him.

“Turn left at the next street, then it’s the third house on the right. It used to be yellow, not sure if it still is.”

Mikko flicked on his turn signal then turned as Jo instructed. It was easy to spot the house Jo grew up in as soon as they turned the corner. The house was still yellow. And somehow, the fact that the house was still yellow, a color Jo demanded her parents paint it when she was three with no concept that it would make the house look like a bumblebee when they put the black shutters on it, made tears come to her eyes. She wiped them on the back of her hands as Mikko rolled to a stop in front of the house, hoping he didn’t see. He did see, but he let her have a private moment in the passenger seat of his car, ready to step in if her tears shifted from ones sponsored by her childhood to something else, something negative she drove herself to instead.

“I remember making a snowman every year right there,” Jo told Mikko softly, a hand pointing to the spot on the grass near where the driveway met the walkway. “I wanted to pick the most visible spot to the street, I guess.”

Mikko nodded softly, then turned the engine off, surprising Jo. He grabbed his keys and slid them into his pocket before stepping out of the car without a word to Jo. He had an idea and he was going to see it through and he knew if he told Jo what it was, she would try to hold him down in the driver’s seat to stop him. Mikko was already knocking on the front door by the time Jo had opened the passenger door of his car and had started to shout to ask him what he was doing.

The front door opened before Jo could reach Mikko, despite her best efforts to run through the snow, in her large snow boots, to peel him off some poor person’s front porch before he created what Jo thought would be a disaster. Mikko put on his best smile as an elderly woman appeared in the doorway, a confused expression on her face as she surveyed the two twenty-somethings on her doorstep that were too well dressed to be trying to sell her something.

“Hi there,” Mikko was really trying to pour as much European charm into his voice as he could. “We’re sorry to bother you. I’m Mikko and that’s Jo behind me. This might be a kind of weird request, but Jo actually grew up in this house when she was little and I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind if we built a snowman on your front lawn? We won’t come inside or cause any trouble, I promise. We just want to build a snowman, or really, I want to build one with Jojo like she did when she was a kid.”

The woman looked at Mikko and Jo watched her absolutely melt under his dimpled smile and kind eyes. Her hands came up over her heart, one on top of the other and she gasped softly. She looked at Mikko like he was heaven sent, which Jo thought someday might not be too far off from the truth. She turned to Jo, the look of adoration on her face staying strong.

“Your boyfriend is the sweetest little, well, big, piece of peach pie I’ve ever seen,” she told Jo, the adoration on her face dripping from each word. “Of course, build away!”

The door closed before Jo could correct her, that Mikko wasn’t her boyfriend, just her boy friend, her best friend really. No one else was even coming close to vying for that job title anymore. Mikko turned and smiled at her and Jo sort of forgot why that distinction even mattered for a second, lost in the moment of one of the sweetest things anyone had done for her in awhile, or, at least since Mikko had show up at her door this morning with a valentine for her.

“Get our gloves from the car and we’ll get started, yeah?” Mikko asked her.

Jo turned on her heels to head to the car, but Mikko’s hand grabbing her wrist stopped her and pulled her back to him. He was chewing his bottom lip as his eyes shifted to look at the concrete beneath his feet. Jo used his hand on her wrist as an anchor and leaned into him, her other hand falling on his chest making him lift his eyes back to hers.

“I didn’t overstep, right?” he asked her, his voice much softer than for his first question. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No, Mikko,” Jo said firmly, her voice solid and sure, strong and supportive. “You surprised me, but this whole day so far is one of the sweetest things anyone has done for me in a long time. You’re the best, Mik.”

Mikko pulled his lips tight over his teeth, nodded softly, then let his trademark smile come back over his face as he looked down at Jo. Mikko slowly let a part of him he kept tucked far away from the surface come up, letting it guide his hand to transition to holding hers instead of her wrist, fingers lacing together. Mikko tugged Jo closer by their conjoined hands, her boots shuffling against the floor to comply easily with his request.

Mikko Rantanen wasn’t harboring a secret love for Josephine Evans. It was clear as day to everyone, even Jo herself. It was in his shaky handwriting on the card from earlier. It was in the purple toothbrush at his place. It was in the car rides. It was in the hugs after games. It was in the texts that always started with, “Saw this and thought you’d like it.” It was in the knock on the front door of her childhood home. It was in the way he was looking at her right now. His love was right there, breaking on the surface, begging Jo to jump into the deep waters of his ever growing love for her. Mikko loved her more than she could understand, probably more than he could fully understand either, but he could feel it. She could feel it as his head slowly leaned down towards hers, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt his warm breath fanning out across her face.

But Jo couldn’t jump in. The water might have been deep and warm and crystal clear, the kind she wanted to swim in forever. But Jo was still a hurricane. She would cause a storm over that water, over the lands that made up Mikko touching it, and wreak havoc on it all. Her winds would cause his love for her to destroy him, the water crashing to shore, washing away everything that made him her favorite person, water damage rotting the parts that didn’t wash away.

Jo couldn’t jump in, but she never wanted anything more as she could feel him, his lips inches from hers now. Jo was saved from the moment by the front door to the house she grew up in opening again. Mikko recoiled back before Jo could even open her eyes.

“Oh, sorry!” the elderly woman said. “Sorry, I interrupted you two sweethearts. Would you like some hot chocolate? I can get a batch going on the stove. Don’t want you two getting too cold out here.”

Mikko looked at Jo all the same, like that moment hadn’t just happened, but it was almost like it hadn’t. Because Jo never had time to pull away. She never stopped it, something outside of both of them did, so Mikko’s love remained untouched, calming waves still washing over her through his soft eyes and kind smile, through the very day he created for her and her alone. She loved him too. Standing on the porch of her childhood home, she loved him too. She loved him as deep as he loved her. That was so clear to her in the place where her heart felt lightest. He knew she loved him too. He knew today wasn’t the day she could share with him, the walls still too high. Mikko believed one day she could. Jo didn’t. And that made all the difference.

“Hot chocolate would be great,” Mikko told the woman softly, his eyes staying on Jo.

“Coming right up!” The woman spun to head toward her kitchen, the door almost completely shut before it opened again so she could ask, “Marshmallows?”

“Of course,” Jo smiled at her.

“Me too,” Mikko added, his voice as embedded with happiness as ever.

“You got it!”

With that, Jo and Mikko were back to being alone on the front porch. There wasn’t an awkwardness in the air though because Mikko didn’t feel turned down. He didn’t feel pushed aside. He simply felt like it wasn’t the right time and that the right time was just a little further down the road. Some days it seemed a little further down the road than others. Today it seemed close. It didn’t matter how far it was to Mikko though. He’d keep going anyway, even if the right time never came. If their lives changed and Jo found someone else, then he would too, but he’d never stop loving her. The love would just shift and Mikko would continue to keep on walking and being in Jo’s life. You can’t say you love someone, then stop if they can’t love you the same way you love them because then you don’t love them. You love the idea of them. Mikko loved Josephine, not his idea of her. So, he kept going. Today, keeping going meant walking to the car to grab their gloves to build a snowman on the front lawn of her childhood home.

Mikko tossed Jo’s gloves at her, hitting her square in the chest, as he rejoined her by the snowman spot. Jo glared at him, but it fell into a smile quickly when Mikko laughed at her glare. Jo rolled her eyes at his laugh as she slowly gathered up some snow in her hand, packing it down tightly as Mikko squatted down to start creating an initial ball for the base of the snowman. Jo took her newly formed snowball and shifted it solely into her right hand then, without thinking about any possible repercussions, she threw it as hard as she could at Mikko’s left shoulder. The look on Mikko’s face when he looked over his shoulder at Jo made her instantly laugh, but she covered her mouth to try and be a little sympathetic. Mikko’s jaw was slack, blue eyes wide with artificial horror. His head was shaking softly from left to right as he stared at Jo.

“Jojo,” Mikko drawled out slowly, taking his time to harp on each syllable like a frustrated mother with a petulant toddler, except Mikko was very, very bad at it.

“Mikko,” Jo drew out the last vowel in his name as long as she could, until a smile forced itself onto his face.

“Expect payback when you least expect it,” Mikko vowed. “Now, are you going to help me build us the best snowman ever or are you going to cause problems?”

“Who said I can’t do both?” Jo smiled slyly as she joined Mikko on the ground.

“Touché,” Mikko laughed, nodding softly as he did. “Touché, Jojo.”

The day Mikko had first used that nickname she had hated since she lived in this house was far in the past now. Jo realized as she started to roll a giant snowball around the front yard of her childhood home with her best friend who was too large for this activity in all reality that she didn’t hate it anymore because she couldn’t think about that nickname without hearing it in his voice. Mikko had attached himself to that nickname and Jo was pretty sure there wasn’t anything Mikko was capable of that could make her hate him. The bottom snowball got too big for Jo to roll around quickly, but Mikko easily took over and let Jo get started on the second one instead. Even though it was just snowballs, it felt like a representation of them. Jo’s life felt too big, too tough for her to ever push aside, or to ever brute force into being something beautiful in spite of how messy it really was. But she could do parts of it, the early stages where everything could easily fall apart, Jo was working on her life, part by part, a section at a time. If the snowball fell apart, she tried again. She didn’t fall into her couch and surrender with a bottle of wine anymore. She let out a deep breath and tried again because she knew she wasn’t alone. There was a tall blond boy, rolling a snowball around the yard, would would help her push her life into the shape she wanted it to be if she asked for his help. Jo didn’t even really have to ask. He could see clearly when she was struggling, when she couldn’t get to the end of something, when she couldn’t finally delete that toxic person’s phone number, when she couldn’t cut the final thread holding someone in her life who didn’t deserve to be there, when she was so close to getting out of a thought spiral. Mikko stood behind her, his warm presence and her least favorite nickname, encouraging her with a patience unmatched by anyone she had ever encountered. Any sane person would’ve given up by now. But people in love weren’t really all that sane.

“Hot chocolate! I even found some to go cups so you kids don’t have to worry about anything.”

Of course this angelic grandmother would have to-go coffee cups for hot chocolate. Of course she would. And of course she would go to all the trouble of finding a carrot for the snowman’s nose and bringing some coals from her grill out back out front for them to use as buttons and eyes. Of course some people on the planet were this good and pure and wonderful and absolutely deserving of love.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Jo sighed gratefully as she took the hot chocolate from her.

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she hushed Jo with a careless wave of her hand. “I’m happy to help you two kids out. It’s like my grandkids are here, well, like when they were here when they were eight.”

She disappeared back into the house with another wave of her hand, telling the two of them to have fun. Jo took a sip of her hot chocolate at the same time Mikko did, both of them sighing contentedly at the the warm, sweet beverage. A shiver ran down Jo’s spine as the hot chocolate heated her up from the inside out. Jo scrunched her nose and smiled at Mikko over the top of her cup and of course he smiled back. It was never a question of if he would.

“I think you might need to be done with that boulder of a snowball you’re making,” Jo noted as she observed Mikko’s handiwork. “You’re going to make it so big that the second one is going to have to be so big we can’t lift it.”

“You might not be able to lift it, but you’re tiny so,” Mikko trailed off as a smirk lifted the corners of his mouth.

“Not all of us can be giants,” Jo rolled her eyes at him. “The worlds needs shorter people who don’t mind climbing cabinets and counters and shelves and other people to get what they want in life.”

“Pretty sure no one could ever stop you from getting what you want, Jo,” Mikko laughed. “At least, I wouldn’t want to be between you and whatever you wanted. Seems like a dangerous place to be.”

Except there was really only one thing Jo wanted and she couldn’t stop thinking about how badly she wanted it as Mikko set his hot chocolate aside to roll the base snowball into place and transitioned to taking over the second one so Jo could start on the snowman’s head. It was the only thing she could think about as Mikko helped her stack the two smaller snowballs on top of the first, as he accidentally shoved the carrot almost through the snowman’s head in excitement, as Jo had to stop him from directly handling the coals to prevent him from making a mess of his hands. He grabbed some nearby twigs for arms and Jo found the perfect one to bend to make a smile. The elderly woman came out and took their photo with their snowman who was obviously a little lumpy, but Jo thought it was the best snowman she had ever made.

Still, there was only one thing Jo could think as Mikko slid his hat back on and they climbed back in his car, declaring the day well spent.

The only thing Jo wanted was Mikko Rantanen and the only thing standing in the way was Jo herself. Jo was only standing in the way because she loved him. She would stand in the way for as long as it took, just to protect him from it all. Jo would stand in the middle of a hurricane for Mikko Rantanen, rooting herself into the ground to keep herself there, category five winds and all. She would stand there for the rest of her life if that’s what it took to make sure he was still this optimistic, still this kind, still her favorite person because she wouldn’t let anyone else ruin him. She wouldn’t.

------

With the Avalanche in a playoff push from late February to late March when they finally clinched a spot, Jo had seen Mikko on her couch less, but she hadn’t talked to him any less. He insisted she was his good luck charm and talked to her every single night, even if the team had gotten blown out the game before, he still claimed they would definitely lose if he didn’t talk to her. But Josephine Evans wasn’t all that lucky anymore. All the luck she had, her life’s allotment, had been used to get her to where she was now, in this apartment, with her childhood dream made a reality. Teenage Jo was lucky. Adult Jo? The opposite of lucky.

She had just gone to the grocery store. She was missing one ingredient to bake oatmeal cookies, Mikko’s favorite, and he had asked her early that morning if she could make them to celebrate clinching the playoffs. He didn’t really need a reason to get her to bake them. Jo baked for him whenever he wanted, the smallest token she could give him to show her appreciation for him, her love for him that she couldn’t admit. It had just been brown sugar, stupid brown sugar, and suddenly six months of a secret had been destroyed, photos of her in an Avalanche sweatshirt in a Denver supermarket were everywhere. The only lucky part was that unlike almost everything Jo owned with the Avalanche logo on it, it was a plain sweatshirt, absent of the number ninety-six or Rantanen on it. Mikko was still unknown. He was still good, still untouched by her real life, the one she was starting to wish she wouldn’t have to go back to.

Jo couldn’t even bake because her hands were shaking so badly. Today was supposed to be a good day, a great day, because her best friend had achieved something great and it was sunny out. Sunny days were supposed to be good days. Instead, there was a barrage of articles slamming Jo about how she had left her career to do absolutely nothing in Colorado, how she was a “has-been” now since no one has seen her in six months. Then the crazy theories started picking up. Rehab was a popular one Jo saw; there were lots of good facilities in the Denver area apparently, unknown to Jo. Her sweatshirt was baggy, so naturally Jo had to be pregnant, a constant rumor that showed itself every six months or so at the press’s whim. The stories were crazier from there, some nonsensical as always. People were saying they wished she would never come back, picking apart every single part of Jo they didn’t like, turning them into reasons she should just stay out of the public eye forever. Everything, from her hair to her smile to the way her voice sounded to the way she talked in interviews, that list quickly becoming too personal, people saying they were the reasons all her relationships had failed, all the reasons no one loved her. Normally, Jo could handle it, but six months without it had made her softly, more vulnerable, more normal, and everything hurt. Her head was spinning and her heart was pounding. Jo needed to stop reading. She threw her phone across the room and took a show to try and catch her breath for a moment. She turned the water up too hot, willing it to burn the negative feelings that were eating her alive to no avail. They were all internal.

When she got out of the shower, her phone had blown up with the Avalanche girlfriends, wives, and Jo, as it was now named, group chat. Everyone was talking about the bar for later for the celebration. In the chaos of the day and the heavy feeling in her mind and her chest, Jo had forgotten she had promised Mikko she would meet him at the bar with the rest of the team when they landed, the real celebration. The cookies Jo had failed to make were supposed to be used as sponges for the alcohol they would be consuming so Mikko could actually make it to practice in the morning.

Jo tried. Jo really, really tried. She got all dressed up, black bodysuit, black jeans, black heels, red lipstick, hoping that looking good would make her feel good enough to get out of her apartment. She got as far as her hand on the door knob, purse over her shoulder, before her eyes clouded up again and she realized she couldn’t do this. She tried so hard to put on a brave face, thinking she could get through today and deal with the overwhelming feeling that maybe they were all right and Jo had just given up, taken the heat and let it burn herself away for the sake of success, but the fire was too untamed, too strong, and it burned away everything instead, meaning losing herself was for nothing. The winds were too high, the storm was too strong, and Jo wasn’t making it to the bar.

Hey Mik. I know you might not have landed yet, but I’m not feeling too good, so I’m not going to be able to make it to the bar. Have a good time without me!

Jo sent the text without reading it over again and tossed her phone aside, knowing if she held onto it, she would just go looking for more things that would feed the hurricane already verging on a category five in her mind that Jo felt like was sucking all of the air out of the room. With still shaking hands, Jo fumbled with her heels, her skinny jeans, the bodysuit she had picked out because it made her feel confident, and returned to her baggy sweatpants and big t-shirt she had been wearing earlier. She went to light the candle on the nightstand, but realized it wasn’t the one she wanted. She pushed around half used candles in the drawer below, until her hands wrapped around one that had made the journey from Denver to Florida in a terribly wrapped box, and back, tucked safely in her suitcase, the one the boy she was in love with gave to her because it smelled like his home. Jo lit the candle after almost dropping the lighter twice then climbed into bed. Jo took deep breaths, trying to calm herself with what Nousiainen, Finland was supposed to smell like and how that made her think of the person who made her happiest, the boy who was from there who wanted to take her there and show her around the place that made him, him.

Jo wished she was there right now. She wished she was in a place she had never been before and it didn’t fail to dawn on her just how fucking pathetic that was. She hated fame, the thing she dreamed about every night, the thing she wished for when she blew out her birthday candles when she was seven, the thing that gave her everything around her right now, that she wished she was in a place she had never been before. Jo had hundreds of stamps in her passport, but she wished she was somewhere she had only seen in the pictures she painted in her mind from the stories Mikko told about it. She wished she was there because of the way Mikko smiled whenever he talked about it, a calm, warm smile, steady and sure. Home. It was his home, something Jo wasn’t even sure she really had anymore. She was from Denver. She lived in Denver now, technically still temporarily, but she didn’t have a home. She wanted to be home right now, but there was nowhere in her life to get that feeling, so she wanted to see if maybe the home of the person she loved was close enough.

Maybe that was part of the reason Jo felt empty all of the time because she never truly settled anywhere. There was no place on earth her soul was at rest that she was allowed to stay. She didn’t have a safe haven, just more empty apartments and hotel rooms in cities that tried to swallow her up. Maybe she left pieces of herself in all the places she had been, trying to make a home for herself. But that’s not how homes worked, so Jo had just failed and lost herself in her failure.

Today, Jo was standing in the middle of a spinning hurricane, getting battered by the winds and the things they threw even though she was trying to stand in the eye, trying to stay out of its way, it was hurting her anyway. And she felt so deeply alone all she could do was cry.

Except there was a knock on her front door and Jo felt the hurricane stop for a moment. The winds ceased, everything they picked up frozen in time and space as Jo walked to her front door. She opened it without even checking, even though the only person who normally knocked was at a bar, having a great night like he deserved.

“Okay, I didn’t know what kind of not feeling good you were, so I picked up wonton soup from your favorite Chinese place in case you were feeling sick, ice cream in case you were upset about someone getting engaged or having a baby again, and Sour Patch Kids in case- Josephine, what’s wrong?”

Josephine. In six, almost seven, months of knowing Mikko Rantanen, he had never called her Josephine. Not once.

Jo couldn’t answer. She just cried, a sob wracking her body. Mikko shifted forward, dropping the bags on the front table, and reached for her. He pulled her into his chest, one arm around her back, the other letting his hand cup the back of her head protectively.

“Josephine, what’s wrong? What happened?”

Jo’s hand fisted into his dark t-shirt, the material soft and forgiving under her hands. She was crying harder, sobs shaking her body over and over again. She felt Mikko press a gentle, lingering kiss to her hair.

“Jo, I’m right here. I’m right here,” he told her softly. “It’s me, Mikko. I’m right here, baby.”

Mikko was right there, but it was more than that. He was standing next to her in the hurricane. He wasn’t on the outside looking in. This was it. This was what the eye of the hurricane looked like. The storm blocked out all light, anything good, it was pure negativity, daring him to become part of it.Mikko didn’t know what to do. It was the most overwhelming feeling he had ever felt, feeling the storm licking at his back, trying to rip him away from her, but he had her. She was right here, in his arms, and nothing was taking her away. Mikko didn’t understand it all, but he didn’t have to. He just had to be there. He just had to stay.

Mikko scooped Jo into his chest, arms securing around her waist, just so he could get her to bed. He kicked his shoes off by the door, knowing Jo would still be mad at him if he tracked mud through her apartment even on her worst days. This was the worst day Mikko had ever seen, but she was still Jo, even on her worst days. He still loved her more today than yesterday and he’d love her more tomorrow than today.

He stripped off his jeans and tossed his jacket into the chair in her room, sliding into bed with her without even thinking about it. Jo wrapped her arms around his torso and pressed her face into his chest and continued to cry. Mikko slowly worked his fingers through her hair, doing his best to keep it out of her face as she cried. He knew it would upset her if it stuck to her face, so he tried to fix that. He couldn’t fix Jo tonight, but he could fix her hair sticking to her face.

“I’m sorry,” Jo mumbled. “I’m ruining your day. Today is supposed to be a good day for you and I’m ruining it.”

“I want to celebrate with you, Jo,” Mikko told her softly. “It doesn’t have to be today. It’s okay if it’s not today. I care about you. If this is what you need today, this is what we’ll do. We’ll celebrate tomorrow, okay?”

Mikko kissed her forehead sweetly, lips lingering on her again. Jo shuffled in the bed next to him, adjusting so her arm was around his hips as she settled against her own pillow, tears finally slowing. Mikko reached a hand out gently, cupping her face and letting his thumb rub cross her skin to wipe away the tear stains.

“They found me here,” Jo admitted. “Someone posted a photo.”

“I’m sorry, Jojo. I know that’s not what you wanted,” Mikko spoke softly, careful not to upset her further.

“I knew it would happen at some point,” Jo shrugged, eyes clouding up again. “I guess I had just been able to hide here for so long I started to think maybe I would never be found? Maybe I could just stay here and I wouldn’t have to deal with it all, you know? I just, I feel like myself here, more than anywhere else, but now I feel like it’s ruined and I’m ruined with it.”

“Jo, you’re not ruined,” Mikko assured her, thumb gently passing over her lips he desperately wanted to kiss. “Things can be damaged, but still be beautiful. You’ve dealt with a lot of shit, Jo, and you’re still here and I’m so impressed by you always.”

Mikko cleared his throat softly, before daring to add, “For what it’s worth, you’re the most beautiful person I know. This version of you. This crying, messy version of you, this real version of you, is the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. I feel lucky to know you, Josephine Evans, so lucky.”

“Not sure you should, Mik,” Jo told him. “I can be a pretty rough friend.”

“I play hockey for a living,” Mikko cracked his first smile since walking through her front door. “I like it rough sometimes.”

Jo smacked his chest, hard, and he just laughed, chest shaking under her hand. Jo tried so hard not to laugh, but Mikko’s laugh was infectious, replicating in her, making her laugh too. His laugh was like sunshine breaking through the clouds hanging over Jo’s head. The storm was breaking, the winds slowing, and Jo felt like there was finally air in the room again. Jo took time away because she couldn’t stop working and she couldn’t stop working because she was trying to please a mass of people she would never meet who only wanted to say terrible things about her. Today, they won, but Jo was starting to see that she wasn’t perfect. She made mistakes, like the angry mob with pitchforks said she did, but a broken clock was still right twice a day, but was wrong for the other one-thousand four-hundred and thirty-eight minutes in a day.

“Hey, Mikko?”

“Yeah, Jo?” he replied softly.

“Is there ice cream melting on my front table right now?” she asked him, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, noticeable in her voice.

“No,” Mikko replied smoothly. “It was very frozen when I got here because your favorite flavor was almost sold out and I had to get a frosty one from the back of the freezer, so I was just warming it up to the perfect temperature for us right now. I’ll go get two spoons because it’s definitely perfect right now.”

“If you say so, Rantanen. If you say so.”

------

From the moment Jo woke up with her legs tangled in Mikko’s, his shirt shed to the floor in the middle of the night, an arm secure around her waist, and his golden hair a mess on top of his head, Jo knew she didn’t want to wake up next to anyone else, maybe ever again. She also knew that if she wanted to, if she asked him to stay forever, he would. There was never a doubt in Jo’s mind that Mikko loved her, not since she unwrapped that candle, sitting on her nightstand now. That was never in question. There was no question really. Jo knew he loved her, but she also knew she loved him. Even if everyone on the outside was wrong, they would still rip him apart. Insults don’t have to be based in any truth to sink deep, to leave cuts and scars. Even if Jo somehow got a handle on herself and could block some of it out, she couldn’t protect him. He would get the same treatment, the beautiful boy with the beautiful soul who loved her, no questions asked. She couldn’t watch it happen to him. Even if she put herself all the way back together, watching him take beating after beating wasn’t an option. She loved him too much to let it happen.

Jo untangled herself from him as best as she could, sliding a pillow into his grasp as a replacement for her, smiling when he sleepily tugged it into his chest. Jo set out to do something she could do really well, make Mikko pancakes and oatmeal cookies. An absolutely unbalanced breakfast, but the first of things Jo could think to do to thank him for skipping out on his team’s celebration, his celebration, in favor of wiping her tears and braving it all just to hold her as she slept. The least she could do was make him breakfast today, and throw his clothes in the laundry so he could take home clean clothes, while also returning a shirt and sweatpants she stole from him, and send him home with a container of cookies.

Three dozen oatmeal cookies in the oven, laundry in the dryer, and pancakes on the stove later, Mikko made an appearance in her kitchen.

“You stole my clothes,” he mumbled, voice gravely with sleep.

“They’re in the wash. I left you a t-shirt and sweats I stole before,” Jo said, not even bothering to turn around.

Mikko slid up behind Jo suddenly, and arm wrapping tightly around her waist. From the feeling of him pressed against her, he’d found the sweatpants, but forgoed the shirt she left him. Jo couldn’t help but lean back into him. Mikko’s free hand found Jo’s braced against the counter’s edge next to the stove and tugged her wrist until she lifted her hand to lace their fingers together. His head leaned down, back arching away from hers so he could put his chin on her shoulder.

“You’re making me pancakes,” he muttered. “God, Jo. I- fuck, you’re killing me.”

“Did you want blueberry pancakes? I wasn’t sure, but I can add some,” Jo started rambling. “Or should I have made something healthier? Fuck, I’m just feeding you bad food, aren’t I? I’m sorry. I can make you eggs. Over easy right? I think I have some turkey bacon?”

“Josephine,” Mikko said softly, sleep slowly edging out of his voice. There was her full name again. “You know that’s not what I’m talking about. You know what I was going to say.”

Mikko’s hand squeezed hers softly as she felt his head leave her shoulder. She gasped when he shifted suddenly, hand leaving hers to let his arm around her spin her to face him, spatula ditched in the pan. He was right there, forehead finding hers. He was right there, steady and sure and so ready for her. Except she wasn’t ready for him. He could see it. He could see it in her eyes, the anxiousness, the uncertainty. She wasn’t ready, but she wished she was. Mikko couldn’t kiss the girl he loved, the one who slept in his arms last night, the one standing right in front of him. But he could see the walls falling. He was seeing more of her now, the parts of her that were real, the parts that he knew loved him too. But it wasn’t about Mikko seeing it. Jo needed to say it. She needed to be ready to love him too, and she wasn’t today. And that was okay.

“It’s okay,” Mikko told her. “I’m not going anywhere, okay?”

Mikko lifted his forehead from hers, letting his lips drop to where his head had been, kissing Jo’s forehead gingerly. He gave her hips a little squeeze, a smile coming across his face. Just like that, like it never happened, like it wasn’t an open conversation just then about how Mikko Rantanen was in love with her and was ready to love her if she was ready too. Just like that, he was her best friend again, loving her still, just from the other side of the kitchen island, throwing the blueberries she grabbed out of the fridge at her because Mikko did in fact want blueberry pancakes. Jo added blueberries to the pancakes, and letting Mikko pelt her with a few, giggling the whole time,

The pancakes and the laundry and the oatmeal cookies were just the start. Jo spent the entire playoff run doing her best to do anything she could for Mikko, to try and say thank you. Thank you for that night. Thank you for the previous eight months by the time the playoffs came to end for the Avalanche. Thank you for still being just as patient with her as he’d been the first night on the rooftop. Thank you for seeing something real and worthwhile in Jo, even when she couldn’t.

Jo watched the Avalanche’s season end on her television since it didn’t end in Denver. All Mikko did after the loss was text Jo and tell her they were coming back that same night and the time they would land. It was an ungodly time, but Jo didn’t hesitant. She slid on leggings, a big sweatshirt, and some sneakers when the time came. The streets of Denver were quiet as Jo drove to the airport. She waited in her car, knowing Mikko wouldn’t want her to make a big fuss. She watched him come across the tarmac, spotting her car. He tossed his suitcase in the back, then climbed in the front seat without a word.

Jo put on some soft music, something new she’d found during the first series when Mikko was away. He was quiet as Jo drove back to her apartment, just letting his eyes close even though Jo knew he wasn't asleep, just listening to the music. It wasn’t until they were close to Jo’s apartment Mikko finally spoke.

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

Mikko’s voice was soft in the worst way, hesitancy, insecurity, and vulnerability showing. He needed her tonight, desperately. He wasn’t asking to stay on her couch. He was asking to stay with her, to fall asleep holding her, in her bed, with her. He’d only done it once before, that night when clinched the playoffs, when Jo needed him. Mikko didn’t ask much of Jo usually, just that she showed up. He was asking for a lot tonight and he felt so guilty for it.

“Of course, Mik. Anything you need.”

“I need you to come to Finland.”

The words slipped out before Mikko could stop them. He didn’t mean to say them. He felt that way, like he wanted to pack Jo up in his suitcase and take her with him, but he wasn’t supposed to say it.

“For a visit in the summer,” Mikko added too late for it not to clearly be an afterthought.

Jo was a better person than everyone often gave her credit for. She took a deep breath and let Mikko’s last minute addition be the full statement to her, even though she knew what he meant. He didn’t want her to visit. He wanted her to come and spend the summer with him. He wanted her to come back to Denver with him the following September and stay. He wanted her forever. That’s what Mikko wanted. That’s what he meant. But Jo, for his sake and hers because that couldn’t be talked about on a night Mikko was torn up about the loss, pressed her foot on the gas, put her eyes back on the road, and pretended like it wasn’t.

“Well, my little brother’s graduation is in two weeks,” Jo told him, choosing her words carefully. “Then we’re all going to Hawaii to celebrate that. Surprisingly, I do have other friends, a couple bachelorette parties. And you’ve got that trip with your friends mid-June, right?”

Mikko nodded softly, blue eyes fixed on the road ahead as Jo drove.

“How about I come for Midsummer?” Jo asked him. “You’ve talked about how great it is. That’s the end of June, yeah? Seems like the perfect time. I don’t really have any firm plans after that honestly, so maybe I’ll just come and we can figure out when I’ll leave later? Leave it open ended?”

“I’d really like that,” Mikko breathed out.

It would be seven weeks before he got to see her again after he left. He’d seen her for the next few days as he packed up his life, cleaned out his apartment here, but after that, he wouldn’t see her for seven more weeks. But the thought of having her in Finland, of getting to show her his home like she had shown him hers on Valentine’s Day, of getting to show her off to people Mikko knew wouldn’t give a shit that she was Josephine Evans, and to do it all without an expiration date. Just him and her, for months if he wanted and god, did Mikko want that. But first, he would get to hold her as he fell asleep tonight.

Jo didn’t even say anything that night when he cried a little into her hair. She just pressed a kiss to his shoulder and snuggled in tighter, which was exactly what Mikko needed. He talked a lot sometimes, arguably too much when he was excited, but when he was hurting, he just wanted silence and assurance that everything would be okay. Nothing assured him more that everything would eventually work out than Jo because he knew things with her would eventually work out like they were supposed to. The chips would fall, a picture would form, the world would keep spinning, and Mikko would keep on loving Jo as best as he could, waiting for her to realize there wasn’t anything that would make him stop.

------

Jo looked around her physically unchanged apartment, but it still felt different. Mikko hadn’t even been gone twenty-four hours yet and her apartment already felt different. He had been absent from it for longer than that since she had known him, several times over on road trips, but it was different knowing he wouldn’t be back in it until September, if Jo even decided to keep this place. Jo was kidding herself if she thought she would get rid of it though and didn’t even pretend she would for a second. Even when Jo would have to go back to Los Angeles, go back to a version of her life she didn’t like herself in as much, she still wanted to have Denver be an option for her whenever she wanted. When she wanted might happen to frequently line up with home games played by a certain blond Finnish boy, and he would be grateful if that was the choice she made, which meant she was going to make it as often as possible.

Krista, who had stayed almost completely silent since Jo arrived in Denver in September, reached out under the guise of just checking in on Jo, but really making sure that she was still planning on coming back and getting started on her next album by the end of the summer. If she was, they would need to start looking at possible arena dates for two summers from now because that’s how far that sort of thing gets booked. Jo just answered curtly, saying that was still her plan, and tossing her phone aside. The thought of going back to it all was overwhelming and the one person who made it all go away with a smile and a laugh was nine hours ahead of her where it was three in the morning and she wasn’t going to wake him up for this.

Jo opened the top drawer of her nightstand all the way, finding the plastic bag tucked safely in the back. She had to put them in plastic because the Valentine’s Day card kept getting glitter in everything else in the drawer. Jo had saved the cards Mikko had gotten her and every Post-It note he left. There was the Post-It note that had been on the now well worn jersey hung up in her closest. There was simple, yet confusing at the time but incredibly unconfusing now, one identifying a purple toothbrush that lived next to his green one as hers. There was the glitter bomb of a Valentine’s Day card where he asked her to be his valentine in the most sickeningly sweet way possible. If Jo ever doubted if she had Mikko Rantanen’s heart, one look at the collection of items covered in his terrible handwriting in front of her would confirm she’d had it for longer than she realized.

There was a card from when he bought her flowers for his birthday to say thank you for baking him a cake. Of course Mikko would buy her flowers on his birthday. Of course he would.

Just wanted to say thanks for the cake. Might have been the best birthday cake I’ve ever had, but don’t tell my mom yours is better :) - Mikko

Jo smiled at the memory of the beautiful flowers that Mel had definitely picked out because there was now way Mikko knew any flowers other than roses and the bouquet hadn’t been roses. She found what she was looking for, the card from Christmas. The card itself was simple, very few words or images printed on it by the company who made it, mostly just a little snowman on the front corner and Merry Christmas inside. It was Mikko’s writing on the card that Jo was looking for.

Hi Jojo,

Merry Christmas! I hope you like the candle and that you don’t think it’s a silly gift or something. I don’t think you will, but if you do, don’t tell me, okay? I spent way too much time on it :)

I hope your Christmas is good and that you have a really good New Year’s too. If I can make a suggestion, I think I know what your New Year’s resolution should be this year. (I googled that word to spell it right for you, hope you’re proud.) Anyway, I think your resolution should be to try and realize how amazing you are. I know I haven’t known you that long, but you’re kind of the best Jo, not even kind of. You are the best, Jo. I know that’s a hard resolution probably, but lucky for you, my New Year’s resolution is to help you see it too. :) Because you’re one of my favorite people and I really hope one day, this upcoming year, you can understand why.

Merry Christmas, Jojo-bean. Happy to be your friend always. - Mikko

The words on the card were a little blurred because Jo was crying now. She had waited her entire life, dreamed internally in her mind and openly in the songs she put out, to find someone like him, someone who loved her without any reservations. Mikko Rantanen loved her selflessly, not looking for anything for himself in his love for her. His love was pure and real. Jo could feel it when he was around, in the way he hugged her, in the way he spoke to her, in the constant effort he put in to spend as much time with her as he could, in the message on the card in her hands. His love was focused on her.

Jo took a deep breath and slid the cards and notes back into the bag, a calm coming over her that only came from Mikko. Jo wanted to accept every ounce of love he offered her, let it fill her forever, but in opening herself up to allow that, her toxicity would flow into him. The toxicity Jo picked up from her life would flow back into him and ruin him and Jo didn’t want that to happen, but Jo was starting to wonder how long she could really keep him at bay. How long could she really keep him out? In trying to help her, he was breaking down walls she’d build to protect herself, but also protect people like him from her. She would keep trying to make sure he stayed at arm’s length, make sure he stayed separate from her, because that was the best way she could love him, by preventing him opening himself up to a world of negative feelings and experience he didn’t fully understand. Jo had seven weeks to try and figure out how to keep him at a distance when he was next to her without any other commitments or distractions, when she was so far from her life that she could barely feel it anymore, when it would feel like none of the reasons she kept him out were real.

Seven weeks did nothing for Jo. Not a damn thing. She got on a plane, knowing she was torturing herself by doing it, giving herself a taste of what she could never have, but she got on the damn plane anyway. She got on the plane anyway because she loved Mikko Rantanen anyway, even though she shouldn’t. She got on the plane anyway because she didn’t know how to do anything else.

------

“Did you sleep on the plane?” was the first thing out of Mikko’s mouth, spoken too loudly in Jo’s ear as his arms were already around her at the airport.

Mikko had picked Jo up, her legs wrapping around his muscular waist, before the two had even spoken. His arms were around her, face tucking in her neck. She smelled like the fancy conditioner she used, lavender, honey, and something Mikko couldn’t figure out, and like Jo. He never wanted to kiss her more than he did when her face appeared from the airport tunnel. Seven and a half weeks without her was longer than Mikko ever wanted to go. She wasn’t his, but with her arms about his neck, legs around his waist, the smell of her overwhelming him, in one of his Avalanche sweatshirts with his name on the back, she felt like his to him. Jo felt like she was his too, so much like it was all real for a moment, like with her arms around him like this, he was hers. But he wasn’t hers. The closest Jo could get was a quick kiss to his cheek that travelled a little too far down, hitting more at the corner of his mouth than his cheek. Mikko sucked in a hard breath when she did, wishing more than anything he could tell her she missed and kiss her until she couldn’t breathe. Instead, he smiled and helped set her back down on the ground with steady hands like his heart wasn’t screaming in his chest, like he wasn’t undeniably in love with her.

“Uh, yeah, I slept pretty good actually,” Jo told him after clearing her throat, both of them trying to ignore their flushed cheeks, their own and the other person’s.

“Want to drop off your stuff then get brunch?” he asked her. “There’s a place with good mimosas near where I live.”

“Now you’re speaking my language, Rantanen,” Jo laughed, putting one of her bags in his outstretched hand, knowing better than trying to take care of everything herself.

“Actually, I think you’re going to have to learn a little of my language, Evans,” he chirped back, a smirk crossing his face. “Come on, car’s this way.”

They talked on the drive to Mikko’s apartment, Jo handling the background music as always. In six, verging on seven weeks apart, Jo had filled some of her spare time not spent with Mikko listening to even more music than she normally did, an arguably absurd amount. Jo had also started writing music again, for the first time since her move to Denver, something she hadn’t admitted to anyone yet. Anyone included the tall, tanned, Finnish boy in the driver’s seat who knew enough about her to fill a series of novels. She couldn’t tell him because everything was about him. All the songs were about him now and Jo still didn’t know what shade of blue his eyes were.

They dropped Jo’s stuff off, her bags going in his spare room when Mikko really wanted them in his even though he knew that thought shouldn’t cross his mind. He fussed with his phone while Jo got changed from the plane, a message from Burky in the team group chat catching his eye.

Mik, is your not girlfriend here yet? Bring her to Sweden. It’s nicer here.

Mikko barely stifled an audible groan at Andre’s text. His teammates knew. Really, everyone knew he was absolutely head over heels, write home to your mom, risk it all, in love with Jo. He couldn’t hide it if he tried. He wasn’t even hiding it from Jo anymore. He was actively acting upon his love for her, asking her to come home to meet his family, see where he grew up, meet his home friends. There was a cabin booked for Midsummer in a few days with friends, a room planned for him and Jo to share, which she said she didn’t mind and Mikko was hoping to whatever higher power that existed she’d fall asleep in his arms one night they were there. That was his favorite thing in the world, the few times Jo had fallen asleep against his chest on his couch. She was right there, safe in his arms. No one could touch her. No one could hurt her. He could just love her as hard as he wanted when she was right next to him, with no one around to say a damn thing about it. Still, Mikko took a deep breath and pulled himself back to center.

Jo was closer now, closer than she’d ever been before. She felt like she was right there and all Mikko would have to do is reach out and take her hand to pull her in. But Mikko knew better. He knew if he let himself want everything that had just come through his mind, if he openly wanted that, he’d pull her in and if he pulled her, he’d lose her. There was no world in which Mikko Rantanen could do a damn thing other than wait about loving Josephine Evans. If he did anything at this point, with her so close he could practically feel the warmth of her hand near his, he would lose her. He could wait. If she was this close for years, he would wait. He would rather bunch his hands into fist so hard his nails drew blood holding himself back and then lose her.

Still, Mikko let himself act on his love, showing it to her as plainly as he could, showing her he was right here, his love was right here, ready for her whenever she decided to take it.

“Ready to go?”

Shorts, a t-shirt, a baseball cap, and sandals after an over ten hour flight and she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. Mikko led her out of his apartment, opening every door on the way, and pointed across the street when they got onto the sidewalk. Jo looked both ways and went to step into the street, but Mikko caught her hand with his.

“You’re in a foreign country. You shouldn’t cross the street without holding someone’s hand. Something bad could happen,” Mikko told her, his sweetest, most innocent smile on his face.

“By that logic, I should be holding your hand whenever you cross the street in Denver,” Jo retorted, making Mikko smile even bigger.

“Sounds good to me.”

Jo rolled her eyes, but a smile pulled across her face anyway and she laced her fingers through his. His hand dwarfs hers, warm and strong, practically pulling her across the street to keep up with his long strides. They talked like nothing had changed, like this was something they had done a thousand times already. Jo wasn’t worried about who saw. There were no cameras, no people with cell phones waiting to see. She could just hold the hand of the boy she was in love with and walk to a restaurant for brunch. That’s when Jo realized Finland was her favorite and least favorite place she had ever been. It was her favorite because she could love Mikko here, openly. There was no one to hurt him here, no one to hurt him through her. She could just love him as loudly as she wanted. They could be together here, love each other until they were old and gray and they didn’t understand how technology worked anymore and could barely hear anything, loving each other the entire time. It was her least favorite place because Jo couldn’t stay, but the thought of that, of a life with him, was the most heartbreaking thought she had ever had, because it was nothing more than a dream that couldn’t become reality, a thought that could never manifest into an action. It would move from her head, to chest, and fester there, rotting her from the inside out, eating her alive.

Mikko slid down into the seat opposite Jo when they reached the restaurant, the drink menu already confiscated by Jo before he could even get settled in his seat. Mikko crossed his arms over his chest, a smirk rising on his face as he watched Jo realize she had made a critical mistake. The menu wasn’t in English and she couldn’t read a word of Finnish.

“Got a problem there, Jo?” Mikko laughed as he asked her, making her blush. “If you ask nicely, I might be able to help you out.”

“Mikko,” Jo said through gritted teeth, “can you please translate the menu for me?”

“Sure,” Mikko laughed louder, sporting his best shit-eating grin. “Come on over.”

Jo groaned before tossing the menu carelessly over to him, making him laugh harder. She grabbed the seat of her chair and shuffled herself a quarter of the way around the table, sitting near enough to read the menu together now. Mikko had other plans. He reached one hand out and gripped the seat of her chair and tugged, hard, until the seat of her chair bumped against his. His arm shifted to rest across the back of her chair, like he hadn’t just pulled her closer to him shamelessly, and he propped the menu up between them against his water glass.

“Well then,” Jo mumbled.

Mikko couldn’t help himself. A grumpy Jo was one of the cutest versions of Jo for him because she was the least threatening person he had ever met. She called Mikko once thirty minutes before midnight because there was a big spider in the corner of her room and she couldn’t sleep if it was still there, but she couldn’t go anywhere near it. Mikko drove twenty minutes across town at midnight to kill a spider for her. He would’ve driven an hour, probably more than that if he was really being honest with himself. Mikko dropped a kiss to Jo’s temple, the fondness of that memory and the cuteness of her grumpiness overtaking his better judgment for a moment. Jo didn’t freeze like he thought she would. Jo just leaned closer into him, accepting the contact, and Mikko swore his heart was about to beat out of his chest when she put a hand on his thigh to lean closer toward the menu.

“Um, okay,” Mikko stuttered, trying to center himself. “The top one is just a regular mimosa.”

“Thank you, oh great Finnish speaker,” Jo teased him, giving his leg a squeeze that had Mikko’s mind spinning hard enough he was pretty sure he couldn’t speak Finnish or English anymore. “I got that from the picture next to it. Got any other helpful insights?”

Mikko let a laugh calm himself before walking Jo through the different flavors of mimosas she could try. She settled on the pineapple one before exchanging the drink menu for the food menu so he could walk her through that. It was the littlest thing, but for just one moment, Jo actually needed Mikko in a way she could admit. If something as small as translating a menu could make Mikko feel so warm inside, then what would her being in love with him make him feel like? Mikko didn’t have any way to wrap his mind around how that would make him feel. All he knew was when Jo slid back to the other side of the table, he missed her, even though there was only four feet of distance between them and she hadn’t actually left.

Mikko’s eyes shifted when he heard laughter down the street. Jo’s eyes followed his. It was a little girl, already wearing a flower crown definitely meant for Midsummer at the end of the week.

“Midsummer thing?” Jo asked him. “Sorry, I’m a novice.”

“Well, I’ll make you an expert by the end of the week,” Mikko promised. “Maybe, it’ll even be your favorite holiday, if you can let yourself be open to thinking there are holidays better than Christmas out there.”

“That’s a tall order there, Mik,” Jo laughed before taking a sip of her water. “Maybe aim a little lower?”

“Don’t tell me to dream smaller,” Mikko countered, a lazy but sure smile on his face. “I’m dreaming big while you’re here. I dream big when you’re involved.”

------

Mikko had told Jo that Midsummer would become her favorite holiday if she let it be. Less than an hour into the sunny night, something Jo definitely wasn’t used to, she was pretty sure Mikko was right. It seemed like everyone in Nousiainen was here. Guaranteed, it wasn’t exactly a large place, nothing in Finland was, but Jo hadn’t ever been to anything like this before. In her lacy, loose white dress, a cup of white wine in her hand because drinking red while wearing white was just asked for trouble, with Mikko’s arm around her waist, she had never felt more content before. Jo watched the youngest kids from the village run around, carefree and happy. She watched as Mikko’s parents interacted with everyone else from the village, beaming as they constantly gestured to where Mikko and Jo were standing among his friends. Like everyone else, they thought the two were just private. The lines of friendship and romance had blurred on this trip under supportive gazes from Mikko’s family and friends and under stolen touches Mikko would’ve normally kept to himself. But he was home. He was in the place where all his purest memories rested, during a holiday his favorite memories from his childhood came from, with the girl he was in so incredibly in love with. He couldn’t help but secure an arm around her waist and pull her into him. Even if it would hurt when he couldn’t do it back in Denver later. She was comfortable and Mikko would always take up whatever space Jo allowed him to in her happy moments, trying to show her in them what it could be like if this could happen all the time.

“Are you having a good time?” Mikko whispered softly in her ear, bending down low to do so.

“I’m having the best time, Mik,” she told him, honesty obvious in her voice. “Thank you again for inviting me for this. It makes me feel really special that you wanted me here.”

Mikko wanted to make Jo feel how special she was to him all of the time, not just here in Finland. He wanted her to feel special all of the time. She deserved everything good the world had to offer. Jo was the purest soul Mikko knew. She had just been handled careless by too many people for so long. They created cracks in her, tried to steal pieces of her goodness for themselves, and covered her in dark stains she tried so hard to get out, but couldn’t, so she just excepted them as who she was now. They weren’t her. They were still stains and Mikko was washing them away day by day, moment by moment, with the crashing waves of his love for her. Jo had built up walls to protect herself, put on thick, clunky armor to try and block the good parts of her that were left. Jo didn’t seem to understand that all of the good parts of her were still left. They just needed to be cleaned and gently put back together so they could shine again and that when they were back together, the world would be a better place if she took down her walls and retired her armor so the world could see her shine.

Jo was shining right now, in Finland, in the prettiest white dress Mikko had ever seen, during his favorite holiday of the year. There was no pressure here. No one cared who she was beyond that she made Mikko, their local boy, happy. That was the only metric they measured her on and she made him happier than anyone else. Mikko never wanted her to leave if she was going to shine this bright here, if she was going to be this free and happy here. This is how Jo deserved to feel all of that time.

“Jo!” one of Mikko’s sisters called out from the right of them.

She walked past without stopping, slowing just long enough to push a flower crown into Jo’s free hand and shout, “Midsummer!” then continue on.

Mikko laughed as Jo looked softly at the delicately weaved flowers and ribbons in her hands. Mikko sat his drink down on a nearby table so he could take the flower crown from Jo’s small hands.

“Let me do it,” he told her softly.

She nodded as Mikko gently smoothed her hair out with one hand first, before gently setting the delicate weaving of flowers and ribbon on the crown on Jo’s head, situating the ribbons to fall with the soft, dark curls of her hair down her back. Jo put a hand on the flower gingerly as she turned to face him. Mikko’s hands fell to her hips naturally as he looked at her, the prettiest girl he’d ever seen in his entire life, the flush in her cheeks from the wine, the flowers in her hair, a real smile on her lips, her eyes bright in the evening sun, and he had never been more in love with her. He didn’t know how to say it. He didn’t know any words in English or in Finnish or in the little bits of Russian he’d picked up from Zadorvo or Swedish he learned from Gabe that could express it. The only thing he knew how to do to make sure she felt his love was kiss her, but he wasn’t doing it for the first time under the eyes of everyone he grew up with. Instead, Mikko let his eyes close slowly as he dropped a lingering kiss on her forehead, just below where the flowers started and wished they weren’t surrounded by everyone he knew, wished it was just her and him somewhere else so he could make sure she knew how much he loved her.

Jo’s small arms wrapped around his waist after he pulled his lips back from her skin. She pressed her face into his chest and hugged him tight. Mikko’s strong arms wrapped around her back, securing her to him. Mikko couldn’t pour the same amount of love into a hug. Hugs were too casual, but he was trying. He was trying so hard that he was gripping Jo a little too hard, like she would float away if he let go. But this was the first time Mikko was sure she wouldn’t. If he let go right now, he was sure she’d stay.

The bright evening passed by quickly, filled with laughter and games and food and the bonfire customary to Midsummer’s Eve, Jo’s hand in Mikko, Jo on his lap, his arm around her waist, always touching her, always checking in, always there. Jo wanted him and it was radiating out of her and into Mikko through every touch, every gaze, every moment he spent with her today. It occurred to him at some point during the evening, a terrible thing to think really, that Jo might look something like she did now on her wedding day and Mikko desperately wanted to be the guy at the end of the isle waiting for her. He’d wait for her for his whole life. He’d wait for her even if she never walked down the aisle to him and he would consider it a life well spent because he spent it loving the single most incredible woman he had ever met.

Normally, most other years, Mikko would have rented a cabin with friends for the evening, woken up too early in the morning considering how late he was up celebrating with all of Nousiainen, but he hadn’t done that this year. When Jo said she’d come, Mikko had still gotten a cottage on the lake, but tonight he had wanted it to just be him and Jo. His friends would show up tomorrow late in the day to join them then. He wanted a night just with Jo with no one around to ask questions and he was so grateful for that decision as he pulled up to the cottage. He’d stopped drinking hours ago so he could drive and so Jo could keep drinking if she wanted to do so.

“It’s so pretty, Mik,” Jo commented as she climbed out of the car, eyes trained on the water that was still lowly lit by the setting sun, something Jo still couldn’t believe with how late it was in the day.

“I thought you’d like it,” he told her as he grabbed his bag and hers from the backseat. “Want me to throw these inside and I can meet you out on the dock?”

Mikko didn’t have to ask Jo twice. She was already heading out onto the water before he had even finished his question. Her excitement was child-like, pure and good, something Mikko rarely got to see from her. He felt like he was truly seeing Jo, the one he had only gotten glimpses of before now, the girl he loved more than anything. He carelessly tossed the bags down inside the front door and came as close to running to meet Jo on the dock as he could. She was sitting on the edge when he joined her, her shoes left on the grass at the end of the dock, Mikko’s now next to hers, kicked off haplessly on his way to join her. Mikko dropped down on the edge of the dock next to her, feet dangling into the cool evening water unlike Jo’s which couldn’t reach.

“Thoughts on Midsummer so far?”

Mikko watched Jo carefully, flower crown still on her head, as a warm smile came naturally across her face. She didn’t have to say anything for Mikko to know she loved it.

“It’s no Christmas,” she joked, making him laugh, “but it’s pretty spectacular. Thanks again for inviting me to do all this with you.”

“Anything for you, Jo.”

Mikko meant it and Jo knew he meant it. It wasn’t something he said as a joke. It was real and raw, sincerity infused into the words.

“Hey, Mikko?”

Jo’s voice was timid, unsure of both of the words even though they were two she said with incredible frequency. It wasn’t those words she was unsure of. It was the ones that would follow that had her voice shaking, a symptom of her heart quaking in her chest.

“Yeah, Jojo?” Mikko replied, keeping his voice quiet as not to overwhelm hers.

“I’m sorry,” was all she could get out.

“What are you sorry about, Jo?”

Mikko lifted his feet from the water and spun to face her, folding his legs in so he could slide closer to her. She froze when he reached a hand out and placed it on her forearm. Her eyes were trained on his hand on her skin, warm and steady and strong. Mikko didn’t move it, just pressed her again verbally, gently, afraid she would break under the slightest pressure at this moment.

“What are you sorry about, Jojo?”

Jo took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, before she tried to explain, “I’m sorry that I can’t love you, Mik. I mean, I do. I really do, but I’m sorry I can’t be in love with you because if I let that happen, it’s going to ruin you, I’m going to ruin you. Everything in my life is going to come into yours and corrupt everything good about you. I can’t let that happen, not to you. You’re too good. You’re the best person I know, Mikko, and I can’t open a gateway the entire world will try to use to rip you apart. I can’t watch it happen and that’s how I know I love you. I never thought about it before. I never thought about what my life would do to someone else. I just jumped in and let the chips fall where they wanted. Really, I let grenades go off in other people’s lives and walked out right before they could hurt me. I’ve hurt everyone I’ve ever loved just by trying to love them, Mikko. I can’t do that to you. Hurting you, knowing I hurt you, would kill me.”

Mikko really only heard three words out of the entire thing. He heard Josephine Evans, the girl he loved more than anything, say she loved him. Mikko wasn’t staring at walls anymore. The only thing between him and her was Jo herself and if there was anything Mikko had learned in the almost year he’d known Jo, it was how to reach her through the noise in her own head. He could reach out and take her, but he wouldn’t do it. He was just going to stand there with open arms and wait, because if he pulled her in, she'd just pull away later. He was going to sit here on this dock and show her his open arms with as many words as it took for her to see him standing right in front of her, already having braved the hurricane she was scared of to get this close to her. The hurricane wasn’t her life. It was Jo’s fear of what her life would do to the people she loved. Mikko had already decided Jo was worth whatever storm could come and no one could change his mind, not even Jo.

“Jo, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so smart who chooses to be so blind to everything before,” Mikko told her, his voice breaking as he let out a tight breath. His hand rubbed her forearm softly, trying to ground himself in the moment and not the one he hoped would follow. “Jo, stop being so scared of what everyone else has been like and look at me. See me, Jo. Stop seeing your exs and shitty people who never really loved you in the first place. I love you, Josephine. I fell in love with you way too fast and it sort of scared the fuck out of me, but I decided to stay anyway, decided to see what loving you could really be like and I have never been happier with a decision I have made in my entire life. I see you, Jo. I’m right here. I’m right in front of you. Just open your eyes and really look at me. You’ll see I’m not going anywhere. I’m exactly where I want to be forever and that’s with you.”

Mikko shifted slowly, letting his hands ease up toward her face to take it gently between them. He applied just enough force to encourage her to turn to face him. Her eyes were still looking down, unable to meet his. Mikko gently ran his thumb over her lower lip softly.

“Josephine, look at me. See how much I love you.”

Jo closed her eyes and took a shaky breath in and out. She didn’t want to look. She was so scared she would look and see nothing and that everything would fall apart in front of her when she couldn’t see it. But Jo couldn’t close her eyes forever. She had to face this moment before she could move to the next one, before she had to deal with the consequences of this one. Jo took in another shaky breath before opening her eyes softly, greeted by Mikko’s.

She knew what color they were. After almost a year of trying to figure it out, she knew what shade of blue his eyes were. Real love wasn’t loud; it didn’t draw crowds. Real love didn’t need to scream itself from rooftops and in song lyrics and in front of the entire world. Real love was quiet, honest and true. It was peaceful and pure and good. And it was in Mikko’s eyes. It was Mikko’s eyes, at least, to Jo anyway. Someone else might look at them and think they were another color, but color was individual. No one ever experienced it the same as anyone else. Mikko’s eyes showed his love for Jo in the most true way she had never imagined possible, in their very color to her. He loved her deeply, deeper than the oceans, deeper than the darkness of Jo’s saddest moments. He loved her fully and honestly. He loved her not in the way Jo had ever written about because she didn’t know this could exist. He loved her in a way that Jo knew, just by looking at him now, that he always would, that he would weather any storm to continue to do so, as long as she loved him too.

Mikko saw Jo see him. He watched the moment she truly understood, just for a moment, how much he loved her. All he needed was the one moment. He could show her the rest. He didn’t hesitate this time. He leaned forward, slowly and steadily, and brushed his lips softly over hers. Jo didn’t hesitate either. Her hands reached out and fisted into his t-shirt, pressing her lips against his more firmly this time. One of Mikko’s hands slid down her neck, down her arm, dipping over to her waist so he could pull her into his lap as he kissed her. Mikko wanted to live like this, Jo as close to him as he could get. He never wanted to not be kissing her now that he'd done it. This was easily his favorite thing to do now, have her under his hands and her lips on his.

“I love you,” Mikko whispered against her mouth when he pulled back before transitioning to kissing down her jaw.

“I love you,” Jo replied easily, the words she had been so scared to admit that now were the easiest words to say in the world.

Mikko groaned as his hand cupping her face journeyed slowly down her body, fingers tapping slowly down her neck, outlining the neckline of the white dress he was never going to be able to get out of his mind until it was replaced with her in a different white dress with a certain piece of music playing in the background with all of their friends and family watching. His mouth moved back to hers, pressing his lips firmer against hers. His hand trailed down to join his other on her hips, keeping her grounded against him as he poured everything he had into the kiss. His words could only do so much. Mikko was trying to show her how he felt, pour his love for her into her as he kissed her.

“I love you,” Mikko repeated against her lips, not realizing in his haze of unbridled happiness it had slipped out in Finnish.

“I love you too,” Jo replied in English.

She didn’t speak Finnish in the slightest. She barely knew a couple of swear words, but those words had felt the same as the others. Based on the way the words made her heart pick up faster in her chest, she knew what they meant.

“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met,” Mikko mumbled softly, his lips beginning to work gently up and down her neck.

“Ever met yourself?” Jo joked, making Mikko chuckle against her neck.

“I’ll keep that in mind, rakas,” Mikko hummed softly against her skin before kissing her neck gingerly.

Mikko pulled back to look at Jo again, flower crown slightly askew on her head, cheeks flushed due to breathlessness rather than wine now, her lips a deeper shade of pink, slightly swollen. Mikko knew his looked the same. The strap of her dress was pushed down her shoulder, something Mikko must have done accidentally when he was enjoying the feeling of her skin under his palms. She was absolutely angelic like this and she was all his to get to love, to get to cherish, to get to make sure she knew how absolutely, earth-shattering, life-altering loving her was, to get to make sure she knew he considered it the greatest privilege of his life so far.

Jo tried to hide it with a hand over her mouth, but she yawned and Mikko laughed at her poor attempt to hide it. She pouted for him, bottom lip sticking out in a way that made Mikko want to take it between his teeth, but that wasn’t what tonight was. Tonight, he was going to get to fall asleep with Jo in his arms, something she was clearly ready for as he watch her eyes droop closed, and never have to leave her on the couch alone, because she wouldn’t be on the couch anymore. She’d be in his bed with him the entire time and Mikko almost cried at the very thought of opening his eyes and seeing Jo as the first thing he saw on a new day every day. He didn’t have to imagine how her hair would look spread out across his pillow when she slept peacefully. The only time he’d seen it before either Jo had been a wreck or he had and that wasn’t the same. He didn’t have to imagine the way their legs would tangle together as they slept next to each other every night. He would see it and he would feel it in a few short hours. Mikko didn’t have to wait for anything anymore, except maybe seeing Jo in an even prettier white dress.

“I think we need to get you to bed,” Mikko laughed softly when Jo yawned for a second time. His thumb rubbed her cheek softly now, moving in smooth circles, lulling her softly closer to sleep. “Want me to carry you?”

“I can walk,” Jo smiled softly at him, “but thanks, Mik.”

“Anything for you.”

He echoed his words from before, but they meant more to Jo this time because she truly understood what was behind them. It wasn’t cliche in the way that people often meant it, too sickeningly sweet, sticking to everything uncomfortably with artificial love like artificial sugar, only to leave a bad taste in your mouth later. Mikko said it and it was real. He meant anything, from dancing with her in her brightest moments, to holding her hand in her darkest hours; from telling her when she needed to pick herself up, dust off her knees, and get herself back in gear, to using all of his strength to get her back up after she was knocked down. Mikko could say he would do anything for Jo because in saying it, he would do whatever needed to be done to ensure Jo was the happiest, truest version of herself, that she was the woman she wanted to be.

As Mikko pulled Jo into his chest to fall asleep, he didn’t have to be careful. He didn’t need to worry he was holding her too close, if he was crossing a line he wasn’t supposed to even realize existed. He could just hold her now. Jo fell asleep easily, the exhaustion of the day wearing heavier on her, pulling her to sleep moments after they climbed into bed. Mikko looked down at the beautiful girl against his chest and he smiled because she was smiling. She fell asleep like that. Mikko willed himself to sleep with the promise of that smile being the first thing he would get to see tomorrow morning, what he had been dreaming of for almost a year now, what he wanted to see every morning for the rest of his life.

------

Jo opened her eyes slowly and she immediately knew it was way too early to be awake. Finland getting less than six hours of darkness in the summer would have been fine if there were blackout curtains like at Mikko’s apartment, but here in the cottage, that wasn’t the case. Jo wanted to fall back asleep, but that wasn’t in Jo’s skillset, so she was up now whether she liked it or not, and she most certainly did not. Mikko had Jo locked against his chest, his strong, heavy, still sleeping arms wrapped around her keeping her there. She fished around under her pillow, sighing with relief when her fingers wrapped around her phone. The time was atrocious, not even seven in the morning yet, but Jo was still happier than she had been in a long time as she let herself look at the boy whose arms were keeping her warm.

Mikko’s hair was sort of all over the place, blond strands going in multiple directions. His face was soft, dimple hidden since this was one of the rare moments Mikko didn’t have his customary wide smile on his face. His lips were slightly parted, practically begging to be kissed, and Jo couldn’t resist. She knew it might wake him up, but she wanted to kiss him. Jo leaned her head up, wiggling in his tight grasp enough so she could press a quick, barely noticeable kiss to his lips. Except Mikko noticed. Mikko had been thinking about how her lips would feel against his since that September night on the rooftop and he was not going to miss an opportunity to actually feel it, sleep be damned.

He hummed softly as he reached up to cup her face, keeping her in place as he pressed into Jo’s supposedly quick, unnoticeable kiss. The kiss was broken by both of them smiling into it, the best reason to break a kiss. Mikko titled his head up to press a kiss to her forehead as Jo smiled.

“Morning, rakas,” Mikko told her softly. “A little early for you, no?”

“Morning, Mik,” she sighed contentedly, burrowing her head under his chin, into his neck, and pulling herself flush against him. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“No worries,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to her tangled hair now. “We can sleep more whenever.”

“Aren’t your friends coming up later?” Jo reminded him hesitantly.

Mikko groaned before Jo could even finish her question and Jo laughed before Mikko had even half finished his groan. He pressed his face into her hair and pulled her tighter into his chest. Jo managed to get her head up a bit to place a kiss on his jaw, drawing a long sigh from him.

“If I pretend they aren’t coming, will they still come?” Mikko asked the universe more than he asked Jo. “I just want to spend the whole day with my Jojo.”

“Your Jojo, huh?” Jo teased him, following her teasing with a kiss to his jaw, the only thing she could reach with his tight grasp on her.

Jojo squeaked when Mikko suddenly shifted, taking her with him. She was on her back now, Mikko’s large hands on the bed beside her head, strong arms holding him firmly above her. Like this, his body blocking out everything except how the sheets felt under her hands, Jo was reminded just how much bigger he was than her. More than anything though, Jo couldn’t take her eyes off him, with the sunlight pouring in from the window, making his eyes seem even brighter and lighter, shining through his golden waves. He was the most beautiful person Jo had ever seen and he was all hers.

The funny thing about being in love with someone, about being two people who come together to create something that is somehow more than the two of them were separately, is that sometimes they think the same thoughts. As Mikko looked down at Jo, hair fanned out across the pillow, sunlight showing the golden flecks in her eyes, her lips slightly parted, a deep shade of pink leftover from yesterday, Mikko thought Jo was the most beautiful person he had ever seen and she was all his.

As Mikko dropped down, his elbows coming to rest where his palms had been, so he could press his lips to hers, all he could think about what how much he loved Jo and how good it felt to be loved by her in return. It was all he could think about as one of his hands trailing down her side, feeling the curves of her body under his palm. All Jo could think about was how lucky she felt to being loved by him and get to love him back, even though she had held herself back from him for so long, thinking she was undeserving of this happiness. With his lips on her neck now, a hand under her shirt on her waist, and one of her hands tangled into his hair, he felt so right to Jo. Everything about him was right, the softness of his hair when she ran her fingers through it, the way his hand felt sliding over her skin, the strength she felt in his shoulders under her hand. Everything about Mikko was right.

“Mikko,” Jo breathed out when he tugged down the neckline of her t-shirt to keep kissing more of her, “you can just take it off.”

Mikko held back a sound deep in his throat at her words. This was what he never let himself think about. If he thought about this, he couldn’t have been her friend over the past year. The thought of this would have corrupted that, weaving its way into how he treated her. He never let his mind go here, imagining what it would be like to have her in his bed like this. She needed him to be her friend, so he forced the thoughts from his mind, knowing they would poison everything he was trying to be for her. But now, now this is what she needed. This was what she wanted. He didn’t have to dream about it. He could just live it, right now.

Mikko took his time. He was pretty sure he would get to do this countless times over the course of the rest of his life, but this would always be the first time he got to make her absolutely breathless, speechless, and he wanted to take his sweet, sweet time. Jo, who normally wanted her life to run at the pace her mind usually did, wanted Mikko to take his time as he pushed her shirt up and off her body, as he kissed every inch of skin as he revealed it.

He took his time learning every curve, every spot that made her gasp, every one that made her giggle. He took his time exposing her in front of him, except Jo didn’t feel exposed. She felt damn near worshiped when Mikko settled between her thighs, kissing her, tasting her, making her fist her hands into his hair desperately. Slow and steady, like the calming waves of the ocean, Mikko pulled Jo over the edge again and again until she couldn’t be patient anymore, until she needed him more than anything else.

He kissed her as he slid inside of her for the first time, a sensation that made Jo cry out and Mikko almost lose it with how good this moment was, the softness breaking a little as he cursed into her neck, desperately grabbing for anything inside to anchor him before this moment broke way sooner than he would’ve liked. He anchored in the most stable thing he’d ever felt.

“I love you, Jo.”

“I love you too, Mikko.”

The entire world seemed to slow down, letting them live in this moment for longer than they thought possible. As long as the world was going to spin a little slower, Mikko was going to spend his extra time like this, with soft moans falling from Jo’s mouth, whispers of his name between them, as he slowly rolled his hips into hers and slowly lost his mind a little at the feeling of her, at the sight of her. Mikko collapsed down onto her when he finally finished, head collapsing into the crook of her neck as her hand ran through his hair gently.

“I love you,” Mikko repeated again. “I’m never going to get tired of saying it, so I hope you never get tired of hearing it.”

“It’s my favorite sound in the entire world, Mik,” Jo said breathlessly. “I’m never going to get tired of it.”

Mikko kissed her neck again before he slowly rolled over onto the bed next to her, pulling her partially on top of his chest in one smooth motion. He ran his fingers through the ends of her hair, working out the tangles gingerly as his breathing slowed to normal, as the world starting to spin at the right speed again.

“Hate to ask and ruin the moment,” Jo spoke as she idly traced circles and swirls onto Mikko’s bare chest, “but what time are your friends coming?”

“Oh, that’s not happening anymore,” he groaned, reaching for his phone to cancel the festivities that were supposed to be coming their way.

“As much as I want to spend the day with you, here, you can’t cancel day of,” Jo pressed softly.

“Watch me,” Mikko laughed, kissing her forehead. “Sanna’s dad has a cottage we were originally going to go to before I found this place. They can figure it out. I’ve got something way better to do right here already.”

“Mikko!”

He laughed as Jo smacked his chest, her cheeks turning pink at the literal and intended meaning of his words. He kissed her temple, eyes fixed on his phone screen as he typed out a terrible excuse to his friend group. It was a boldfaced lie. Mikko said that he and Jo both had gotten sick after last night and that it wasn’t a pretty sight and he didn’t want any of them to catch what they had, so they should just go to Sanna’s instead. The lie worked for the length of time it took someone to respond in the group chat, which was about twenty seconds, telling Mikko that if he wanted a private sex trip with his girlfriend, he should’ve just told them that from the beginning. They were teasing, all in good jest, and Mikko knew it, but they also weren’t far from the truth as to why he was telling them they needed to change their plans.

“They’re good with it,” Mikko told Jo after tossing his phone back onto the nightstand, gratefully she couldn’t speak Finnish so she couldn’t read what specifically had been said.

“I find that hard to believe that’s how they said it, seeing as you laughed,” Jo called him out easily, “but I’ll let it slide because this is what I want too.”

“Mmm,” Mikko hummed softly, hand rubbing Jo’s arm softly. “Want to celebrate getting this place all to ourselves today in the shower?”

“I could be convinced.”

------

Jo ran a towel through her hair again, trying to get a little more of the water out so she didn’t trail it around the cottage. She decided how it was now was as good as it was going to get, slid on one of Mikko’s large t-shirts he left for her and some comfy shorts, then headed into the kitchen where he was. He was shirtless, hair wet from the shower they shared, his hands busy pouring two cups of tea. Jo sighed as she reached him, letting her arms wrap around his waist from behind. Mikko put the kettle down in order to give one of her arms a quick squeeze.

“Hi there,” Mikko said softly. “Tea’s good right?”

“Tea’s perfect, baby,” Jo replied before kissing his shoulder softly.

Mikko hummed softly at the feeling of her pressed up against him, her lips on his skin. Mornings with her like this had been the thing Mikko craved most because what they had before had been so close to this, having breakfast together, spending the quiet moments of the morning together. But it was so much sweeter now, now that they were damp from the same shower, now that Jo was pressed up against him, now that she was truly his to love.

“Want to drink these outside? There’s this big couch,” was all Mikko had to say to get a happy noise from Jo and get her turning for the back door.

Mikko carried the tea, just enough steps behind Jo to be lucky enough to see her launch herself into the large round couch. She tunneled herself into the pillows as Mikko laughed. He didn’t really understand his girlfriend’s love affair with comfortable couches, but he could get behind it and make sure she had as many as she wanted. Mikko sat the cups on the side table and climbed onto the couch with her. He settled himself among the pillows before he patted his thighs, stretching out his legs for Jo to come sit between them. She slid in between his legs happily, her back pressing against his chest. Mikko wrapped an arm around her waist, large hand spread out across her stomach. He grabbed Jo’s mug and handed it off to her with his free hand before grabbing his own.

Jo was fiddling with the tag on her tea bag and Mikko knew something was on her mind. He didn’t have to push this time. He just gave her a small, supportive squeeze with his arm around her and she let him know what was going on inside her head.

“Do you want to like, tell people? By people I mean like, everyone,” Jo asked him softly.

“Jo, I want you and have you,” Mikko replied, like what he was saying was the most natural and obvious thing in the world. “The rest of it doesn’t concern me. I don’t care what people say. I care what you have to say. You’re my only stake in all of this, the only part I care about. Whatever you want is good with me. You want to put it on Instagram? Go for it. You want to write songs about me? I’d be honored. You want this to just be us and never talk about me in public? I’ll be just as happy as long as we have our friends and family and I have you. I don’t care about the details, Jo. Whatever you want is good with me. But don’t think you need to protect me, okay? I’m a big boy and I love you more than enough to handle anything to keep loving you, okay? I’m not changing my mind. I’m not going to get overwhelmed. I have you and the rest of it doesn’t matter to me.”

Jo almost cried at his words. She didn’t have a way to express the way her heart rose in her chest and then settled back down, cushioned by just how deeply she loved him, at his words. She didn’t have words for that feeling, so she had to settle for a sort of joke.

“Sort of already started on the song thing, so good to know that’s okay,” Jo laughed a little as she talked, hands fidgeting with her mug.

“I can’t wait to hear them, Jojo,” he replied, kissing her temple with a smile on his face. “You don’t have to play them for me, obviously. But if you want to, I want to hear.”

“Of course I’ll play them for you, Mikko,” Jo said as Mikko took a few long sips of his tea. “They’re for you. The rest of the world will just get to hear them at some point.”

Mikko smiled against the edge of his mug and pressed his nose softly into her hair, letting his eyes close, just breathing in the moment as best as he could. He settled back into the couch, bringing his tea and Jo with him, tea secure in his hand and Jo secure against his chest and Mikko realized there was no place he would rather be. A comfortable silence fell over them as they drank their tea and Mikko’s hand rubbed in smooth circles over her stomach. Jo’s free hand rubbed up and down his forearm as she looked out at the water, thinking there was no place she would rather be either.

“Thank you,” Jo said softly, breaking the silence after a few minutes.

Mikko just kissed the side of her head and took a sip of his tea in reply.

“Thank you for being patient with me,” Jo spoke softly this time, voice hesitant, “for waiting.”

“Josephine Evans,” Mikko smiled as he spoke, “I’d wait for you my whole life if that’s what it took.”

Jo sighed, letting herself put all her weight against his chest, and let her love for him settle throughout her, through every inch of her, where it had always belonged. Mikko kissed her head again, face pressing softly into her hair. Mikko would have waited for her his entire life, but he was so happy he didn’t have to.

“Hey, Mikko?”

Jo’s tone was lighter than when she had spoken the same words yesterday. The question was hesitant, but there was unbridled joy behind it.

“Yeah, Jo?” he replied, just so she knew without a doubt he was listening.

“I think we should get married here someday.”

Mikko sat his now almost empty mug down to wrap both arms around her tightly, dropping his face into her neck. He kissed her neck softly and sweetly as his heart swelled on his chest. He had her now, the person he wanted more than anything else in his life, but hearing her say that, those eight words, Mikko knew there was something he wanted more for certain. He wanted her in a pretty white dress, by the water, promising in front of the people who mattered most to them that what they felt was forever. Mikko could see it now, the flowers down the dock, the chairs by the water, he could see it all. He could see Jo barefoot in the kitchen ten years from now, a ring on her finger and a child on her hip. He could see her when she was eighty-five, hair long since gone gray, still making him smile. He could see her in every part of his future, loving her all the same in each thought that felt like memories that had yet to actually happen.

Mikko had spent almost a year trying to get across the hurricane in her mind to find the girl he loved behind it all. It has been the hardest thing he’d ever done, but holding her now, staring out at the water, with the world quiet except for the small waves crashing on the shore and the feeling of how much they loved each other, thinking about marrying her someday sooner rather than later, Mikko didn’t have a single regret.

“Whenever you're ready, Jo, I’m ready.”

#mikko rantanen #mikko rantanen fanfic #mikko rantanen writing #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl blurbs #nhl imagine #Hockey Fanfiction #hockey writing #hockey imagine

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brownandblackpearls · 3 years

Text

🍞 ℋunger (Asra x EDReader, ED.MC)

Memories of your disorder slowly return and take over once again. You fight it but one bad day reveals everything that you wanted to hide the most.

─── Asra x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── no smut

─── TW: Eating disorders and explicit ED behaviors, hurt/comfort, past abandonment, body dysmorphia, body image, confrontation, if you know you have triggers with ED, skip this one.

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

Some days are harder than others. You try your best.

But often, the best just isn’t enough to keep the spiraling at bay.

Asra knows your fondness for baked goods and chocolate well. Since you raved about that pumpkin bread a few months ago, he’s insisted on bringing you loaves every few weeks.

But as more your memories return to you, not all of them are pleasant. You begin to recall everything, including the unhealthy habits you used to have, and how people reacted to them before.

You remember what it was like when you were younger and larger than you are right now, you remember how you were treated by others who had so much to say about your body and how it fit into their thoughts, into this life. You remember things said in passing by family, friends, people who were supposed to care about you and love you.

Now? No matter how much you’ve tried to throw away those instances, those memories, the reawakened disorder clutches to the trauma like a lifeline, desperate to live through you. Desperate to starve and purge, and lessen and lessen you until there’s no more fear of fat.

But that’s just the thing. The fear is endless.

And worse, it’s a lie.

You know you’re not fat...And you know being fat means nothing on your inherent worth, your value, your beauty, your being. But it feels too difficult to put this beast down on your own.

As strong as you are, as strong as you’ve become, you wonder if some demons are stronger.

So you hide it.

You don’t want Asra to know what you’re thinking when he unwraps another chocolate truffle for you, you don’t want him to hear you try and fail to eliminate what you’ve eaten late in the night, you don’t want him to understand the things you tell yourself in the dark of your mind on your lowest days. You don’t want him to know that it took wiping your memory entirely for you to rid yourself of a condition that’s plagued you since before you knew him, that you’ve hidden since before you knew him.

Some days, you can eat.

Some days, you can’t.

Asra finally realizes on one of the days you weren’t careful enough.

He had brought more of that damned pumpkin bread and you’d already been silently agonizing over your physique that entire morning. Dress after dress, outfit after outfit, none of them seem to fit quite right enough to quell your inner critic.

“I’ve brought you some more from the market.” Asra is happy, holding his prize out to you.

You plaster a strained smile onto your face, thanking him, but you realize too late that it doesn’t shine through your eyes.

He sees.

“Are you...feeling alright?” He asks. “Is it the bread...? Do you not like it anymore?”

You grit your teeth behind your lips in anxiety, shaking your head a little too quickly.

“No! No, I love it. I’m just feeling a little...ill, that’s all!”

Asra frowns and lays the back of his hand to your head, brushing it down your temple and trailing his fingers down your tumbles of hair.

“You don’t feel warm…maybe it’s a chest cold? I’ll make you some tea, alright?”

You nod, feeling awful for lying to him.

Ashamed and embarrassed of yourself, you try to save the mood by plucking up the bread from his hands.

“I’ll save and eat this for later, when I’m feeling better!”

The statement does little to quell Asra’s concern over your ‘chest cold’, but he spares you a brief, appreciative smile before rushing to make the tea.

You climb the steps of the shop and head to your room to hide the bread away.

It’s almost tucked into your drawer when you smell the scent of it.

‘Not now...’

Your stomach gurgles, sick of fasting and excited to consume more carbs, more sugar, some kind of quick energy supply. All those days you hid not eating while Asra was away are beginning to catch up with you.

You grit your teeth and begin to count backwards, planning on drinking plenty of water to help kill the craving. But before you know it, the bread’s out of the drawer, in your hands, and being stuffed fervently into your mouth.

Without even really being present for the act, you ravenously chew the bread down. For a moment, the endorphins of finally getting fed surge through you and lift your spirits.

Halfway through the loaf, you feel the crash.

Hands full of bread, face covered in crumbs, your eyes well up and you begin to wail silently. Your body bends over under the weight of the grief, unchewed pastry falling out of your mouth and hitting the floor. You clutch your hands into tight fists of aggravation at yourself, crushing the pumpkin bread and trembling under the intense amount of anguish you feel right this second.

‘How could I have eaten that? Why did I eat that? What have I done?’

‘Now I’ll gain. I’ll be big again. No one will want me because I can’t control myself. They’ll make sure to let me know it, too.’

‘He won’t want me. Just like the rest of them. He’ll see how I really am.’

You cry and cry, unaware of Faust sliding out from under your bed. She tilts her head at you, swaying closer.

‘…!’

She cries your name.

Your mind is filled with fast thoughts that you can’t stop, and you don’t catch how Faust tries to reach you.

‘Sad? Hurt?’

When you don’t answer, Faust quickly slithers out the room, unseen.

Before long, fast footsteps ring out from the hall and you hear your door open.

‘Oh no...’

Asra calls your name and you hide further into yourself, clutching the floor.

He hates you, there is no doubt now, he is seeing the ugliness of your secret, the self-loathing, the ridiculousness of falling apart over blasted pumpkin bread, the lack of self-control, the fear, the shame, the shame, the shame—

Asra calls your name again, pulling you by the shoulders into him.

You try to keep your sobs in, your body wracking with the intensity of them. Your trembling grows to the point where it frightens even you.

As soft as water, Asra soothes a hand down your face, your neck, and calls to you as one would to an injured, trapped fawn.

“It’s alright. Let it out. Don’t hold on to all of that, let it out. I’ve got you, I’m here now.”

The sobs come then, long and loud and persistent. Years and years of pent up secrecy, of pain, of long body checks in mirrors and pools, of hidden and regurgitated food, of meanly whispered words and condemnations….all of it spills out of you.

When the waves of grief finally cease, Asra just holds you.

‘He is still here?’ you think. ‘Why?’

You wait for abandonment. You know how that feels. That is familiar. Judgement is familiar. Pain is familiar. And you just know it is coming.

Yet, nothing happens. Asra continues to hold you. No one says a word.

Long heavy silence rings in the air before he finally speaks.

“Faust said…that you…after you ate the bread…”

You nod stiffly into his chest, sniffling.

“I don’t eat.” You say plainly. “I never eat. At least, I try. But then I do and I ruin myself.”

Asra cradles your face, peering at you.

“Ruin yourself? From one piece of pumpkin bread?”

You tear up again, certain that you look and sound a complete mess.

“You don’t understand,” you insist, “it’s because of me…! Anyone else could have it…but not me, because if I have it…I’ll g-g-g-g-” you can’t even get the words out. “I just can’t.”

“Is this just about the bread? Or other foods...?”

Your face wilts and you look down in shame.

He knows, then.

“How long have you felt like this...?”

You trace the floor, shaking your head.

“...Years. I’m so sorry.”

“What...? Why didn’t you tell me? I would’ve helped you. You know I would’ve—”

Your face twists and you close your eyes, tears spilling out.

“—It’s…it’s stupid…! It doesn’t even matter, I’ve been told so in the past…I’ve told others before, and nothing was done or I was criticized, or they left and I…I just was afraid that…you’d see how silly I was...how damaged I am….that you might leave…”

Asra pulls you so close to him that you can hear his heart thrum like a locomotive in his chest. He is worried sick over you, you suddenly realize.

“Look at me,” he demands, his voice so serious that you can recall nothing like it from all the years of knowing him.

You obey, eyes wide and watery.

“I will never leave you,” Asra promises so solemnly, that he sounds as if he is swearing an oath on his very soul. “I love you, do you understand that? You could change in a thousand ways and I’d still love you. You could fall for another and I’d still love you, and watch over you until we were all dust in the wind. You are the most important thing in my life and it’s my job to protect you, to uplift you. I don’t ever want you to think I would leave you. Especially not over something like this.”

“I-I’m sorry!” You plead for forgiveness for doubting his love. You know that he is loyal to you, you do. It’s just...the disorder makes it so difficult to think sometimes, to remember the truth. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have doubted you…I just…! I don’t know. I didn’t want to upset you...?”

“I am upset that I couldn’t have helped you with this sooner, that I didn’t realize. I should have realized...” Asra admits, frowning to himself. “But I can help you now. You’ve told me, and it’s alright now. We’ll face this together.”

You cling to Asra’s shirt like a lifeline, just breathing.

You know you have a long, difficult road to walk. You know it’s not as easy as finally getting the help and support you need, that there’s not a snap of fingers or a spell even that can speed this process for you. It can’t do the work for you.

You will have to learn how to eat without shame again. How to stop internalizing the pain and abandonment from the past. How to realize that pumpkin bread is just pumpkin bread, and that this was never about the food to begin with.

You will have to learn to look in a mirror and smile genuinely, even on the bad days. You will have to learn to eat food without calorie-counting, without crying.

You know there will be nights where you will fail, days where you stumble, and moments where you wish for nothing more but to be ill once again.

Asra can be there to hold your hand, to keep you steady, but he can’t do the work that you will have to do.

But you also know...

...you are worth it. A good life is worth it. A life with someone who cares for you, who loves you, is worth it. And deep down, you know that you care and love yourself, in a way, through all the pain.

You want to overcome. To heal.

Asra’s voice breaks you out of your trance.

“You’re not alone anymore. I’ll...I’ll write to Julian! And we’ll all come up with a plan, together. Okay? We can start today. Okay..?”

You keep your eyes locked on him, holding. Just holding.

“Okay. I’m ready.”

.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:.・゜゜・✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:・゜゜・．✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: *

AN: Do not under any circumstances copy, repost, or edit any of my work including this one. If you see someone do so, please let me know.

If any of you are interested in a short follow-up with Dr. Julian assisting you in overcoming ED, let me know.

☾ check my blog for more imagines.

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winnerwinnerthinner · 3 years

Text

im moving away from home for college in a month and a half and everything is so overwhelming. it's been a long time since i've been on here roughly two years ago and since then i've grown and bettered myself in many ways, but worsened in others. my eating habits went from highly restrictive to bingeing to bingeing and purging for many months until finally i found a happiness when my last year of secondary school began last autumn. i did weigh a few lbs more than my lowest weight but i was eating more and still keeping the weight off somehow, i also developed a higher confidence in myself and my wellbeing and i felt part of the friend group ive always wanted to be in. however not everything was perfect then, i was pining for a boy i reconnected with after two months of silence and we fell in love over the winter. we are together now and that is the best thing in the world to me. i love him with my whole heart and he loves me back just as much which has been and continues to be worth all of the waiting for. my college is where he lives so it seems that everything has worked out perfectly and i am so grateful for him in my life. i constantly worry about the future though and have a lot of anxiety about us being separated by things we can't control (such as the study abroad year in year 3 of our courses and his search for work in the orchestra industry). i wish i had such a passion for something specific like him. my course is not even definite for now as i still have to wait to find out if i even got accepted. i feel so disconnected from my friends ever since we came back to school after the second lockdown where all schools had to be closed. i keep thinking about gwen and how we became so close in so little time only to have the friendship become distanced..it makes me sad that one day i may see her from across campus and we won't say hi. it's weird how right people were when they said i would miss my school days. nostalgia is a strange feeling when things end without closure. i know i will find more like-minded people in college but i also can't help worrying that i won't and i never will. i know i should just live in the present and stop overthinking everything but i can never seem to find the way to do that. hopefully in time these things will be less negative than what i imagine and life will work itself out. i really hope that that's the case. maybe i can use this to grow more as a person and heal from whatever makes me this way. im still trying to both lose weight and sort out my disordered eating while finding self love in a permanent form so i'll take this place as a kind of step forward in a better direction from a bad place.

- sarah 30/07/21

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rockhoochie · 4 years

Text

Title: Anything and Everything

Link: On AO3

Square Filled: Tongue Fucking

Pairing: Dean Winchester/YN

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Fingering, Oral Sex (M/F), Tongue Fucking, Squirting, Unprotected Sex (seriously, just be safe), Marijuana, mention of prescription narcotic.

WC: 8,290

Created For @spnkinkbingo

A/N: Well...this escalated quickly! The story is told in alternating POV between Dean and Reader - Reader’s is regular text, Dean’s is italicized. I debated on splitting this into parts due to the word length, but...well, I’m impatient, and I’m really excited to share this with all of you! Plus, I think it flows better if it’s read all in one sitting 😉

This fic is dedicated to @fangirlxwritesx67 - remember that drabble prompt you sent me like, two months ago, that was Dean and reader laying on a comfortable floor, listening to music, and he starts playing with her hair, and they have a first kiss? Well, here’s your drabble 😄 Thank you for the inspiration!

And thank you everyone for reading! Drop me a line, let me know what you think - I love hearing from you ❤ ~Sarah

(’Lay Lady Lay’ music and lyrics © Bob Dylan, 1969)

I set a kettle on the stove to boil.

Thank god Donna has this place, and thank god that we were so close. We’ve been here for days now, nursing our wounds: Sam had a bruised rib and a nasty gash on his torso. Dean had a concussion and a dislocated shoulder. I'd been flung against a wall - I don’t remember much because I'd been knocked out hard, unconscious for hours - but by some miracle managed to come out of it with only a few ugly bruises and a migraine. Not our worst injuries by a longshot, but we’d figured since we had a home base, we may as well take advantage of it. We’d packed up yesterday, planning on heading out this morning, but an incoming snowstorm kept us from venturing out - it was half a day's drive, and even Dean couldn’t deny that the Impala doesn’t handle best on icy roads.

I like it here. It’s so quiet. And dark. No sirens or traffic, no various and questionable motel noises. No glare of city lights marring the night sky. The only light outside is coming from the moon, the only sounds are the ones I make. I look out the window, wondering when the storm will move in - the moon is full, its brightness gleaming off acres of driven snow that glints and glimmers against an indigo sky. Normally, a stillness like this is a warning, a silence this pure a screaming harbinger - but I don’t feel any threat here. No forebodings, no gut-nettling intuitions.

It’s peaceful. I’m peaceful. If I ever leave this life behind me, if I’m lucky enough to dodge all the bullets and claws and teeth and blades, I’ll settle somewhere up here, find a small house on a lake that’s tucked away from the rest of the world. He’d love that. And we could just be, live out our days and years together, work stupid pedestrian jobs to pay stupid everyday bills. I’ll plant a garden and he can restore classic cars while we raise a family and just...live...

The kettle sings and hisses, and outside, snow begins to fall in fat, feathery clusters. I pour the boiling water into a handmade, slightly lopsided clay mug that proudly proclaims “I Love Auntie Donna” in a childish script, dip and drown my tea bag, and shuffle back to my spot in the living room - my little nest in a gorgeous, hand-crafted rocking chair next to the fireplace. Donna told me her grandfather had made it, and every time I look at it, it astounds me that another human being created something so beautiful with his bare hands. Every nitch, nock, and spindle carefully considered and meticulously carved. Some of the stain has faded, and patches of lacquer have dulled, but that only adds to its beauty - you can tell this chair was loved.

The fire I’d built earlier is down to embers. I sit and stare into the blazing coals, sipping chamomile and scrying for answers to questions I don’t know. The room is warm, but I need something over my shoulders, need the weight of something wrapped around me. There’s a flannel draped over the back of the rocking chair...one of Dean’s flannels. And it’s my favorite of his, the dark red one that brings out his freckles and the deep jade of his eyes. I take it and slip my arms through the sleeves. It smells like him...like whiskey and wintergreen, leather and cotton, copper and cordite...

I catch myself before I start to fall too far. I need to pack up these thoughts and put them away where they belong before they start making me hopeful again.

I used to let myself get lost in them, let myself wander through giddy daydreams and float among sultry fantasies...I’d close my eyes at night and pretend Dean was by my side, just an arms reach away. I’d imagine it was his fingers pumping inside of me instead of mine, hear his voice in my head as I made myself come. Or I’d simply think about spending a day with him - walking through a park in autumn, stargazing on a summer night, cuddling and kissing on a rainy spring day. But after a while, when I’d accidentally found myself in love with him, I’d put all those dreams on the shelf; I'd only take them down when I was at my lowest and loneliest, grasping for a reason to keep going. There were a few times I’d thought about telling him, making a move...but Dean Winchester doesn’t need another complication. None of us do.

~*~

The shitty thing about being used to four hours of sleep is that when I actually get the chance for more, my brain doesn’t get on board. I came up here a couple of hours ago and I can’t seem to keep my eyes closed. Just keep staring at the ceiling and thinking about things I shouldn’t...

I love this place. It’s cold outside and the wind’s howlin’, but it’s damn cozy in here. If Hell ever gets a blast of Minnesota weather - and I can pack it in, leave the life - I’m getting a place like this. Hell, I’d build it myself, make it just the way we want it. We could move out here, where it’s almost backcountry, leave all the bad times behind us. It’s gonna be on a lake though - I’ll get a boat and go fishing all the time, teach our kids all the tricks to hooking the big ones...

Jesus, knock it off, Winchester. Like she’d let you screw up her life more than you already have.

YN's moving around downstairs. I should see what she’s up to, see if she’s feelin’ okay or wants any company...nah, I should just leave her alone. She got her bell rung bad the other day and it scared the shit outta me...I kinda lost it and yelled at her like a total asshole. I don’t get why I do that. Gun to my head, I guess it’s cause it seems simpler that way - rather piss her off and keep her from getting too close, instead of admitting out loud how I feel about her and watch her run for the hills.

She was in and out of it for almost two days, and I’d stayed with her as much as I could, at least till Sam would bark at me to eat or sleep. She’d used herself as bait - again- and I fucking hate it when she puts herself in the line of fire like that. I can’t stand it when she gets hurt, and this last time was...pretty bad. But she’s stubborn as hell, can’t be talked out of anything she’s already set her mind to. Actually thought she was gonna punch me when I got in her face, but I escaped with only a “fuck off, Dean”.

And I suppose those are some of the reasons my dumb ass went and fell ass over tea kettle for her - her grit and her style, the way she can dish it as good she takes it, how she handles either a gun or a blade with this almost unnatural grace... one day, I watched her make salt rounds for an hour and it was one of the most spectacular things I’d ever seen - she was in this total zone, her forehead creased in concentration, and lips mouthing the words to a song I can't hear, growling out the cutest “fuck” or “son of a bitch” if she messed up.

She’s the best part of my day - whether it’s seein’ her all cranky and bleary-eyed in the morning, passed out over a pile of books in the library, or bent over a pool table while she hustles townies - I can’t think of a better sight. And her laugh is goddamn music to ears. Her eyes, her smile...her anything and everything keeps me going. I can be two seconds away from checkin’ out, but one look at her reminds me that it's all worth it, worth every drop of blood, sweat, and tears.

Christ, just thinking about her like this is making my dick twitch. Doesn’t help that she laid in this bed the last few days because I can still smell her. Her perfume or soap or whatever she uses is fucking delicious, a mix of spice and spring flowers and brown sugar that sticks to her skin and practically makes my mouth water, makes me wanna taste her…

Fuck, now I’m hard. I think about jerking off for a minute, but instead I think about that time Cas showed up in my car naked and covered with bees and swing my legs off the bed. No sense in just layin’ here, thinkin’ about things that’ll never happen. I grab my duffel and pull out my flask (not much left in there, maybe two or three shots) and some clothes. Gonna check out the room down the hall that’s got one of those old school record players. Maybe some good tunes will calm me down, get my mind off things. Off of her. I turn to leave but then I remember- there’s a little something in my bag I’ve been hangin' on to. I dig through all my crap and find it in the inside pocket. Awesome. Screw consciousness, I’m gettin’ high.

~*~

I hear footfalls against the ceiling - one of them’s awake. It could be Sam, but I know it’s Dean - I know his stride, his tread. And I also know Sam conceded to the pain and downed an extra dose of Percocet, so he’s all but dead to the world for the next six hours.

We all have problems sleeping, each have our lion’s share of blood-and- gore-laden nightmares, but Dean’s always seem worse. They take a bigger toll on him. He wakes up screaming more often, drenched in a cold sweat with his sheets flung from the bed. Sometimes I hear him shouting in the middle of the night and it breaks my fucking heart.

Maybe I’ll go see if he’s alright, if there’s anything I can do for him... I hope he’s not still pissed at me for what happened on the hunt. Sam told me it was just because I’d scared him, because he cares about me, that it’s just easier for Dean to blow up instead of break down. But dammit I wish he’d open up, just a little. There were a couple of nights he and I had spent just hanging out together, nights where whiskey was flowing and secrets were shared...but right when it seemed like he was going to let me in on what was really going on in his head, he’d stopped himself, drained his glass, and said goodnight.

I know what he’s been through. Or rather, I know of what he's been through. It would be sacrilege for me to even try to begin to empathize. I know about things he’s done, his devils and deeds that are unforgivable in most circles but necessary in ours.

Dean is a good man. Everything he’s done has been a labor of love, a sacrifice. I know he doubts himself constantly and I know he hurts, vehemently and deeply. But if he’d just let me in, if I could love him the way he deserves, I’d do anything and everything I could to take all that pain and somehow dull it. Sometimes I can actually get a smile out of him and it’s one of the most marvelous things I’ve ever seen - when the corners of his green eyes crinkle and his teeth peek out from behind those ridiculously perfect lips...god, it’s beautiful. He is beautiful, inside and out and I wish he could see that.

Now I’m wide awake. My tea’s gone cold, and I’ve spent too much time wallowing in these thoughts that shouldn’t be wallowed in, and I’m not quite sure what to do with myself. I glance out a window and watch the now steadily falling snow, listen to the wind whip and whistle through the frigid night air. Sitting here in the dark alone with all of these thoughts has become too lonely. There’s a room upstairs, a little den with a couple of chairs and one of those huge console record players...I’ll grab that book I’ve been meaning to read and hang out in there, let some music fill the quiet and the story busy my brain.

I take my mug to the kitchen, place it in the sink, and pull Dean’s flannel around me tighter. Hopefully, he won’t mind if I borrow it for the night. This way, I can be close to him without ruining things.

Music echoes down the staircase and I recognize the tune as I get closer to its source. Bob Dylan. Nashville Skyline, I think. Dim, golden light beckons me to follow and leads me to a doorway. I look down and find him lying on the floor, with his ankles crossed, and one arm bent behind his head, blowing a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.

“Hey,” I whisper, and he turns his face toward me, looking up at me with mellow eyes and an easygoing smile.

“Hey yourself. Can’t sleep?”

I shake my head. “Thought I’d come in here and check out Donna’s music collection. But I see you had the same idea, so -”

“So? Come on in, stay awhile.” He pats the floor beside him, then holds up the joint fastened between his fingers. “It’d be a lot cooler if you did.”

I should really go, leave him to his own devices, avoid torturing myself. But before reason has any chance to intervene, I find myself lying next to him. He’s more of a drug to me than the smoke I’m sucking through my lips. I want to stay away, I should stay away, but I can’t fucking help myself. So like a good little junkie I give in, tell myself this is no big deal, that I can go back to not thinking about him tomorrow.

~*~

I’m so glad she decided to stay.

I don’t know if it’s the weed or the cold, dark night or what it is, but when I saw her standing there, all I wanted was to just have her near me. Even if all I get to do is hear her voice or just feel her presence next to me...well, I’ll take it. It’s not like this anything new, we’ve hung out like this plenty of times...though it’s times like this when I get so comfortable around her, that I really gotta reign it in and make sure I keep my damn mouth shut. And it never seems to get easier - like right now. She’s humming along to the music, making up her own words here and there and playing air guitar and it’s friggin’ adorable. She really is one in a million and if things were different, I’d hold on to her and never let go.

Somethin’ Sam said a while back pops into my head - somethin’ about finding someone who knows the life - and for a second I think maybe things don’t need to be different. Maybe we could make it work. But then I remember I’m toxic. Even for a hunter I drink too much, have too many fucked up thoughts, done way too many fucked up things. No, she deserves someone good, someone better than me. I can’t even believe she’s stuck around for this long. Sometimes I just look at her and wanna scream, “run”, before she gets hurt. I’ve accepted that I’ll never get the happily ever after but she shouldn’t. She can still get out, have a real life, meet someone who’ll give her everything and make her happy. Never in my life will I be able to give that to anyone - it just ain’t in the cards for me.

Then she looks at me, passes me the joint with this sweet smile, and all those thoughts just fade away. And I wonder - like I wonder almost every night - how her lips would feel against mine.

Sam keeps tellin’ me that I’m an idiot, that she really likes me, that I should go for it. And for a minute, I actually think about it, cause the way she’s lookin’ at me right now is downright incredible - she actually looks happy to be here, with me.

Is she?

Truth is I'm selfish. And a bit of a coward. I'm too afraid to love anyone because I'm too afraid to lose them. Everyone I've ever lost took a piece of me with them and I ain't got much left. If anything ever happened to YN, I’d be done. She’d take the last of me.

I’m feelin’ a little goofy. Not stoned or anything, but definitely running out of fucks to give. Then I glance at her and notice she’s wiggling out of her button-down.. .my button-down. She rolls it up, tucks it beneath her head, and stretches back out on the floor. Her tank top is creeping up over her stomach a little bit, and it’s stretched tight over her tits and she’s got nothin’ on underneath…

I swallow hard and bite down on my lip cause I’m this close to just flat-out telling her I love her.

~*~

Part of me wants to tell Donna she desperately needs to redecorate this room...but the other, the part of me that's stretched out on the floor, listening to classic 33s and getting high with Dean, is perfectly content with the old-school kitsch. The shag carpeting we’re laying on is surprisingly comfortable; The color (what is this, ocher? Chartreuse?) - shouldn’t be allowed to exist, but the long polyester threads sprawling beneath us are soothing in a way. The light is low, flickering from two vintage oil lamps that stand on each end of the console, and casts shadows beneath its warm glow.

Dean looks like he’s about to say something, but the last song has ended and skipped into a static scratch. He hoists himself up to flip the record, and I perch on my elbows and just...admire him. He’s different here. I’ve seen him lounge around the bunker during downtime but tonight he actually seems powered-down, carefree. There's something almost magical about what the calm does to him, how it lifts the weight he carries. His shoulders are relaxed, his movements languid, unhurried and uncalculated, eyes bright and serene. And he looks so fucking good, wearing a well-worn and well-fitting Zeppelin t-shirt that he must've had since before he’d built up his muscle. Softened and faded jeans cover his bowed legs and hang low on his hips, and I don’t think he’s got anything on underneath because I get a glimpse at the cut of his abs and...

I wish I could tell him how amazing he is, how much he makes me smile, how much I love him; I wish I could show him, hold him, kiss him and just love him with everything I have...

The music starts back up and oh my god… he’s dancing. It’s really more of a slow-motion Elvis maneuver, but it’s the closest thing to dancing I’ve ever seen Dean do. Every tick of his hips pulls the fabric of his jeans perfectly across his ass, and I shouldn't be thinking about him this way but he’s just so mesmerizing…

And then he turns and faces me with his best impression of his best Bob Dylan.

Lay lady lay,

Lay across my big brass bed

Lay lady lay,

Lay across my big brass bed...

I throw my head back and laugh, not because he’s being ridiculous, but because he’s being so goddamn perfect. And the joy I thought I’d lost the day I cocked my first shotgun is bubbling up and making me giddy. Or it’s him. Or it could just be the pot. This is a side of him that no one gets to see, not even his brother. I can give him this, a place to let go of it all and just be Dean Winchester for a little while. He’s easy here, content, and he actually seems happy that I decided to stay.

Is he?

He claims his spot beside me again, settling in just a little closer. He's still singing to me and I'm still giggling…

Whatever colors you have in your mind

I show them to you and you see them shine

Lay lady lay

Lay across my big brass bed

Somehow his hand found mine, and he's tracing my knuckles with one calloused fingertip. I take it in mine and glance down at the connection, marveling at how small my hand is in his but how perfectly it fits. His hand is so gentle, warm and solid...it’s hard to believe how often his palm has bled, how many triggers his fingers have pulled, how many bones his fist has shattered.

He shifts, rolls to his side, and gazes down at me while he keeps up his serenade.

Stay lady stay

Stay with your man a while

Until the break of day

Let me see you make him smile

I grin as he brushes my hair from my face, tucks a few strands behind my ear, winds a section around his fingers. Then I see something in his face that’s never been there before - a shade of color reflecting from his eyes that's deep and rich and vibrant…

His clothes are dirty but his, his hands are clean

And you are the best thing that he's ever seen

Stay lady stay

Stay with your man a while

The way he's muttering the lyrics...it’s so sincere, like he means every single word. The warmth of his body is just out of my reach, and the low timbre of his voice begins to resonate through my veins, nestling into a locked corner of my soul.

Why wait any longer for the world to begin

You can have your cake and eat it too

Why wait any longer for the one you love

When he's standing in front of you

He’s still playing with my hair, pushing any stray strands from my face…my eyes flutter closed and his touch becomes something warmer, softer. Delicate, intentional kisses pepper my cheekbones, my temples, my forehead...

Lay lady lay

Lay across my big brass bed

Stay lady stay

Stay while the night is still ahead

I feel his thumb and forefinger catch and tilt my chin, and I open my eyes. He’s so close now, close enough that if I rolled on my side I’d roll into him, that if I lifted my head just an inch...

I long to see you in the morning light

I long to reach for you in the night

Stay lady stay

Stay while the night is still ahead

The silent formation of the last few lyrics are the first thing I feel and then his lips are fully on mine, barely grasped between his and I've never felt something so tender and genuine carry itself with so much force. He's cradling my cheek and his kiss feels tentative, uncertain - but at the same time teeming with need, as though he’s waiting for my approval while praying with everything he’s got that I’ll grant it. So I lean into him, slide my fingers along the short hairs on the back of his neck, and pull him closer.

~*~

Maybe it was the weed, the music, the way the light reflected off her… whatever it was, it just took over. She looked too soft and too damn perfect, layin’ there and smiling that smile. And I thought about the other day when she was lying unconscious on that blood-stained, concrete floor, and the way my guts twisted at the thought of losing her…

I just couldn’t do it anymore.

I couldn't go one more night without telling her exactly how much she means to me. And it was a cheesy way to do it, singing to her like that, but Bob knew all the right things to say.

I actually can't even believe she's kissing me right now, that she pulled me close and wrapped her arms around me. Part of me thinks she's nuts - she's gotta know I got nothing to offer her, that she deserves so much better- better than me, better than this life. I can’t promise her anything - can’t promise a future or comfort... but if she lets me, I can promise to love her, to kiss her with everything I’ve got every chance I get, to hold her close and protect her... even if it’s just for tonight.

She makes a little sound and arches her body into mine. I don’t know how far this is gonna go, but I’ll take my time getting there. This may just be a fluke, a one-time thing. Or maybe it’s not, maybe I’m the luckiest bastard on the fucking planet...either way, I want to savor every second.

I keep the kisses slow, open-mouthed and gentle. But then I feel her tongue slide along my lower lip and I can’t help but slip mine against hers. This feels so good, just kissing her like this, tasting her and feeling her beneath me. She’s running her fingers through my hair, rolling her hips every now and then, sliding her hand down my side and across my back. I kiss her harder, deeper. She’s moving more, breathing faster, making these quiet little whimpers. I break away and look at her, smoothing some of her hair away from her beautiful face. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are half-closed and right at this moment she could ask me to shoot the moon and I’d kill it dead.

Her hand brushes my cheek and she pushes into me, silently begging me to keep going.

“You sure?” I whisper in her ear, kissing the space just behind it.

She nods and mutters “please,” and I move my lips down her neck. Her body trembles when I land on the spot where her neck curves into her shoulder - I give her skin there a little nip and she gasps... fuck, I need to hear that sound over and over. I’m gonna map her entire body, figure out just the right way to touch her. Run my hands over every point, plane and curve, find every spot that makes her moan and quiver and sigh. I wanna drown, lose myself in her. I want her to know that I know how special she is, that I get how lucky I am to be with her tonight, that I understand what she’s giving me. I kneel between her legs, take hold of her wrists, and slowly push her arms above her head.

I need to see and feel and taste every single inch of her and I’m not gonna be quick about it.

~*~

First kisses are usually awkward. Heads bump, teeth collide, hands float and fumble while they try to find a comfortable place to land.

So I don’t know if it’s dumb luck, or just that I’ve practiced this so many times in my mind, but we find a rhythm instantly and we fit, like we’ve known all along exactly how to kiss each other. It’s so perfect that I almost laugh out loud, dumbfounded that I ever thought that we shouldn’t do this. Our kiss is absolute, passionate and all-consuming, and sending every neuron in my brain firing into a tailspin.

I never want to stop kissing him.

My arms are above my head and he's teasing me, softly kneading my breasts over my top, flicking at the stiff peaks of my nipples. I lower my hands to pull at our shirts, to let him know I need to feel his touch on my bare skin, but he gently curls his fingers around my wrists again and guides them back up.

"Let me," he murmurs, sliding his palm down my breastbone, over my stomach and finally beneath my top. “Just... let me…”

Right as he cups my breast and traps my nipple between his fingers he’s kissing me again, swallowing every sound he’s pulling from me. I melt into him, into his kiss, into his touch. He pushes my tank top over my head and then his lips are on my neck, my collarbone, my shoulders. My forearms and fingers are dotted with kisses, along with my hips and navel, and then he’s peeling off my leggings, never once taking his eyes off of me. I’m completely bare beneath him and he’s biting his lower lip, running his hands from each of my ankles to my calves, my knees, my thighs...he looks as though he can’t decide if he wants to ravish me or revere me.

He settles for a smooth, easy assault, touching and kissing me everywhere, lingering whenever I cry out or sigh. I’ve never felt like this, never felt so...worshipped. His fingers and lips glide along my body as though I’m a delicate thing - carefully, thoroughly, and completely. My skin feels taut, chilled and tingling, but my blood is pumping hot and fast beneath. And when his tongue swirls around my nipple, and he takes it between his teeth, I swear to god I’d come right now if he told me to.

I know I’m wet, I can feel it, hot and dripping and my cunt is clenching, clit throbbing with a deep, insistent ache that almost hurts. Dean is everywhere, exploring and marking and claiming, until I hear myself begging, pleading...I need to feel him inside of me. I need him to unravel me, to make me come undone.

~*~

The way she looks right now is so goddamn glorious, she doesn’t seem real. She’s ruddy and glowing, twisting beneath me, chanting my name and begging with kiss-swollen lips. I let my hand slide between her legs, run a finger between her folds and christ - she is so fucking wet. She lifts her knees and spreads wide open for me and I dip just the tip of one finger inside. She ruts forward and I push two fingers all the way into her tight, hot pussy and fucking hell, she feels smoother than silk. I keep it slow, steady, loving the way her eyes roll back when I flick my thumb over her clit, and the way her tongue darts between her parted lips as I twist my fingers inside her cunt, searching for that spot...

Her eyes go wide when I find it, and her neck arches back and her hands fist the carpet. She’s quietly moaning and cursing and pushing herself down, fucking herself on my fingers. I catch her scent and some animal urge takes over me; I pull my fingers from her, bring them to my mouth and suck them clean. She's like fucking nectar and I’ve never tasted anything so good and all I want is more…

I pull my shirt over my head, push my jeans off, press her thighs as far open as she can spread them - god, her pussy is perfect, so pink and slick - and take a long, slow taste. She moans, low and long, breathing out a desperate “fuck, yes…” as she cards her fingers through my hair. And I growl, I fucking growl like a goddamn dog, and drive my tongue into her dripping hole. She hooks one leg over my shoulder and tilts her hips and I grab on to her ass and hold her up. I lick her deep, thrusting and flicking and swirling my tongue, filling my mouth with the flavor of her, then I peer up at her and...My. Fucking. God, she’s a vision. She’s shaking, twitching and gasping when my nose bumps her clit...

I slip my tongue from her cunt, ease her down and spread her open with my fingers, lapping at her folds, her entrance, her clit. Then I take that sensitive little bud between my lips and suck and holy shit, the fucking sound she makes...I gotta make her come. I need to see it, feel it, hear it.

But first I drag my mouth up her body, stopping to nip at her neck before landing on her lips. She licks into my mouth instantly, sucks at my lower lip, pushes her tongue against mine and I can tell she’s about to lose her mind.

~*~

I'd been in more than one motel room next to Dean's. And I'd always rolled my eyes, convinced that whatever girl he'd brought back with him was just putting on a show, playing porn star with their over-the-top wailing.

They weren't screaming loud enough.

“Can you taste yourself, baby?” he purrs between kisses, "You taste how fuckin' delectable your pussy is? So hot and sweet...” and I moan into his mouth. He slips his fingers back inside and curls them, nudging my sweet spot. “Want you come, YN…wanna make you fall apart..."

I'm biting my lip to keep from crying out too loudly, stifling the urge to scream because the pleasure he's giving me is so complete and consuming. I swear he knows my body better than I do. He's found places on me and inside of me that feel like they've never been touched until tonight. I'd thought maybe I was hypersensitive, so eager and thrilled that this was finally happening, but no - everything he does is deliberate. He finds a spot and knows whether to bite or kiss, push or pull, grind or slide, when to do it all at once or not at all. Every touch, every stroke sparks my nerves and ignites my cells and I'm down to my last fragments of control. I am utterly at his mercy, reduced to a writhing, wanton mess as his fingers slide inside of me, hitting my g-spot with incredible marksmanship. Then his lips land on my clit again, and...oh God. Oh my fucking god…

It starts in my belly, a molten heat simmering in my core, wavering a scant wavelength away from a fever pitch. It’s hot and thrumming and growing in speed and intensity until it can't be contained anymore. It bolts through me, hot and hard like an electric current and I go rigid as I come, the torrents of bliss saturating every molecule of my body. And then Dean is up on his knees, three fingers deep in my sodden cunt, his other hand laying flat on my lower stomach and muttering "Come on baby,...let go…let go for me…" Either I'm still coming or I'm coming again, hard and completely, and a quiet pull snaps from someplace deep inside... I completely shatter, so stunned with the sensation that I open my mouth in a silent scream as my cum splashes against his hand.

~*~

I tuck back down between her legs and softly lap at the stray drops sticking to her thighs. I’m about to go crazy - I’m hungry, starving for her, and I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking hard in my life.

I lay beside her, trace shapes on her collarbone, and watch her as she comes down - the way her tits rise and fall with every breath, the way her throat flexes when she swallows, the way the lamplight dances off her sweat-sheened skin. Her eyes are closed, mouth slightly opened, and her tongue sneaks out every now and then across her lips. Of all the ways I’ve ever seen YN, this has to be the absolute, bar-none best. She’s like a living statue or a painting, some kind of work of art. A goddamn masterpiece.

I don’t want to stop touching her. Right now, I don’t even think I could. She shudders and opens her eyes when I gently trace a wet finger along her cheek. Then she grabs my wrist, pulls my hand to her mouth, and wraps her lips around the fingers I used to fuck her. She sucks and licks, and all I can do is groan as my fingers slide along her tongue. I gotta distract myself or I’m gonna shoot off right now like a teenager…

I take my fingers back and move to hover over her, and catch her lips in mine again. Kissing her is so...it just feels right. Like hers are the only lips I ever need to kiss again. If this is all we do for the rest of the night - hell, for the rest of our lives, I’d be one hundred percent happy. But as we kiss, she starts to whimper, moan...and then I feel her fingertips skitter down my torso and brush against my cock. And I can’t help it, I grunt out a “fuck, YN” and chase her touch. She drags her thumb, then her palm against the tip of my dick, smears precome around my shaft then wraps me in her fingers. I bite my lip and rock into her fist while she strokes me, trying like hell not to lose it any time she gives the slightest squeeze. I can feel her breath on my face and I’m starting to fall into the rhythm, getting lost in her touch and the heat of her body beneath me…

Then in the flash of a second, she hooks a leg around my waist, shifts her weight and turns, and has me on my back. She's straddling me, and I watch her slick pussy drag along my cock while my hands slide up her thighs and grip her hips. My eyes wander, slowly, up her body, marveling at her shape and color and just the mere sight of her swaying over me. My eyes meet hers and then...I'm trapped. Hypnotized. Being here with this woman is like nothing I've ever seen or felt before, and there's some part of me that knows I'll never feel this way about anyone ever again.

~*~

My gaze meets his and I'm struck...with exactly what, I don't know. It's thrilling and terrifying at the same time but most of all it's certain; This is exactly where I'm meant to be, astride this beautiful man who’s lying beneath me, stripped of all his layers, and I can feel the moment he surrenders. His mind and his body, his control and his chaos, his pleasure and his pain, all together unfettered and unfurled.

Potent and fervent primal desire sets in and overtakes me; I want to claim him, feel his skin between my teeth, taste the salt of his sweat.

I shift to my knees, slot myself between his open legs and lean forward, pressing myself against the solid heat of his bare chest, and catch his lips in a quick but ravenous kiss. He tries to chase it but I pull away, letting one hand slide up his sternum, splaying my fingers over his throat. I fist his hard, dripping cock in my free hand and stroke. He breathes out my name with a curse and his head hits the floor as my mouth latches on to his neck.

Releasing my hold on him, my lips move from his neck to his collarbone, down and across his chest, following the blueprint of bruises, scratches, and scars until my nose brushes against the thatch of dark hair between his legs.

I flatten my tongue and lick his thick cock from base to tip, then take just the crown between my lips and gently suck. The taste of his precome fills my mouth and he moans and trembles, exhaling a long, deeply held breath as he laces his fingers in my hair. I take him all the way then, as far as I can, until I feel him hit the back of my throat. I hold him there and swallow, let him feel the soft flex around his shaft. I slide up and down slowly, stroking the inches that can’t slide down my throat with one hand, and cup his balls in the other. He whimpers, high-pitched and desperate, and the mere sound of that sends drops of arousal trickling down my thighs while my cunt clenches and quivers. His grip on my head tightens and I keep steady, caressing and taking him deep, and let the tip of one finger press against his perineum.

His body tenses and I peer up at him - the muscles of his abs are twitching, his neck is arched back, the tendons there strained and taut, jaw clenched, and teeth bared...he’s holding back, trying not to come. He hisses out a breath and gently tugs my hair, urging me to let him slip from my mouth. “Fuck, YN”, he breathes, and I walk my hands alongside of him, gliding my body against his and brush his lips with a gossamer kiss.

We both breathe hard, panting, fingers tangling in each other’s hair, hips rolling, hearts racing. His hard, thick length is sliding against the soaked lips of my pussy, the head of his cock nudging my throbbing clit. I look into the dark forest of his eyes, he places his hand on my cheek and suddenly there’s a surge - a swift and commanding energy that surrounds us, tangible and unconditional.

Our gaze locks as I raise my hips. He grips his cock, lines up at my entrance, and I sink down slowly, relishing every inch that stretches me open, my moan echoing his until I’m completely filled with him.

~*~

It’s almost too much.

She’s so warm, so wet, and so fucking tight...I swear I blackout for a second. It’s taking everything I got to hold on, and every ounce of control I can muster when she starts to move.

She’s groaning and sighing, and the way she’s breathing my name is like a siren’s song. I let her set the pace, tilt my hips to push into her as she rides me, find her hand and lace my fingers through hers. She fucks me slow, lets her head fall back and lays her free hand on my chest. Reaching up, I slide my hand between her tits, pinch and tug one nipple between my thumb and forefinger, and she lets out the most beautiful cry I’ve ever heard. And that sound wakes up the damn animal in me and I thrust into her, as deep as I can. I want her to fucking explode, feel her cunt throbbing tight around my dick and soaking me with her cum.

She pulls her hand from mine and moves it between her legs. I pinch her nipple again and she gasps as her body trembles, and I know she’s getting close. “Gonna come for me, YN?” I snarl, and she stills - her head falls back again and her fingers work faster, and I’m so caught up in her that I just start babbling. “Fuck yeah, YN, fucking come all over my cock…that’s my girl...” I pound into her faster as she gets tighter and wetter and then I feel it, her walls clenching and her cum dripping, her body finally going rigid as her orgasm tears through her.

I slow down and ease her through it, trace my fingertips over the curves of her glowing body and take in how absolutely stunning she is right now - her hair all mussed and tangled, her skin flushed pink, her lips bright red and swollen. Her eyes open and she grins down at me, the lazy roll of her hips picking up speed and I just...fucking...can't anymore.

I throw my arms around her and pull her against me, kissing her sweet lips as I roll us over. She arches into me, takes my face in her hands and purrs "...want it all inside me...I wanna feel your cum dripping from my cunt…" and holy goddamn shit, I'm gonna give her everything she wants.

She raises her knees and hooks her legs around mine, digs her heels into the back of my thighs, squeezes the walls of her pussy around me and I’m gone - all I feel is her silky wet heat, and all I can smell and taste is her sex and I drive in, fast and steady until I can’t hang on anymore. I let go and my world stops, every living fiber of my being at a standstill as I come with a shout. I thrust hard and deep and spill every drop inside of her, pumping her full as she fingers herself to another climax.

I rest my forehead against hers as we both catch our breath. She curls one hand around my waist and the other around the back of my shoulder, raking her fingernails gently along the base of my scalp. I kiss her, soft and quick, and pull out of her, rolling on to my back while I gather her in my arms.

I glance out the window. The snow’s still falling and the sun’ll start rising soon. The record is long over and skipping, and YN grips me tighter and shivers. “Hey, sweetheart...let me up,” I say, kissing her forehead. She groans but lets me go and I sit up, lean down to kiss her again and hop to my feet. I lift the needle off the record and find a quilt that’s tossed over one of the chairs. YN's curled on her side, and I can hardly wait to get back to her. I cover us both, pull her close, and I stare at her until I just can't keep my eyes open anymore. We drift off in each other’s arms and the last thought I think is a little prayer - that this is how I’ll fall asleep every night for the rest of my life.

~*~

I can’t remember who said it first. All I know is that it was suddenly there, as though it always had been, free falling from our lips as we moved and moaned and came together.

We’d awoken several times, one of us roused by a kiss or touch from the other, neither of us willing nor able to let it end without making love one more time.

The storm has finally passed. Sunshine beams across an azure sky and reflects with blinding brilliance off acres of freshly fallen snow. I peek out the kitchen window and catch a glimpse of Sam standing near the garage, up to his knees in icy white powder.

I set a kettle on the stove to boil.

“Look like we ain’t goin' anywhere any time soon,” Dean says, coming up behind me and circling his arms around me. He moves my hair away from my neck and nips at the exposed skin.

I lean against him and cover his clasped hands with mine. “Can’t say I’m all that disappointed.”

He hums and kisses my cheek, then moves his hands to rest on the swell of my belly.

“Your old man's gonna teach you how to make the best snowballs, kid. Knock your Uncle Sammy right off his ass.”

I giggle and spin around, draping my arms over Dean’s shoulders. “Big talk coming from the man who got a black eye during last year’s snowball fight.”

“That was a fluke. She had an unfair advantage.”

"She's less than half your size!”

“Exactly.”

The door opens and Sam trudges in, shaking and stomping the snow from his legs, laughing as he's nearly knocked over by a whirling, bright pink dervish of weatherproof polyester.

Our daughter runs over to us, cheeks rosy and nose runny from the cold, her apple-green eyes as big as sledding saucers.

“Mommy, Daddy, guess what?! We had a snowball fight and I won!”

“Ho ho! That’s my awesome little girl!” Dean cheers, scooping her up in his arms and swinging her through the air. He rests her on his hip, and they trade an Eskimo kiss. “Let’s go tell your Auntie Eileen and your baby cousin all about how you kicked your Uncle Sammy’s a - uh, butt.”

He sets her down and helps her unlace her boots while she tosses her hat and mittens to the floor. “Yeah, I kicked his ass!” she beams, and the three supposed adults in the room have to bite back their laughter.

“Yep,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Definitely a Winchester. No two ways...”

Once she's out of her boots and winter overall, she runs to Sam, grabs his thumb with her small hand and pulls him through the kitchen. Her tiny footsteps pelt up the stairs, layered with gleeful giggles. Then, with all the vivacity of her five years, she shrieks in triumph, “I beat you again, Uncle Sammy! I win again!”

Dean grins wide, pulls me back into his arms, and catches my lips in a kiss that teems with the same intense passion as the first one he ever gave me. And in seconds I’m melting, into his kiss, into him... into memories of a snowstorm and shag carpeting, the smoke of purple kush and the flicker of oil lamp flames, the pedal steel guitar riff of Lay Lady Lay and Dean’s hip-swaying serenade...

He breaks away, brushes a section of my hair away from my brow and tucks it behind my ear. Then he looks into my eyes with unwavering conviction and repeats the promise he’s made me every day since he took my hand in his - a promise that's as simple as it is complex, selfish yet altruistic, sometimes dubious but always definite, and anything and everything in between:

“I love you, YN.”

~Fin

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makinglifebetter · 3 years

Text

Hi. Hello. And welcome.

This blog will be about changes I need to make in my life. Below the cut *points to the 'keep reading' below* I'll explain in more detail.

If you don't want to read about the changes I'll be making, you can check out my TikTok and see them in action.

When I opened my TikTok account over a year ago, it was just so I could follow my favorite creators. But over the past several months, it has become clear that I need to make some major changes in my life. I need to be held accountable to make, and stick with, those changes. And what better way, than by putting it all out there for complete strangers to see?

I don't expect anyone to like or follow, this is one hundred percent for me. So, please, do not feel obligated to like or follow.

On to the reason for these changes.

I always say that I've always been overweight, but that's just not true. I have pictures of myself where I am a normal weight. I didn't actually start putting on the pounds until two things happened: 1) I hit puberty (or rather it hit me) and 2) I was diagnosed as having scoliosis.

I was told that my curvature was just a couple of degrees shy of needing surgery but was low enough on my spine to not need the brace that went up my neck (I remember looking at the x-ray and wondering how I wasn't a hunchback).

I was required to wear the brace twenty-three hours a day. That included gym class and bathing (according to my mother). It was incredibly uncomfortable and I hated the way it was obvious I was wearing it.

I became an introvert because of it.

My weight has fluctuated over the years, as most overweight people's weight has. When I graduated from high school, I was at my lowest. Several years ago I found out I was at my highest.

February 14, 2020, started as any other day. But when I got up to get ready for work, the room spun a bit. I suffer from vertigo so thought nothing of it. Until I was standing at the sink, brushing my teeth. The attack was so bad, I was clutching the counter to keep from falling down.

I texted my boss (luckily she also suffers from vertigo). She told me to rest and feel better.

As the day went on, I started to cough and I knew that meant I was getting my yearly cold. Now, I rarely get sick the same time every year. I usually get sick between September and December with November being the month I get sick the most often. I had my yearly cold in February of 2015 and it turned into pneumonia (the week I moved into this apartment). One memorable year, I had it the week of my birthday. In July.

I cannot remember if I told my mother and daughter I was calling off sick. But the next day, my mother called me. As soon as I answered she told me to call the doctor and she would take me.

While there, they became concerned about my blood pressure. They were afraid I would either have a heart attack or stroke out. So, they sent us to the emergency room.

While at the clinic, they did a rapid strep and a rapid flu test. Both came back negative.

At the hospital, they did the tests again. The nurse that did the swab, shoved it so roughly down my throat, I threw up all over myself.

Those tests also came back negative.

My mother says they told her I had the flu but none of my paperwork says that. Sepsis is all over my paperwork, but other than the negative flu test, it's not mentioned. I think I might have had COVID but since I got on broad-spectrum antibiotics early, it wasn't able to truly infect me.

They admitted me and began treating me for high blood pressure and type 2 diabetes. And something about my good cholesterol being too low?

I felt fine until early evening on Sunday. I'm not sure what time I fell asleep, but it was early. I think I woke briefly Monday morning and moved from the bed to the chair. But then I slept all of Monday. Or rather, I couldn't open my eyes and interact with the doctors and nurses. Until late afternoon. I woke up, my mother convinced me to order something to eat (I ordered toast and ate half of one slice), and then I was asleep again a little after seven (I know based on what was on the TV at the time).

Tuesday I was fine. It was like nothing had happened the day before. In fact, they discharged me that evening.

While in the hospital, I lost thirty pounds. Then lost another nine pounds over the next few months. But then I put some back on. I am currently (as of 7/15/21) four pounds heavier than when I left the hospital in February of 2020 which, considering how I eat, is something of a mystery to me.

My A1C is still over seven and my readings, while consistently under 150, are not where me or my doctor want them.

I told her that I want to lose twenty pounds and not have to take insulin before a meal by the time I see her again in October. The only way I can make that happen is by changing how I eat (something I already started). I know I need to exercise as well, but I don't really have room for that.

So, starting tomorrow, I will be posting TikToks of my glucose readings and what I'm eating. And of my attempts at getting my house cleaner.

And the other reason for the change is I have been in this horrible place six years too long (I moved in in February of 2015) and I am more than ready to move.

But I have a bug problem. I know I have contributed to it, I'm not the best housekeeper, but a lot of it is from when a neighbor moved out two or three years ago.

Before I move, I want to be as bug free as I can be so that I don't risk taking any of them with me.

I have tried in the past to have someone hold me accountable but it didn't really work. They never asked for pictures and if I said I didn't feel well, they didn't tell me to do at least the dishes or pick up trash. I'm not putting all the blame on them, I am the one who didn't want to clean and knew they wouldn't tell me I needed to despite not wanting to.

So, I will post at least three vids a day, with the exception of when I go out to eat or to do my laundry at my mother's. I will still take a screenshot of my glucose reading, but I won't be showing what I ate. I don't really want to have to explain it to my parents.

If you want, you are more than free to poke me if I don't post a vid by a time certain. I do not expect anyone to take me up on this, but just thought I'd put it out there.

If you've stuck around this long, thank you for reading.

Thank you for stopping by. Don't be a stranger!

#life changes #personal goals #me #unfucking my life

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mediocre--writing · 4 years

Text

Love Is A Slap In The Face

Ashton Irwin X fem!Reader

Summary: Through the ups, downs, and all inbetween, those you love will be there to keep you on your feet and make sure you smile through the tears.

Word Count: 2175

Warnings: Mentions of PTSD, death, and panic attacks

Inspired by this fic (which is absolutely amazing): Walking After You by my-wldflwr

Love isn’t intimate moments.

Love is when you smile at someone you love across a crowded room and they smile back.

Love is when you do the most mundane tasks, like dishes or dusting, and have fun doing them because you’re doing them with someone you love.

Love is how you look at the person you love when they’re completely in their element, doing what they’ve always wanted.

Love is the way someone takes care of you in your lowest moments.

For Y/n, love is Ashton Irwin.

The way his face scrunches up when he gets really into playing the drums and the way he doesn’t have confidence in his voice yet it sounds like angels singing.

They way he always finds a way to touch her, whether it be his hand on her hand or waist, the way he throws an arm around Y/n’s shoulders or picks her up and throws her over his shoulder.

The way he works out with her and pretends he can keep up but secretly stops doing push-ups when they're not looking, but he still just stares and admires their strength.

The way he jokingly yells at her for forgetting to wash your fruits and vegetables before eating them, even though she knows he really is annoyed about it.

The way she dances around the kitchen to his own songs and plays the air drums with insane aggression.

It’s the moments that they think about right before they fall asleep in that person’s arms at the end of the night.

After their dinner where Ashton made a salad and some delicious potato side dish that Y/n ate most of and Y/n made a roast chicken, they watched a movie or two, but they were both dozing off during the second one so they decided to just go to bed.

They had a fast love. They met one another almost a year ago and started dating only two or three months after, but were attached at the hip almost instantly, though they were both working frequently, so they didn’t get many sleepovers together, and most of the time they were at Y/n’s house, just because she was usually the one who had to be up early for work.

As they got situated in the bed, Y/n had burrowed herself in the light sheets and comforter, only her head poking out as she smiled brightly at Ashton, who was staring at her as he took his shirt off and crawled into bed with the beautiful woman in his bed.

Y/n nestled closely, putting her head on his chest and fell asleep quickly to the beating of his heart.

Ashton didn’t fall asleep as quick, but he just admired the way her chest rose and fell peacefully and her nose would twitch every once and a while.

He put his hand underneath her (his) shirt and rubbed her back, just memorizing the feel of it. The way her spine poked out in a few places, the little indents around her shoulders that held the defined muscle she had built up over the years of being in the military and years after.

He felt the little nicks and creases that were healed scars that she’d accumulated through the years. He felt the little hairs that were everywhere and he felt the goosebumps that poked up as she shuttered.

He moved his hand away and situated himself better for sleep and Y/n rolled away from him to her other side, only taking the sheet with her as she moved.

Ashton chuckled and pulled the comforter over her again and fell asleep to the dark room, cicadas chirping, and her light breathing.

The night was unusually restless for Y/n, she didn’t feel comfortable despite the room being just cold enough that you could cuddle with the blankets and the night felt more quiet than it should have been.

It wasn’t until about half past three that Ashton woke up to the bed jostling around randomly, the sheets and comforter pulled off of him, exposing him to the cool night air.

Slowly, he woke up, rubbing his eyes and turning to look at Y/n, who was rolling back and forth sporadically, her left arm pulling at the thin sheets around her.

The closer that Ashton looked, the more concerned he became, her forehead was sweaty and her cheeks had small, reflective watermarks that were the result of tears rolling down her cheeks.

He put a hand on her shoulder and rubbed back and forth as he whispered her name over and over, trying to pry her out of her dreaming, but it just riled her up more, her left shoulder harshly nudging him off, but with some restraint.

It was then he realized that her arm was wrapped up in the sheet and she couldn’t get it out, so he sat up more and pulled the blankets from around her arm, which was increasingly hard due to her moving violently.

He eventually got most of the sheet away and she could get out, but he didn’t know that and was still trying to move the sheet off her, but her violent arm jerk wasn’t restrained by the blanket anymore, which meant that her arm launched her hand right into Ashton’s face.

He let out a loud yelp and grabbed the side of his face as he sat up.

Y/n, however, stopped moving as much as she woke up due to the loud yelp and a slight stinging in her hand and shoulder.

When she finally opened her eyes and adjusted to the lack of light in the room, along with the blurriness that came with tears in her eyes, she was confused by the view of Ashton clutching one side of his face and staring at her with pity in his eyes.

She was still breathing heavily and Ashton moved his hand from his face, opening his arms for her to fall into, which she did, willingly.

As she crashed into his chest and arms, she let out a pitiful sob and Ashton began rubbing his hand up and down her back while making a soothing shushing sound while letting her cry it out.

Their relationship with one another was very much open, but they still had their own little things that the other hadn’t dealt with yet.

For Ashton, he hadn’t told her about his family or childhood much, but for Y/n she had outright refused to talk about her time in the military and absolutely would not let him see her cry like this.

Though it wasn’t an ideal situation, he almost felt privileged to see her in such a vulnerable state such as this, the side of her that she liked to hide from anyone and everyone, no matter how close they were.

As her sobs quieted down and her breathing became more even, Ashton pulled her away from the safety of his chest and put a hand under her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes, asking a question with his eyes.

“It’s ok,” she mumbled as she moved her eyes away from his.

He gave her a look that said she was absolutely insane, “No,”

“My arm got caught in the sheet and I couldn’t get it out,” She shook her head as if trying to erase whatever thought her head had come up with, “That’s all, it’s ok.”

“There’s more,” Ashton told her sternly, “And I know that you don’t like talking about your unpleasant feelings but I want you to actually open up to me and know that nothing is going to change if you tell me anything about yourself, of anything, I’ll just love you more, you know that,”

“I do, I know that,” Y/n swallowed and blinked a few times before looking into Ash’s eyes, her own widening, “Did I hit you?”

Ashton’s face screwed up in confusion before registering the light pain he felt around his eye and cheek, bringing up a finger to trace along where it hurt.

Y/n’s eyes were locked on the pinkish-purple bruise forming on his face as tears welled up more and more as she stared.

“Honey, please don’t worry about it, ok?” Ashton reassured but it did nothing to ease the tension lines on her face, “You were asleep and you didn’t mean to, it really wasn’t your fault, you didn’t know I put my face close to you.”

“But I still did it, Ash! I hit you! And apparently I hit you pretty damn hard!” Y/n was yelling, and Ash felt scared, not for himself but how awful she must feel, because this was Y/n, his little baby who could bench press an almost obscene weight but also pouts when he doesn’t cuddle her at any given moment.

“Honey, can you calm down for a moment, it doesn’t really hurt and I can live with a little bruise, but I’m worried about you right now.”

She still looked guilty but she nodded in agreement, “I was having a nightmare, but like-- not a nightmare? Like it was almost real and kinda reminded me of a moment but was still exaggerated and fake? I can’t explain how it felt, but I was scared.

“So, uh, a while ago, you know, I was in the military,” Ashton nodded, “We were walking through these mountains, and were told that we had to watch our steps because there were landmines we had to be really cautious of, and we were almost out of the landmine zone when the guy at the front of the group tripped backwards and triggered one of them.

“Two guys died and a few people lost a limb or two, but I was at the back of the group, and we didn’t get too much other than being thrown back and concussions here and there, but it was terrifying because the sound came before impact.”

Y/n took a deep breath and rubbed at her face, “I wasn’t really hurt bad or anything, but a huge chunk of rock fell on my arm and it took three guys to get it off and, to be completely honest with you, I don’t really remember most of what happened to me, because I passed out and people told me what happened afterwards. They said they got my arm free and it was somehow temporarily paralyzed but I went through physical therapy to get it mostly functional again.

“I got a lot of scars from that and it was really annoying for a while but I like them now, mostly because I know had the rock shifted over any more it could have been my head, or I could have lost my arm, and I was really lucky, in complete honesty.”

Ashton was watching and listening with tears in his eyes as he gently grabbed onto her hands with his own.

“I was really stupid after that, I was released from service because I was injured and whatnot, and I was sent home and did physical therapy, but I refused to talk to my family or friends, then I moved out here because I was sick of everyone. I made new friends but it took me way too long to realize that I needed to go see someone and talk to someone to finally feel okay about what happened. I used the excuse of training my arm’s dexterity by working out but I was just hurting myself by pushing my body and not sleeping or eating and stuff, but it all got better over time.”

She looked deep into Ashton’s eyes, “I met you about a month after starting therapy and my therapist loved hearing me talk about you, she’s the person who pushed me to ask you out for the first time, actually.”

Even in the dim light from the window, Ashton’s sweet smile brightened the room as he leaned in and gave her a delicate kiss on her forehead, then her nose, then her lips, making her smile as well.

“What about your face?” Y/n giggled, “You can’t tell people I hit you, I feel like that would get out really quick.”

Ashton chuckled as he pulled her closer to his chest, them both sighing in content at their comfortable position, “I’ll tell people that I fought someone for you, how’s that?”

“Did you lose the fight?” Y/n teased.

“That’s fuckin’ rude,” Ashton sassed as they cuddled closer.

And there, in the 4am moonlight, their relationship changed forever.

They found more reasons to love one another, they found a new safety in one another, and they found the one person who could never disappoint them no matter what.

They found the person who had comfort embedded into their very being and had a home that neither could find anywhere else.

For them, love is special.

Love is when you can slap your boyfriend in the face and he’ll still love you.

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin x reader #x reader #5sos x reader #5sos #5 seconds of summer #ashton x reader

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d-xs · 4 years

Text

PROMPT:

Bruce Wayne & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Catherine Todd

Warning: implied/referenced child abuse.

Jason Todd makes no attempt to eat his burger or even take a sip from his soda, despite the loud rumbling of his stomach. He clutches the bag tightly, bringing it closer to his chest when he sees Bruce staring, like he's afraid Bruce would take offense and demand his food back.

Bruce Wayne does not understand him. His threadbare clothes do nothing to hide the skin stretched over bones. He can see the outline of the boy's ribs through his red hoodie. He is clearly very hungry and going by the way he can't seem to take his eyes off the bag of fast food or even how he keeps taking lungs full of the aroma wafting from it, like if he breathes deep enough, he will be filled. He would bet his entire fortune that this kid has not had a good meal in weeks, or even months. Even one as unhealthy as greasy fast food.

The child is clearly starving. Yet, he has not made any attempt to help himself.

Bruce does not have any experience with poverty or homelessness. Even at the lowest point of his life, he had access to basic human needs. Still, he knows enough about human behavior to know that Jason's behavior right now is not the norm. When he gives a clearly starving person food, they usually devour it immediately.

There are only a few reasons why he would not want to eat the food he had enthusiastically accepted from Bruce. Either he plans to use the food as payment for his safety, in which case, Bruce needs to start looking into gangs exploiting kids, or he has someone, most likely a younger sibling in his care. Considering the fact that Bruce had caught him trying to jack off the fourth tire of the batmobile, after successfully getting away with the other three, Bruce is not sure what is most likely to be the case.

"You going to turn me in now?" Jason asks him, once Bruce's burger is out of sight.

"I promised you I wouldn't," Bruce tells him as earnestly as he can manage.

It doesn't convince the child at all.

"Yeah, right," he scoffs. "That's what you all say."

"Don't you think it would be counter-productive to have you arrested for trying to survive? I'm trying to make Gotham safe for kids like you, Jason. Not put you in jail. I might take you somewhere safe, so you don't have to keep living on the streets, but--"

"I'm not on the streets," Jason cuts in defensively. The fear and worry in his expression is clear now. "I live with my mom and we're fine. If you're not going to arrest me, then I'll be on my way."

A mom. Bruce can't decide if it's a euphemism for Boss. He has seen some awful things since becoming Batman. He also knows some parents take advantage of their kids and force them into crimes as a way to 'earn their keep'.

Jason is most likely taking the food to this person, if he's not eating it, and Batman needs to separate them if the child is being exploited.

The child doesn't wait for Bruce's response before he starts his trek back to the Narrows.

Making a snap decision, Bruce calls out to him.

"Common, I'll drop you off wherever you want," he says, knowing Jason would never let Batman drop him off at home. The child is too suspicious, and rightfully so.

Jason stops in his tracks, but he makes no attempt to accept Bruce's offer.

"It will be morning before you make it all the way across town," Bruce points out. "That's <i>if</i> you don't get attacked for the food."

With that, Jason agrees to let Bruce give him a ride.

Even though he was quiet for the first couple of minutes, Bruce could see the wheels turning in the boy's head. Jason has a very expressive face that tells Bruce he is gearing up to say something, as he takes in the interior of the batmobile.

Jason doesn't take as long as Bruce thought he would.

"You're probably rich, huh?" Jason observes.

Oh God, Bruce hopes this kid is not about to proposition him.

"Not really." Bruce's answer is terse to discourage further probing.

"So it's true what they say?" Jason continues, either missing Bruce's reluctance to continue with this conversation or ignoring it. "That you're fucking Bruce Wayne for money?"

If Batman didn't have such a tight rein on his microexpressions, he would have choked. "That's not language suitable for a child."

Jason turns in his seat so that Bruce doesn't miss the elaborate eye-roll.

"I guess you've had to pay informants, huh?" Jason asks. "You know, like in the stories, where a dude is rewarded for giving the cops valuable information for solving a crime. You do that?"

"Sometimes." Bruce is invested in where Jason is going with his questioning. "Why? Do you have information to sell?"

"Depends on your going rate," the boy sasses.

"And how much do you want?" Bruce asks.

"I read in the papers that the FBI pay up to a hundred grand," Jason shrugs. "Shouldn't be too much for you to match, seeing as you have a rich boyfriend."

"One hundred thousand dollars?" The only reason Bruce doesn't laugh is because he doesn't want Jason to think he's being made fun of.

That, and the possibility that Jason may be trying to get free from his abuser, by having Batman go after them.

"You really think your information is worth that much?" Bruce asks.

"You tell me, Batman." Jason shrugs again. "It was worth enough to cause a war between Penguin and Scarecrow. Enough to make my dad disappear, not that that's a bad thing."

Bruce doesn't think he's supposed to hear the last part, as Jason mutters it under his breath. But the cowl picks up the words clearly.

A criminal and/or abusive mother and mob affiliated but now absentee father. Bruce is debating calling Social Services.

He's also aware of the war between Penguin and Scarecrow. A few months ago, there were rumors of a collaboration between the two factions to take over Gotham, before accusations of betrayal.

If it wasn't for the lives being lost, Bruce would be grateful for their misunderstanding.

Still, a hundred thousand dollars is a lot of money for someone like Jason, and is most likely to draw the wrong attention.

"I'll give you five thousand," Bruce tells him.

"Out of a hundred? Are you really that cheap?" Jason snorts. "You roll around in a ride like this and can't even pay for information? Okay, I'll do you a favor and take seventy."

"Ten," Bruce counters.

"All you rich assholes like taking advantage of poor people," Jason grumbles angrily. When Bruce doesn't budge, he relents. "Fifty."

"Fifteen."

"Fifty," Jason repeats firmly.

"Alright, twenty five thousand dollars and that's my final offer."

"Deal!" Jason agrees immediately.

Bruce watches him spit on his palm before extending it to Bruce for a handshake.

"Come on," he urges when Bruce makes no attempt to shake his hand. "We gotta shake on it to seal the deal."

In the face of that logical argument, Bruce spits in his own hand before clasping it to Jason's in a handshake.

If Jason believes he has information that can help, then twenty five thousand dollars is not too much to pay someone who clearly needs it. The cash in the batmobile isn't up to the amount, but it should be enough to buy the time he would need to get the rest from the manor.

"Alright." He follows Jason's directions on where to park. "What's this information?"

"Wait here," Jason instructs him, undoing the seat belt. "I'll bring it to you."

Bruce gives Jason a minute head-start before he takes to the rooftops, to trail the young boy.

After a few twists and turns, he comes to a stop in front of a dilapidated building. A woman rushes out and pulls Jason into a hug.

"I've been looking all over for you!" she scolds. "Where were you? Chris said some man took you. Is that true?"

She is rail thin, her threadbare clothes hanging off her body, but she sounds genuinely distressed as she checks him for injuries.

"I'm fine, Mom," Jason says in comfort before shoving the food at her. "Look, I got us food and I found a way to get away from the men looking for dad."

The woman -- Jason's mom -- shoves the food back at him, before pulling him into an apartment with the door barely hanging on a hinge.

It's hard not to notice the woman's limp, or the way Jason supports some of her weight as they go.

Bruce takes a second to process everything.

Judging by the environment and what he's seen and heard, Jason isn't being abused, but he's in even more danger.

Whether he plans to pay off his father's debt with the money or not, Bruce knows he has to get mother and son away from this place before they end up as victims of mob violence. Whether Jason really does have information to sell or not.

With that, Bruce hops down to the street from his perch on the roof.

Despite how mindful he is of the door, the moment his fist to connects with the door, it falls off the hinge holding it in place, exposing Jason and his mother having either a very late dinner or a very early breakfast in their one bedroom apartment.

They both jump at the sight of him, and once realization dawns on them, their reactions are wildly different.

Jason's mom cowers with fear, shrinking into herself while attempting to wrap herself around her son, but Jason won't have it. He is livid.

"What the fuck, Batman!" the child hisses angrily. "I told you to wait for me."

"Jason, stop," his mother pleads, pulling Jason behind her.

The boy is unmoved. His mother's frailness is no match for his strength.

"You broke our door! Why the fuck would you do that?"

Despite his obvious anger, they're both careful not to raise their voices. Bruce imagines that getting a visit from Batman isn't a good thing in this neighborhood.

"Calm down," Bruce growls.

Both mother and son freeze where they stand.

"We didn't do nothing wrong, Batman," the lady tells him in a trembling voice. "If you're looking for my husband, we don't know where he is."

"I'm here for Jason," Bruce tells her, registering her distress just before he turns to Jason. "You were taking too long," he lies. "I wanted to make sure you were fine."

This seems to placate the boy a bit, but not his mother, who demands to know what the hell is going on.

Bruce watches silently as Jason explains his plans to his mother.

Apparently, his plan is to sell the information his father stole from Scarecrow to Batman, in exchange for money that will get them out of Crime Alley.

His mom doesn't look thrilled, but she lets Jason climb into the ceiling to retrieve what her husband had hidden there.

"You won't arrest him when you have what you want, will you?" she asks with a fierce look.

Bruce can't help but admire that about her. Not a lot of people have that look about them when Batman is staring them down.

Must be where Jason gets his spunk.

"Jason is a good boy," she continues. "He did a bad thing, but it was for a good reason. His heart is in the right place, I swear."

"Mrs Todd--" Bruce starts, but she interrupts him.

"Catherine."

"Catherine," he repeats. "I don't plan to arrest your son," he continues as calmly as Batman's voice will let him. "We made a deal and I intend to uphold my end."

"So you're just going to hand Jason twenty-five grand?" Catherine asks suspiciously. "Just like that?"

"Yes," he tells her simply. "But I don't have twenty-five thousand dollars in cash right now. I can give you a thousand tonight, and a safe place for the night. Seeing as I broke your door. Tomorrow, you will get the rest of the money and I will call someone to fix your door."

As he talks, he pulls out the bills from his utility belt and hands it to her.

Of course, he has no plans of letting them return here. But if he has learned anything from being Batman, it's that, sometimes, all some people have left is their pride.

Poor people hate being treated as charity.

Siccing Alfred on her would be more productive. All he has to do is make sure they meet. Dick would probably appreciate having someone young in the manor, too.

"And you swear Jason will be safe?" Catherine stresses, eyes flickering between the money and Bruce's face.

"I swear," he vows solemnly. That much, he can promise.

A few minutes later, Jason returns from the ceiling, an envelope clutched in his hand.

"Jason," Catherine calls softly, pulling him into her arms before he can give Bruce the envelope. "Baby, there's something I have to tell you about…"

#cara writes #ojtserversunday #Jason Todd #bruce wayne #catherine todd #Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne #Jason Todd & Catherine Todd #Catherine is a trying mom #She loves her son #Catherine Todd lives

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originofjaehyun · 4 years

Text

Interlude: No More Drama | Part 9 | Love Song

Interlude: No More Drama Masterlist

Word count: 3,900

Warnings: Angst, language

Part 9 | Love Song

“My steps keep slowing down, I can’t stop, I can’t stop this feeling.”

Prev • Next

You thought you were going to spend only the first night at Doyoung’s, but he insisted you to stay.

“It’s not like I’m lusting over you or I want you to stay with me forever.”

“Doyoung that’s disgusting.”

“Exactly, but now that I know how powerful his family is, I’m not going to let you stay on your own. Jaehyun knows your place, and with his connection, he probably already know mine.”

“Jaehyun won’t do anything that would harm me.”

“Look, I know you love him and I’m sorry for judging him that way but it’s better to be safe than sorry, [Y/N]. At least you’re with me, and I can feel a bit more relaxed.”

You couldn’t argue with him. Who knows, his father might already ask his man to follow you around. Also, you agree with Doyoung about the fact that Jaehyun knows your place. It would probably be best to talk things through, as what you always do with him, but your heart is incapable of even meeting him after the heartbreak. It’s already hard enough for you to leave him behind without any explanation, and it’s going to be even harder if he confronts you.

“Stay for at least a week. Or would you rather hear live porn from Hanbyul and Mingyu’s room?”

“Dude, gross! They’re your friends for fuck’s sake.”

Doyoung laughed, “See, it’s better if you stay with me.”

“Just promise me you won’t bring anyone while I’m here.”

“Never thought you were the jealous type.”

“I don’t have a fetish of hearing other people fucking each other, Doyoung.”

He snorted, “You know I’m not seeing someone. Now clean up before we go to the supermarket to buy your essentials.”

That is how you ended up moving temporarily to Doyoung’s apartment. Although Doyoung said it will be OK if you become his housemate, you don’t want to keep bothering him, knowing that he’s still single. You don’t want to be the other woman when Doyoung finally found his significant other. While you still have to pay your apartment’s rent, you were thinking of paying your stay, which he rejected instantly.

“[Y/N], we’ve been best friends for years. I’m more than capable of paying this apartment all by myself. Don’t worry about it.”

“But the utility bill is going to be doubled, Doy. At least let me pay that much.”

He shook his head, “Just treat me for dinners and drinks occasionally. That’s the only payment I accept.”

You finally gave up. Doyoung is a stubborn man, once he made up his mind, it will be a miracle to ever change his decision.

“Take a week leave first, [Y/N].”

“A week?! I thought you know how busy I am?”

“Look at yourself. Do you think you can concentrate on your work?”

Thank God it was Sunday. You spent all night crying. Doyoung opened his bottle of Soju, and the alcohol helped you to be less tense. You told him everything, how heartbreaking it was to see Jaehyun’s face. The disappointments. How his face was painted in sadness when you left him, and how it was equally painful for you.

You really do love Jaehyun, and you would probably always will.

But the fear took the best of you. Who would’ve thought your significant other is involved in a world that you could never imagine was real. Of course, you saw articles and news about illegal transactions, but not in a million years did you think it would be that close to you.

Doyoung is right. You look horrendous. Eyes are swollen due to crying, and the darkness that surrounds them, mimicking a raccoon. You’re tired, and it would probably take you a while before you could put yourself together.

“I hope Joy won’t be pissed off when her boss suddenly took a week’s leave.”

–

The first week was like hell.

While Doyoung has been the greatest best friend ever by taking you to dinner –and you finally met Yuta in the process, and he is the sweetest guy with the brightest smile– you haven’t got any proper sleep.

Jaehyun is constantly in your mind, and you always find yourself sobbing at night when you remember him. It’s even harder to fall asleep when your dream is always about him. About how both of you planned for a happily ever after, only for the dream to get dark and cloudy midway. His father would come into the picture, and point his gun at you. When you thought the bullet would hit you, Jaehyun jumped and took it for you.

This always wakes you up, hyperventilated.

“Hey,”

You flinched, didn’t expect Doyoung to come without knocking. Not that he has to, this is his house anyway and you don’t mind him at all.

“Sorry, I heard you were grunting.”

“You weren’t sleeping?” Your voice was cracking, due to the fact you were just awake a few seconds ago.

“No, I just finished binge-watching Succession.” He said while he approached you, and saw the tears that are apparent at the corner of your eyes. “Another nightmare?”

You slowly nod, “It’s getting worse, Doy. Every night the dream seems to be more vivid.”

Your best friend gave you a deep meaningful look, genuinely concerned. “It’s just a dream, [Y/N]. Everything’s gonna be alright. You have me, and Hanbyul, too. I think Yuta has a thing for you too.”

“Oh come on Kim Doyoung, I just broke up with my boyfriend a week ago.” You jokingly punched him in his arm, replacing the grim atmosphere with chuckles.

“There you go, don’t be all somber and mushy, that’s not the [Y/N] I know. You became so gloomy I got shivers, you know? The last time you were this emo was when you were so in love with Alex Turner from Arctic Monkeys.”

“That was a long time ago, OK!”

All the sorrow seems to melt away like snow in spring, relieving you from all the distress inside your brain. You felt grateful for the presence of your best friend, hopeful that better days will come.

That the situation would turn around somehow.

“Thanks, Doy, for being here even at my lowest.”

“Ew, since when are you this sweet?”

“Dude, I’m serious. I really mean it.”

You look at him, hoping that he can see how sincere you are.

“Please, this is nothing, [Y/N]. I know if I were in your position –and dear Lord please don’t ever let me be in your position,”

You throw your pillow at him, finally annoyed with his never-ending jokes. He chortled before he continued, “That you’ll do the same for me. Don’t think too much about it, yeah?”

“Tomorrow is your first day of work. Make sure you rest well, I’m positive you don’t want the whole office to know that you just had a major heartbreak. Go get some sleep.”

You bob your head, agreeing. He was ready to leave your room before you realized something.

“Shit, I forgot.”

“What?”

“Tomorrow is the first Monday of the month, right?”

He nods.

“That means I have to go to NCT’s office.”

As surprised as you are, Doyoung’s eyes grow bigger, “Any chances that you can send someone else?”

“No,” You shook your head, following it by biting your nails. “I’m the PIC for this, and we’re finalizing a few important things so I have to go there myself.”

“Now, now,” Doyoung returned to where he was, sitting down next to your bed. “You are the toughest working woman I ever met in my life, OK? Remember when you used to whine because of the newbie from your office nagged non-stop about the workload? A friendly reminder, you told me that she should expect at least that much if she’s going to work at any company. What did she expect, coming to work, and having a girl talk?”

You chuckled, his remarks help to calm your anxiety.

“So yeah, you’re going to be fine even if you have to face him tomorrow. You’re meeting Johnny anyway, what is the possibility you’re going to meet him? He’s a busy man after all.”

Knowing that Jaehyun is a COO, not to mention he has his personal business, he must’ve been drowning with work, making you agree with Doyoung’s statement in a heartbeat. Your meeting wouldn’t take the whole day, so if you can wrap them quickly then you could probably avoid meeting Jaehyun.

“You’re right. Thanks, Doy.”

He lets out his gum smile, “Stop thanking me! You’re starting to freak me out!”

–

“Can I light another one?”

You politely asked Johnny whether he still got leeway for the meeting. All that left is to finalize the few details. Yet the nicotine urge seems to be a bit stronger today, as you feel like you are in need to exhale the anxiety away with another puff.

“Sure. Actually, I think I’ll smoke another one too. Too bad I can’t install a balcony at my office. If not we don’t have to go all the way here whenever we need to smoke.”

You smiled, as you ignited the cigarette that hung in between your lips. You stare at the grey smoke blankly, watching it as it fades in the air.

“Hey, uhm,”

Johnny called you, pulling you back to reality.

“I heard it from Jaehyun.”

You almost choked, and you stared at him widely.

“I’m so sorry it happened.”

“You knew about it, Johnny?”

He nervously nods, to which you reply with a sigh, rolling your tongue over your teeth, pissed.

“God, does everyone think I’m a joke.”

“[Y/N], please, it’s not that.” He begged, scared that he might offended you. “Honestly I asked Jaehyun a couple of times already to tell you about this. But he said the timing was not right.”

“And the right timing happens to be when I managed to find it out myself?”

Johnny squinted his eyes, frustrated, “No, believe me he didn’t mean it that way. I mean, now you know how difficult his situation is.”

The dull orange at the tip of your cigarette glows as you took another drag, “Yeah, and that is the exact reason why I left.”

“You’re stronger than that, [Y/N]. I wouldn’t keep pushing Jaehyun to pursue you if you weren’t. And he loves you for that.”

“As I do, Johnny. In fact, that is the exact reason why I have to leave.”

Johnny slowly blows out a smoke out of his mouth, looking at you confused.

“I’d rather not be the extra luggage he has to carry, John. He already has so much weight on his shoulder.”

“He wouldn’t think of you as an extra luggage, [Y/N]. You know that.”

“Jaehyun would protect me, without a doubt. He’s more than capable of doing so.”

You blows out your smoke, “But do you think he would be able to stand it if I told him that I’m scared on a daily basis? I’m not going to act like a hypocrite and tell him that I’ll be fine –because I would definitely not. It scares me Johnny, his life is. And there’s no way I would lie to Jaehyun about it.”

The look on Johnny’s eyes that were deep sienna in color marking that he could not debate with your sentences.

“Imagine if I were a part of his life, Johnny. I would constantly tell him that I’m afraid. That fear consumes me, every day. No matter how strong, how reliable he is, eventually he would break and that is the least that I would want. For my loved ones to crumble.”

Though he didn’t say a single word, you appreciate how Johnny attentively listens to you, nodding whenever you reach the full stop.

“Before it happens, I think it's best for me to leave. It is equally as painful for me, Johnny. But do I have another choice?”

Johnny refused to give you a response. He was looking down, biting his lower lip while he’s lost in his thoughts.

“You’re right,” He inhaled the final bit of his cigarette. “I mean, I’m not a part of your relationship so I guess you do know what’s best. But I’m just wishing for my friends’ happiness.”

I would love that, too.

You quietly thought inside your head, extinguishing the white stick that finally reached its end.

“And that includes you, too, [Y/N]. I might be your client at first but I think we’re close enough for me to consider you as my friend. If there's anything that I can do to make this whole breakup process more bearable, I’m just a text away, OK?”

His statement made you smile involuntarily.

“Though, I hope Jaehyun wouldn’t know. He might think that I have another agenda on you.”

The laugh finally thawed the tension away. You’re grateful that you’re surrounded with great people. Even in this situation, Johnny still tries to brighten your day, like a happy vitamin. He smoothly changed the topic on your way to his office, filling the journey with laughter.

That laughter stops once you reach his office.

The tall, pale figure that is dear to you stands up at the sight of you. He looks exhausted, and his beautiful pair of eyes no longer shine as it is now dark and hollow.

“Johnny what is the meaning of this?”

“[Y/N] please, it’s not his fault. I asked him to spare some time so I can talk to you.”

You look at him, before you shift your gaze to Johnny’s. There’s a hint of guilt from his stare, but you can tell it was mostly filled with concerns. “I’m sorry, [Y/N], I’ve promised to Jaehyun. And if I can give my two-cents, I still think it would be better if you guys talk things through.”

You slowly blink as you quietly exhale. You are in your client’s office, and you don’t want to start bawling and appear unprofessional.

Before you can even let a single word out, suddenly someone barged in, clearly adding more tension to the room.

“Sir.” You can tell Johnny is equally unprepared with his guest.

“Father, what are you doing here?”

“Is it that absurd for a father to seek his son?”

Johnny took a glance at Donghyuck’s direction, telepathically asking him why he didn’t tell him that the founder is coming. Donghyuck just answers him with a ‘how am I supposed to act when he’s also come unnoticed?’ gesture.

While Jaehyun is pissed because his no good of a father interrupts his attempt to talk to you, he calmly asks his father. “Is there a problem, Father?”

“Oh, no, Jaehyun. You’re doing marvelous, as always.” He said, while taking a glimpse at you. “I checked your schedule and this is the only time you’re free. I asked your assistant, Jungwoo, if you’re in your office and he said I could find you at Johnny’s.”

Yeah, because I have something else to take care of.

If only his father could read and understand his mind, he wouldn’t have to act all goody two-shoes to his father. The least that Jaehyun would want is to show his family issues at the office. Knowing how his reputation means everything to his father, you know he would want the same.

“Then why is she here?”

Jaehyun asked about the female that has been standing behind his father. Someone that you never met before. She was dressed to nines, wrapping herself in Fendi’s monogram from head to toe. Her hair was strawberry blonde, flowing softly to cover her breast. Her lips were plump, but you can tell it’s artificial.

“Surely you know Kyungmi from…”

“From Hyun Ventures, yes.”

At this point you shouldn’t act like you’re surprised that Jaehyun is surrounded by big shots. Although the size of the company is not as big as NCT Corp., Hyun Ventures still managed to become the only three venture capitals originated from South Korea that made it to the top 100 venture capitalists.

“I see that you are acquaintanced.” His father says with a pleased tone. “Jaehyun, I’d like you to meet your future wife.”

His statement made you feel like the ground underneath you disappear, sinking your heart. You haven’t even recovered fully from your heartbreak, and this big of a news just added the fuel to the fire.

You don’t even care if you are considered rude, but you quickly texted Doyoung, asking him to come and pick you up as soon as possible, no longer could breath in this vexing room.

“Nice to officially meet you Jaehyun.” The woman spoke, and her voice was piercing the air. “Oh gosh, can we drop the formality? I’ve been waiting for ages to finally talk to you! Your father told me splendid things about you, like how you act like him, being the gentleman you are!”

While she was all giddy, you couldn’t help but to feel uncomfortable. You were about to pull her after-salon hair, for taking something that is yours.

Then it strikes you that he was yours, and you no longer had the right to be territorial.

Johnny noticed how uneasy you are, and he put his hand on your back, trying to ease you. It works, in a sense, with the fact that Johnny is there to support you. However, you felt like Jaehyun would need that more, seeing how tense his jaw is.

“I didn’t hear anything about this, Father. Since when do I have to wed someone?” There are trails of annoyance in Jaehyun’s tone, and he’s not making the effort to conceal it.

“Jaehyun,” his father retaliates, voice is as cold as ice, “It is important for us to keep our relation to the Hyuns. Kyungmi is a wonderful girl. She’s well educated, takes good care of herself, and most importantly she came from a great family.”

You know his father just sarcastically said that to you. Fumes are almost apparent from Jaehyun’s head. He is ready to throw his fist to his father. He can take all the mockery, but he would not tolerate it if it is targeted towards you.

“Now,” His father cuts off, before Jaehyun is able to react. “Kyungmi, my dear, let’s have a tour at the building, shall we? Today I’ll cover the important places. After all, this will soon be yours.”

It was a cringey affection, but at least he didn’t try to cut her throat like what he did to you. Soon after, both of them left, followed by Donghyuck who guided them outside out of politeness and honestly, he’d rather escape the room that is filled with suspense.

“Johnny, can we continue our meeting via email? Or let’s postpone it to another time.”

You were choking, on the verge of tears, and unmistakably pissed. Johnny, unable to force you to stay, had no choice but agree. You rushed to pack your belongings, before Jaehyun stopped you from going.

The familiar touch.

“Let me go, Jaehyun.”

“That’s all you’ve been saying since last week, and you know I can’t.”

“You’re making it difficult for me. Please let me go.”

Your words are firm, though your tone was brittle.

“I’m making things difficult? [Y/N], you have no idea how hard it is for me spending a week without you.”

Like a volcano that’s about to erupt, all of the build up tensions in you finally explodes.

“Don’t make it as if it’s not difficult for me, Jae!” Blood rushing to your head, making your neck noticeably red. “Your father just fucking humiliates me in front of you, and that God damn future wife of yours! I bet he knows that we broke up, and that is why he purposely announce your fucking engagement right here right now to mock me!”

He never saw you snapping at him like that. He’s even more baffled when he notices the tears that start to well in your eyes.

“Please don’t cry, love.”

He leans forward to caress your cheek, which you roughly reject.

“Drop the nicknames, Jae. Save it for someone who’s more worthy of standing by your side.”

“Baby, please.” Jaehyun begs, refusing to let you go. “You know you’re the only one for me. I’ve told you millions of times and I’m ready to tell you again if I have to. You’re overlapping inside me, it’s like in my heart you’re just like a moist rain that infused me.”

You can feel the ache in your heart, and it stings. It stings because you know he meant every of his words. It stings, because you know even though the feeling is mutual, you’d wish time had better timing for you and Jaehyun.

You finally look him in the eyes, his eyes are weepy, telling you that he hopes he can change your mind.

“And leave all of these behind? All of these glory?”

You are spoken in riddles, but you know your souls speak fluently. He hesitates, and that’s enough to answer your question.

“See? You can’t, Jae. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but it would be easier if I leave.”

You were about to walk away but he tugs you back, not giving up. “[Y/N], it’s not because of the glory, or the money. I can live without either, honestly, if that could make you stay. But there’s something that I can’t let go of, not yet.”

You are confused, even with all of those layers there are still a part of Jaehyun that you didn’t know.

“Then let me go.”

“I can’t do that, either.”

“Jaehyun, stop being so stubborn!”

“I am only stubborn when it comes to you, [Y/N].”

“And yet you can’t let go of whatever that shit is.”

You brushed him off, rushing your way to the elevator. There are a few pairs of eyes who looked at you, wondering why you ran out like someone’s about to chase your life, but you couldn’t care less.

Johnny must’ve held Jaehyun off, because he didn’t run after you immediately. You could hear him stopping him, but you were so busy running off that you didn’t pay enough attention. All you hear was Johnny telling Jaehyun not to make a scene.

You reached the lobby, and miraculously saw Doyoung’s car already stationed at the lobby. Sure, his office is only a few blocks away, but that was fast.

The tinted window from the passenger seat rolls down, and you are surprised that the driver was not your best friend.

“Yuta? What are you doing here?”

“Doyoung’s busy. We had our quarterly meeting and I was staying at his office because I’m actually not on the clock today. He told me to pick you up, he said it was urgent. Are you OK?”

“[Y/N]!”

He shouted from afar, and you don’t need to turn your back to know who’s the owner of the voice.

“Let’s go, Yuta.” You hastily enter the car, ignoring Jaehyun who sprinted to stop you.

“Are you sure? He seems like he got something to tell you.”

“Yuta, please, just drive.”

Fears that he might poke into something that is not his business, he reluctantly agrees, closing the window and just enough for Jaehyun to take a peek.

A peek of you with a man that he doesn't know, drifting away.

A/N: dun dun dun dunnn... Also, can you believe we’re only 3 chapters left?! :’’ all I can say is... it’s going to be a roller coaster ride (at least that’s how I felt when I wrote it haha)

#jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun angst #jaehyunxreader #jaehyun fic #neowritingsnet #mafia!au #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun #jaehyun scenario #fic jaehyun #angst jaehyun #interlude no more drama #nct scenario #inmd #love song

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jasiper · 4 years

Text

golden

fine line series 1/12

you’re so golden

i’m out of my head

i know that you’re scared

because hearts get broken

A golden state of mind. That’s the California dream, isn’t it? The place where dreams come true, where fleeting thoughts can transform into a tangible reality. The place where the sun never seems to set. The place where nobody is sad—and if someone is sad, there are the means to not feel sad anymore.

Piper’s life seemed to begin—and end—in the golden state. Her dad was living the golden life, making money and walking the red carpets and flashing his pearly whites on the big screen. When she went to the store, his face was plastered on every other magazine cover. He was what the famous people called a California dream. He made something out of nothing. His daughter? Well, she was trying.

But even trying is a generous word for her. California is the place where her dad found his career but lost Piper in the frenzy of the media. This was the place she felt the most alone. This is the place she found herself in the backseat of a police cruiser. This is the place she appeared in court. This is the place where her dad told her she shouldn’t be. She found herself forced across state lines and as she stared over the desert, she saw that Nevada had golden sunsets. Just like California. Only there was no water to reflect the light—only miles and miles of dry land and broken dreams and white walls where bad kids like her resided. But Piper wasn’t a bad kid. She just couldn’t find a place in the golden state.

Dreams came true in California. Only her dream didn’t.

Most people found heartbreak later on in life. Piper felt her first heartbreak as a kid. She should have been tucked into bed by her dad after a bedtime story with a kiss on the forehead. She fell asleep alone, clutching a teddy bear to her chest because her dad was off shooting another movie. Dance recitals meant that she looked out at the audience without a familiar face in sight. She never attended a daddy/daughter dance. Her first heartbreak was due to her own father’s negligence. She promised herself that no one would ever hurt her the way her dad did.

As Piper expected, she didn’t experience a golden state of mind in California. She felt that anticipated bliss in the middle of the winter in New York.

After a whirlwind December, everything Piper thought she knew turned out to be false. Her entire world flipped upside down. It took her the whole month of January to learn the ropes of being half-god. Turns out, there are a lot of things to be taught when your mother is the Greek goddess of love, including how to fight with a dagger, how to detect monsters, and how to come to terms with the fact that an evil earth entity is waking up. Maybe Piper would never achieve the California dream her dad was living; how could she? Everything she ever knew was a lie. Even if she had believed in God or whatever before all of this, she isn’t sure she’d be able to handle the real truth well.

If not for Leo, Piper probably wouldn’t survive this. Not with her life in jeopardy. Not with the knowledge of being a charmspeaker. And certainly not with the fact that her boyfriend wasn’t really her boyfriend at all.

It seems shallow, even to Piper. Her dad almost died and she almost died and the world almost ended but the Mist incident was—and still is—the lowest blow in this entire mess. The closest thing to a golden state of mind was just a hallucination, an illusion, a dream. So ironic since her mom is Aphrodite; shouldn’t her one success be in the romance department?

It took two months for them to kiss (for real this time). It happened so fast, it felt like a dream. Piper was being her usual nervous self, fiddling with her own fingers and she was babbling away and suddenly Jason leaned in to kiss her. The warm feeling in her stomach didn’t go away for a whole week after the kiss. She was smiling like an idiot even while training. Leo gave her shit for her grin and Annabeth rolled her eyes, but she didn’t care. The boy she liked kissed her after everything she endured—Jason didn’t have to like her after the Mist gave her fake memories.

But Piper stopped smiling when reality sank in. Sure, she and Jason were now exclusive, but when did things ever go right for demigods? She heard of the tragedy of her late older sister, Silena, and her boyfriend Beckendorf. Things ended horribly for them. She looked to her new friend, Annabeth, and her tired grey eyes, defeated from dead ends in the search to find her missing boyfriend. There were picture frames lining the walls of the Big House. Half of the faces were strangers to her even though the picture was recent, and although Chiron would never say it, she knew they were dead. How many people really achieved a happy ending here? Camp Half-Blood was the self-proclaimed safe place for Greek demigods, but she felt like she was walking on a gravesite.

And even if Piper somehow were to beat the odds and live through this war, love was never kind. Anyone could see that, not just a daughter of Aphrodite. She grew up in Hollywood’s backyard—she saw the headlines reporting that celebrity couples were divorcing. Love, as powerful as it is, is cruel. It’s ruthless and even has gods at its mercy. Her mother is feared for a reason.

If her own father had the ability to break her heart, what was stopping Jason from doing the same thing?

The walls go up. Piper feels like a child again, staring at her darkened bedroom wall, wishing more than anything that she could live her life without fear.

Unlike her past, someone recognizes that her walls are up.

It must have been hours upon hours of sparring. A sidestep, a parry, a kick to the dummy’s chest. When the dummy fell, Piper would wipe her sweaty forehead, take a breath, pick up the dummy, and start again. A mindless, tedious routine. Anything to get the image of her bedroom wall out of her mind. Anything to chase away the irrational fear dormant in her chest.

By the time she kicks down the dummy again, she looks up mid-forehead wipe and sees Jason. He stands about five feet away, frustratingly dashing in his black tank top with the sleeves cut off. His sword hangs from the sheath on his hip and by the look of his own sweaty brow, Piper can only guess he had been training as well. When he runs his fingers through his hair—which is glistening in the sun, may she add—she can see his tattoo, forever a reminder of the Mist.

“You’ve been out here for a while,” Jason finally says after several moments of silence.

Piper sheaths her knife. When she finally allows her body to relax, she notices how her arms feel like jello. She’s more exhausted than she thought. “Not too long. I’m still a little shaky on my technique,” she answers, voice hoarse.

Jason bends down and grabs her water bottle. He extends an arm and she gratefully takes it, taking a swig. As she’s drinking, he says gently, “Pipes, you’ve been out here for hours. Annabeth was ready to drag you away from the dummy herself, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate that when you’re so, uh, on edge.”

On edge? Am I on edge? Piper wants to ask, but she can see Jason’s concern even though he tries to hide it. There’s that crease between his eyebrows that develops when he’s worried. She saw it when she broke her ankle and got hypothermia. She doesn’t like how he’s worried. He shouldn’t be worried, right?

“I’m fine,” Piper replies, though she doesn’t sound so sure.

The crease only deepens between his eyes. “Really? Fine?”

Piper’s knuckles are white around her water bottle. Jason’s looking at her with a concerned, almost bewildered expression. This should comfort her; someone with the intention of breaking her heart shouldn’t be this worried about her, right?

But Jason is a good person. Break him down to his soul and that’s what he is: a good person. He’s the kind of guy who offers up half of his sandwich if someone forgot to pack lunch. He’s the kind of guy who holds the door open for a crowd of people even if they’re ten feet away. He’s also the kind of guy who jumps into the Grand Canyon for a complete stranger.

What’s stopping a good person from realizing he made a mistake and leaving and unintentionally breaking Piper’s heart anyway?

“Pipes?” Jason’s voice snaps her out of her reverie. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to be sick.”

“I’m fine,” is her instant reply. Her voice wobbles and she winces because she does not sound fine. Jason’s look of concern grows more apparent and she clears her throat to try speaking again. “Really. Just… Wow, I am so tired. You’re right, I’ve been out here for a while and I’m tired and probably dehydrated—”

“Piper—”

Piper sidesteps away as Jason moves forward. She turns so she’s walking backward, careful not to turn her back on him to assure him she’s alright. “I really need to shower and probably lay down. I’m fine, really, I am, I just—”

Her ankle snags on something on the ground as she backpedals. She tries to balance her weight a moment too late, her body too exhausted to keep herself upright. She braces herself for impact as she trips ungracefully—pun not intended— over the mysterious object on the ground.

Before she can hit the ground, a hand wraps around her wrist and tugs her forward. The momentum of the pull sends her flying and she crashes into a warm, firm body. It takes her a few seconds to realize she’s in Jason’s arms, his hands gripping her biceps. She turns her head to see that she dripped over the dummy she had been sparring with a few minutes ago.

“Piper,” Jason begins slowly, worry laced in his words, “what is going on?”

The worry in his voice isn’t enough to free Piper from her fear. She looks into his eyes and irrationally sees the end to a very recent relationship and it’s all too much to handle. It’s dumb, it’s irrational, it’s flat-out stupid to think about nonexistent relationship problems with her perfectly kind boyfriend when she’s probably destined to die from Mother Nature herself but here she is, in Jason’s arms, and it’s all too much.

Piper pushes her perfectly good boyfriend away and tries to ignore the hurt flashing to his eyes. “I’m sorry, I have to—I can’t—”

A crowd has formed. The volleyball game between some Apollo and Athena kids has come to a complete standstill. Annabeth is in her usual spot for this time of the afternoon, perched in front of her cabin, a book in her hands, and even from several yards away Piper can see those disappointed grey eyes. The only thing making this situation less embarrassing is the fact that Leo isn’t there; he’s busy with his siblings working on the Argo II. If Leo had to see Piper like this…

“Pipes?” Jason makes one last attempt. “What’s going on? Talk to me. Please.”

“I can’t, Jason,” Piper manages, voice shaky, and the edges of her vision blur together as tears prick her eyes. “I can’t.”

It takes all of her willpower not to sprint back to her cabin. She lowers her head and tries to ignore the sinking feeling in her chest—the same sinking feeling she felt when she boarded a plane to Nevada—as she walks away.

***

“You’re going to have to talk to him, you know.”

“I know I do. I just… can’t right now.”

“You already missed dinner last night. And breakfast this morning. Are you really going to let your embarrassment keep you from eating and talking to Jason?”

Piper risks a look at Annabeth from under the pillow she has covering her face. Although Annabeth’s voice is a bit condescending, there’s no hiding the worry on her friend’s face.

“I just don’t understand, Piper,” Annabeth continues. “You chased after him for two months, hoping he’d like you back and within two weeks you’re, what, pushing him away?”

“It’s not that simple,” Piper protests, burying her face deeper into her pillow and rolling on her side to face away from Annabeth. “I’m not trying to do this.”

“You’re not trying to stop it from happening,” Annabeth says softly. “You’ve had every chance to go talk to him since yesterday and you’ve locked yourself in your cabin. You won’t even talk to Leo.”

“Leo won’t understand this.”

Annabeth’s hand, calloused from hours of training, rests on Piper’s arm. It moves down to rub her back. Annabeth isn’t one for physical comfort but she must sense Piper needs it. “Why won’t Leo understand? He’s your best friend, isn’t he?”

“Leo’s never been in a relationship,” Piper mumbles, her voice mumbled by her pillowcase. “I’m sure if I tell Leo how I feel, he’ll look at me like I’m crazy.”

“You’re pushing away the guy of your dreams. You are a little crazy,” Annabeth weakly teases.

Piper lowers her pillow and stares at the cabin wall. She stares at the picture of her and her dad in front of her face and her chest tightens. “Maybe he’s not the guy of my dreams.”

“You literally called him that after he kissed you for the first time.”

“Yeah, well, I was stupid and I wasn’t thinking straight,” Piper retorts. “I’m fifteen. What do I know about love?”

Annabeth sighs. “You’re the daughter of Aphrodite. I feel out of my element here. I’m not one for relationship advice.”

Piper chews on her bottom lip. She wonders if Annabeth would understand her crazy, irrational fear of Jason breaking her heart. If her dad, the person who raised her, could break her heart, what was stopping Jason from doing the same? Good guy or not, he has a history he still doesn’t remember, a family of Roman soldiers across the country who might change his mind. The uncertainty of her relationship—and her life—had been eating away at her sanity for weeks.

Before Piper could come up with a response to Annabeth’s comment, a knock sounds from the door. Annabeth calls out, “Who is it?”

“Uh.” Piper sits up because she recognizes that voice. “It’s me, uh, Jason.”

Annabeth looks over at Piper, eyebrows raised. Piper shrugs so Annabeth asks, “What do you need?”

“I know Piper’s in there,” Jason says through the door. “I need to talk to her. Piper? Can I please talk to you? Alone?”

“We’re not allowed to be alone in a cabin together,” is Piper’s pathetic reply.

Jason sighs. “Okay, then we don’t have to—”

Annabeth stands and quickly crosses the room despite Piper’s noise of protest. She opens the door, revealing a crestfallen Jason, and says, “I’ll keep watch. You guys need to work out whatever’s up, I don’t really know what’s up, but if we’re going to go on a quest in a few weeks, we can’t have miscommunication. Got it?”

“Understood,” Jason replies obediently.

“Piper?” Annabeth’s grey eyes flash.

“Yes,” Piper mumbles, still clutching her pillow to her chest.

“Perfect. I’ll be right outside. Yell if you need me.” Annabeth sends Piper one last stop being a baby look and shuts the door behind her.

A long silence follows the door closing behind Annabeth. Jason stands just inside the cabin, staring down at his feet, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Piper’s heart races inside her chest and she grips the pillow like a lifeline.

I just don’t understand, Piper, Annabeth’s voice echoes in Piper’s head. You chased after him for two months, hoping he’d like you back and within two weeks you’re, what, pushing him away?

“You can sit down, if you want,” Piper offers softly. Jason lifts his head and she pats the bed mattress beneath her. “I promise I won’t bite. Or yell. Or push you off.”

Jason cracks a smile and he chuckles. “Promise?”

“I promise. Come here.”

Jason finally walks over and sits on the edge of her bed. He turns his body to face her and for a moment, he studies her face. Her heart races and she wonders what he’s thinking. Although she’s getting better at reading his face, sometimes it’s impossible to know what he could be thinking.

“What… happened yesterday?” Jason asks quietly. “I noticed something was wrong a few days ago, but I didn’t… I just thought you were a little down, which is totally understandable. But yesterday you really worried me. Did I do something wrong?”

It takes Piper a few seconds to realize Jason blames himself. She blinks and rapidly shakes her head. “What? No, no, of course not. You haven’t done anything wrong. I mean it. If you did, I would tell you.”

“Are you sure?” Suddenly Jason isn’t the son of Jupiter, or Zeus, or whatever. He’s not the guy who fought the king of the giants with a piece of scrap wood. He’s not the guy who jumped into the Grand Canyon to save her. He’s a scared, insecure fifteen-year-old boy who looks worried about messing up.

If only he knew the only one messing up was her.

“Jason.” Piper pushes away the pillow and scoots closer to him. She takes his hands into his, threading her fingers through hers. She looks up to meet his eyes and she sees the fear. She has to swallow her embarrassment from yesterday’s blowup as she says, “You are… perfect. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I feel like I have,” Jason whispers. “You’ve been so distant. So quiet. I thought you were overwhelmed with the upcoming quest and the fear and everything because I’m scared, too. But yesterday it seemed like you were distant from me and me only.”

Her stomach twists into knots. The hurt in his voice is so evident and it’s her fault. Her irrational fears have forced a perfectly good guy, a guy who likes her, to doubt himself. Some girlfriend she is.

“I’m… scared,” Piper breathes. Jason leans in closer, staring at her with such an intense gaze that she forces herself to look away. “I didn’t realize how scared I was until we got together.”

“Scared?” Jason asks. “Scared of… me?”

“No,” Piper assures him. She squeezes his fingers and he brings their intertwined hands up to kiss her knuckles as he sighs out a breath of relief. “Scared of… this.”

“This?” Jason keeps her knuckles against his lips. “Our relationship?”

As Piper hears it out loud, she realizes how stupid she’s being. She nods miserably, staring at her knees. “Scared of trusting someone this much.”

“Is it me? Or just in general?” Jason asks. His voice is so kind and understanding that it makes Piper want to cry.

“In general… and a little bit of you,” Piper admits. “I know that Hera’s meddling wasn’t your fault, but the Mist really messed me up.”

Jason kisses her fingertips this time. “Gods, I know. It would mess anyone up. I am still so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. The Mist and my dad and the whole demigod thing… It was a lot to swallow at once, you know? That and all of my baggage.”

“Baggage?” Jason sounds confused.

“You know. The relationship with my dad. Not having a mom.”

“Oh.” Jason tightens his grip on her hand. “Yeah. Not having a mom… sucks.”

Piper realizes how insensitive she sounds—she has a mom. Sure, Aphrodite is a goddess, but she’s still alive. She’s there in her own weird, annoying, immortal way. But Jason… His mom was abusive and she gave him away when he was a toddler and now she’s dead. At least Piper had her dad, which is more than what Jason could say; Jason has never met Zeus and judging by the tallies tattooed on his arm, his dad has had more than enough time to pop in and say hi. If Piper has it bad, Jason has it worse.

“It’s… so stupid and it’s unfair of me to be taking it out on you,” Piper continues. “But I thought I knew you and then it was all the trick of the Mist. I’m still getting to know you. And trust me, I like what I know. I really, really do. But my own dad broke my heart, Jason. He neglected me for years, thinking he was providing for us. He was gone for days and weeks at a time. He missed every dance recital, every parent-teacher conference. He didn’t see me graduate from middle school. He didn’t come to my first soccer game. My dad missed everything. I know it sounds so unfair because I had a dad, I had a pretty normal life and you didn’t, but my dad… I was a kid and he broke my heart. My own dad did that. If the person who raised me could do that much damage, what’s stopping any other person from doing the same thing? Is something wrong with me? Are you going to wake up one day and realize I’m not the person you want and leave?”

Jason is quiet for a long time after she finishes speaking. Her heart hammers uncomfortably in her throat and she’s afraid that she just drove him away. He probably sees the fifty shades of crazy she is and doesn’t want a part of that—who would want this? A BMW stealing girl who got sent to court for wanting attention? Someone who is pushing away a perfectly good person just because her dad wasn’t around? If he wants to run for the hills, she wouldn’t be able to blame him.

“My mom’s name was Beryl,” Jason says softly. “She was an actress. Hollywood’s starlet. Attracted Zeus himself not once, but twice. And when he left, she lost it. Drowned herself in every bottle she could get her hands on. I don’t remember this, but Thalia says she raised me. She was a kid and making my bottles and changing my diapers. I wouldn’t want anyone to be raised the way I was, but then to make matters worse, my mom abandoned me in the forest? She left a two-year-old in the forest with a wolf goddess to fend for himself. I didn’t even know any of this until a few weeks ago. I… I didn’t even know my mom broke my heart until recently, and I’m so angry about it.”

Piper’s chest tightens. “Jason, I’m so sorry.”

“No. I’m sorry. I’m so upset and I don’t even remember this woman. You know your dad. Your dad has recently hurt you, Pipes. You have a right to be upset. You have a right to be afraid of me. I don’t think I get that right because I hardly even know who I am.”

“I don’t accept that,” Piper argues. “You can be upset over something you don’t remember. Your mom changed your whole life. She forced you away from your sister. I’d be angry, too. I’d be furious. You’re allowed to be furious and you’re allowed to be afraid of me, too.”

Jason’s eyes are frustratingly soft when he whispers, “But I’m not afraid.”

“How?” Piper murmurs. She leans in even closer and when she does so, Jason raises one hand to cup her cheek. “How are you not terrified that I’m going to break your heart like your mom broke yours?”

“Pipes, even if you did break my heart, I’m sure I’d deserve it,” Jason says. “I was a baby then. My mom was a drunk. What she did… It wasn’t okay. That was neglect. I look at you and I’m not scared. I trust you with every cell in my body. You… you trusted me when I was just an illusion. You kept trusting me when you found out I was a Roman. You keep trusting me. You trust that I’m going to lead us to defeat Gaea and keep us alive. How could someone like you be someone I’m scared of?”

Piper’s heart skips a beat and she stares at him, a lump forming in her throat. “We might die.”

“You’re right, we might.”

“Gaea… she’s capable of killing us.”

“Yep. She is.”

“Aren’t you terrified?”

Without skipping a beat, Jason nods. “I am. But I look at you and it doesn’t seem so scary.”

It’s like falling all over again. She stares into his deep blue eyes and it’s a slow tug, a warm feeling pooling in her stomach, and she’s back at the Grand Canyon; he saved her from a death fall. He’s holding her upright, keeping her from hitting the ground. This boy in front of her is not her father. Even if he wanted to, she’s convinced he couldn’t break her heart. He could try and he’d never intentionally hurt her.

When Piper leans in, Jason meets her halfway. She kisses him softly, his warm hand cupping her cheek and his fingers burying themselves in her hair. His lips taste like strawberries and he smells of Old Spice. She melts against his lips and pulls him closer. He complies, both of his hands on her cheeks, soft and warm and comforting.

By the time they pull away, Jason’s cheeks are red and Piper’s breathless. He presses her forehead to hers and for a moment, they just look at each other.

“Next time you feel this way, can you please tell me?” Jason murmurs. “I’m pretty dumb and I can’t read your mind, even though I wish I could. I know years of abandonment aren’t going to be healed by a talk with me, but I want to help. I want you to know I’m here and I’m not going to leave you, Pipes.”

Piper feels her lips curl up in a tiny smile. “Thank you. You handled my crazy and that’s something I never asked you to do.”

“You’re not crazy, but you’re welcome.” Jason kisses her forehead. “Waking up on that bus… I felt so alone. I didn’t know who I was, and I’m still learning. But you… took control of my fears and you made me less afraid. You make me feel like me if who I am is the person I was before I woke up.”

“I don’t know who that person is either, but if you’re anything like who you used to be, I know I trust you,” Piper whispers. She pulls him in for another soft kiss. “I know you’re probably busy, but I haven’t eaten all day so I am starving. Can we head to lunch before going to Bunker Nine?”

Jason smiles and nods. “Anything for you.�� He stands up and offers her his hand, which she takes. “Maybe we can take some strawberries before lunch. Sound like a plan?”

Beaming, Piper presses herself against his side. “You read my mind. Let’s go.”

And as they step out into the daylight, Piper can’t help but admire how the sun makes everything golden.

#hi hello i have emerged from the void of social distancing to give you this #i said a few months ago i would write a one-shot based off harry's new album... here is the first one #in trying times we need a lil golden #also i am so: rusty so pls be kind on me :(#it's scary releasing new content after so long #idk if ppl will remember i actually write AAA #anyway . i hope you guys like #and i hope this makes this scary time a lil better <3 #fine line series #jasiper #my aesthetic #my writing #mine

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claudiafernandez96 · 3 years

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how we got here || claudia & cillian

Discord thread featuring: claudia & @cilliankelly

When: late night feb 25th, 2020

Mentions: @judetaylorhq

Description: claudia and cillian make up.

TW: addiciton

Claudia.

Claudia knew this was a bad fucking idea. She knew that there was a pretty decent chance that she was going to go home fucking crying tonight. Good thing lemon was at home ready with plenty of weed and warm hugs. She was out of work a bit earlier than normal, but it was still late. Dark. It felt weird meeting Cillian like this. Like they were having a formal meeting to discuss some type of business. She was unbelievably nervous. More nervous than she’d ever been when she was with Cillian. Before all of this bullshit, she was able to just be herself around him which was one of the reasons they had been so close in the first place. One of the many reasons, of course. She spotted Cillian in the window in a booth. She sighed. Taking one last hit of her cigarette, she walked into the diner. She threw her backpack down in the booth before sitting down across from the male. “Hey.” She said flatly.

𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲

cillian may have reached out to claudia because jude had suggested it, but that didn't mean he hadn't wanted to try and sort things out between them anyway. things were still weird between them, but cillian had meant it when he tld her he'd missed her. he had. and cillian was hoping that maybe somehow they could go back to being friends again. the fact that claudia was meeting him at all was a good sign, though cillian was trying not to be too hopeful. he still felt kind of uncomfortable about the whole thing. after all, they'd said some pretty nasty shit to each other just a few days ago. maybe it was too soon. but there was no going back now and cillian looked up at claudia as she slid into the booth across from him. "hey," he replied, not really sure how to get things started. it used to be so much fucking easier.

Claudia.

hey? That was all she was getting? He was the one that wanted to talk after all. So why did she just get a hey? She resisted the urge to roll her eyes by closing them and taking a deep breath. She opened her green eyes and they fell on the person who seemed to be a complete stranger in front of her. But he wasn’t. The was Cillian. She had said so many things to him that she regretted. But she wasn’t going to break first. Instead, she sat there in silence and glared over the table at him, her green eyes narrowing only slightly pair a very amused scowl on her face. “So...” she prompted.

𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲

cillian sighed, running a hand through his hair before leaning forward, arms on the table. his knee was bouncing up and down like crazy under the table. "look, claudia, neither of us are good at this. i don't know what i'm doing. but i wanted to figure this out. us out. because i do miss you and shit and i want you in my life. so whatever this..." he gestured vaguely between them "weird bullshit is, we have to talk it out. which i fucking hate doing but we've been putting it off for too long. i wanna be your friend again."

Claudia.

Claudia clasped her fingers together and sat back in the booth. She rubbed her temple in frustration as she thought about how to even respond to that. "I miss you, Cillian." She confessed, looking over the table at him. She could feel her heart beating in her ears. "You get me like no one else does and you seem to be the only person in the world who knows what I'm going to do before I do it. You were...are a great friend." She nodded once then looked down at her hands. "But are we ever going to be able to go back to the way we used to be? Minus the fucking and all..." She asked.

𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲

cillian hadn't expected claudia to be so open with him so quickly and it caught him a little off guard, left him a little vulnerable, and he felt his shoulders sag a little as her words settled over him. their relationship was a complicated one. cillian also felt that claudia understood him on a level that no one else did. she just got what he was about, she didn't question him, she just... accepted him for everything that he was and didn't expect anything more from him. and cillian did the same for her in return. but their relationship was also complicated in that it was always so tangled up with sex. and while cillian had always considered claudia a friend, there was a period of time that he had a lot of time separating the two things. but cillian wanted to try. because he cared about claudia. and although it took him a long time to realize it, he did love her. she was family. and cillian couldn't imagine his life without her in it. "why can't we?" he asked her, his voice quiet, serious, more so than usual. "i mean what's stopping us from just... being us again. what's the hang up? i'm asking seriously."

Claudia.

"Because it's...because you...I..." She actually didn't know what was keeping them from just being them again. Like - she really couldn't quite place why. It's be weird for most people, sure. But Cillian and Claudia weren't most people. They were almost their one breed. They could very easily put this all behind them and just be them again. But Claudia also thought that she probably shouldn't put this all behind her. That she should grow and learn from it - maybe even, like, become a better person or something. And she didn't want to keep hurting Cillian and Jude. She did love them, and she didn't want to constantly be a burden on their happiness. "I don't know, Cillian." She sighed defeatedly.

𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲

cillian nodded. he didn't know either. everything had been fucked since the night the three of them slept together for the first time. they'd been so confused, and while they may not be in love with each other as jude had originally thought, there was something to that. the way they needed each other. and cillian did need claudia. maybe not in the same way he had when they'd been sleeping together, but even still, his relationship with claudia was unlike any he had with anyone else. and while he didn't always appreciate it and often took her for granted, he recognized now that she was precious to him. "i think we just... need to get it all out there. and try to actually like... talk. instead of you know... getting into a shouting match or something." he cleared his throat then, a little awkwardly, and paused for a moment before he looked up at claudia again. "this is gonna be gross, but i need to get gross for a second, okay? you're important to me. i care about you. and more than that i just... i love you. and i'm sorry. like, so fucking sorry for all the bullshit i put you through."

Claudia.

Claudia's eye actually got wide when Cillian cleared his throat like he was actually...oh. He was really going to get gross like this. She knew getting like this was hard for him, and that it was something that he rarely ever did. Of course, it was hard for Claudia too. They both had hard exteriors - a defensive mechanism to hide and deflect of all of their bullshit. Letting their guards down like this was uncharted territory for Claudia and Cillian. Her throat tightened as she listen to him speak. "Cillian..." She put her hand over her eyes because she was not about to cry in the middle of this diner. She collected herself before she looked up at him. There was this one time in NA when their group leader was talking about forgiveness. Asking for forgiveness and forgiving others (something about forgiving yourself too, but Claudia was no where near ready for that). She was finally ready to do that, and, by the sound of it, Cillian may have been ready too. "I love you, too. "I-I'm so sorry." She choked. "I'm sorry for all of those terrible things I ever said to you. And I didn't ever think I could take you from Jude. I know how you feel about him. I just said all of that to hurt you guys. It was fucked up. I'm...sorry."

𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲

it really had been hard for cillian to open up to claudia like that. but once he got started he felt the words come more easily, as if he'd been holding on to those feelings for a long time, waiting for when he was ready to share them. he knew this was difficult for claudia as well, the two of them really were so much alike, which made the words all the more meaningful. in a lighter situation, cillian probably would have teased claudia for getting choked up sitting across from him in a booth at a fucking diner, but cillian couldn't help but feel the weight of her words settle over him and get emotional as well. it was hard being this vulnerable with someone that cillian had previously found untrustworthy. but fuck did he want to trust her and believe every word she said was true. maybe this was easier for him then it was for jude. maybe part of that was because he knew how badly he'd needed someone to believe in him when he was at his lowest. jude had been that person. claudia needed someone like that now. and cillian really wanted to be that for her. "i know that the way things happened... i know that hurt you. and i'm sorry if we made you feel like we were using you. we really ween't i mean... fuck, we need you claudia. i just... don't think we knew why or what that meant."

Claudia.

Truthfully, Claudia needed Cillian and Jude too. There wasn't a world in which she could imagine getting around without them. It had been months of fights and fucks to get to this conclusion. They were her family. She'd lost hers way too long ago, and couldn't seemed to realize that she found another one when she did. She felt a single, fat tear roll down her cheek and she wiped it away quickly. She briefly looked around the diner to see if she knew anyone. This was embarrassing. Actually, It was almost good that this was in public or else she'd about lose it. "No one knew...I know..." She mumbled, nodding in understanding. "And I'm sorry for being a toxic bitch..." She almost laughed because that sounds ridiculous. "I mean...I just want to be a positive person in your life." She sniffled.

𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲

cillian smiled at that, a soft sort of amused but genuine smile. "look, i don't expect you to be a ray of sunshine or anything. you're claudia fernandez. if you don't tell me to fuck off every once in awhile i'd be worried about yah." the three of them had all been lost in their own way. but together they had found something worth protecting. worth cherishing. it had nearly broken down and cillian suspecting there would be more rough patches in their future. but he was hopeful. "look... i wanna do whatever i can to support you with your recovery or whatever. if you still want me to. i'm actually pretty proud of you and stuff," he admitted before grimacing, though playfully so. "that was really fucking gross, i'm so sorry."

Claudia.

The artist managed to smile lightly, and even let out a tiny chuckle. "C'mon. I could never be that positive." She joked, the cleared her throat. It meant a lot to her that Cillian was willing to support her during her recovery. "Yeah ,well...I'm proud of you too. For coming out, and studying for your permit and shit..." She smiled lightly. "But really...thank you." She left out one last sniffled before grabbing the napkin on the table and fixing herself. She cleared her throat then suddenly found herself getting up to sit next to Cillian to pull him in for a hug. She actually hadn't realized that they never really hugged all that much before until now. Not like this at least.

𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐲

cillian didn't think he would ever get used to people telling him they were proud of him. it wasn't something he heard a lot growing up. he figured this was probably the case for claudia as well which was why it was important that he told her. he watched her as she stood, confused at first before she rounded the table and sat beside him, pulling him into a hug. this wasn't something cillian was used to either. and though he was hesitant at first, fuck, he needed this right now. they both did. he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his side and holding her tightly. fuck, he'd missed her so much. he didn't think h'd realized how much until this moment. and he knew that things would never go back to normal. but he also knew that they'd figure out a new normal, a better normal, and he was more than okay with that. especially if it meant that claudia was theirs again. their best friend. their family. cillian was quiet for a moment, just holding claudia in the booth, his breathing steady as he tried not to lose it. and then, quietly, he mumbled into her hair. "i forgive you, claudia." because he felt it was important she heard him say it.

#discord #cillian

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gothpanda · 4 years

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A Little Bit of Attitude Ch.29: Goodbye

WORD COUNT: 6.0K

A/N: I hope everyone enjoys this chapter!

WARNINGS: angst at its lowest

TAGS: @madamsixx @emariehorror

Read On Ao3

Previous/Next

May 20th, 1986

Sitting under an outdoor umbrella table in a small corner coffee shop that opened 6 months ago, Sammi stared out into the distance with wrinkles of irritability deepening on her face. She slowly twirled a spoon in her coffee that clanked against the white ceramic mug every so often that would annoy anyone. Her mind wandered as it always did, thinking of the list of tasks needed to be done and other lists of tasks wanting to do. It felt like a never-ending wave of chores Sammi had started, begging why she did this to herself.

"Sammi," Sammi continued to stare out into the distance, pursing her lips out and squinting into nothing. "Sammi!" Emma shouted, shaking Sammi's hand gently to break her out of the daze she was in. Sammi snapped her head to Emma, blinking rapidly, looking like a deer in the headlights. Emma chuckled at Sammi, surprised how fast Sammi was able to daydream when she was alone. "I got you a chocolate chip muffin. They didn't have the coffee cake one that you like," Emma said, catching a tip of whip cream from her iced latte and taking a joyful lick. Sammi shook her head, sipping her coffee that had been spun around multiple times.

"Where's S?" Sammi asked, picking a piece of her muffin.

"Right here, I ran into a guy I had a class with. I forgot how cute he was," Sabrina said, tucking her skirt underneath her legs as she sat down beside Sammi. Sabrina could see the quiet expression on Sammi's cheeks, noticing her pecking at her sweetbread. Sabrina and Emma exchanged a knowing look at one another as they carried out their usual manners. Emma sipping on her iced beverage while Sabrina tore a piece of her croissant. "So what's got you daydreaming?" Emma asked Sammi, Sabrina raising a quizzical eyebrow to her left.

Sammi scrunched her brows together, glancing between the two friends. "I wasn't daydreaming, I was thinking. There's a difference,"

"Okay then what's got you thinking so silently, you forgot where you were for a second? It's amazing how fast you're able to do that," Sabrina teased, smirking at Sammi, drinking cappuccino.

"What I need to do before next week. If I need to finish anything right before I leave. If there's anything I want to do before leaving. If I need to stop thinking at high speed for once in my life," Sammi said, pulling out a pack of Camels from her silver purse and bringing one to her lips. She lit the cigarette, blowing out the smoke away from her friends, Emma stealing one for herself. Sabrina shifted away from any smoke that hit her face. Emma purposely let out a puff of smoke to Sabrina, giggling at the sour expression.

"You wouldn't need to be thinking so much if you just stayed down here," Emma said.

"Why did you have to accept a school all the way in San Francisco? How else am I going to get second-hand smoker lungs?" Sabrina asked with a small pout.

"You can blame Mr. Harrison's connections in convincing me to go to San Fran. Maybe do it on your last day at Elektra next week," Sammi teased. Sammi would be lying to everyone if she said she wasn't grateful for how the opportunity fell in her lap. Mr. Harrison was happy to help Samantha on her journey to a career path, knowing her endless potential.

"She may have also accepted because she needs a fresh new life far away from everyone in this place. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself," Emma said, pouting out in exaggeration.

"You're not wrong. It's good to have a fresh start every once in a while especially for school. You guys are lucky I'm staying in California. I could've gone all the way to Texas if I was that desperate. Or New York City," Sammi said, blowing out another drag of her cigarette.

"Thank god you're so considerate of others, but you still could've stayed here," Sabrina said with a smile that made Sammi's mood shift a bit. The girls stayed silent for a moment, basking in the quality time together before Sammi's final day in Los Angeles. In truth, Emma and Sabrina were happy Sammi was doing something for herself and only herself. Sammi didn't ask anyone if she should go back to school or where she should go. But of course, as all friends are, they would miss knowing Sammi was in the same city as them, and they could pop in. Their Friday night dinners will only consist of Emma and Sabrina from now on, Sammi only joining when she comes for a visit. They were beginning to grow up into full adults. It was scary but needed for everyone.

"If I'm being honest, I don't want to leave but I know it's the right thing. Now more than ever since my shit show," Sammi said, shrugging her shoulders in sadness.

"Hey, may I ask you something, Sam?" Emma asked, biting her lip with the look of worry that made Sammi worry.

"Sure?"

"Has 'you know who' tried calling you after the wedding?" Emma asked with hesitation. Sammi sighed as she shook her head, flicking the small dub to the street, then taking a sip of her coffee. "Is it weird if I say I feel bad for both of you? Just not seeing you two together right now is weird. It feels like my parents got divorced and I should know," Emma said, finishing her cigarette.

"No, it's not. I feel bad for myself so join the petty party. Sabrina? Want to join this party of two and make it three?" Sammi asked, resting her head against the palm of her hand. Sabrina slung an arm around Sammi, bringing her in for a side hug.

"You feel bad because we liked Nikki even if he was an asshole to others, he was nice with Sammi. Now he's doing something that's harming himself which affects people who care. It's different then most relationship dramas," Sabrina analyzed, taking a sip of her cappuccino.

"I wish it was because he's an asshole and move on with my life, but it's more complicated than that," pouted Sammi.

"Of course it is, it's Nikki. It's never easy with those guys," Emma tried to poke fun of, shrugging her shoulders. Sabrina shot Emma a glare like a mother, Emma mouthing a sorry to her.

"Am I dumb for still caring and wanting to work things out?" Sammi asked, looking down at her cup with a low head.

Emma cocked her head to one side, sympathy beginning to show more for her friend. "You're not dumb because you have a heart, Sam. It's natural to still care about an ex at times. I still wonder about Athena randomly at times and it's been months,"

"You'd still worry about Athena if she used hard drugs and got aggressive because of them?" Sammi asked with a hint of sarcasm. Emma shrugged her shoulders, not knowing what to say to make it positive. She didn't think this whole situation could be favorable.

"I'd like to think so. I'm not sure about working things out, but I'd like to know if she's being healthy. It's drugs, Sammi. Anyone with a heart would still care about the person. I'm surprised Nikki's able to hide it from people so well,"

"He's not. You just said it yourself. He's not around people with hearts that care, at least not sober people. He's a musician who created a successful band and can make money off of it. It's different," Sabrina explained, turning to see if Sammi was becoming sadder for this conversation. Sammi lifted her head up, squaring her shoulders straight, and smiled with confidence.

"It's whatever now. I'm happy. I really am. I'm getting to live in a new city. I've been here my whole life. Maybe I'll like San Francisco and want to live there permanently after I graduate. Two years is enough time to fall in love with a city," Sammi said in an attempt to lift the spirits of the table. Her friends didn't believe it but tried to join in.

"The selfish part of me says please don't but I know it's good. Hell, I came down here to leave Sacramento. It's only fair you do the same thing, Sammi," Sabrina said with a sad smile.

"So are you gonna have a going away party or disappear randomly one day?" Emma asked.

"No. No party. I don't want a going away party at all where people might start crying. But I do want to tell everyone goodbye alone. That way everyone gets a nice goodbye," said Sammi.

"Even Nikki?" asked Emma, raising an eyebrow. Sammi sighed out and took a sip of her coffee, thinking if she should tell Nikki. Sammi wasn't hiding from anyone about her move, telling almost everyone in their own times, except Nikki. Respectfully, she should speak Nikki about her plans and not cause a bigger mess than she'll ditch. Then again, Sammi wanted to act selfish and petty, focus on herself instead of a man.

"Yes, even Nikki. I still have some little things at his place that I should probably get," Sammi muttered.

"If you need us to go with you, we could. We'll wait outside while you say your goodbyes," Sabrina offered.

"Thanks but I need to be a big girl and do things on my own. Especially if I'm going to be alone in a new city," Sammi said, sighing out into the warm, clear sky.

May 29th, 1986

Sammi had a list of people she wanted to personally say goodbye to with their own time. The first person Sammi had on her list was Vince, to her own surprise thinking Vince would be the last person on the planet to give farewells. Sammi walked up to the white modern beach mansion, the place she called a second home for a few months. The doorbell rang out, Sammi shifting her weight from one foot to another, looking away into the neighborhood as she waited. It was early in the morning; Sammi hoped Vince decided to be an early bird this summer season. When the grand finally opened, Sammi smiled right away, Vince holding Skylar right on his hip. Vince smiled back at Sammi, puzzled for a moment before remembering what day it was.

"Hey, Vin. Hi, Skylar," Sammi said, waving her two fingers to the small child, winning a happy smile from Skylar. Vince stepped aside to let Sammi in with a low head, Skylar moving around in his arms to be set free. Once she was on the ground, Skylar waddled her best to Sammi, hugging her leg. Skylar smiled up at Sammi, two little teeth showing. "Aww she still likes me," Sammi said, picking Skylar up and resting her on her hip. Vince grew a smile at the two girls, folding his arms across his chest. Sammi bounced Skylar on her hip, earning giggles from the young baby, Vince admiring more at the two.

"I couldn't imagine someone not liking you,' Vince said, slowly stepping towards Sammi. "It's the end of the month. I didn't think it would come so fast," Vince fixed a piece of Skylar's hair from her face as she played with the shiny rings Sammi wore. Vince sucked the front of his teeth, stuffing his hands in the back of his jean pockets. "Please don't tell me you came all the way out here to say goodbye,"

Sammi smiled with sadness, shrugging her shoulders. "It was going to happen at some point, Vince. Thought I wasn't gonna say goodbye to you?"

"No. I was kind of hoping you had changed your mind and didn't want to leave this beautiful city," Vince said, walking the girls to the living room. As the three sat down on the white sofa, Sammi let Skylar crawl off to the floor to find a toy to play with. "Maybe you rejected San Francisco and went to school here. Where your family is. And all your friends. Where people who care about you are,"

Sammi sighed out, pushing locks of hair away from her face, looking down at Skylar. "Vince, I need this. I want to get out of here and see other places that aren't from a tour bus. Besides I promised myself I'd go back after a year of working, I need to follow that,"

Vince sighed out, slumping further into the sofa. "I'm going to miss you, you know. It's going to be weird not having you around,"

"I'm not dying, Vin!" Sammi smiled at Vince.

"I know you're not dying! But let's face it I doubt you'll come visit when you have free time. You'll probably only come for the holidays then leave again. San Francisco is pretty far away if you haven't figured it out," Vince teased, poking Sammi on the shoulder. Sammi gazed down at her hands, realization beginning to creep up on her.

"You're right. I probably won't have enough free time to just drop everything and come down," Sammi uttered, fidgeting with her nails unkempt.

"Doesn't mean that we can't though," Vince said with a small smile.

Sammi turned her head to see the smile, raising an eyebrow that matched Vince's expression. "You'd come up to visit me?"

"Yeah just to make sure you're not dead," Vince said, chuckling as Sammi shoved his shoulder playfully.

"I'm going to miss you too. Promise you'll do a good job taking care of this little one?" Sammi asked, picking Skylar to sit her between the two of them. Skylar laid down between the two, slowly closing her eyes for her nap. Vince rubbed Skylar's cheek with the back of his hand, smiling down at his daughter. Vince then gave a similar smile to Sammi.

"I promise. Promise you'll try to visit on your own?"

"I promise," Sammi said, holding out her pinky.

Instead, Vince stood up in front of Sammi with arms open wide, hoping she'd accept the hug. Sammi stood up with warm eyes and a smile and wrapped her arms around Vince's waist, feeling him hold her in a warm embrace. Vince kisses the crown on Sammi's head, reminding himself to respect the girl's boundaries. "I'm proud of you, Sam. And I'm sorry for everything," Vince mumbled into Sammi's hair. Sammi shut her eyes tight, staying in the embrace for what felt like forever. A feeling of tightness beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. Sammi wasn't enjoying this feeling by any means.

Mick was surprised to hear his doorbell ring out in his home, placing his guitar flat down on the sofa. Mick rarely had guests pop in on him, liking his home's secluded area to relax before the chaos of music erupted again. When he opened the door, his firm, confused, an irritating glare that Mick always had melted away as a smiling Sammi stood at his steps. Mick raised an eyebrow, opening the door wider. "What's up, little girl? Here for a visit?" Mick asked.

"More like a goodbye. I'm leaving tomorrow remember?" Sammi said, stepping into the cozy home. Mick groaned out, closing the door shut and led Sammi to the kitchen. Sammi looked around the complete house, getting after herself for not visiting Mick here more often. She felt bad that she came for goodbye and not a regular time to hang out. Sammi promised she'd spend time with Mick when she came down to visit.

"Oh I remember but I was betting you only said it because you were mad at Nikki. I didn't think you'd actually leave," said Mick, grabbing two bottles of cokes from the fridge, sliding one to Sammi on the kitchen island.

"Wow thanks, Mick. Am I really that dramatic to you?" Sammi asked sarcastically, sipping her drink. "It's not like I've wanted to avoid everyone before by disappearing," Sammi smiled at Mick, earning a chuckle from the older man.

"Are you doing your rounds with everybody or just me?" asked Mick.

"Everyone. I thought it would be swifter in one go to say bye and not cause too much of a scene," Sammi uttered, tapping her finger on the glass bottle. "I'm not really in the mood for tears,"

"So are you still mad at Nikki? Is that why you're leaving?," Mick asked.

"No, I'm not leaving because of him. It's entirely because of school and wanting new experiences," Sammi said, glaring at Mick.

"Are you still mad at him though?"

"I guess I am. He hasn't bothered calling me after Santa Barbra, and I haven't bothered calling him. I doubt he cares much about anyone but himself at this point," Sammi said sadly, Mick giving her a sympathetic smile. Mick could read Sammi's face clear as day, Nikki's topic being a sore spot for the young woman.

"Don't worry. I'll look after him while you're gone, it's the least I can do for the both of you," said Mick. Mick felt inclined to worry about Nikki or the others generally, due to being the oldest and least intoxicated from the bunch. With Sammi added to the mix, Mick felt even more inclined to keep an eye on Nikki and Tommy as these were her two boys. "I promise,"

"Thanks, Mick. Can you also promise me one other thing?" Mick nodded. "Please take care of your back. Take your medication and don't mix it with alcohol as much. And please go to your doctor's appointments and schedule them. Ask Doc to get you an assistant maybe to help,"

Mick lips parted in shock, scrunching his eyebrows together. He cleared his throat, tapping his fingers against the island gravel. Mick thought he was either hiding it exceptionally well or nobody who was around cared enough to ask. Clearly, he was proven wrong. "You could tell?"

Sammi nodded. "I don't know what you have exactly, but I know something's up and you need to take care of yourself. It's important to keep up with your health especially when you go out and perform,"

"It's Ankylosing spondylitis with a bit of forming scoliosis. I got diagnosed when I was around your age," Mick said dryly, having a small bit of happiness to know someone could see. "I thought I was doing a good job at acting normal,"

"Mick, I was always able to see something was up. I just didn't know how to bring it up with you," Sammi said.

"Well after you come back, I'll come to you when I need new meds or a new doctor," Mick said, chuckling a small bit.

Sammi smiled at Mick, reaching over to place her hand over his. "I'd be happy to help with that," Sammi said, gently squeezing Mick's hand. Mick didn't want to say it out loud, but he was going to miss the little girl as much as everyone else. It hurt him thinking Sammi wanted to get away from everything, be pushed over the edge by Nikki. Mick wanted to shake some sense into Nikki, hoping the bass player would come back to the light but knew it would never work. Mick only hoped things didn't blow up too much after this.

"I know I don't do a whole lot of talking, but I am going to miss you, little girl," Mick said, looking away from Sammi and sipping his soda.

"I'll miss you too, Mick," Sammi said, smiling sadly at Mick. The two didn't hug, knowing it was a rarity, and Sammi did not like the feeling of hugs today. Instead, they stayed in silence as they finished their sodas in the kitchen, Mick wanting to give Sammi a quiet space to think.

"Please, don't leave me! I beg you!" Tommy yelled in the air, embracing Sammi in a tight hug. Sammi was smothered in Tommy's chest, not hugging him back as the siblings stood in the newlyweds home's living room. As soon as Sammi rang the doorbell, Tommy ran out of the house to hug his sister, dragging Sammi in for Heather to see her. Tommy didn't want to let go of his baby sister, not wanting her to leave ever. She tried to pull away from her brother, only to be hugged tighter. Heather smiled at the two as she sat on the expensive sofa, finding Tommy's desperation of Sammi's departure amusing. Sammi finally had enough strength to push Tommy off her, gasping for air and dropping herself down next to Heather. Tommy pouted down at Sammi, falling right between the two girls.

"Babe, be happy for your sister. You should be proud Sammi's going back to school for pharmacy. It's a big deal," Heather told Tommy, running her fingers through his hair. Tommy still continued to pout, being another who wished to be selfish for a happy occasion. Heather had to be the positive one from the two, reminding of the accompaniment. Sammi poked Tommy's puffy cheeks, giggling when he reacted annoyed, hiding his face in Heather's neck. Heather rolled her eyes, patting Tommy on the head to soothe him.

"Yeah, Tommy, be proud of me. Remember I'm the normal sibling. I need to go to college and get a regular job unlike some people," Sammi said, smiling at Tommy.

"Sammi needs to spread her wings and fly. Experience new places!" Heather said to Tommy.

"I'll pay for your apartment and school if you stay here," Tommy said, lifting his head up. His hair covered his eyes, making Heather and Sammi laugh at Tommy.

"We were going to do that anyway, babe," Heather said, fluttering her lashes to her husband and smiling mischievously at her sister in law. Slowly squaring her shoulder with scrunched eyebrows, Sammi shifted her eyes at the couple in confusion. She couldn't register what Heather just said as if it was a regular thing. Tommy slowly began smiling at his sister, Heather, unable to contain her excitement any longer.

"What? What do you mean you're going to pay for my stuff? I have everything covered," Sammi asked with wide eyes. Tommy sat up straight, grabbing Heather's hand like Mr. and Mrs. Bass when they had to announce something to their children. It was any other circumstance, Sammi would laugh along with the two but not today.

"Heather and I were talking about you going back to school and how you're going to be stressed with studying. San Francisco is way more expensive than L.A is so we wanted to help out," Tommy said.

"It's the least we can do. You shouldn't be stressed about money and only think about your studies. It's going to be hard doing all of that alone and in a new city," Heather said.

"Yeah but I have school covered. I have scholarships and I was going to get a job on campus," said Sammi. "I saved up a lot this past year for my apartment up there,"

"We know that, Sammi. We know you've always been independent with everything since you moved out of Mama and Dad's house. But you deserve a little help for once after always being there for everyone. Consider this as a thank you," said Tommy.

"Plus if we're being honest, we don't have to think about how much stuff costs, so we're fine paying for your expenses. You wouldn't have to worry about paying us back a penny," Heather reassured Tommy, nodding along.

"How exactly would this work?" Sammi asked, still hesitant about the offer.

"Basically like a monthly allowance to cover rent, bills, and your own spending money. And for school, it's by semester so you can just call us with the bill! It's that simple!" Tommy said, clapping his hands together as if this was a typical case in their lives. Sammi scratched the side of her head, contemplating if this was a good idea, looking at Heather and Tommy's convincing faces. The couple didn't feel entitled to do something nice for Sammi; they wanted to do this from their hearts. Tommy wasn't happy about Sammi leaving, feeling this was her new method of running away. In the eyes of the Bass family, this news came out of nowhere, only having three weeks to say goodbye. Heather tried to sway Tommy's worries away with no luck, the stubborn man believing in his theory. "Just say yes, Sam. It's a perfect plan," Tommy begged, turning on his sweet puppy dog eyes.

Sammi sighed out as they twisted her arm to agree. "Alright I accept your guys offered to help. I really appreciate it," Sammi said, smiling at the couple. Tommy and Heather jumped out of their spots to engulf Sammi in another hug, feeling as if this is the most she's ever been hugged in one day. Sammi let out a yell in protest, shimming away from Heather and Tommy but with no luck.

"You're going to be great up there," Heather said to Sammi, pulling away slightly. Sammi only smiled, beginning to feel the knot in her stomach again. It was only 3 in the afternoon.

To Sammi's luck, Athena's apartment wasn't far from Tommy's home, making the drive short west. Sammi gripped tightly on the steering wheel, her knuckles turning white as she tried to calm her breathing. "You're going to be fine. You're going to be fine. You're going to be fine," Sammi whispered to herself, parking in front of a brand new apartment building. Walking up the front door steps, Sammi pressed the button that read Athena, waiting for her sister to answer the call.

"Hello?" Athena answered.

"It's Sammi. Let me in," Sammi shouted into the speaker. Athena didn't bother to give a response, buzzing Sammi into the building. Sammi walked up to flights of stairs, dragging her feet up at each step. It had been a short time since Sammi spoke to Athena, distracting herself with the excuse of packing. Athena paid no attention to this, knowing that she would go to her if Sammi needed to talk. Sammi gently knocked on the red wooden door, looking down at her feet as she could hear Athena's footsteps. When Athena opened her door, she smiled at Sammi with a reminder to be nice to her baby sister.

"Hey!" Athena said, stepping aside to let Sammi pass. Sammi played with her hands as she walked straight to the sofa, dropping her purse beside her. "Do you want anything to drink? Food?" Athena offered, walking over to the small kitchenette that connected to the living room. Sammi shook her head, eyes following Athena sit down on the accent sofa chair near her. She tucked her legs in, chin resting against her palm, ready to hear anything Sammi has to say. "Is everything going well? You're finished packing?" Athena asked.

Sammi nodded. "I had the last of my boxes shipped this morning. All I have in my apartment is a suitcase and a mattress on the floor. I can't believe I'm leaving,"

"Really? I thought it would be the other way around. Everyone not believing you until you were already gone, thinking you were just lying,"

"Why does everyone keep saying that?!" Sammi snapped, frowning at Athena. "You, Mick, Vince. Why do people think I was bluffing about leaving?"

Athena pressed her lips firmly together, knowing now was not the time for a fight. "It's not that we think you were bluffing. It's just no one wants you to leave so we're in a bit of denial. I'm proud of you for going back to school. I want you to know that,"

Sammi sighed out, leaning back against the sofa in lousy posture, folding her arms against her chest. "Thanks. I didn't think my leaving would make everyone so sad. I didn't think I was that special,"

Athena raised an eyebrow at Sammi. "You don't think you're so special everyone would be bored or sad without you? I know we fight a lot, but I would rather have you around all the time than none at all,"

Sammi smiled at Athena, emotions beginning to erupt, but Sammi knew how to withhold them. "I'm sorry for being a bitch so many times. I shouldn't have been so spitful when you said your opinion,"

"I'm the one who should apologize. I should've never been so harsh on you with Nikki. I should've listened instead of being mean, and I'm sorry you two broke up after the wedding," Athena said, giving Sammi a sympathetic smile.

"It's whatever now. He hasn't bothered with me and I'm not going to bother with him anymore," Sammi said, chipping away nail polish. Athena frowned at Sammi's sad tone, having a bit of doubt to Sammi's statement.

"Careful when you see Mama and Dad. They might ask about Nikki,"

"If they do I'll just lie. I wouldn't want them to worry about him or anything that they don't need to," said Sammi.

"You really did care about him, didn't you? You're still protecting him even now," Athena said.

"Yeah, I guess I did," Sammi mumbled. "It's whatever now. Maybe I'll find a regular guy in San Francisco who's a saint and never even looked at a drug,"

"Don't push yourself to meet someone. Take your time and focus on yourself. You're young and can have years to find someone else," Athena advised, studying Sammi faces to the best of her abilities. Athena was able to see the hesitation on Sammi's face, the small eleven wrinkles between her brows almost becoming permanent from thinking. The older sister didn't know if she should object Sammi from leaving but knew it was the right thing to do. As much as Athena herself hated the idea, she knew Sammi needed a breath of fresh air even if she was afraid of it. Athena didn't want to push to fright Sammi, only wishing to stand by her when needed. She felt guilty for her tantrums, realizing how selfish they all were. Athena walked over to Sammi's side of the sofa, wrapping her arms in a hug around the younger girls' shoulders. Sammi didn't hug back, only leaning her head on Athena's shoulder.

"I'm going to miss you," Sammi muttered under her breath.

"I'm going to miss you too, Sam," Athena whispered. The two staying in silence for a moment longer, Sammi forcing down any emotions.

Pulling up into the driveway of Mr. and Mrs. Bass tugged the heartstrings, Sammi turning off the ignition and shutting her eyes to let out a few calming breaths. She could see the light bleed out from the living room window, Mr. Bass's car parked right next to Sammi's impala. It was with heavy feet that made Sammi walk to the front door, trying to find her original house key. As Sammi pushed open the door, she could hear music playing to her right, seeing her parents dancing all around the living room. She quietly closed the door behind her, smiling happily at the couple as they were in their own little world, not noticing Sammi. It wasn't until Mr. Bass dipped Mrs. Bass that he noticed Sammi standing in the wide doorway, a broad smile growing on his lips. He twirled Mrs. Bass one last time, making her stop right to see Sammi.

"Oh, Lovebug! We've been waiting for you! Your food is ready!" Mrs. Bass exclaimed out, clapping her hands together. Mrs. Bass gave Sammi a warm quick hug before cascading her way down the hall. Mr. Bass smiled at Samm, giving her a kiss on the cheek before following Mrs. Bass to the dining table. Sammi didn't move at first. She stood frozen in the doorframe, folding her arms in front of her chest. Sammi walked at a slow pace, seeing a plate of spaghetti and meatballs waiting for her. Mr. and Mrs. Bass set down forks and glasses, pouring in freshly squeezed lemonade for their daughter. Sammi mustered up a smile as she sat down, noticing how happy her parents seemed to be for her last day. The three ate in relative silence, Sammi switching gazes at her parents every so often. "Are you excited for the drive tomorrow, lovebug?" Mrs. Bass asked, breaking the silence as she wiped her mouth from any food.

"Yeah, hopefully, I don't have to deal with so much traffic in the morning," Sammi said, placing a napkin on a half-empty plate. "I'll be taking off at 8,"

"The morning drives are always the best kind of drives," Mr. Bass said, taking a sip of his lemonade. "The sun is just beginning to rise. Picking up fast food breakfast with a nice hot coffee. It's the best," Mr. Bass smiled at himself at the memories of his youth.

"Actually dad, driving in the middle of the night is way better. It's so peaceful. I loved it when I was up late on the bus with the guys, and I'd look out the window to see the moon. It was always the best," Sammi said, pressing her lips together, leaving a bittersweet memory in her mind. "But not this time! It'll be fun getting to San Francisco on my own and getting to unpack,"

"Remember you have to call us once you get to your apartment so we know you're safe," Mrs. Bass said, grabbing the dirty dishes to leave them in the sink.

"Yes, Mama. I'll remember," Sammi said with a smile. "Do you guys have any last-minute parenting advice before I leave tomorrow?" Sammi asked, resting her chin in the palm of her hand. Mr. and Mrs. Bass looked at each other for a moment, pursing their lips as they thought of something.

"Don't get a ticket when you're parking the car somewhere. And if you, pay it right away or it can pile up," Mr. Bass said, pointing a strong finger at Sammi.

"I think Sammi meant words of wisdom for leaving," Mrs. Bass said, rolling her eyes playfully at her husband. "Lovebug, I know the feeling of moving away from your home. It's going to be scary and you'll question things almost every day, but this is something great for you. I want you to always remember that," Mrs. Bass said to Sammi, holding their hands together gingerly.

"And don't worry about being selfish. If you want to leave, you should leave and find a better way for yourself. The world is big enough to explore," Mr. Bass added to Mrs. Bass's advice, Sammi smiling both at her parents.

"Thanks, mama and dad. I really appreciate it," Sammi said, swallowing away more of the emotions that have been building up.

"We love you," Mrs. Bass said, kissing Sammi on the cheek.

"And don't forget it," Mr. Bass added, kissing Sammi on the crown of her head. "Do you want to watch some tv before you leave? It's still pretty early by the looks of my watch," Mr. Bass asked Sammi, glancing down at the brand new watch Tommy gifted on his wrist. Sammi only nodded to her father, seeing Mrs. Bass began to load the dishwasher as she slowly rose from her seat. Sammi followed her father down the hallway's short distance, Mr. Bass flipping channels on his recliner. She laid on the sofa, relaxing, enjoying the last few moments of this consistent bonding with her parents. Sammi bit on the nail of her thumb for a majority of the time shared, glancing at the clock on the fire mantel before it was time to go. After driving for a few miles in utter silence, Sammi finally let down the tears she withheld from the day. She then remembered one last person she wanted to say goodbye to, making her cry even more. Sammi parked the car off the side of the dark road, clenching onto the steering wheel as she hurled over, letting out a weeping cry. Sammi gasped for air as she continued to weep, hot tears crawling down her face.

"I'm sorry, Nikki," Sammi whispered to herself, breathing in heavily as she squared her shoulders in her seat. Sammi wiped away the stains on her cheeks, turning her car back on as she drove out into the night.

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eternaljouska · 4 years

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Title : you're not a burden; jungkook??

∆∆∆∆∆ Title Request 1/6 ∆∆∆∆∆

a/n: the plot is kinda questionable imo, but this is the best i can get out of my writing slump. and sorry for the long wait. enjoy nonetheless~~ Thank you for sending this request dear anonnie ♡

Sleep has become such a burden. For Jungkook, who is lying on his stomach and burying his head into his arms and pillows, sleep is a dead weight on his spine. It is a weight so heavy he’s not sure he can ever wake up or walk again afterward. He’s not sure he wants to either, though. Not after you heard those words he used to describe you. Those vile, wicked words. He doesn’t mean any of those, of course, but his notoriously poor track record with you will do nothing to convince you—or even his friends—of his innocence.

Some would say that he has an anger management issue, but he would beg to differ. He would like to prove to you that the only issue he has is just a stupidity issue, although he can’t. He doesn’t know how to do that without looking very much like the dumb ass that you think he is. And it’s not like he can try, you would never deign to even spare him a single motherfucking glance after that night. It’s been two days, and a few of his friends are still not talking to him. Even his friends won’t talk to him, how pathetic.

Well, that word. He spat out those words for you that night. How pathetic, he had said.

In your room, there is this small space between your bed and the drawer next to it, a bigger space than how Jungkook knows people normally set those two items together. That night, they—he and his friends—found you sitting there again, folding in onto yourself, hugging your knees to your chest. Your eyes, they were… Jungkook doesn’t want to call that image to explain it. The only thing he can recall is the ache he felt inside his chest, the remains of which he still bears with his every step. But that night, like every other night, the immense pain stopped him from walking towards you. And that night, like every other night, it was Jimin who ran to your side. It was sweet, affectionate Jimin who cradled you and walked you out of your down-spiraling thoughts. It would never be him. Nobody could ever win against the perfect Jimin, not a coward like him.

“Hey, I need to talk to you.” Jungkook’s voice is nothing if not a whisper of dwindling courage. He had called you thrice before you finally answered. His dumb ass probably doesn’t realize how late it already is. You know the core of the talk he wants to have. Honestly, you’ve been waiting. You both have this complicated friendship—if you’re able to call it that. It was you who started with the small pranks here and there, but something happened and you didn’t feel like responding to his prank anymore, so you stopped. And of course, he got mad. He got mad when you didn’t value his effort. You’d told him to stop too, but he refused, opting to rather explore his creativity in the foul pranks department.

“Y/n?” It feels like forever since he called you by your name like this, and you have the sudden urge to cry and end his call. You didn’t want to answer him in the first place. It was Jimin who told you to. Whose fault it was to even ask for his advice? The moment Jungkook’s name popped out on your screen, you fumbled around for your phone and sent a hurried message to Jimin, half-hoping he’s already asleep so that you can blame him for not answering Jungkook’s call. But Jungkook keeps calling, and Jimin texted you in the end. He said Jungkook has been miserable after that night, as he should be for saying those cruel words about you.

“Y/n, I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, that night, I was— You- you know me, right? I said stupid words without thinking. I did stupid things without—“

“I don’t think you can execute those pranks you did without thinking, Jeon. And I did know you, but I think I no longer do.” The words taste like bile in your mouth, but those are the truth.

“Y/n, please—“

You hung up. Jungkook should’ve known better. I don’t think you can execute those pranks you did without thinking. True. In fact, he did a lot of thinking for each and every prank he made. He did a lot of effort to rile you into pranking him back, into falling to that silly tradition that you both had not even two months ago. You said that you no longer know him, but it’s all because of you. You just suddenly stopped paying him any attention and went traipsing around with Jimin and Taehyung as if he was not the one who introduced you to them.

You both were not close or anything. You could’ve, if you had talked to him instead of ignoring him as you did. You could’ve become close, and it could’ve been Jungkook on your side instead of Jimin. But no, you acted all closed off or whatever without explaining why. You’d asked him to stop with the prank, but that’s it. You didn’t even give him a second warning; just that once and then you gave up. You gave up so easily on him that it frustrated him, to the extent that it becomes easier for him to spit out ugly words just to hurt you. Stupid, but again he has zero ideas on how to deal with his stupidity issue.

“Yoongi hyung,” Jungkook whispers to the man in front of him. He is currently flipping through a thick book Jungkook can only imagine using as a weapon rather than reading material. “I need your help.”

“Just tell her the truth,” Yoongi says without looking up.

“It’s not—“

“I know it’s about her. You guys weren’t like this before. What changed? You need to control your anger and have that talk with her.”

Jungkook deadpans. “Hyung, how many times have I told you, I don’t have an anger management issue!” The older man only raises his brow, again, without taking his eyes off his book, and Jungkook takes that as his cue to leave.

After what feels like three laps around the school ground, Jungkook finds you sitting on the bleachers with a book in your hand. Honestly, what is wrong with people, all of a sudden they are into reading or what now? You must have noticed his arrival, for you quickly close your book and raise your face to look at him. You must have also expected it would be anyone but him if your expression is anything to go by.

“Hey, we need to talk.”

“There’s nothing—“

“I have something to say, to ask. So please…” Jungkook trails off, but you don’t make any more attempts to escape him. “I’ve been a coward. I am still,” he quickly adds at the sound of your scoff, “I’m sorry… for those bad things I said, bad pranks I played. I went overboard, I know. But Y/n, I would really like it if we can start over. I mean… we were… fine. Back then. It was all fun. But why—“

“You, Jungkook, are such a fool!”

“I know… I have a stupidity issue.” You let out a soft ‘a what?’ at this, but Jungkook keeps going, “So I’m sorry. I’m even sorry for myself. What happened, Y/n?”

And you know exactly what he’s asking, know exactly the answer, and it hurts you that he’s still oblivious after all this time. “Y/n is such a crybaby. She’d go to the corner and cry out of the blue. Why would I ever like someone like that? That would be such a burden. Do you remember that, Jeon? Because I do, word by word.”

Jungkook doesn’t. He doesn’t remember his exact sentences, but he knows he said those ugly words, just as he did a few nights ago. What he didn’t know, until today, is that you’ve heard him. It was the day before Jungkook repaid you for your latest—last—prank, which had half of his head dyed pink. Taehyung had been bothering him about his crush on you nonstop, and Jungkook’s stupid brain was on its lowest performance due to the history test he had earlier and the pressure to top your prank and the constant nerves of being near you. It’s only normal for it to be extremely defensive against Taehyung accusations and teases of how you had that look on you when Jungkook was mentioned; it didn’t need more anxiety from thinking the probability Taehyung suggested. So it did what it does best: vomiting stupid words.

Now looking back, if you had known about that all this time, it becomes clear why you had stopped caring about him and his childish pranks. It all makes sense. “So that’s why?”

From the moment you finished speaking, you can see the gears on his head spurring back to life, can see the realization dawning on his face. Jungkook has his eyes to the ground, his expression grows somber as he mumbles out his question and you feel your heart becomes heavier as he stays silent for the longest minute of your life. His voice trembles slightly when he speaks up again. “I… am so stupid, aren’t I? I don’t even know what to say. I can say I’m sorry and I don’t mean those stupid words, but it doesn’t matter. You’re already hurt.”

“Why had you said it if you didn’t mean it then, Jeon? You know that I don’t just cry out of the blue. Even that night, two days ago, I didn’t cry because I wanted to. I didn’t think of those horrid thoughts because I wanted to. There… There are things that you don’t know, things you don’t care to know. And it hurts me to hear how bothersome or burdensome I am for those people I care about.”

Jungkook can’t bring himself to look at you. His breaths are ragged from the effort to control his emotion and the even way in which he has to speak, as to not blurt out more rubbish from his mouth. “I care. I care to know about those things, about you. I desperately want to know. That’s why I followed Jimin and Taehyung to your apartment that night. But it’s always Jimin for you. I’m just a dumb ass who plays bad pranks and says hurtful words for attention.”

You call his name over and over, asking exactly what he means by that, but he’s too deep in his own thought, carefully picking the words he needs to say to you. “When you stopped responding to my pranks, I felt like you’ve given up on me. I didn’t know it was because of me, my words. Taehyung,” Jungkook scoffs, “he wouldn’t stop going on about my crush on you, so I did the only thing I could think of to make him stop. I didn’t know you would be listening. I’m sorry.” The fact that he just admitted he’d had a crush on you on some point in the past doesn’t escape you, and it somehow sends warmth throughout your whole body.

“I’ve been very annoyed with Taehyung and Jimin ever since. I introduced you to them, you remember? And suddenly I’m not part of the team anymore. And it hurts, too. I still like you, you know? I—“

“You what?” You can’t help but interrupt. There’s no way. “Now you say you like me? You say that it hurts? Then what about me, you dumb ass?!” Jungkook lets out a single ow where you hit him on his chest while your own voice is choked out by your tears. Damn hormones. “I just ignore you and you say it hurts? Imagine being called a crybaby by the person you like? What if I call you a burden? What if I call you pathetic? Because that’s what I am in your eyes, right?”

Jungkook stands still in front of you, accepting the waves of punches that you throw. “What are you saying?” he says slowly.

“What do you mean what am I saying? I’m saying that I like you, too! Why do I like a dumb ass like you?”

“What? You like me? But—“

“I’m tired and sick of being the last and only hope of the family, carrying the responsibility of my stupid, unemployed brothers. Our little pranking tradition was my escapade. But then I heard you said those things. I know it seems too dramatic, but it’s—“

“It’s not. I’m sorry. I should’ve- I should’ve asked or- I don’t know. I’m sorry, Y/n. I swear… I swear you’re none of those things I described you with, okay?” By this time, Jungkook has already had his hands cupping your wet cheeks. “I’m sorry that you have to deal with a dumb ass like me. I’m sorry I said those words, but you’re not bothersome, Y/n. You’re not burdensome or pathetic. If there’s anyone in this school who is pathetic, it would be me, playing horrible pranks just to catch a girl’s attention.”

Your giggle is cut short by a deep mocking voice, “I swear you’re not a burden, Y/n-ah. I’m stupid, I’m pathetic, but I like you.”

“I like you, too,” another voice adds into the conversation, this one is shrill in an attempt to mimic a girl’s voice. “You don’t know how much I’ve complained about you to Jimin and Taehyung.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung replies in his real voice, “I’m so tired of it, I swear, but not like, in a mean way or anything. I love you, Y/n-ah!” He sends you a big heart with his arms and you pretend to come closer to accept his heart before you yell and tickle him with all of your might.

“Jungkook-ah! Go grab Jimin!” you command, but the short man has managed to escape even before you finish saying Jungkook’s name.

“You’re so gonna pay for the unreasonable jealousy that I felt, Park Jimin!”

#title request #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #jeongguk fluff #jeon jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jeongguk angst #bts angst #jeon jungkook angst #fluff #angst #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #bts imagines #bts scenarios

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loudestsounds · 3 years

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Top 50 Records of 2020

50- Melee by Dogleg

You like some punk in your cereal? It’s a part of a healthy breakfast. Melee has something truly special here. It’s high octane when it needs to be while still maintaining precision and focus in the instrumentation and recording. Ultimately what’s compelling about the record is how frustrated everything sounds while still managing to maintain melody. It’s the sound of breaking shit to rhythm!

49- Grae by Moses Sumney

A stunning and rich concoction of songs that leaves you bewildered. Moses Sumney has made something deeply personal while still inviting you inside. While the second half (which was released a few months apart from the first) tends to make the entire album feel a touch long-winded, the effort is well-executed and often breathtaking.

48- Fail to Be by Yashira

This one snuck in at the last minute. A totally earth-shattering metal record that is determined to damage your dome permanently. There’s certainly a heavy dose of Converge influence all over the record, but Yashira manages to separate themselves from the pack with excellent song writing and unique choices. Production wise this record might be par for the course, but there are some nice little touches on tracks like The Weight and Amnesia that create wonderful depth.

47- Man on the Moon III by Kid Cudi

I went into this thing with on giant sigh but left questioning whether I had accidentally pressed play on another album. Kid Cudi manages to pull something off! Cudi somehow takes inspiration from the genre that took inspiration from his own catalogue of music circa 2005. This is a terrific record to zone out to and let play out. Will this record rival some of the big stack bullies of hip hop? No. Cudi was never about that. He’s always been about mood and this is one moody son of a-! There are some clear skippable tracks (see: Elsie’s baby boy) but he also lands some excellent grooves on Solo Dolo, Pt. III, Lovin’ Me and Tequila Shots. While the record does suffer from overstaying its welcome with an 18 song track list—it manages not to take you out of the experience.

46- Whole New Mess by Angel Olsen

WNM was poorly marketed as a distinct album, despite being essentially stripped back versions of 2019′s All Mirrors. Audiences were met with disappointment at having only two fresh songs to sample. The reality is it doesn’t fucking matter. Angel Olsen has done no wrong for her entire career. These songs can breathe in a ‘whole new’ way on this record and allow the listener greater insight while simultaneously haunting the walls of the record. Lark and Tonight (Without You) take on an entirely different life, and New Love Cassette feels like a different song entirely. Even Olsen’s scraps feel like fully realized ideas. Still—the title track steals the show, as we hear Olsen at her most desperate. Usually overwhelming the listener with her poise and sharp wit, Olsen promises that she’ll really do the change. She doesn’t have to change a thing.

45- Eastern Flowers by SVEN WUNDERS

This one caught me off guard in the summer and I had it playing in the background of everything I was doing. Cleaning. Studying. Working. Eastern Flowers is middle eastern music made by Nordic people and I stopped trying to figure out how that happened a while ago. There is a lovely energy here, one that fuses traditional middle eastern melodies with funk embellishments. Eastern Flowers is just a really fun time.

44- The Archer by Alexandra Savior

I had skipped Savior’s first record entirely before diving into the sophomore album. Going back, it’s clear that she has developed a great deal in the meantime. Despite Alex Turner producing the last one, the song writing takes the haunting details to whole new heights. Savior seems more confident in her voice, and also more willing to play with it in production (the ghostly tone on her voice in Soft Currents a testament). Savior separates herself from artists with a similar voice or who rest beside her within her genre, in how long she is willing to simmer within a song. These aren’t typical arrangements and it’s exciting to hear Savior throw you for a loop on songs like Howl and But You. We’re all excited for what lies next.

43- Push by Heads.

Angry. Aggressive. Anxious. Push is a record that feels like the moments that build up before a massive protest. You are constantly pushed to the edge as the listener. There is a sinister element to the vocals that is deeply unsettling. Most songs slowly build with the promise of something bigger, instead reaching success simply by maintaining tension. Then there are songs like Weather Beaten and Nobody Moves & Everybody Talks that change the narrative, exploding into a punishing breakdown. Heads. Have something truly electric and angry on their hands here, and we’ll go along for the ride.

42- Indistinct Conversations by Land of Talk

Many stripped-back and bare tracks on this one from Montreal’s own Land of Talk. It hits you about halfway through that the album is obsessed with loving one’s own history. Even when things have failed to work out, many songs suggest that we can only look back fondly. Opener Diaphonous warns I was caught up in the wrong stuff/ but I have to laugh. There are moments of greatness on this record, like the rushing movement of Look to You and the twangy riff of Footnotes—yet the marvel is in the consistent beauty, never wavering.

41- Are You Gone by Sarah Harmer

A really soothing yet fun indie rock record that satisfies my craving for the music I loved as a teenager. There are some lovely arrangements and melodies from Harmer on this one, and while the mood is a touch sad, you’re happy you got to share in the emotion of it all. The album oscillates between more intimate moments and full-band jams, which create a nice balance—as if you’re moving in and out with the tide.

40- Circles by Mac Miller

I was never the biggest Mac Miller fan. I wasn’t all that familiar with his catalogue before Swimming, and I perhaps made a point of listening to this posthumous release simply because he passed tragically. Still, the songs seem touched by his state, haunting the listener in combination with what we know ultimately happened to Mac. It’s a real shame it had to end like this, but if there was ever a gorgeous, captivating, and mature release to come at the end of a successful career cut short, Circles was it.

39- Down to the Lowest Terms: The Soul Sessions by Steve Arrington

Steve Arrington is back from his cryogenic freeze with a sick friggin’ soul album! These are fun, joyous and lived in gospel/soul tracks that play well in almost any setting. Play this bad boy with your friends, family and even around the office. Nobody will be disappointed. There are also some beautiful production touches that make this a great listen on headphones. Steve wants to tell you all about how funk is the way—and I think I believe him.

38- Atonement by exhalants.

A fun ripper that makes you want to run up your walls and slam your fists on the floor. Atonement is not active listening per se, at least not in comparison to records released by their cohort, but it certainly puts you in a space that the band creates, dictates and commands. This is a band that has borrowed from others in the genre, but made that rare hardcore record that has just the right amount of hooks while maintaining space to catch ones breath.

37- Petals for Armor by Hayley Williams

PFA had that multiple EP release thing that a few artists did this year (see: Dirty Projectors). Ultimately the entire project suffered from a touch of bloat—but the incredible songs were spread out enough on this album, that it had to make my list. There are incredible production choices on this record, and it clearly was a labour of love for Williams. The songs are a bit rigid in the vein of Annie Clark, but Williams has a freedom to her vocals that liberates them. I think a more refined 10 track album may have cracked my top 20. Songs like Taken and My Friend don’t seem to have a real purpose on the record other than just being half-baked mood tracks, but they don’t tarnish the effect that songs like Simmer, Over Yet or Sugar on the Rim have on the listener.

36- Farewell to All we Know by Matt Elliott

Farewell is a collection of the creepiest, saddest and most beautiful songs you’ve ever heard. I don’t usually stray down this path but this is an album that works so well when reading or writing. There is some beautiful poetry on the darkness of the world and the last hopes for mankind. What sets the record apart lays in the details. The haunting echoes of the city streets. The whisper of ghosts that drag behind Elliott’s guitar. The record establishes incredible mood, inviting you in for a glass of despair.

35- Polysomn by Kairon; IRSE!

My head hurts just trying to write about this record. It’s weird, heavy, melodic. The vocals feel unique to the genre while used sparingly. There is a lot of interesting synth play on this record that might invite listeners outside of the genre—but that also add depth and feeling to songs that otherwise might feel like trudges through metal music mud. Polysomn is filled with exciting, dynamic elements that are a good entrance into “weird, heavy music” for you listeners out there. I won’t pretend to know how this band does what it does any longer. Just enjoy.

34- Impossible Weight by Deep Sea Diver

Frankly, the record is difficult to talk about without making it seem like it sounds like basically all of its contemporaries. In fairness, Deep Sea Diver shares a lot of commonality with the likes of Weyes Blood, Broken Social Scene, Sharon Van Etten (who even features on the title track). That said, everything sounds great on this record. The songs are tight, the melodies hang effortlessly and the vibes are…vibes. There are a ton of interesting choices, from the weird arrangements on Hurricane, reminiscent of Wolf Parade- to the videogame synths on Lightning Bolts. It never gets tired or boring—it just stands as an excellent indie pop/rock record that you can play at your board game night.

33- When I Die, Will I Get Better? by SVALBARD

Equal parts mathy, metal, prog, emo and god knows what. This album has an intense feel to it that will have you uplifted as you thrash around your apartment. The momentum of these songs truly amazes, as we’re taken for an absolutely blistering ride on almost every track. Nonetheless, the songs find a way to breathe, unlike most of their contemporaries that leave you exhausted by the twenty minute mark. SVALBARD also has an ear for melody that fights typical metal fatigue. I won’t get tired of listening to this one.

32- Silver Tongue by TORRES

After the bizarre, cryptic disappointment of Three Futures, it didn’t seem clear where TORRES would head. On Silver Tongue she appears to continue a confident journey in her own direction, but with a bit more focus and lot more precision. Where Three Futures was too disorienting to follow and often too indulgent for the listener to feel at all involved, Silver Tongue extends an olive branch—grab hold and you’ll be taken on a strange, glitchy and melodic journey into psychedelic pop rock. While the songs lack warmth, that seems to be the point entirely. There’s a magic in the cold and dreary walls that TORRES builds on the record that impresses with every subsequent listen.

31- The Baby by Samia

A tremendous indie-rock record with some of the most excitement build-ups and hooks of anything released in 2020. Samia sings about some of the bleak realities of sexual frivolity in one’s twenties, while still somehow gloating about her vinegar and kale diets (all tongue in cheek). There are clear standout tracks (Big Wheel, Fit n Full, Minnesota) – but where Samia shines, and where she separates herself from her cohort of indie rock darlings (see: Soccer Mommy, Snail Mail, Clairo) is how well her slower ballads, such as Does not Heal, land. She is a superior song writer in many respects and has everything ahead of her.

30- Live Forever by Bartees Strange

A very surreal, genre bending record from newcomer Bartees Strange. Live Forever sounds like totally different music depending on which track you’re on. You have some Death Cab. You have some Bon Iver. You have some Joey Badass? It’s a strange journey through an eclectic, cluttered and heavily talented musical mind.

29- The Ascension by Sufjan Stevens

While the record as a whole underwhelmed me, Sufjan is still Sufjan. If this record was made by any other artist I’d be telling everyone about it. Many of the sounds felt a bit too familiar, which put me off just a touch. There are still unbelievable moments on this record: the layers on Make Me an Offer/ the dance-pop qualities of Video Game/ the swelling choir section of Tell Me You Love Me/ the build up of tension in The Ascension. There are the more confounding moments: Death Star as a song and not as parody/ Sugar as a slapstick suggestion of romance. Frankly I’m not all that blown away by the lead single, and nearly 13 minute odyssey, America—but I can understand how it operates as a statement of frustration and raw emotion. Nonetheless, Sufjan continues to occupy a space that, while at times mystifying, still leaves you entranced by the mystique of it all. We always leave wanting more, even if we’ve had a bit too much.

28- Set My Heart on Fire Immediately by Perfume Genius

A gorgeous and lush assembly of songs that feel very personal to PG. The songs are grand, yet surprisingly intimate. One frustration with the songs that I’m still struggling to come to terms with, is that they seem very distant from the listener. We’re not invited into the experiences that the songs discuss—they seem isolated and tethered to the artist. That was likely a conscious decision and suits the subject matter well. Still, for all the warmth and atmosphere—you wish you could go along for the ride. Perfume Genius seems content on operating on their own planet—as we listen through frequency.

27- Future Nostalgia by Dua Lipa

This was certainly the year of Dua. She seems to have realized her final form and it’s truly a great thing to witness and listen to. Future Nostalgia plays out as an exceptional throwback pop record in a pop era dominated by future/hyper industrial production. These songs are poppy and unashamed to be exactly what they are. With the exception of the clumsy songs that bookend the record (the title track is a lacklustre open & Boys Will Be Boys attempts to tie in a loose, feminist concept to the record)—the album as a whole is jam packed with immense hooks. Let’s hope Dua hasn’t peaked because there is so much to love and groove to on this record.

26- KG by King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard

Another instalment of the King Gizzard microtonal series. Unlike Flying Microtonal Banana, KG tends to hit harder and land smoother. There is a ton of groove on this bad boy that gets you comfortably settled, until the boys shake it up with some eclectic, middle east inspired arrangement. The beauty of KG is how you are never allowed to settle into something for too long. You’re almost always moving on to another segment, idea and branch of music that makes you feel...weird. Thanks guys!

25- Quelle by BRIQUEVILLE

A haunting, drone fuelled romp in the spooky room. Quelle almost puts you to sleep until it urgently shakes you awake with a thunderous riff. It’s clear that every moment of the record is laboured over, every decision painstakingly made. There are moments taken straight out of your favorite horror film, yet the album manages to pull you in closer instead of pushing you away. Bold choices pay off for BRIQUEVILLE on this one, as we enter their world, and almost don’t manage to make it out.

24- Lianne La Havas S/T

LLH self titles a record that sees her reaching back to a more stripped down, jam-based sound. There are some absolute bleeders on here that see her voice reaching registers she hasn’t covered on previous releases. The live-band recording works in her favor, as the instrumentation is loose enough to create a mood but still manages to quickly snap back to tight and precise progressions. Anchored by a well-executed Radiohead cover (Weird Fishes) the record has a strong b-side to match its grand opening half. The hypnotic qualities of many of the tracks are an especially fun element to the release as the jams tend to work you up wherever you are. La Havas has something very special on her hands with this record, and it’s one I will continue to share for years to come.

23- Omens by Elder

A softer and, dare I say, poppier release from stoner rock fiends Elder was a welcome addition to music in 2020. There are many long form jams on this record that open themselves up to synths—and while it seems they haven’t totally mastered how to integrate more electronic segments into their riffage, the moods are still tight as hell. Give it a spin with some decent headphones and you won’t be disappointed.

22- Miss Anthropocene by Grimes

You can try as hard as you’d like to root against Grimes but her music speaks for itself. I looked for ways to tell myself that she had finally waned or has become less inspired—but it’s just not true—she is finely tuned to whatever wavelength is firing on her alien planet. On MA the songs have more space to breathe, often meandering within themselves for over six minutes, until she hits you with a straightforward pop rock track that is so well produced and contains such a great vocal performance, that you simply cannot deny that we have yet another excellent release. It’s freaky, it’s haunting, it’s weird, and at times it’s even pleasurably comic. Grimes is doing it all and she is doing it on exactly her terms. We should expect nothing less.

21- Rough and Rowdy Ways by Bob Dylan

I won’t pretend to be an expert on Bob Dylan’s catalogue. Nor will I pretend that I know what makes Bob Dylan good or bad. All I know is that Rough and Rowdy ways has great songs that back beautiful poetry. It’s consistently captivating and often, terribly sad. The final track, Murder Most Foul, may be one of the most potent, historical epics ever put to music. All in all, Bob Dylan has something deeply interesting to add to our weird, chaotic, and just plain shitty times.

20- Superstar by Caroline Rose

The last show I went to was the album release of this record and it absolutely killed. Playing the record front to back, Caroline Rose will always be the pre-pandemic gig that symbolized the lightning before the thunder. Superstar is an excellent concept album about a fictionalized Caroline travelling across country with hopes of become…well… a superstar. Along the way she tosses and turns in a relationship, eviscerates doubt and self-loathing by replacing it with boisterous egotism, and manages to find herself at a finish line exhausted, and yet surprisingly having still learned something. The tracks on this record blend seamlessly into one another as Rose manages to coalesce the synth-rock madness we are used to with tighter song writing and more lyrical purpose. Caroline Rose may have just ended up what she wanted to be along.

19- The New Abnormal by The Strokes

Everybody talks about a timeless quality that The Strokes early records have and it seems every record they have made since their first two have been made with the purpose of dispelling that very notion. The fact of the matter is, that timeless quality is what has endeared them to fans for two decades. The New Abnormal recaptures their earlier spirit. Sure, there are indulgent nods to the 80s that they seem obsessed with (sometimes to a fault)—with songs like Brooklyn Bridge to Chorus and Eternal Summer. Those songs likely work better in front of a crowd, and tend to actually crowd the record itself. Yet, there is no denying that there are excellent STROKES SONGS on this record that make you feel the way you felt listening to their first two records. The Adults are Talking is an immediate entrance into what made you love them to begin with, and Selfless follows as one of their prettiest ‘ballads’. Not the Same Anymore and Ode to the Mets close the record on an extremely high note, harkening back to the warmth of Room on Fire, with more mature and independent song structures. The true testament to the band’s growth is with their first single At the Door—which is an epic that ebbs and flows through wild croons and jagged synths, asking you to sit down and believe in the song itself. It’s as if The Strokes have been asking us to simply trust them all along.

18- UNLOCKED by Denzel Curry and Kenny Beats

This is exactly it. Two masters collaborating in what might be their respective primes. It’s so packed, saturated, concentrated, condensed it almost seems like if it were any longer it would make our heads explode. They found the hip hop secret and managed to unlock it for us. While this may qualify as an EP it is an album’s worth of brilliance. It slaps from beginning to end with Kenny Beats saving his best instrumentals that masquerade as demos. Don’t get me wrong—these are brilliant templates for Denzel to cruise along to. Except Denzel does nothing close to cruising, he sets the road on goddamn fire. While Denzel is namedropping Rosa Parks and Don Corleone while recommending his haters go on a diet, he is playful in the same way Joe Pesci was playful in Goodfellas. With every subsequent verse Denzel is requiring that you answer the question: i’m funny how? You are certainly no clown! We swear!

17- NO DREAM by Jeff Rosenstock

NO DREAM friggin’ rules dude! It took a bunch of listens for me to get the hang of it. I especially felt resistant to the opening track and how the record begins by pummelling you with punk chords—but that’s where Rosenstock is, so you just have to take it. NO DREAM is about giving up on settling for less. Rosenstock yells about hometown washouts, he yells about road trips, he yells about dopes who don’t believe in climate change. But you really feel something once Rosenstock starts to regret some of those lost loves. Maybe he could have behaved. Maybe he reacted too quickly. Maybe he made choices he never thought he’d make. Haven’t we all thought that? NO DREAM is a masterful punk rock record that maintains goofy, crazy, hilarious and fun traits that all good punk records need while providing us with heart that Rosenstock has never shown us before.

16- We Will Always Love You by The Avalanches

Well, they did it again and snuck in there at the final hour. The Avalanches’ third record is a groovy, cold weather house record, bookended by some sort of intergalactic nonsense. Ultimately, the nothingness means everything, as there is an incredible amount of feeling that rests in the pieced together samples. Features from MGMT, Kurt Vile, Leon Bridges, Denzel Curry and even Rivers Cuomo only add to the madness. While the run-time is a bit long, the songs are quick enough to carry you through swiftly on your back. The Avalanches have once again offered us hypnotic, dream-like listening, perhaps when we needed it most.

15- Punisher by Phoebe Bridgers

Bridgers has this very special quality about her song writing, where it feels like she’s pulling you close to tell you something and then whispers into your ear a secret that you knew all along. She then pats you on the shoulder, nods her head, and says good luck- all with a smirk. Bridgers has secrets we don’t have, and that’s what makes her music equal parts haunting and gorgeous. The melodies on Punisher remain in your head for months and while they are deadly serious they also reassure you with a “hey, you know this is just a song, right?”. Songs like Chinese Satellite offer more complex arrangements that are made full (but not heavy!) with string section embellishments. Halloween is the small town folk song about a place you just had to be there to understand. Graceland Too offers a nice release from the shadows that loom all over the record, although it’s never in too much sunlight to become a distraction. The entire album flows effortlessly, and before you know it you’ve reached the breathy scream and laughter at the end of epic closer I Know The End. Life is a game that Phoebe Bridgers is watching us all take bets on. She’ll remind us how it all played out later.

14- Find the Sun by Deradoorian

These songs are odd, cyclical, hypnotic. The vocals are static and often emotionless. Find the Sun is a masterpiece taken directly from 1972—but thank god it was here to lull us into paralysis in 2020. None of the songs are direct injections, instead they are slow-release capsules that require you to take your time. Opener Red Den has a standard song structure (an anomaly), but still has a haunting, looping chorus that is interpolated with a second chorus that rests three levels lower. Perhaps the most direct track is almost impossible to describe. These songs are riddles or rubix cubes or those goddamn magic eye paintings that you have to look at for three hours to make out a boat (I see you, Mallrats). Deradoorian crafts an album that, despite requiring a certain degree of passive effort (huh?), still goes down smooth. Although clearly inspired by CAN, there is nothing frustrating here that forces you to concede that “maybe art doesn’t need to be understood, man”. This is a gorgeously pieced together album of psych/folk/rock that has earned its place on the mantle.

13- What’s Your Pleasure by Jessie Ware

A dangerously good pop record that throws you back to the 80s with disco inspired flourishes. Some parts Robyn, some parts Madonna. Jessie Ware has a sound that grows past merely reproducing the music that has inspired her. There are curious and inventive details in songs (like the chorus in Ooh La La or the harmonized layers in the verses of The Kill). The songs take you to groovy heights with their detail, but the record also has some straightforward, power thru dance tracks like Read My Lips that anchor it, never letting you forget that this was meant to be danced to with others. What’s Your Pleasure is a beautifully woven pop masterpiece that never lets you go.

12- Down in the Weeds, Where the World Once Was by Bright Eyes

Bright eyes is back. This record is an exciting return for the band, one that captures the misery and mysticism that surrounds our age of impending doom. Got to keep on going like it ain’t the end/ got to change like your life is depending on it-- is the first verse we hear from Conor and he never truly lets go of the sentiment. All the tracks are haunted by his past, the bleak world we live in, and the thought of trying to work out a way to make it through the days that feel like years. Down in the Weeds comes out after nine years away from the band, time Conor spent getting married and divorced, and sadly also losing his brother. These happenings find themselves scattered all over the record, as Conor is hesitant to reference them directly, but instead allows them to haunt tracks like ghosts. The instrumentation from Mogis and Walcott is fuller than other Bright Eyes records, the sounds more diverse. If someone asked what Bright Eyes sounds like one could legitimately offer this record as evidence—it is a distillation of many sounds across their entire catalogue. Ultimately what Down in the Weeds does best is remind us that the will to continue through the world is what makes us distinctly human, but also what makes us closer to something greater, something beyond everything. She doesn’t know what a comet does/ you’re approaching as you disappear-- is what we hear on the closing track Comet Song. Bright Eyes brings us closer to a truth we always knew would be just out of reach.

11- Death by Coastlands

Aptly named, Death is a record about endings. Heart wrenching, devastating, finite and yet oddly satisfying endings. There are very sparing vocals on the record, but the instrumentation offers more feeling than any hardcore record this year. The pacing of songs like Dead Friends, the haunting choir that looms over Marrow, or the breaking of tensions that erupts out of Red Smoke Flare. This record doesn’t need words to evoke feelings of peril, urgency and grief.

10- Songs by Adrianne Lenker

On not a lot, just forever, Adriane Lenker sings and I want to be your wife/so I hold you to my knife. This line arrives as plea instead of a threat—on an album filled with songs where Lenker reckons with her desperation. She pleas with the past for lost time returned, she pleas with her lovers for mistake forgiven, she pleas with herself for the possibility of change. When added to her catalogue with Big Thief, Songs proves that Adrianne Lenker may be the supreme song writer of our generation. On Anything she describes staring down the barrel of a hot sun as if the imagery were a familiar expression. Lenker tosses poetry at us like she might throw a frisbee. Even if we were positioned well enough to catch it, we could never throw it back, we are lucky to have it all.

09- Host by Cults

Host didn’t feel like much on my first listen. But it kept burrowing endlessly into my brain. Now I’m waking up in the middle of the night singing the melodies on my way to go pee (No Risk! No Believing! Or Leading...). They nailed all of it. The song writing is crisp. The production is electric and soothing. They lull you to a peaceful calm with lullaby sounding tracks like No Risk. When things are just about to get repetitive they shake you out of your dream state (see: Like I Do). Every track on the record is a standout, but it can only truly be appreciated as one complete, masterful piece of music.

08- how I’m feeling now by Charli XCX

Sure—it’s a bit of a pandemic time capsule. But holy shit. Charli made this absolute batshit hyperpop record in a month during lockdown. It is truly an unrelenting pinnacle of future pop that will hold up long past this absolute shit show of an era has passed. Charli has this way of making an unsettling listening experience that is also absurdly danceable. There are moments of insane pleasure, unhinged anxiety and bombastic ecstasy. From the promise of once again being together in forever to the claustrophobic realities of quarantine in enemy she covers the entire experience. These songs really stand alone as brilliant testaments to Charli’s prowess. There is no stopping her as an artist at this point. Oh, and she also did us a tremendous solid by making a danceable record about how we miss dancing together. God bless you Charli, baby.

07- Ohms by Deftones

This year needed this record. Something loud and clear as hard rock punishment. Deftones have what I believe to be their best record. Their sound has never been more crisp, focused or melodic. There are definitely new areas that Deftones explore on this record. From Spell of Mathematics to the title track—there’s a sharp attitude that plunges into their already excellent formula. The little details and flourishes of synth in songs like Genesis and Pompeji make all the difference (the latter’s transition into This Link Is Dead a clear standout)—allowing the record to breath and the listener to feel overwhelmed with, might I say, the world they have created. The album is full of beautiful moments of focus that keep the tension the band has built and cultivated for over a decade.

06- Fetch the Bolt Cutters by Fiona Apple

Fetch the Bolt Cutters is a record that maybe wasn’t for me at all. I firmly believe that women understand more of this record than I ever could. There’s so much brilliance in the pots and pans percussion that accompanies most tracks. There’s an energy that studio drums could never bring. And well, the songwriting speaks for itself. It’s an undeniable culmination of all of her influences. Fiona Apple is a songwriter that simply doesn’t exist anymore (some of her cohort has actually, sadly, died).

The most valuable lesson Fiona teaches us is that there is no perfect way to get over anything. But we are meant to wrestle with endings. Maybe we are all meant to move on. Making friends, sneering at enemies. Like beasts in the wild. Life might be one big game of axis and allies. Like Fiona walking on her way to school, we “grind our teeth to a rhythm invisible”. This record proves that we should each bring our mouthguard.

05- Every Bad by Porridge Radio

Every Bad is the room that your loneliness goes inside of to scream. Porridge Radio has an absolute masterpiece on their hands. Absolutely punishing lines that carve away your own anxiety with excellent songs that switch things around constantly. There isn’t a single stale song on the record and yet they work so cohesively. Every Bad is constantly asking us to self-examine, to dig a little deeper. What is going on with me? Is the first lyric you hear on the record. I’m coming home is the last. The record spans the cycle of existential dread guiding you through difficult choices and it could not have come at a better time.

04- St. Cloud by Waxahatchee

I think I like Americana music. I probably knew that when I couldn’t resist the sing-along qualities of Killers records like Sam’s Town or Battle Born—but Crutchfield’s 2020 record has solidified for me. The writing here is too good to be true. Equal parts poetry and melody, her voice has this raw quality that really carries home when she plays up the southern twangs and drawls. The album feels obsessed with new beginnings after brutal endings. Hometowns on fire and the power of choosing to move on. The lyrics still feel haunted by the weight of memory (St. Cloud), and the anxiety surrounding what might come next (Ruby Falls), but the fresh approach to song writing has Waxahatchee sounding the best they ever have.

03- RTJ 4 by Run the Jewels

They did it again. Not much to say here. It never gets old and it never feels stale. The records still feel like their own distinct hip-hop manifestos. The boys seems just as angry as they always did. The album arrived in the midst of a revolutionary cloud that hung over the world. The album is proof that we should expect it to remain overcast. The production on this thing is just as sleek, with El-P switching things up in bold ways on tracks like Goonies vs. ET. Some of the older tricks are used again, we have our comedown track with Pulling the Pin, we have our rock sample track with The Ground Below, we have our standout single with Ooh La La. The predictability of these songs may sound as if the album is formulaic but that’s beside the point. The fist will still knock your ass down, even if you knew it was coming. A truly loving element to the record is the bond that Killer Mike and El-P foster with each other through their alter-ego characters Yankee and The Brave- you can’t help but bask in their romance. The opening track is a blunt reminder that, in case you forgot, these guys are still here for another eleven rounds. The closing track solidifies the truth that they aren’t going anywhere, not anytime soon. And nor should they. We need Run the Jewels more than ever.

02- Captured Spirits by Mammal Hands

Mammal Hands came out of nowhere and blew my goddamn mind. I have no deep connection with Jazz as a genre, but by god did this record force me to go digging. It’s the type of accessible, energy driven music that makes you cozy and comfortable until it rips your goddamn ears off with sax solos and manic piano arrangements. While the latter half of the record doesn’t manage to match quite the same energy as first half standouts like Late Bloomer or Riddle—the beauty of the record is in its assured sense of pace. We’ll get to the good part, but on their time. Mammal Hands know what they’re doing.

01- Women in Music Pt. III by HAIM

HAIM have found, executed, and perfected their sound all in one album. WIMPIII is a masterwork that shockingly happened all at once. Where previous albums Days Are Gone and Something To Tell You may have excited with the promise of what could come next, this record stuns you with what is happening right before your eyes. The confidence that the sisters share on the album’s cover shines through on all the tracks. They know who they are and they know how they sound. I Know Alone is a perfect example of refined song writing, with subtle production touches (especially in the percussion) that add something extraordinarily dynamic. Up From A Dream and Gasoline are the pure rockers that you knew the band was capable of, but that they never before capitalized on. There are softer, more romantic folk tracks like The Steps and Leaning on You that might make your parents cry. Spanning a wide range of topics (depression, lost loves, home, isolation) the album fit so perfectly with our insane year—but the sound, summery and sheen, will manage to stand the test of time. There was initial frustration with the choice not to include singles Now I’m In It, Hallelujah & Summer Girl within the formal track list (because on any record they are the strongest songs!)—but with further consideration, their inclusion as bonus tracks make perfect sense. HAIM has crafted 13 gorgeous, smart and powerful songs that stand alone, together. Those bonus tracks just act as a mind-blowing encore. Women in Music Pt. III is the most dynamic, focused and well-written record of 2020. We dare not ask for better.

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writingsbymo-mo · 5 years

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how about this!!! Tomura suffers an accident (please, not in canon) and forgets everything but reader.. but he doesn't remember they broke up some time ago

Sorry this took so long anon, but I finally finished it!!! I hope you like it! I hope what you mean by canon is not in the current timeline…if it was for an alternate universe where quirks didn’t exist, I’m sorry anon.

Who Am I?

Tomura x Reader

SFW

Note: gender-neutral reader, mentions of blood, head injury, mending wounds, some angst.

It’s also a lot longer than I thought it’d be.

__________________________________________

It was cold and damp in the dim lit alleyway. Shigaraki lay face first into the gritty, wet pavement, unconscious. A bit of blood seeped from the back of his head and onto his black, long-sleeved v-neck shirt.

He awoke, head throbbing, body aching all over. Shigaraki’s eyes darted towards his surroundings. His voice wavered, a bit dry as he spoke, “w-where…am I?” He lifted an arm and placed his hand on the pavement as it started to crumble. Noticing, he quickly removed his hand, giving it a questioning look, “the hell?” He tried it with his other hand, same thing happened. “Why…is this happening…? Just…who am I?”

With his elbows, he managed to sit upright, “ugh, my head…,” he groaned, gripping the source of the pain. ‘Did I hit my head?’ He rested for a few minutes, trying to figure out why his head is injured, what he’s doing there, and exactly who he is. One thing came to mind, his eyes lit up. “(Y/n)! I…I know them. They…they’re my player 2! I need to find them!”

He bolted up, still gripping his head as he limped out of the alleyway and into the open street.

People gave him disgusted or concerned looks as he passed by them. Shigaraki was looking for a map of sorts. He knew where you lived so this made it much easier to find you.

He stumbled upon a train station to view the map of the stops. The name of the ward you lived in was on the map as well as his location. ‘Yes, almost there! Maybe (y/n) can help me!’ He grinned at the thought of you always being so kind to him. It was only a matter of time now. With the location being so close, he walked, limping on his right leg, ignoring the pain the whole way.

The surroundings looked oddly familiar to him now as he stumbled upon your apartment complex. Stairs on either side of the building went up to each level. You happened to be on the fourth floor.

Shigaraki’s eyes widened as a smile crept up his bruised face. He ran to the base of the stairs, climbing his way up as he made it to your door at the end of the balcony. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

You had just gotten ready for bed, wearing a pair of (f/c) pajama pants with a matching short-sleeved top when you heard the knocking. “Coming!” You yelled, making your way to the door.

With your right hand, you unlocked the door and opened it freezing in your tracks as the color left your face. Shigaraki happened to be the one knocking on your door, your ex-boyfriend. Your eyes narrowed as you clench your fists, “what…are you doing here…Shigaraki?” You snapped.

Shigaraki flinched at the harsh tone though he figured his name is Shigaraki, “I…I wanted to see you…,” he cried.

“See me!! Y-you want to see me….a-after everything you’ve done? Shigaraki, you broke up me months ago!” You shouted, tears forming at the corners of your eyes.

“Broke up? W-w-we broke up?” His voice wavered as his eyes became glossy. A stabbing pain spread throughout his head causing him to fall to his knees, clutching his head, moaning in agony.

Seeing him like this, hearing his wails of painful cries, you clasp your hands over your mouth. The anger you had dissipated. That’s when you noticed the blood crusted on the back of his head. “Oh god, Shiggy…what…happened?” You immediately dropped to your knees to try find the source. “I’m sorry, I…you can come in. I-I’ll get you cleaned up.”

Shigaraki’s pain splitting headache slowly dissipated and made his way inside the apartment with your help. You brought him to the warm-lit bathroom, hoping to get some of the blood out to get a better look at the wound. “Let’s get your shirt off Shigaraki. Don’t want it to get wet.”

He grips his shirt with five fingers as it falls to pieces on the floor, growling in frustration, “shit…why is this happening…?”

“It’s your quirk Shigaraki. When you touch anything with all of your fingers, it disintegrates.” You grab a wash cloth off the shelf and turn the faucet in the tub. “You…don’t remember you have a quirk?”

“Quirk…so that’s what this is,” he said, examining his hands. The sound of running, splashing water filled the room, echoing from inside the tub.

This confirmed he probably had some sort of brain damage causing him to not remember certain things. “Yeah, you held things so daintily because of it. I…thought it was cute…when you did that…” You felt your body grow warm at the thought before shaking your head, getting the washcloth wet with warm water. “Can you come closer to the tub Shigaraki? I might have to have you bend over the tub to wash the blood and dirt out.”

He nods, crawling over on his knees to the tub, leaning over it. You tried not to stare at his shirtless form as he made his way towards you, but it was hard not to stare. With the washcloth in hand, you pat at the dried blood earning hisses and curses from Shigaraki’s mouth. Yeah, the washcloth wasn’t going to work. You needed to run his hair under water. You turn on the shower head on the lowest pressure setting, leaving it feeling like a gentle stream. Shigaraki went ahead and bent forward closer to you. “This might sting a bit okay?”

Blood ran down the drain as you rotated the shower head in your hand over Shigaraki’s head, the hissing and gripes of pain continued as you tried reassuring him. Soon, enough of the blood and grime was washed away for you to see a gash at the back of his head. ‘What happened to you Shig? Did a villain do this to you?’ You thought. You knew he kept a lot of secrets about his life, which made you curious as to what he was up to when you weren’t around.

Shigaraki took in a sharp inhale, “(y/n), you almost done?”

“Yeah, there’s just a little more dirt in there. Just hold on a little longer okay?” You smiled, hoping this gash wasn’t too deep. If it was, he’d need to get stitches and his head examined. ‘Maybe I should’ve taken him there in the first place, but before when he came over injured, he always had me tend to his wounds…even ones that would need hospitalization…so…a hospital is out of the question then?’ You let out a breath, a bit frazzled in thought as you grab some gentle soap to clean the wound.

The sound of running water stopped when you turned off the faucet as soon as the suds were rinsed out. Water droplets dripped from Shigaraki’s hair, into the tub while you put the shower head back in place. You decided to ask him something, “Shig, do you know who you are?”

He lifted and turned his head to face you, “well, I guess my name is Shigaraki…,” he trailed off.

“I guess that means you don’t know. Just so you know, your name is Tomura Shigaraki,” you spoke in a calm voice.

Shigaraki hissed in pain and gripped his forehead as he leaned against the tub, “Tomura…Shigaraki…yeah…that sounds familiar…yeah, that’s my name!” His eyes grew wide, a toothy grin appeared on his face.

You smiled, a bit relieved that he was able to remember something. Shifting to sit on the side of the tub, you examine the gash, moving some strands of his silvery-blue hair away carefully. “Hmm, it looks a bit deep…it probably needs stitches…”

“It’s really that bad huh?” Shigaraki asked. You let him know he could sit up so you could dry him off. He watched you grab a towel and brought it towards his head. It pleased him how careful you were of his wound. Something inside him wanted him to leave, though he didn’t understand why. He enjoyed being with you, so why did he feel this way?

The moment you were finished drying his hair, the soft towel brushed against his sensitive neck, a chill ran down Shigaraki’s spine as he took in a breath.

You had a pink tinge to your face as you rubbed the towel against Shigaraki’s back. It was littered with scars. Some were quite long and deep while others were small, almost like scratches. There was a noticeable one on his right shoulder. You traced the outline of it, half dazed as Shigaraki let out a shuddered gasp making you realize what you were doing. “Uh, sorry…I’ll go get the first aide kit. Just wait here.”

He noticed you were gone before he could say anything, but he found the touch surprisingly soothing and…a bit agitating? “Ugh, why did we break up?” He groaned in frustration, body going a bit slack. It was strange how he only remembered you and nothing else. He didn’t even remember his own name until he heard your soothing voice. It made him feel warm inside, with underlying levels of guilt. He felt a weight in his chest grow, he longed for answers.

What he did remember, was how you always gave him the brightest of smiles whenever you saw him. The way your eyes would sparkle at the slightest of touches. He wanted to see more of these memories. His focus shifted as he heard footsteps increasing in volume.

“Shigaraki, I’m back! I’ll see what I can do with to fix that up.” You set the first aide kit on the counter next to the sink, opening it with a click. You took out some gauze bandages, medical tape, scissors, medical stitches, topical anesthetic spray, and gauze wrap, placing them on the countertop. Shigaraki watches as you take everything out. ‘Oh, right. I’m probably going to have to shave part of his head near the wound…’ Opening the top drawer just below the counter, you dug around, picking up the surgical clippers. With the number of times he showed up in the past with deep cuts, you decided to buy a pair.

Grabbing the items, you traipse towards him, taking a seat on the edge of the tub. “Can you turn around and look down for me?”

Shigaraki nods, shifting his body to face the door as his head points to the floor. You run your hands around the gash, moving his hair out of the way to get a better look. “I’m sorry, I’m going to have to shave some of your hair…,” you sighed, hoping he wouldn’t complain. “If you know it will heal better, then it’s fine. Do what you need to,” Shigaraki answered.

You picked up the clippers, turning it on and shaved enough hair away from the wound. Next came the topical anesthetic spray. Spritzing some on him, he hisses for a moment and suddenly stops. “Can you feel this?” You ask, poking his pale skin.

“No, can’t feel a thing.”

With that, you knew it was time for the stitches. “I’m sorry if it hurts…if it does, let me know.” You took the needle and medical stitches and threaded it through, cutting it off and tying it before repeating the process. Shigaraki was very still as the thread pulled at his skin, gently closing off the wound. You managed to give him twenty-four stitches total. “Okay Shigaraki, I just need to place the gauze over it and I’ll be done,” you announced. He didn’t move, staring at the palms of his hands as he waited for you to finish.

You placed the gauze bandage over his wound, taping it to the back of his head before wrapping some gauze wrap around it, some around his neck and across the bridge of his nose. You went ahead and taped some areas to keep it from falling. “It’s done. You can lift your head now.”

Shigaraki was lost in thought. It occurred to him that you might have done something like this before. He bolted his head up, gasping for a moment, “(y/n)….how many times…have you done this…to me?”

“Dressed your wounds?” You guessed. Shigaraki responds with a nod. “Well…it happened quite a lot…now that I think about it. I’d say, about four times a month while we were still dating.”

“A-and…how long were we…dating?” He faltered. Shigaraki wouldn’t lie to himself, he wanted to know all the details he missed…even if it hurt him.

You grip your right arm, peering at the linoleum flooring. “We dated for about a year…it’s been almost six months since then…”

“Six months…,” he fretted. ‘It’s been….that long?’ He pursed his lips and started scratching at his neck, letting out a frustrated growl, “why…just why can’t I remember?!”

He felt a sensation on his shoulder and jolted, staring directly into your (e/c) eyes. He noticed your worried expression with the glass-like shine of your eyes and how you were biting your bottom lip. “D-do you…want some help trying to remember?” You know you aren’t qualified for any of this, but you wanted to do something.

He gripped your shirt with two fingers, knowing what you said about his quirk, pleading. “Please…please help me…(y/n)…,” he croaked. “What…do you know…about me?”

You sat down next to him against the cold bathtub and sighed. “This will be a long story.”

Shigaraki listened intently. You informed him that he kept a lot of secrets from you, but you figured he was a vigilante or something though you left that part out. He took note how he usually was always grouchy or complaining about society and how the two of you met. It felt familiar to him, what you were saying. He also had friends who you thought sounded quite interesting since he complained about them sometimes too. He thought it was a bit strange he never let you meet them, but then something clicked. ‘Those friends…are my party members…’

He gripped his head and hissed in pain again, furrowing his brows and clenching his jaw. ‘I never let (y/n) meet them because…because they’re…villains…just like myself…did I ever tell you that about me? No, I-I didn’t…’ Shigaraki scratches at his neck, in annoyance and distress. That’s when he decided to ask, “(y/n), just…what do you think of me as a person?”

You thought back to everything he’s ever done. “Well, I can tell you’re secretive, easily annoyed, smart, sarcastic, and care a lot about the people you’re close to….I enjoyed being with you for the whole year we were together no matter how distressed I was when you came in covered in wounds. But…but one d-day y-you…” You started sobbing, burying your face in your hands as your stomach churned.

“The day we…I broke up with you…?”

You nodded. “You showed up at my house, the day of your birthday…I-I was so happy to see you, but something was wrong. Your eyes were dull and lifeless…it was unusual…I was about to welcome you inside, when you told me…that you h-hated me and didn’t want to s-see me again…”

Shigaraki internally grimaced at himself, hearing you sobbing because of him. ‘You really care about me…but…did I care about you? I care about you now…is it something to do with my line of work?’

You continued through your chokes and sobs, “I couldn’t stop thinking about it…about what you said…you used to tell me how much you meant to me…and then you tell me that…I-I don’t know what I did wrong–“ Your sobs halted when Shigaraki grabbed your shoulder with three fingers, burying your tear stained face into his bare chest, making you stiffen and let out a gasp as he wraps his arms around you.

“I’m sorry….I’m so sorry (y/n)…” He stammered, tightening the embrace. A sharp pain unfurled inside his head once more. It was that day…that very day…

It was a quiet morning in the bar. Kurogiri was cleaning glasses as Shigaraki trugged his way into the bar and sat on a stool.

Kurogiri slid a glass of amber-colored alcohol in front of Shigaraki. “Tomura Shigaraki, you can’t be around (y/n) any longer. They’re a hindrance to your future,” he advised.

“Tch, why do you care Kurogiri? (Y/n) is a valuable asset to me,” Shigaraki snapped, glaring at him. He grabbed the glass and downed the burning liquid.

“Yes, they’re a great medic but you’ve become too attached. What will you do if something were to happen to them because of you or if they find out WHO you are?”

Shigaraki stopped, glass shattering as it turned to ash as the rest of the alcohol dripped from his fingers and onto the floor. He appeared downcast knowing full well what could happen if you knew he is the leader of the League of Villains. It frustrated him how right Kurogiri was about this. He lifted his arms to his neck, digging into the flesh. “Damn it…I hate this! And I had just found the perfect healer…” He growled. ‘I hate it when you’re right Kurogiri…’

He thought for a moment. He did care about you, maybe a bit too much. You were just so kind to him, making him melt into your arms each time he saw you. He knew he couldn’t stay like this forever, with you. It was too risky keeping you around himself. He stopped raking his hands against his neck and stepped out of his chair heading towards the door.

“Where are you going Tomura Shigaraki?” Kurogiri prodded.

“None of your business!” Shigaraki snaps, slamming the door behind him. He enters his room and throws on his hoodie before heading out into the cool, spring air. “Tch, some birthday this is turning out to be…” He hung his head, hands in his hoodie pocket as he strolled through the streets to your apartment.

Each step was weighed down by a brick the closer he got to his destination. It filled him with dread what he was about to do. He wasn’t going to lie, he knew the risks of getting close to you. Kurogiri didn’t know the two of you were going out though Shigaraki knew it was only a matter of time before he caught on. Sometimes he really wanted you to know what he does for a living. It ate away at him every day. ‘I wish you were a villain (y/n), but you have your own life already…one I can’t give you no matter how much you want it.’ He resisted the itch clawing at his neck with each thought he had. Soon before he knew it, he arrived at your apartment.

He knocked on the door, part of him hoping you weren’t there so he wouldn’t go through with this. However, fate wasn’t kind to him. You opened the door with that bright smile on your face.

“Tomu!!! You’re here! I wasn’t expecting you to show up suddenly like this,” you beamed, motioning him to come in. “Oh, happy birthday!” You pecked his cheek.

The soft lips on his cheek made him forget why he was there for a moment, but it was short lived. He looked at your face, studying every feature as he took in slow, deep breaths.

Your face contorted to concern. “Tomu…are you alright? What’s wrong?”

He grips your shoulder with three fingers, his form shaking as he applies more pressure. It pained him what he was about to do…he hated himself for this…but he had to do this for your safety.

“Owww! Tomura, you’re hurting me!” You cry.

Shigaraki looks into your (e/c) eyes. “Heh….look at yourself (y/n). Did you really think this would last?”

“W-what are you saying Tomu…?” You stuttered, shrinking back as you try to get him to release his grip on your shoulder.

He leans in to whisper in your ear, “you’re just a waste of my time. I hate you the most. Never ever come see me again. I don’t exist in your life and you don’t exist in mine.” He releases your shoulder with a harsh shove, making you stumble to the floor as he internally grimaced. He peered down at you, his eyes dull and lifeless, “goodbye, (y/n).”

Shigaraki was brought back to his senses as the dull pain resided. He looked down at your red, puffy face buried in his chest, still sniffling. He hated himself…this is what he did to you. “(Y/n), I…I know why,” he mumbled.

“Hmm, what’s that?” You rasped, lifting your swollen face to look into his crestfallen one.

“Why I broke up with you…I-I’m sorry…I never wanted to…but it was too dangerous.”

You shifted onto his lap a bit confused, “what do you mean Shiggy?”

His breath shook as he spoke, “if I tell you…you must never tell anyone. Swear on your life you won’t. You might hate me for this, but…it’s best if I tell you. It’ll explain everything.” He frowned as he looked at you, scanning your face.

Your features soften, noticing how nervous and scared he sounds. “I swear, I won’t say a word.”

“Have you ever heard of the League of Villains?” He asked.

You nod with a curious expression, “yes, do you have something to do with them?”

Shigaraki sighs and nods, “yes…I’m…their leader.”

“THE LEADER??!! So that’s why you never wanted to go to the hospital! That does explain everything!” You yelled in excitement, eyes wide as your hands trailed through your hair. “All those secrets…and I’m guessing those friends of yours are also a part of the league?”

Shigaraki was a bit shocked by your response. It didn’t appear you were mad at him. “So, you’re not okay with this? You sure you won’t go revealing me to the police or the heroes?” He questioned.

“Of course not! So wait, why exactly did you break up with me? Is it because you’re the leader or something?”

“My second in command noticed I was getting too close to you and suggested it…but…it made me realize the danger I could put you in if I stayed with you,” he replied, eyes downcast in guilt. He felt your soft hand graze against his left cheek and turned his head towards yours.

“You wanted to protect me?” Your glossy eyes stared at him as you bit your lip. He nodded as you clasp a hand over your mouth and begin to cry again. “I wish you would’ve told me then…I would’ve wanted to join you…”

“What?!! You…would’ve wanted to join?” His voice raised in shock.

“Well, yeah…if it meant I could be with you more…,” you confessed, rubbing your tears away with your arm.

Shigaraki covers his face with a hand. “Well…this would’ve saved me that hassle I guess…though I wasn’t sure how you’d respond back then…I’m sorry I put you through all this (y/n)…”

You hummed, “well, I don’t blame you. It’s not an everyday thing to be dating the leader to a gang of criminals.”

He sat in silence for a moment as he wrapped his arms around you and sighed in content. “Do you want to join then? I’ll still have to inform the group about my amnesia problem…”

You sniffle a little before giggling, “of course I join you, that is, if we continue where we left six months ago.” You give him a playful smile, leaning closer to his face, feeling his hot breath fan across it.

“If that is what you want. Besides, I still want my medic back…and maybe you can help me recover more of my lost memories,” he offered.

“I’ll do what I can, Tomu!” You smiled, giving him a peck on the lips.

Shigaraki smiled at you, lifting an arm to trace circles on your cheek. Of course Kurogiri wouldn’t be happy about this predicament but he was just happy to have you back in his life. Now it’s just a matter of remembering everything he’s ever done in the League of Villains and his childhood…if he ever will…but one question that weighed on his mind was how this whole thing happened. He hoped he’d get some intel from the rest or the League once he returned.

#tomura shigaraki #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #mha #anon request #fluff and angst #my hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfiction

193 notes · View notes

bbq-hawks-wings · 5 years

Note

Ok. The pregnant s/o. Was fire. You had me there. In tears. Like. Bruh. I can’t. It was too cute. And too. Ugh just overall amazing. So. Going off that (backtracking a wittle bit since you already wrote a part two where the twins are already about and about) but could you maaybbeeee write about that whole in labour process of the mama bird. And where and what she was doing (hopefully with hawks who may or may not have been really excited) sorry that’s a really long request 😣✌️

I'm so glad you like it. Those are some very personal stories for me - especially the first one because I pulled from personal experience with my husband and first child. I'm such a sucker for good dads and love writing about expecting parents because I feel there's not often a good balance for both the exciting and the uncomfortable parts being talked about. Labor definitely scared me, but despite it not going as smoothly as I would have hoped it's easily been one of the most rewarding efforts of my life.

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

As the days counted down towards the due date things were increasingly both exciting and terrifying. For mom, the increased weight and size left her eager to have it over with; but for dad there was a lot of nervous tension building as he learned about the added complexity of birthing twins.

Luckily, knowing ahead of time you were having a boy and a girl meant they were fraternal and one mystery fewer; but plenty of other risk factors could result in an emergency C-section. Especially since twins were usually born pre-term you both wanted them growing for as absolutely long as possible before they made their debut into the world. There was high blood pressure to worry about, gestational diabetes, anemia, and a list that left Keigo a little paler with every point. Thankfully, frequent checkups and a positive partner helped him keep calm through it along with the classes that very clearly were as much for his benefit as it was for you.

And then, week 36 day 4, you felt the first contractions. Braxton-Higgs had plagued your life for the last few weeks on and off; but this was different. You wrote them off initially, but when you started noticing the consistent timing and feeling them ramp up in intensity you knew it was go time.

You knew there was not much to be done worrying, especially not until you got the hospital (they wanted you on monitors as soon as possible in case they needed to pull you into surgery); but your husband was a different story.

He was composed on the outside (mostly), but his heart rate soared, he made mistakes when speaking, and his hands visibly shaked as he took every opportunity to just DO something. He felt particularly helpless when he saw his wife go through a contraction, watching her face completely change in a second, brace herself, and work through it by making the lowest groans she could to help manage the pain. The some 60 seconds it took to watch you go through it was like an hour when the most he could do was squeeze your hips to alleviate pressure on back as you ground through the most intense workout of your life.

And this went on every 20 minutes, then 10 minutes, then 5 minutes for hours.

You'd made it to the hospital, had a catheter put in just in case, were put on monitors, but didn't have an epidural for a while longer. By the time you made it to "active labor" the world no longer existed during contractions and the room was on hold until it was over - even after you'd been able to get an epidural. If he thought this was bad, he wasn't anywhere prepared for the transition phase.

Labor works in stages: early labor, active labor, and transition. In the beginning you were excited and confident about the way your body was working, by the time you were in active labor things were much harder, and during transition there was a point during the last bit of dilation that your were sure you wouldn't be able to do it; but then Keigo saw something change in your demeanor. You stayed yourself, braced and in tune to your body's rhythm and cues, the world disappeared completely to you, and you really and truly went to work.

Doctors and nurses were crowded around you, allowing him to help hold your legs just for his own peace of mind, but there was not much to do except watch, wait, and offer occasional guidance while you finally reached the ability to push. To you, you were vaguely aware of the buzz happening nearby but if you were not pushing you were resting and waiting, only bothering to think when you felt your body get ready to contract again.

For Keigo it was a sight to behold. He could see your body tense involuntarily and then you react by leaning into it and pushing as hard as you could while it lasted before going completely still again - your breathing even with a face focused to near serenity. For a while, it didn't seem to produce any results besides mess on the table which he and the doctors professionally kept quiet about and cleaned when you stilled again and waited. Then as it went on he began to see a human head begin to emerge, and there were no words he had to describe the shock and awe of epiphany as he watched a human child literally inch towards birth - his child, from his wife, that they'd made and waited together all these months to meet - actual moments away from being able to be held in his arms.

About an hour of pushing went by, the last few pushes overseen much more fervently by the doctors as they prepared to help the baby out of the last centimeters of its journey, and Keigo didn't anticipate how literally hands-on they were about pulling him out; but in a single moment fast enough to blink and miss, his son was delivered and on the table between his wife's legs as they helped him breath his first and wait for the umbilical cord to stop pulsing. The cry was loud and reverberated through the room, and all at once emotion hit him like a tidal wave as layer after layer of revelation overcame him. But it wasn't even over yet, and almost as fast as he had emerged his sister followed quickly behind him.

It was difficult to compose himself. He was full of tears and joy and laughter and pride - his exhaustion of the last 16 hours forgotten as he was able to look at his children in the flesh instead of settle for black and white lines on a screen. They let him cut the umbilical cords and carefully place them on your chest to reunite with their mother for the first time as they would for the rest of their lives.

For all the focus and pain you'd just been through, the moment you had realized what had happened you were back and happy again as well. You smiled and held and soaked in the presence of your children for the first time, almost forgetting that mere minutes ago you were unable to hold them in your arms. Even the uterine massages and passing of the placentas you barely paid attention to as you had much more important mind.

"Hello, babies. I'm so excited to meet you!" You cooed at them as your husband hovered above you, also unable to take his eyes of his children.

"They're so beautiful, (Y/n)." He hiccupped air between sentences, still very much crying. "You know who I am, right? It's me, I'm your daddy. It's daddy!"

They were stable and weren't immediately sent off to the NICU as they were still technically pre-term; but the moments together you had then and shared over your monitored stay were surreal and magical - so much so it took several nurses and doctors to coax both of your into getting some sleep.

"You're going to loose a lot of sleep over the next several months - years even. Rest while you can!"

You both finally took their advice, but the smiles and excitement of what happened still stayed through sweet dreams until you were able to be reunited with your children again when you woke.

#she writes #this brings back memories #ngl actually got a little choked up about it while writing #i can't wait to do it again #hawks #hawks bnha #hawks x reader #keigo takami #keigo takami x reader #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader

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