#the rest are either real cheap or halfway done

[mx-metronome]

Cure For Me set (250): check

New Days of Feast goods (170): check

Pleaful Parent (195): check

my candle cache after all that:

I’m really going out with a bang this year. Celebrating my second Sky anniversary BROKE 🤣

#sky children of the light #sky cotl #thatskygame #par for the course #especially knowing that I didn’t purchase a SINGLE candle pack to make this magic happen #that was all grit! #and I’ll do it again for Fortune just watch me!! #Pleaful parent was my FINAL high stakes wallet breaking ts #the rest are either real cheap or halfway done

[whumpacabra]

10. Bad Dog

Dissociation, forced to choose, head injury, stabbed, knife wound, strangulation, pinned down, attempted noncon, implied past noncon

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

The Wolf wanted to get sick, but there was only bile in his stomach. His breathing felt hollow, lungs shuddering as his handler kicked H hard enough to have the man’s eyes flutter shut. Blood seeped from the gash left behind by the impact, syrupy and red.

H wasn’t dead. Not yet.

(It would have been a mercy H deserved.)

“Tell you what, Wolf.” He was outside his body, observing as his handler walked behind him, ripping his shirt back and off his arms. “We’re here because of your…creative alternative to my orders. You want to correct that mistake, hm?”

The Wolf nodded, body moving of its own accord as his handler ran a hand up his spine and wrapped his fingers loosely around his throat. H groaned on the ground, blood slick across his face.

“You break him the way I broke you, and maybe I’ll reconsider locking you in the Box.” His handler’s hand was running down his arm, lifting his hand, fitting something cold against his palm. “Or…you can give him mercy. And spend the rest of your life in the Box with his corpse.” His laughter was cutting and cruel. “Or what’s left of it when I’m through with the both of you. Now choose.”

The Wolf looked between the combat knife in his hand and H’s limp body on the floor. Mercy was all he had ever wanted. He had begged for mercy over his handler’s abuse a hundred times. But the Wolf could smell the rot and blood and worse that would surround him in the Box - he would die surrounded by it.

If he didn’t give H mercy, if he laid hands on him…maybe his handler would let him live. Maybe his handler would let both of them live. Maybe.

(Was it really living, heeling to his handler’s every beck and call?)

He felt himself drop to his knees next to H, the semiconscious man still fighting to open his eyes and see through the blood on his face.

Since when did the Wolf hesitate? Since when did his handler give him options? Since when did he have a choice?

There was no option.

There was never a choice.

His handler would kill H either way. His handler would hurt them both before he did. His handler would lock him in the Box bleeding and beaten to die next to the corpse of the first person in his memory who didn’t raise a hand against him.

“Oh, don’t be shy, like this - strip him down first, it’s easier after that.” His handler crooned over his shoulder, stepping around where the Wolf knelt to straddle H’s hips and begin pulling up his shirt.

The Wolf felt something in his chest shatter - a glass wall fractured, a chain broken, a hound let loose.

There was a knife in his hands and hate in his heart.

The blade plunged deeper than he thought it would, buried halfway to the hilt in his handler’s strong back as the man howled in pain. His back arched, pulling the blade from the Wolf’s grip as sense trickled back into his brain.

Oh god what had he done. What had he done? Why - why would he do that - ?

“You bitch.”

The next thing he knew he was on his back, his handler’s weight pinning him down and hands squeezing his already bruised throat. His own scrabbled futilely, nails scratching bloody trails up his handler’s arms and catching across his enraged face.

“You fucking - oh I’m gonna kill you. I’m going to kill you and then I’m gonna kill him - real slow - and I’ll tell him it’s all your fucking fault.” His handler lifted and slammed his head against the ground between his snarls for emphases.

The world was starting to loose color, the red of blood on pale skin turning black and gray. The Wolf’s body bucked against the weight of his handler, helpless, futile, weak, weak, weak -

His handler leaned in close, cheap cigarettes on his breath as his hands loosened just a fraction. The Wolf shuddered, the body on top of him grinding against his convulsing hips.

“One more rodeo, huh cowboy? I’m gonna miss your - ”

The Wolf’s hand reached over the handler’s shoulder and wrapped around the hilt of the blade, ripping it free. He slashed at his handler’s throat, and the world went red.

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

(An AU of my Freelancers series)

#whump #dissociation #forced to choose #head injury #stabbed #knife wound #strangulation #pinned down #attempted noncon #implied noncon #past noncon #freelancers au #I like how I wrote the rise and fall of action in the structure of this au. here's the climax of Act I! #idk why this chapter was v cathartic for me <- [redacted]

[golden-sweet-tooth]

I wish HH had the amount of depth, maturity and humor that didn't revolve around cheap gimmicks, I really do understand a lot of the disappointment and anger towards the final product.

It really does deserve a long plot, not 8 episodes to make a full season - it never progressed naturally and I would have liked to see a lot more of the hotel before the extermination, even if it did include tropes I liked.

I was hoping for more of a slow burn to the show, easing into the casual going ons inside the hotel, relations between each character and really fleshing out who everyone was supposed to be.

It does feel like a slap in the face with how most of the characters were treated as... kind of expendable, especially Sir Pentious, Vaggie, and Husk.

We got a peek at Angel Dust's reality, that there was depth in his character and how he acted. And I was happy with that - though the visuals with Poison made me stop halfway through due to my own past abuse, it was overtly accurate. And the masking was done wonderfully.

But that's where it ends - the part with Husk was sweet, but that isn't something you do with someone struggling so hard with the reality they're given and abused daily. I know it was basically saying 'Hey, don't be a dick because you're being treated like shit, you don't know what's going on in our lives either' was a big theme of the song, but the way it was executed harshly felt a little unnecessary.

However, I do get what was TRYING to happen, and I appreciate that aspect and do like the relation that Angel and Husk have been forming, I just wish it wasn't all so rushed together.

With the rest of the characters, it's ALL rushed, and Charlie seems untouched by most of it for most of the season.

It's just exhausting seeing the disputes on my dashboard now - we all know what we wanted, what we expected, and that we got the cheap end of the stick. I understand the disappointment and anger, but I just get so tired of seeing it constantly now.

As much as I want a real, mature, in depth show with mature takes on the topics that are handled poorly, it just didn't happen.

Usually I would turn to fanon or AO3, but I just don't know if a fix-it fic would work in this situation without a LOT of elbow grease and time.

#Angel Adlibs #Hazbin Hotel stuff #I hope it does get a real rewrite honestly #And handles the topics with nuance we don't see currently

[theactivepresent]

ok copy pasting some texts to a friend here so i can keep my Thoughts tm together re: atla live action

halfway through ep 4 and it's the first time i can honestly say they're doing something new and interesting when Zuko chooses to stay at the wake for Lu Ten (and not just bc the soundtrack REKT me). I really like how it stands in tandem with Iroh saying Zuko saved his life (or something to that effect) in the previous episode.

For the rest it's still a pretty lacklustre adaptation, not exactly bad, but nothing to write home about either? The way they've shortened the plot leaves very little breathing room for any quiet moments, which isn't helped by the sometimes downright awful script (SO much telling and not showing. oof.). Still feel like I wouldn't care about any of these characters if they weren't versions of ones I really care about.

Mostly I'm miffed and a little frustrated by the artistic & stylistic choices because i think you could've done something really cool with fightscenes/action stuff & cartoony camp but none of the fighting has really stood out so far, and a lot of the sets use a bit of the og iconography and feel but then fall back on Generic Fantasy Lighting??? the sfx are also pretty bad, which COULD work if you went harder on the camp/ action b movie stuff, but since they don't, it just looks. bad.

the costuming in episode 1 was truly Cheap & awful, it's gotten better since ep 3 but aside from the colour palettes or things being 1 to 1 replicas there's not a ton of interesting stuff going on which is again a shame because the source material is so rich!! You could've really gone for a cool visual aesthetic and language that is different from the OG but absolutely fits the spirit but no.

like all of the bending styles are literally directly based on various martial arts!!!!! why not go HARD on the martial arts films!!!! why not add a bit of camp while you're at it you're adapting a fucking cartoon!!!!

just feels like there wasn't much of a vision other than "let's make a liveaction atla"

it just really lacks a distinct kind of style for me and i don't understand why you wouldn't go hard on SOMETHING when you're adapting atla of all things

also i don't understand why you would cgi momo and appa? they're so uninteresting that way!!! you could've done puppets you could've done half sfx half real thing but instead they look like the most generic ass Fantasy Animal

#atla #avatar the last airbender #atla live action spoilers #atla netflix spoilers #present ramblings #long post

[punkscowardschampions]

Joe & Ray

Joe: Where you @ 🦇🔦

Ray: Shop 

Ray: y? 👀

Joe: Ideal, pick up all the nice scran, stuff that’ll make the kids 👀 pop out, like

Ray: 👀 where this is headed

Joe: mystic meg you don’t need to be 🔮

Joe: saw the envelope full on the side when I got in, don’t need the three guesses

Ray: not for our crimbo prezzies

Joe: can fake that to the little ones

Joe: setting ‘em up for disappointment but what ain’t 🎄😭

Ray: gorra happen 1 day 🎄🔥 but tonight ain’t it 🍭🍫🍩🧁🍪

Joe: can’t complain when they getting it with no spends between any of us, least of all them freeloaders 

Joe: did give us the funds for blockbuster though, keep ‘em 😶🤩

Ray: Class I know what 📼 to stick in they won’t have a cob on about

Joe: Saw II was a mistake, yeah

Ray: Tommo back in his own bed yet?

Joe: Fraze took the piss hard enough he is ‘til he’s dead cert he’s asleep, yeah

Ray: put it out his own head when he used to get pure shit up by [something era appropriate for baby Fraze lol]

Joe: Funny how selective his memory is, like

Ray: innit

Ray: must be that long ago 🙄 properly grock scally now he is 🙄 don’t you know? 🙄

Joe: 😏 being hard would involve doing in 7 year olds

Joe: properly scary, our Tommo

Ray: keeping him made up with extra 🍬🍬 myself like

Joe: Smart 💡

Joe: they’ll wanna crash in mum and dad’s bed with you when they eventually do

Ray: 💡 to grab [whatever the cheap energy drinks of the era are called because clearly not gonna sleep]

Joe: gonna be looking fatter than Hollie T by the time you get out

Ray: 😏 dead scary if I meet her on the way home 🔦

Joe: be no 🍭🍫🍩🧁🍪 trail for me to follow to your body either, devvo

Ray: crisp bags & cans if she don’t eat em 2

Joe: walking skip sounds about fair

Joe: have to be chiefing the whole offie 100x over to have us getting near that size

Ray: have to meet me if the 💡 is to get messy when the rest are 😴 on my tod I’d be a div to chief 1 bottle wearing this clobber but be easy for you in yours

Joe: you rather I went about in too tight tops like a right scally myself

Joe: but doubt messy is the mood either of us will be in, nah?

Ray: Wouldn’t be me getting done in by every lad on the estate for dressing up like em so there’s no would I rather 

Ray: know you’d smash it 1x1 but that ain’t gonna how it’d go when they can outnumber you like 🐺🐺🐺

Joe: May well dress for the job they’re gonna have ⛓🚿🧼🎱🧦⛓

Joe: even scum like us gotta have pride, fuck looking like that much of a twat

Ray: come off it soft lad you mean to tell me they ain’t all gonna be ⚽️🏆 like our [some local-ish person made good of the era that nobody shuts up about even if he’s not remotely close to being a professional footballer in the big leagues]??!!

Joe: and give up the saturday/sunday sesh with some casual violence thrown in? 😱

Joe: not even make half-time 💔

Ray: not reach the halfway line before they’re 🤮😭 & that’s before the sesh

Joe: watch him get them all wound up so they’re spewing their sweeties up before 9

Joe: just ‘cos he’s aggro about it

Ray: Have I gotta 👀 that? 

Joe: It’d be us has to clean it up, can only be arsed playing mammies and daddies when it’s a laugh for them, not long enough sort the kids out for real

Ray: fun & games when it’s 🏠💕 be us 🤢 & 😡 the kids don’t know what’s what

Joe: If he could actually be trusted to do what needs to be done, like you can, leave ‘em to it

Joe: not my idea of a fun Friday night, like 🤷🏻

Ray: you’re not leaving me 2 it though are you?

Joe: of course not

Ray: swear

Joe: fuck shit cunt 

Joe: 🖕🖕🖕

Ray: 😏 k then

Ray: as it came right from your 🖤 I can tell

Joe: is right

Joe: you know I wouldn’t leave youse, ‘less that was gonna protect you but sticking together is usually the one 

Ray: it’s sticking together including the 2 of em that’s 💔

Joe: won’t be much longer, bet she’ll get in to a top school full of bute dickheads and he’ll be so 💔 about it he has to start his life of crime, like

Joe: swear that an’ all

Ray: she is a big enough swot & up herself to fit in with em even if they’re from [posh streets and their nicknames]

Joe: Shame I can’t get in [the local girl’s school that is posh] too

Ray: Grow your hair a bit longer & you probably could

Joe: 😏 ha

Ray: seen what some of the girls coming out the gates look like 😬 lip gloss & a going over with the straighteners you’d be pure prettier

Joe: Ahh, I get it

Joe: you wanna go there and 👀 at them mingers some more

Joe: should’ve said, or started swotting

Ray: Come on don’t you wanna do makeovers tonight?💅💋✨🎀

Joe: What else could I ask you to do at a totally normal sleepover, nothing to see here, yeah

Ray: can go for it naming the dare I ain’t 😱

Joe: maybe I will

Ray: I’ve got [whatever Joe’s fave sweet or snack is because obvs] for you to earn off us

Joe: you swiped ‘em and got away free, but I’ve gotta earn ‘em

Joe: windup, you are but alright then

Ray: read it back & work out how much I’ve done there vs you

Joe: oi, who do you reckons raiding the freezer for their tea 

Joe: call it teamwork

Ray: get Bea to & push her into it & maybe I will

Joe: sleeping with the fishfingers

Ray: Captain Birdseye would be made up to have her ☠️ 

Joe: he’s definitely sketchy

Ray: Fraze can spend his night trying to save her from another sly old fella he’ll be as made up himself & we’ll be left to it

Joe: like he wouldn’t do worse if he had half the chance 

Ray: yeah but shut it I don’t wanna 👂

Joe: scrub 🧠

Ray: all over bleach bath @ the 💭 is right

Joe: you’d disappear, already the palest blonde 

Ray: but I’d soon turn red from the scrubbing 

Ray: & if my freckles went I wouldn’t be devvo like

Joe: Anything to look less like him

Ray: Laura Hughes said I look like mum uses my face to clean the floor

Joe: hers looks like she’s used boot polish on it to change her race

Joe: you don’t need to be listening to girls like her

Ray: you can hear her from [street names really far away]

Joe: can hear her from my class

Joe: She’s jealous you don’t need to hide acne under layers of orange, that’s all

Ray: swear she started wearing a bra when she was about 8 

Ray: what’s in the taps on her street?

Joe: sure it’s not padding?

Ray: you gonna touch her up for us to check for khazi paper or her dad’s socks?

Joe: Not sure I can stand the disappointment, sis

Ray: it’d be the bullshit coming out her gob after youse were alone together getting repeated estatewide you’d properly hate

Ray: I can’t let you take that bullet for her kiddy namecalling

Joe: can keep my hands to myself then, that what you’re saying

Ray: she’ll be out of school ages before I am when some other lad don’t & she gets herself stuck with her own kid to raise instead of just her mum’s

Joe: circle of the council estate

Joe: you better fucking not

Ray: 🤮 lads who try it on’ll not be having kids with nobody ☠️ a decently aimed kick & they’re wrecked

Joe: 👏 right answer

Joe: only sounds as coached as it is

Ray: they can have the 1 smart 💡 without us needing to scrub 🧠

Joe: they’ve had enough shite ones to not make it 🤢 to admit

Ray: & lads are that scatty

Joe: not gonna fight you on it, everyone is

Ray: am I?

Joe: 🤔

Joe: nah, it’s different, we are

Ray: 👏 boss answer

Joe: barely coached, that

Joe: round of applause warranted

Ray: 👑 is gonna be going hard but I do feel different

Joe: get them to make you a tinfoil one, or share their plastic ones

Ray: 👸🏼✨☠️

Joe: Leave the 🕷💜🕸 decorating to them, 50/50 if you end up with actual bugs in your hair

Ray: 💡 to send em out with jars before it’s proper dark for Laura’s payback makeover 🐜🐛🐌🐞

Joe: 💡💡

Joe: any of ‘em got nits atm or

Ray: Ro’ll she’s the cleanest

Joe: ☣️ biological warfare ☣️

Ray: gave yourself a handful of [the fave bribe of sweet or snack] for it

Joe: if you wanna spread some on their pillows, I won’t tell

Ray: 😏

Ray: fun friday getting closer with each 💡

Joe: no mum and dad clearly means SO much alone time 🙄

Ray: Whatever warfare it takes to put a stop to it

Joe: you don’t reckon the threat of them legit killing him will do that

Ray: do you reckon there’s a big enough threat out there to put em off necking each other when they’ve got the real half a chance you brought up? 

Ray: he’s only scared he don’t know how & what she’d say to him then

Joe: try not to 💭

Joe: and hope the embarrassment when that does happen 💀💀 him

Ray: I 💭 about the 👃🩸 when their heads crash together

Ray: it happened to Mandy 3 doors down

Joe: okay have that one 💡

Joe: thought she looked a bit wonky

Ray: I’ve seen you 👀 @ her

Joe: when?

Ray: when you reckon you can get away with it

Joe: should’ve known I was living with sherlock here 👀

Joe: and I never was, not hard

Ray: now you know & over my ☠️ body are youse 2 gonna 💋

Ray: ☣️ hazard

Joe: I’ll only chin her myself if it’s really really boring, yeah

Ray: I’d giz you my left over bleach to gargle with if it was going off but it ain’t on my watch

Joe: protecting me from slags ain’t on the checklist but tah

Ray: dunno what one you’ve got 🧚🏼‍♀️✨ it’s on mine

Joe: okay, tink

Joe: pretty cute but I’ll keep it 😶 for your street cred

Ray: she’s not cute she’s 👿☠️

Joe: and 😈😍

Ray: nobody’s gonna 💭 I’m jealous of Mandy I’m not rem even if there’s a chance she is

Joe: scared it’s that obvious Ray: nah

Joe: you’re not jealous of Mand ‘cos you know you’re better company

Ray: yeah 0 competition from her

Joe: is 0 getting a bit carried away, like

Ray: you tell me

Joe: you give her a fair chance

Ray: how much do you wanna fancy her 😬⚠️

Joe: I’m just saying, probably all she is good for

Joe: why’d I wanna chat to her 

Ray: why would you 💋 her?

Joe: you’ll work it out yourself soon

Ray: shut it you 🤥 I won’t 

Joe: not with Mandy, nah

Joe: but some lad you reckon is properly fit

Ray: 😑 no such lad

Joe: I’m only messing

Joe: you ain’t old enough, or a slag like she is, you wouldn’t do that

Ray: I’d only get wrecked by it & why would I want that

Joe: you don’t

Joe: it’s different for lads

Ray: not by loads though you’ve still got a 🖤

Joe: do I?

Ray: don’t you?

Joe: dunno

Joe: Mandy ain’t gonna break it, either way

Ray: you do I’ve felt it

Joe: I’ll believe you

Ray: I’m dead trustworthy yeah you can ask [whatever the shopkeeper we’ve just robbed blind is called] 👼🏼

Joe: 😏 yeah you look it alright

Ray: I know

Ray: gonna take me far in life this face

Joe: as long as it ain’t 🏥⛓⛪️🏚

Joe: done my job

Ray: professional spoilsport like

Joe: something like that

Joe: call it an IOU

Ray: k Joe

Joe: what you k’ing at us for

Ray: no reason 😏

Joe: you started it 👶🏼

Ray: someone who’s losing it would say that

Joe: someone who’s gonna be stuck watching [a kid’s film of the era] would be acting this brave

Ray: if I am you are

Ray: already had you swear you’ll not leave me 2 it

Joe: plenty else in the house that’ll need doing

Ray: keep us company

Ray: you’ve done the sound thing & admitted it’s more class than Mandy’s

Joe: be a bit much to lock her in at this point

Joe: don’t need to let the whole street know how weird we are, do we

Ray: blood’s thicker than ☢️ spit

Joe: I don’t need to get headbutted to spill none for you

Ray: We just need a 🪒 or 🧷 if you’re gonna keep on being a spoilsport & Mr Overprotective

Joe: no one outside of this house is allowed to hurt you

Joe: even touch you or look at you funny

Joe: me and you can use whatever 🔪 feels the sharpest

Ray: I hate going outside

Joe: me too

Joe: let’s bunk monday too

Ray: yeah everyone looks at me funny @ school

Joe: you’re so pretty

Joe: they dunno what they’re on

Ray: you’re the only person who don’t reckon I’m pure ugly

Joe: everyone here is rem or they wouldn’t be stuck here

Joe: we’ll get class jobs then we can have a house with those blackout curtains and not leave until it’s dark and every twat in the [good neighbourhood we are aspiring to here] is asleep

Ray: What job do you wanna get?

Joe: music, ‘course

Joe: even if I write for other dickheads, that’d still be top

Ray: I don’t care long as I can do it from a dead boss laptop

Joe: massive telly that don’t take up the whole wall ‘cos the room is massive too

Ray: fuck off big seetees we can lie on cos we don’t have to share em with nobody

Joe: fridge with the ice dispensers and double doors

Ray: a properly posh bath like you watch in films

Joe: hot tub too

Ray: can play songs loud as we want cos we we’ll have decent walls and it won’t be a shite semi

Joe: [the best soundsystem of the time, idk, nerd out] 

Ray: !!

Joe: own rooms, for once

Ray: k but we’ve gorra have a connecting door

Joe: beds will be kingsize, you can come share, when you need to

Ray: it’s fucked we can’t now

Ray: their fault

Joe: yeah

Ray: but tonight we will

Joe: those 3 between us, can’t say there’s anything fucked about it

Ray: I don’t wanna stare at the ceiling waiting for mum & dad to come home

Joe: I can’t

Joe: the kids will fall asleep and we’ll keep each other busy, distracted

Ray: they could sleep through 💣💥 dunno how or remember when I was the same

Ray: my stomach’s already ⚓️

Joe: they’ve got us

Joe: we didn’t have nobody when they were gone

Ray: each other

Joe: always each other

Joe: they think we’re proper grown-ups though

Ray: Fraze & Bea think they can act it out

Ray: as if they’re married

Joe: for the kids benefit or theirs, right

Ray: I could be jealous of that

Ray: how it would feel to pretend

Joe: Not enough fake sisters to go around, typical him to not share

Ray: I can’t bail to my 💭 he can have it

Ray: what I imagine’s worse than what’s happening outside of my head

Joe: I could show you some of the things I do, that make it feel

Joe: I dunno if better but it’s better than doing nothing or pretending could be

Ray: show us

Ray: I’m going west with everything I try & do

Joe: you’ve gotta ignore how west it is, just know it works

Ray: if you say it will I know it’s gonna

Joe: Trust me, acting it is better than feeling it

Joe: anyway, no one is gonna see

Ray: you ain’t full of shite the way those 2 are 

Ray: course I trust what you’d tell me

Joe: You can start now, if you want, there’s one you can do walking back

Ray: What is it?

Joe: you have to find a house for every number of our phone number, and knock on the door as many times as the next number in the order, and you can’t go until they’re opening their door, when you do the last house, knock [however long your landline number is total] and run all the way back here

Ray: you’re gonna trust I’ve done it properly yeah?

Joe: There’s no point lying, I’ll do it if you don’t

Joe: but if you keep your bottle and stand, so will they, and if you don’t get caught by no pissed off neighbour, neither will they

Ray: I’m not scared or gonna lie

Joe: I trust you an’ all

Ray: 👀

Ray: it’ll be done exactly how you said to, swear

Joe: you’re gonna feel so much better, Ray, you won’t believe it

Ray: you’re a class brother I dunno what I’d do without you

Joe: you don’t need to find out

Joe: I’m not gonna ditch

Ray: I need you here you can’t be going off nowhere with nobody

Joe: never ever, no one is as important

Ray: proved your 🖤 is real & big enough to have me in

Joe: Ha, alright

Joe: I only wish it was dead most the time then

Ray: you’re not gonna when I help you feel better too

Joe: you promise

Ray: yeah

Ray: whatever it takes I’m not scared to do you know it

Joe: if you wanna do it, I’ll let you, only then

Ray: I wanna do as much for you as you are for me

Joe: there’s loads more

Joe: keeps your head full of blood pumping and chaos and there’s no room for nothing else

Ray: how am I gonna give you anything back as smart as that? 

Joe: easy, I’m getting to see it work for you, not doing it alone

Ray: neither me or you feeling on our tod from here on

Joe: Deal

Ray: meaning I can tell you things if they’re a bit west 2

Joe: everything

Ray: Deal

Joe: 🔓

Ray: What I do is nothing

Ray: I’m not allowed to eat none of the 🍭🍫🍩🧁🍪 or nothing else out the cupboards then I try not moving & talking as much as I can without wrecking the kids heads til mum & dad go work Monday like normal

Joe: I can see the logic and the appeal, not being the right word there… but how do you ignore your 🧠💭

Ray: I don’t 

Ray: I empty myself out so I’m full of 🧠💭 then they’re stuck in us instead of happening outside to mum & dad

Joe: It’s a good plan

Joe: my brain never wants to do nothing, I’m bad at it

Ray: the longer I last @ it the better the ✉️ drops have gone last time I didn’t eat til I was home for tea but when I gave up by morning break on [a date] remember how the spends came out short

Joe: We’ll swap, or try to

Joe: you can do what I do and I’ll try to do nothing

Ray: Don’t disappear already the skinniest

Joe: I forget to eat a lot anyway, that won’t be the hard part

Joe: it’s how loud it’ll get

Ray: I’ll be louder

Joe: 🔊👂🩸

Ray: k I’ll stop before there’s 🩸 or it’ll fuck up your music job

Joe: good point, won’t dig around in there with the ✂️

Ray: ✂️ away I can’t & won’t walk about looking like a Barbie Ali’s played with

Joe: Laura would definitely not let that go 📢

Joe: I think it’d look top

Ray: you wanna make me over with ✂️🧷🔪?

Joe: you rather felt tips and the ancient makeup of mums they thief

Ray: I’m thinking what you’d do if I let you

Joe: less of a Picasso than her but

Ray: get gripped if you go too far like

Joe: leave your eyes where they are on your head 🤞

Ray: Mand would probably notice 👀 if you moved em somewhere dead freaky 

Ray: go from Barbie to [friendly or not neighbourhood cat’s name because cats like to lie in some weird poses haha]

Joe: how much do you wanna fancy her 😬⚠️

Ray: 🙄🖕😑🖕

Joe: 😏

Ray: be Laura’s next jab maybe you should neck her instead

Joe: Won’t cheer her up, moody cow

Ray: I’d be made up if you headbutted her

Joe: can do that without swapping ☣️ flob

Ray: alright, I’ll wait & 👀 if you’re gonna for us

Joe: buzzing for when the lads ‘round her way bang me out for doing a girl in

Ray: they’re jokes those lads

Ray: but I’ll 🥊 her myself then

Joe: was serious, be a 🥳

Ray: I know & 💭 about it I’d be a divvy not to get in on the 🎊🥳🎉

Joe: can always give ‘em a reason to be 👀 at me

Ray: me 2

Joe: McKenna perks

Ray: & there’s the non scally 🎯 don’t forget

Joe: be the next goth kid to be kicked to death, like

Ray: you better not

Ray: what am I gonna do after you’ve been 👟🩸☠️? 

Joe: 😭😭😭

Ray: I’m serious you’ll be leaving me outnumbered

Ray: & their 3rd wheel 🤮🤮🤮

Joe: I’ll have to stop it from going too far then, can’t have that on my conscience 

Ray: no point bailing til I’m older & can afford [that street we were fantasising about]

Ray: have to ☠️ myself if you are

Joe: be back to barely getting by with the # of kids in this house

Ray: not my idea of fun to 👀 em as a 👻

Joe: Ghosts are shit, fair

Joe: who’s scared of a dead person who can’t move on

Ray: it’ll be shit haunting you if you’re not arsed

Ray: will have to make dead cert we’re both ☠️

Joe: sure you don’t wanna go out with him

Joe: well poetic 

Ray: shut it

Joe: third wheeling their ⚰️🪦

Joe: you had dibs first, technically

Ray: I don’t want dibs already had to live with him 

Ray: can fuck off he reckons I’m gonna ☠️ with him 2

Joe: me and you, then

Ray: 🛁🪒

Ray: cinematic tops poetic nobody reads

Joe: long as it looks like a scene out of a splatter film

Joe: can promise you that, easy

Ray: can’t have the only promise you’ve ever broke to me be the last one

Joe: I won’t

Joe: you’ll be in 17 pieces before I leave you alone with them

Ray: Why's it 17?

Joe: I counted

Joe: hands x2

Joe: arms and legs into 2 parts = 8 total

Joe: feet x2

Joe: torso you could break into hips, ribs and then shoulders = 3

Joe: skull and your spine =2, ta-da

Ray: what about teeth? 

Joe: isn’t it like 206 bones total, something like that

Joe: I dunno if teeth count but I’ll count when it gets to it, if you wanna get that specific

Ray: just saying you could take my jaw off if you’re breaking up other parts

Joe: no point keeping a trophy if I’ve gotta suck on the end of a rifle when I’m done

Ray: it’d be a shite trophy anyway I don’t get all my adult teeth til I’m 21 or something like that

Joe: they’re still in there

Joe: ain’t you seen a kid’s skull

Ray: no

Joe: I’ll show you when we do go back to school

Joe: it’s well creepy, they’re in the jaw behind the baby ones, waiting

Ray: that’s boss! 

Joe: librarian will defs wanna ring social if she sees 

Joe: you’re right though, it’s not what I’d wanna keep

Ray: come on then what would you

Joe: hair, unless I worked out a way to keep your skin from rotting

Ray: You can have some now I’ve got loads nobody’d even 👀 it gone

Joe: yeah? ✂️

Ray: I’ll do a properly small plait you can ✂️ when I leg it back

Joe: well nice, you are

Ray: you’ll feel much better & I swore I’d do whatever for it to happen

Joe: make me blush

Ray: a rush of 🩸 that’s all

Joe: s’not

Ray: but if you’d bleed for me it’s alright if you 😳

Joe: it doesn’t bother me, there’s nothing weird about it

Ray: exactly

Joe: I love you, you love me

Ray: 🖤🖤

Ray: I don’t need to count petals to know you do

Joe: not a head wrecker neither, not like other lads

Ray: I’d take a lit match to my hair before I cut it for any of em

Joe: thinking about that is almost bad enough to distract from thinking about the rest

Ray: they make me feel disgusting what they think about

Joe: they are disgusting

Ray: I hate it

Joe: I’ll make you forget you’ve heard any of it 

Ray: I pure love you 

Ray: so much

Joe: we’ll always love each other more than anyone else

Ray: everyone else is too different they can’t understand

Joe: everyone else makes me feel so mental

Ray: you’re not they’re 🧠☠️

Ray: 😴 through 💣💥🏠🔥

Joe: you 👀 it all too

Ray: yeah

Ray: I’ve pulled out my hair before cos it feels like my 🧠 is gonna 💥

Joe: I’ve done eyelashes 

Joe: hair’d be less obvious at this point though

Ray: getting gripped don’t happen however obvious though

Joe: true

Joe: just said I’d got conjunctivitis

Ray: I remember that 

Ray: how paranoid Fraze got he’d catch it

Joe: 🙄 he don’t get nothing

Ray: nah he don’t

Joe: like he’s still proper little

Ray: he’ll have his own kids & still be acting like a big one

Joe: I don’t wanna see that

Ray: we won’t have to

Ray: not gonna let him round ours & the spare key’ll be well hid nowhere he’d reckon on looking

Joe: no under the flowerpot bullshit

Ray: is right

Ray: & I’ll always be in we don’t really need 1 anyway 

Joe: I’ll hide you from everything and everyone, so safe

Ray: swear

Joe: on my life

Joe: no one will know where we live

Ray: soon as we’re old enough to go & not come back that’s what I wanna do 

Joe: we will

Joe: no hassle no thoughts you can’t escape

Ray: I dunno why I kept em to myself & didn’t tell you

Joe: talking about it is

Joe: some of it don’t even go into words, or your head says you’re not allowed to

Ray: my head’s scary when it lays down the law

Joe: I know

Ray: you know what to do I keep getting it wrong

Joe: sometimes

Joe: we can work it out together, the rest

Ray: I’m @ [whatever number of house is feasible by now in the timeframe like just so you know I’m doing it]

Joe: have you been scared

Ray: course not

Joe: you’re brave

Ray: McKenna perks

Joe: you know you’re the prettiest girl on the whole estate 

Ray: What about [whoever are considered to be the prettiest by general consensus cos there always are girls who are]?

Joe: much prettier

Joe: there’s nothing interesting about them

Ray: 😳

Joe: we’re even 

Ray: what about [whatever emo gals we hang out with here and therefore must think are vaguely interesting enough to do so] would you swerve em 2?

Joe: that depends

Joe: if I needed distracting, I’d neck on with them

Ray: you can’t

Joe: only if you ain’t about

Ray: I’d ☠️ watching that

Ray: [a slightly older girl we used to hang about with but now don’t because of her fancying Joe haha] fancies you 😒 it was her sly agenda for being in with us

Joe: have to really really change and become my enemy for me to make you watch that 

Joe: she the one with the streaks in her hair?

Ray: I knew you’d be able to pick her out the lineup

Joe: what she’s going for, look at me look at me

Ray: she’s well pretty

Joe: she wears a lot of eyeliner though

Ray: &? Don’t you reckon it looks smart?

Joe: it does

Joe: but being pretty with the right face on ain’t hard, not seen her without half her face covered in black, the other white 🤡

Ray: 😏 that’s fair like

Joe: and she was a shit mate so sod her

Ray: she wanted to giz us some streaks I said cheers but I’ve already got a twin could’ve been something to do with y she had such a cob on

Joe: she wanted a proper proper bezzie to have them sleepovers with

Ray: 🙄 never slept nowhere but home ain’t gonna start @ hers if I felt the urge 🙄 

Joe: me neither 🤞

Ray: don’t you dare

Joe: jokes 😏

Ray: punchline’s a gut punch 

Joe: not chancing it, any level

Ray: you’ll make me spew up on number [whatever it is]’s front step

Joe: having to do 9 knocks an’ all, not be happy with you

Ray: can 👂 a dog that’d eat it 🤞 maybe before I’m found out

Joe: free meal

Joe: feed begs like that, save loadsa spends

Ray: 💡 to keep us the prettiest on the estate & mum & dad safe

Joe: he would, known worse 🦊💩🐀

Ray: scatty old muppet

Joe: remember when he got into the sausages defrosting on the side

Ray: & the tinfoil off dad’s bbq 

Joe: shitting ⭐️s a well boss trick

Ray: he’s got a loads better 🔊👂🩸 bark than this dog @ number 9

Joe: got the hang of it now

Ray: 🖤

Joe: 🖤

Joe: they are walking him rn

Ray: Course they are

Joe: only jobs that get ‘em far away from mum, dad and the kids, obvs

Ray: jobs he can have a ciggy in his gob while he’s @ em 🙄

Joe: how else will you know he’s 💪

Ray: fitter to her through a cloud of smoke’s fair though

Joe: 😎 only

Ray: dunno where he’s put his glasses probably in the skip on [whatever a nearby road is called]

Joe: good thing they’re free, only wasting the governments money there

Ray: you’d reckon it was a fucking massive brace like [someone who unfortunately has one] 😭 he does

Ray: but yeah he’s properly grown & grock deffo not a big girl’s 👚

Joe: fancies himself that much he can’t hack it

Joe: no one else reckons he’s that potent, ‘cept Bea, like

Ray: what a 💔 to have

Joe: real tragedy

Ray: ideal for the film they 💭 they’re in 🤩

Joe: no great romances start here

Ray: do they even exist?

Joe: 🤔

Ray: gotta be a great big con like who do we know who’s in love

Joe: mum and dad?

Ray: 🤔

Ray: they wouldn’t shelve it in the 🥰❣️💕💒 section @ Blockbusters

Joe: neither of them is exactly Hugh or Julia, is why

Joe: dunno if we can call it not 🖤 though

Ray: yeah it must be 🖤

Joe: who wants 💐🍫🍾 anyway

Joe: he’d die for her

Ray: Bea 🙄 

Ray: you’re right though mum’d stay alive for dad even on days she don’t wanna

Joe: exactly, might be one of the only things they got right

Ray: they’ll be back safe if I do this right won’t they?

Joe: yeah

Joe: there’s more steps but you’re doing really good

Ray: What’s the next?

Joe: it depends where everyone is and what they wanna do, if you have any time alone or the kids are in your face

Joe: the list is endless

Ray: they’ll be stuffing 🍭🍫🍩🧁🍪 in their faces could drive a bus through the kitchen & they wouldn’t be arsed

Joe: alright, yeah, you can let Ro count and order the sweeties, she’ll do it proper

Ray: don’t need to 👀 her she never chiefs any

Joe: exactly, once the other 2 are back in too and mum and dad are out, I’ll show you how to check all the doors and windows proper

Joe: then you’re right, can go to the bathroom and do another one that makes your head full of 🩸 nowt else, ‘fore they’ll be arsed about a film

Ray: my heart’s racing & I’ve still gotta run back

Joe: s’as good as having your headphones blaring

Joe: you can take a break, if you need one

Ray: I don’t

Ray: I want everything to spin

Joe: good

Joe: so keep going

Ray: I’d be dead fast if I weren’t weighed down by the kids’ bribes

Joe: about sums them up

Ray: worth it for the peace it’ll earn me & you

Joe: be so much easier if we didn’t have to worry about them

Ray: what we get for mum & dad being pure in love

Ray: other people’s parents would’ve fallen out of it by 3

Joe: 🤢🤢

Joe: other people’s would’ve worked out how rubbers work

Ray: least Bea knows cos can’t trust Fraze not be that rem he’d chance it

Joe: the other girls he’ll have to worry about

Ray: you said none of them reckon he’s potent

Joe: some girls ain’t fussy, depends how much he still fancies himself in a few years

Ray: 🤢🤢

Joe: not if Bea has anything to do with it, you’re alright

Ray: she’ll go west

Joe: like you

Ray: we ain’t alike

Joe: not much

Ray: fuck you 🖕 not at all

Joe: Alright, alright

Ray: why do you reckon we are?

Ray: cept to 😤 us

Joe: how I said, you get jealous too, that’s it

Ray: I’m allowed to

Ray: you’re my brother she’s not his anything

Joe: not how she wants it

Ray: she knows it don’t work like that

Ray: getting what you want cos you want it

Joe: probably not

Ray: life’s only that fair if you’re a bute baby born in [the fanciest place they know]

Joe: I don’t care if we live there, I’d still not have no sprogs ever

Ray: You’d be a top dad wherever you lived

Joe: nah

Ray: yeah

Ray: they’d feel so safe & made up all the time

Joe: it’s too much, to make that happen all the time, why it don’t

Ray: if anyone could do it it’d be you

Joe: you want some, one day

Ray: I dunno it’s different when you’re the girl doing it

Ray: the kid has to be inside of us & then come out

Joe: scarier than any slasher, that

Ray: is a slasher if they have to cut it out

Joe: more like alien the other way

Ray: nobody tells you what to do if it comes out looking 👽

Ray: how long are you meant to wait & 👀🤞?

Joe: ask mam, Ali and Tommo were really weird looking

Ray: I don’t remember properly

Joe: really?

Ray: maybe they were so 👽 I’ve blocked it out

Joe: scarred you for life

Ray: there’s loads I should but don’t & have to pretend about

Joe: You was well little when Tommo was born anyway, most people look at pictures and fill in the blanks, I reckon

Ray: do you reckon I was weird looking 2?

Joe: you and him were blonde but less blonde

Joe: their hair was white like they’d seen 👻👻

Ray: I dunno where they got you from but I’m made up they did

Joe: not a box like mum, be suspicious if it weren’t her they popped out of

Joe: dunno where my hair came from, look more like Bea and Ro than any of you

Ray: they were mates mum & dad might’ve won you in a game of cards off em or something

Joe: might be onto something

Joe: ended up with the full set in the end

Ray: I think your hair is class

Joe: not like I’ve got a shit 80s perm, nah

Ray: we could have a go or tip the bleach on instead of downing it 😏

Joe: it’d go ranga then I’d be proper like their brother instead 

Joe: piss off with that 😂

Ray: come on it’d put off Mandy & [that emo girl we hate]

Joe: yeah, and what’s in it for me, like 😏

Ray: us not @ your throat about it

Joe: sounds like I don’t like it, put it like that

Ray: you’d like us as your proper proper bezzie more I reckon

Joe: have to 👀

Ray: I’ll show you

Joe: I’m glad you told me

Joe: and I could tell you, some of the 🧠💩

Ray: you don’t gotta hold back none now we’ve started

Ray: you know you can trust me with all your 🧠💩

Joe: You can trust me, anything

Ray: I’d pull out every eyelash to wish we could 🔒 the rest of em out tonight if it was any use

Ray: give you a fucking break 

Joe: you’re the only one who sees it, that it’s any fucking harder for me being oldest

Ray: they lean on you that hard I swear I can feel it in my own 🦴🦴

Joe: mum treats me like I’m more mature than dad

Ray: you probably are but that don’t mean it’s alright for her to

Ray: it ain’t it’s arl to put her bullshit on your shoulders

Joe: when I was younger, I didn’t mind, could tell it made her feel better so who cares

Joe: now, I dunno

Ray: you’ve had enough

Joe: one thing ranting to a kid you reckons got no clue, takes the piss if she still thinks that now though

Ray: she’s not thinking about you when she’s carrying on like that

Joe: if you are

Joe: then I’ll be good

Ray: I will

Ray: loads more even than I already do

Joe: how are you still so sweet, eh

Ray: clue’s in the name

Joe: it suits you

Ray: anything not to feel like she swapped 1 R daughter for another

Joe: do you think we’ll ever find her

Ray: if we did I wouldn’t know what to think

Joe: I don’t think she would either

Ray: maybe she’d understand our 🧠💩 2 but then you’d end up liking her more than us same as mum does

Joe: mum don’t know her, there’s nothing she can like or dislike, just her 💭

Ray: all I know is she wanted Fraze & she got me for a tag along & that wrecked her head

Ray: it don’t matter how long I’m here I can’t compete with someone who ain’t but she reckons should be 

Joe: you think she’d be better if it was only me, him and Tommo

Ray: don’t you? 

Joe: maybe

Joe: she was keen to crack on adding 2 more girls though so I don’t know

Ray: they’re different they make up for it a bit I don’t I’m adding to mum’s guilt not taking none away

Joe: I don’t think it’d make no odds to the girl, that you are and I’m a lad

Joe: she’ll either not care at all or be fuming at us all existing as a whole

Ray: I dunno how she’d not care they didn’t exactly hang about

Joe: yeah, but we dunno where she is, could easily be better than here without having to do much 

Ray: !! she could live on [their fantasy street] & be our neighbour & we’d have no clue

Joe: She’d be about 15 now, give it another year and she could go off and live anywhere she wants 

Ray: do you think she’ll come looking for mum?

Joe: no way to know, would you, if you were her

Ray: depends on the other one I got if she was pure boss there’s not much need

Joe: some people are curious, others would rather not know

Ray: Ali’d be off like a shot in her place

Joe: she’d try it now if she was

Ray: I feel like a divvy saying this cos she’s just a kid but she makes me feel rem she’s that sharp

Joe: nah, I get it

Joe: if she had been born in my spot, she might’ve actually sorted mum out, honestly

Ray: should’ve been me doing it

Joe: no

Joe: proper adults sort themselves ‘fore having any kids is how it is

Joe: you taking my spot wouldn’t make me feel better

Ray: I’ve let you down is how I feel

Joe: no more than I’ve let you down, all of you

Ray: if I was a better daughter she wouldn’t have had to keep on trying for Ali & all our lives’d be easier

Joe: shh, you’re not a bad daughter

Ray: I’ve gotta be nothing else makes sense

Joe: you haven’t done anything wrong, Ray, I promise

Ray: if it was true it would feel true & I wouldn’t feel wrong all the time

Joe: everything is wrong, the world is fucked, ‘specially ours

Ray: I don’t wanna be here

Joe: I know, me neither

Ray: I’ve fucked it I’m meant to be running & I’ve stopped

Joe: where are you, I could come find you

Ray: [wherever the hell this gal is]

Ray: it won’t work now nothing’s gonna work now

Joe: yes it will, you did all the doors

Ray: swear?

Joe: I swear

Joe: and I have backups, when I can’t do certain ones because everyone’s too in my face or the bathroom is hectic, it’s okay

Joe: just breathe and I’ll come get you

Ray: I’ll be okay if I sit til you’re here

Joe: find a patch of grass with no glass or dog shit if you can

Ray: 🧚🏼‍♀️✨

Joe: tall order round ‘ere, I know 😏

Joe: but you could lie and look at the sky, meant to make you feel better, cold dirt under you

Ray: deffo does

Ray: I’ll 👀 the ☁️☁️☁️ til I find one looking like [whatever childhood imaginary friend or fave toy Joe had whatever the vibe was there like I’ll say hi to your bestie lol remember them]

Joe: tah very much, been a while, gonna be right sulky

Ray: least I’ll be less sulky myself for 😢 if they’re 👿

Ray: sorted a decent excuse

Joe: I can handle your tantrums, if you wanna go back to that 

Ray: pull your hair & put the boot in for old time’s sake

Joe: have at it, girl

Ray: k then

Joe: in a bit 👌

Ray: I’m counting 

Joe: that excited to kick my head in?

Joe: sounds about right

Ray: can’t wait to work out if you can carry me further than all the 💪 scally lads & their bags full of cans

Joe: I’m well hard, you’re well scrawny, no probs

Ray: compliment yourself & diss us yeah? That’s what time it is

Joe: gotta get you in the fighting mood somehow

Ray: you wanna take us on that bad like

Joe: you scared now?

Ray: nah I’ll have you

Joe: 😆 more like it

Ray: aim to please & ☠️

Joe: don’t change

Joe: when you start getting older, don’t start only listening to top-40 and caring about getting off with chav lads in stolen cars

Ray: I’d turn the weapon on myself & be the one to ☠️ before I let any of that bullshit happen

Joe: I won’t mercy kill you just ‘cos you’ve gone 🧠💀 like everyone else

Ray: y not? if you pure 🖤 me you’d least try to save us from a fate worse than ☠️

Joe: wouldn’t pure love you if you were that much of a divvy

Joe: best stay as you are

Ray: on my life

Joe: good girl

Ray: don’t stop loving me

Ray: ever

Joe: never ever

Ray: good lad

Joe: cute

Ray: 👧🏼🌼🩰✨🍭

Joe: hey

Ray: 😏 jokes

Joe: nah, I just remembered something

Joe: you said you like my hair, do you want some too

Ray: yeah course I would

Joe: well you can have some then, I forgot to offer, be rude not to when you did

Ray: I’d have come @ you with the ✂️ anyway but it’s cute you offered

Joe: 😏

Joe: where are we gonna put it

Ray: I reckoned on putting it in my diary but then it’s stuck on a page

Ray: what if I want it without carrying the whole book about

Joe: what about something like… an old vaseline tin

Joe: or a tic-tac thing

Ray: you’re the sharpest person I know

Joe: thinking about it feels nice, my stomach isn’t in my throat 

Ray: making you feel better makes me feel better 2

Joe: can’t suddenly have a locket from nowhere, even if we could lift it dead easy for you

Joe: maybe your birthday though

Ray: you’re properly gonna make me cry

Joe: [you better show up boy, not have this girl crying in the streets, just laying yourself down beside her once you’ve checked the area several times like hey]

Ray: [just lie on him like hey cos what are boundaries or personal space]

Joe: [cup her face like you been crying or nah ‘cos we need to know]

Ray: [blatantly has even if we’re annoyed about the fact because a child of mcvickers should never, doing a little sniff like you gotta after you cry]

Joe: [using your sleeve to wipe her nose like a gross child would do because you do not care but wipe her eyes with your fingers at least ‘you’re alright, baby Ray’ being something you probably got called affectionately mockingly as a smaller child]

Ray: [letting him do that even though we are mortified because it’s him and we only trust you to see us like this, playfully and affectionately punching you over this nickname like we’re actually gonna brawl here]

Joe: [catching your fist and twisting your arm, lazily and gently, purely so you fight back not because we aim to win here because reckon it’ll make you feel better]

Ray: [just staring at him with our massive eyes through the curtain of hair that’s probably fallen over her face cos it’s lowkey so long and naturally straight always unlike the rest of these kids with their curls and whirls]

Joe: [now you’re just staring at each other like that’s not a thing, moving said hair out of said eyes ‘what happened to aim to kill?’ quietly]

Ray: [‘can kill with kindness too’ burying her face into his chest like that’s a normal thing for siblings to do, obvs listening to his heart while we’re there but hiding for a sec or two first]

Joe: [‘sorry’ when you mean that you can’t make it stop on command for the bit but it just sounds like you’re embarrassed by how fast it probably is rn]

Ray: [dragging his head into position to be able to listen to yours because it’s fast too from your little meltdown thinking that Tess does not love you and all your other exploits and worries like it’s okay listen we’re the same]

Joe: [when that does make you smile, which you can feel from the muscles moving in his face on your body if you can’t see it]

Ray: [smiling ourselves at that whether it’s felt or seen and also getting strands of his hair and pulling them gently and wrapping them round our fingers as best we can like we’re testing which bit we wanna cut off]

Joe: [when you can wrap hers ‘round your whole arm basically like lol ‘gonna need a fucking shoebox for this’ like you’re taking it all]

Ray: [shaking her head so much so all the hair tickles him like excuse me I don’t wanna be bald ‘dead subtle’ like 1. You carrying a shoebox everywhere and 2. Me having no hair left, doing the little braid that she said she would & looking at him like 😏 that’s your lot boy]

Joe: [just loling and watching her braid her hair and putting our index finger up and gesturing at our own like you get one curl, that’s it]

Ray: [watch her do and redo this plait several times because it must be super neat for him to have and also we must do it more than once for those ocd traits anyway]

Joe: [doing a bigger one the other side for the pisstake because you clearly know how with those 2 little sisters you’d all have to muck in with]

Ray: [oh the not at all casual intimacy of doing someone else’s hair, it’s FINE, taking whatever hair band we have that we’re not already using here and putting it on his wrist like you should also have this forever nbd]

Joe: [bringing it SO close to our face ‘cos we’re inspecting it for all the hair that gets wrapped around them and making 0 attempt to remove said hairs]

Ray: [so slowly and deliberately pulling it so it twangs against his wrist because that’s a good little coping mechanism and you can’t tell me she wouldn’t have used it]

Joe: [we all know that one baby, the way we don’t even flinch is gonna let you know we do, making eye contact again and plucking a few hairs out of her head ‘cos not trying to come at you with our totally unhinged behaviour rn]

Ray: [at least you can take the opportunity to show him your tiny hair pulling bald spot gal because it’d be so easily hideable obvs like I imagine behind her ear or somewhere like that and so we don’t ever have to but we wanna]

Joe: [touching said spot to feel the spiky regrowth because we’re just curious as hell, tickling her ear when we pull our hand away]

Ray: [loling and swatting at him cos I’m soz but only actual psychopaths aren’t ticklish it’s so weird when peeps aren’t, showing him on said ear when we’ve recovered enough to all the places we wanna get pierced when we’re older, going all in thinking you’re gonna have millions the way you do when you’re 10 like ‘I wanna get piercings all along here’ moving and demonstrating ‘and here’]

Joe: [pinching all the spots as she does ‘you’ll look so sick’ because we know your type Joseph ‘boys that try that hard look like knobheads, I’ll get my ear done though, just let the others closeup after I’ve put the hole in’ very much the energy]

Ray: [‘how many you reckon we could get away with before mum & dad notice?’ flicking her hair like thanks for hiding a multitude of sins, doing a face like soz you don’t have that luxury rn Joseph which we genuinely mean & isn’t a pisstake, are not elaborating if we mean literally all tonight or over time]

Joe: [shrugging so dismissively of your parents like the limit does not exist, which is not true, they just wouldn’t lose their mind over it ‘long as you keep it above the shoulders’]

Ray: [‘school then?’ cos yeah your parents are little rebhogs hence we’re more curious than we are worried about getting in trouble and likewise with school cos you clearly go to a shit one so they’re unlikely to care at all in our mind, sticking our tongue out and telling him that the oldest and coolest girl we hang with whatever she’s called has hers pierced like okay I’ll do that next too as if he means we can’t get piercings unless they’re in our ears or face haha no nips or belly button]

Joe: [conversely, they get really pedantic ‘cos I remember it was PLAIN STUDS ONLY like why is this the hill we’re dying on, same with no coats indoors and the ridiculousness they waste their time with instead of education, rolling our eyes thinking of as much ‘no hoops, no plugs, nothing boss’ but shrugging like can do it anyway ‘cos we don’t care about your silly rules, 😏 ‘she fancy me too?’]

Ray: [‘a tiny stud would look boss’ poking our nostril like here cos twas the grunge vibe and as if the school will be totally fine with that compromise, but the face like THUNDER and Tess style DEATH STARE when he says that because the levels we don’t want him to get with this gal we see as a legit threat cos genuinely think she’s as cool & hot as anyone is around here even though I’m sure she probably has an older sketchy bf anyways soz not soz Joseph]

Joe: [‘Xtina’ ‘cos she originated that look very much, I remember, with her dreads and dirrty lewk, soz we’re loling at your grumping ‘come on, she don’t anyway’ and miming a breaking heart as if we’re devastated here]

Ray: [actually brawling him in the way we didn’t earlier, too hard to be called a playfight cos siblings do be popping off like that so can and will]

Joe: [we know we just let you as is our energy, until you wanna stop]

Ray: [at least you’ll stop pretty quick cos he was only taking the piss we’re not livid and obvs don’t have loads of energy to be using beating you up sir even if it is your kink, just flopping down and lying on him again like we’re back at the start]

Joe: [just telling her about this girl’s older boyf and his cool boy energy because clearly the vibe, picking up some of this stolen stash and filling your pockets and whatnot so she’s less laden down]

Ray: [give him his faves so he can eat them before Tommy and Ali do if he wants cos stole them for him not those greedy pigs and we’re buzzing this gal has a bf so]

Joe: [shake your head ‘cos you said you wouldn’t eat so she could and gesture like go ahead]

Ray: [shaking her head too cos don’t wanna even though we could]

Joe: [finding out her favourites like no? And putting them in her jeans or whatever you are wearing pocket like for later then]

Ray: [I’ll have to pick her an actual fave cos we know Fraze’s are lemon sherbets but for now get up even if you make no moves to actually start walking back home yet]

Joe: [get up too, dust yourself off and stand next to her, holding her leg to yourself to line them up so you can start walking on the same foot and keep in step]

Ray: [start your walk back lads you gotta get home eventually so mcvickers can leave]

Joe: [gotta get these children set up in front of the telly with their bribes to behave]

Ray: [you’re welcome they’re all close af at this age and none of them are really clingy to you like a baby Grace situation but hence I was like we should vibe what y’all get up to cos you’ll get chance even though baze are gonna do sod all to help clearly]

Joe: [they’d be quite good at entertaining themselves but you have to keep an eye so they’re not rugrats-ing their way out into trouble lol because Ali is a ringleader honey; they’ve been fed, no one cares about homework and it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you didn’t bathe so it’s minimal what you have to do just the stress of the situation]

Ray: [just make sure they’re not being cheeky and getting into shit they shouldn’t, we see you Ali you tiny rebhog, you can probably cut your plait and his curl off cos that’ll only take a sec but you’ll have to wait it out til the sugar crash hits and you can put them to bed before you get to fully pop off]

Joe: [so what do you wanna vibe out miss]

Ray: [obvs we can do piercings like y’all said, is there anything else you wanna do from Joe’s coping mechanisms, cos we don’t wanna go too hard on day 1 blatantly but we’re also bonding here so]

Joe: [piercings is an easy way to do the self-harm without going in so that’s okay, we’re just doing all the holes, doing the locks and window checks and all that jazz, you’re clearly watching horror films and whatnot, awkwardly avoiding baze as per usual I’m sure, no eating]

Ray: [there’s no shortage of bad horror films to distract yourselves with no matter the era thankfully because we know damn well you’re not gonna be able to sleep ever, can snuggle though, perfectly normal sibling behaviour there yep]

Joe: [so normal, not at all gonna start getting weird real soon]

[five-rivers]

Management

For @phandom-phriend

.

“I want to see your manager,” declared Karen.

The employees’ laughter cut off instantly. Ha. Served them right. These giggling teens didn’t know anything about her, didn’t know what her day had been like. Didn’t know what it was like to be her, with three screaming brats at home and only three days of vacation time.

This stop was supposed to be short. It was supposed to be a rest stop. A place to refuel and pick up her supplements. A ten-minute detour on the way to her spa retreat in the countryside.

But as soon as she’d driven into this town everything had gone wrong. Immediately. It was like the place was cursed. Nowhere more than this garbage hole mini mart. This mini mart which was both too large to easily transverse and too limited in selection.

“Ma’am,” said one of the teens, a girl with an incredibly unprofessional haircut and dye job. Not to mention her piercings. “You really don’t want us to do that.” She licked her lips and some of her cheap black lipstick came off.

Didn’t this store have any kind of dress code? Any kind of professional standard?

“You either get me your manager, or you get me what I asked for.” Drawing a line in the sand was the only way to get things done. The only way to keep people from walking all over you.

The teens exchanged nervous looks.

“Ma’am,” said the other, a boy. “We would, but we’re out.”

“Then you shouldn’t have advertised them,” said Karen, venomously.

“That was last week,” he protested. “It was a sale to make room for new products. We don’t—”

“Unless you’re treating me the way customers should be treated, I don’t want to hear it,” snapped Karen.

The teens exchanged a glance. “Fine,” said the girl. “I’ll get him.”

Karen huffed and crossed her arms, satisfied. About time.

She let her eyes rake over the dismal little store while she waited for the girl to come back. God, it was disgusting in here. She’d be glad to be back on her way.

Three employees, if she could call them that, in this tiny store and it still managed to get this bad. Not to mention the rest of this pothole-ridden town.

If her car didn’t have new tires by the time she got back, oh, there would be hell to pay.

The overhead lights flickered.

The girl jogged back. “He’s coming,” she said.

“Is he too busy to come with you?” asked Karen. Of all the inconsiderate things…

“He has health issues,” said the girl. The lights strobed again, the darkness lasting longer.

“Do you not pay your power bills or something?” asked Karen, annoyed. The flickering was giving her a headache.

“Look,” said the boy, “when your town’s been through as much as ours has, then you can complain.”

“Excuseme? Is that how you talk to a paying customer?”

“You haven’t paid for anything yet, lady—”

“You little—”

“Excuse me. Are you harassing my employees?”

Karen jumped. The young man had, somehow, managed to appear behind the teens while the lights were out. As the lights blinked again, he loomed above her and—

No. He was shorter than she was. About the same height as the teens, in fact. A trick of the light? Whatever. It didn’t matter.

What mattered was getting something to make up for the time she was wasting here. Honestly. This stupid town owed her.

Not that these children would be sympathetic to her plight. No, if life had taught her anything, it was that she had to fight for what she deserved.

So, she presented her case to the manager—And if he knew what was good for this place, he’d let her win. She could and would write an absolutely scathing review and she was in half a dozen Facebook groups that would support her in writing them, no questions asked. There was this one woman on the opposite coast who was practically a genius when it came to reviews.

“Are you listening?” she snapped halfway through, when the manager had failed to respond at all. Usually, by this point they’d tried some kind of spineless, stuttering appeasement.

“Yes,” he said, without any emotional inflection. “Please continue.”

Karen shivered. “Your AC is on too high, too.”

“This is how I like it,” said the manager, voice still flat. “This is how our customers like it.”

“What customers?” sneered Karen. “I’m the only one who’s been here for the past half an hour.”

The manager shrugged. “You should get your prescription checked.”

The lights flickered. The other two employees were gone, nowhere in sight. When had they left? Had they edged out of sight while she was discussing their abysmal performance with the manager.

“You should leave.”

“Excuse me?”

“You should leave. Ma’am.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious. You’re upsetting our customers. Also, I have real work to do.”

“You don’t have any customers.”

For a long moment, the manager simply stared at her. Then he grinned, the expression not reaching his eyes at all. His teeth… bothered Karen. It wasn’t that they weren’t clean… maybe they were too clean?

She felt herself taking a step back, sweat prickling the back of her neck.

“We don’t have any customers that you can see.”

The lights went out, this time for long enough for Karen’s eyes to adjust. Over a dozen pairs of glowing eyes stared back at her.

She jumped, and the first split second of a scream made it past her lips before she realized the prank being played on her. She scowled.

“I’ll be bringing you and your unprofessional conduct to the attention of your superiors, I’ll have you know,” she said.

“Good luck with that,” growled the manager, looking down at her. “I own this place.”

Growled. Looking down at her.

His eyes burned neon green, brighter and more real than any sticker or glowstick Karen had ever seen.

“Let me spell this out to you, Karen,” rumbled the thing in front of her. “You are not welcome here.”

She ran.

.

“That was kind of mean, Danny,” said Tucker, tone entirely judgement-free.

Danny, who was telekinetically reshelving the stuff the woman, a particularly annoying and non-perceptive out-of-towner, had knocked down in her haste to get away, shrugged. “She probably didn’t even pick up the details,” he said, sadly, shaking his head. “Some of my best work, gone unappreciated.”

“I think she appreciated it all right,” said Tucker, an edge of glee creeping into his voice. “Did you see how fast she ran?”

“Yep,” said Danny, inhaling deeply and drinking in the last lingering dregs of the woman’s fear. “Y’know, I think her name might have actually been Karen, considering her reaction.”

“Oof, that almost makes me feel bad.”

“Eh,” said Danny, shrugging. He stood on his tip toes to get a few extra inches over the shelves. “Hey, Sam, you good on the register?”

Sam shot him a thumbs up, not even looking away from the blob-like ghost she was currently ringing up. Danny dropped back to his heels.

“Okay, then, if you’re both good out here,” he said. “I’m going to go finish that negotiation for the ectoplasm cookies.”

“Good luck,” said Tucker.

“And if someone is like that again, call me right away, okay?”

“Got it, boss.”

“Gross. Don’t call me boss.”

“Boss. Boss man. Chief. Mr. Manager. Head honcho.”

“Okay, that’s worse. Seriously. You and Sam are on the deed, too.”

“Ah, but you’re the one our ghostly suppliers will negotiate with. Better get back to that, by the way.”

Danny sighed. “I’m promoting you.” He walked away.

“You- No, you can’t do that! Danny! Wait! You can’t promote me! Danny!”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2021

[from-the-clouds]

Kiss Me More (Part IIII) - Zemo/Reader

Masterlist | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | 

Summary: Reader ponders the decision they made after meeting Zemo in Riga. Series now complete!

Words: 5.2k

Warnings: Kissing, marijuana & alcohol abuse, heavy angst & depression, small reference to suicide, implied casual sex, yearning

A/N (also check out A/N at end when finished reading): This is it, everyone! I was going to end this completely differently originally, but after some thinking --  and some light peer pressure from ya’ll, I did something a little different. I did fight with this part the most out of all of them, so I hope it’s still good. Please enjoy. And thank you for all the love on this series, it’s been so fun to write! Also I was listening to this song while writing this.

---

The incessant buzz of her alarm clock jolted her out of her dreamless sleep. Fumbling in the dark, she slapped the top of it, hitting the snooze button and looking at the interface with bleary eyes. 

4:00 A.M. It stared, indifferent, back at her tired face. 

She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut and lamenting, bargaining, half expecting the clock to turn back time when she opened her eyes again. Unfortunately, it did not. With a huff, she threw back the covers and stretched, disturbing the orange cat that slept in the empty spot next to her where her husband used to lay. 

Snorting, the cat lifted its head to look at her as she climbed out of bed before curling back up in a ball where her feet had been. 

“Don’t mind me, just getting ready for work so I can feed us,” she said, grumpily, then in a moment of repentance, affectionately scratching her behind the ears. 

She had always been a night owl, so she didn’t think it would be possible to ever get used to waking this early. No human was meant to function at this time. It was the one part of the job she hated most. The rest of it was manageable, though it was still work. 

Setting about her morning routine, she showered, made coffee, and donned her uniform. Eating a day-old bagel and nursing her coffee on her tiny balcony, she looked out over the darkened horizon. It was far too early to even enjoy a sunrise. 

There was a saying, time heals all wounds. After her husband died, she’d heard it a lot. It was a saying she had come to find true. But it’d been well over a year since she’d left Helmut, alone in that swanky hotel room, and it still hurt like it was yesterday. 

“I understand,” he’d murmured, and she felt the ghost of his kiss on her forehead, arms around her waist, even now. She shivered, not from the chill of the morning air.

She’d left her old life behind, all of it. Sam and Bucky, too, about a month after their time in Riga. She couldn’t look them in the eyes after what she’d done.

But, she was proud of what they’d accomplished. They’d defeated the Flag Smashers. Bucky seemed happier, more at peace. Sam had accepted his role as the new Captain America. John Walker seemed to have faded into irrelevancy. All the loose ends had been tied up in a pretty little bow.

Except for hers.

Which is why she moved, sold all the stuff in her tiny NYC apartment, and packed her car full with what she couldn’t bear to part with, some photos and momentos from a different lifetime. Her car didn’t stop until she hit the Atlantic Ocean, on an island just south of Charleston. All but undiscovered by tourists, the residents in the sleepy beach town kept to themselves, and she could go about her life in peace, undisturbed. 

She couldn’t just run away from her problems, that was why she’d left Zemo. It seemed counterintuitive, but in her mind, it made sense. The problems would catch up to her, like they always had. The dissatisfaction she had with her life, with herself, was always going to return. And she knew she had to be alone to deal to face it head on. Like a wounded animal, crawling into the woods, there were only two ways things could end here; either she’d heal and come out stronger, or eventually she’d die. And so far, the healing part wasn’t going great. 

Each day was a matter of convincing herself that she’d made the right choice. Especially now, as her eyes burned, fighting to stay open against the inviting embrace of sleep. 

Despite it being dark outside, the bakery was bustling already when she walked in the service entrance. It smelled amazing, as always. Sweet and warm, a cacophony of aromas, baking bread, fresh coffee, sugar.

She set about the usual preparations to open up, packaging orders for the regulars, sweeping the floor, wiping down countertops. Once the place was open, she didn’t have to work the register, as she prepared batches of dough in the back for proofing, to be baked the next day. 

Before, she’d been a terrible cook, but she’d grown comfortable in the kitchen after learning to bake. There was something satisfying about working with her hands, at this point she’d memorized all the recipes and the work became second nature to her. Now, she always had fresh bread and pastries in her kitchen, although they were the slightly disformed, ones the shop owners deemed too ugly for the glass display cases. Daylight was cherished, even if she barely saw it inside the shop. Because while she was awake, busy with work, her thoughts remained pleasant.

At night it was the hardest. Things got quiet, lonely. When she got home, she poured herself a drink. Cheap whiskey, the kind that came in a plastic bottle and burned on it’s way down. She had never been much of a drinker before, she was now. Her thoughts were more manageable after a drink. Especially because she was usually thinking of Helmut. 

It was often that she wondered what he may be doing, and those thoughts usually ended with the image of him lying in the sun, poolside, on some island in the Pacific Ocean, drinking expensive champagne with a supermodel. It wasn’t a particularly comforting thought to her, and yet she was plagued by some variation of it every night. 

Sometimes, she’d humor herself, and imagine what they might be doing had she decided to stay with him. Unfortunately, thinking of that was more upsetting. She wanted it, selfishly, though she wasn’t willing to admit it.

When she was younger, it had been so easy to block out the pain, to just press forward, no matter what. Much to her dismay, it didn’t get easier as she got older. Years of watching those she loved in pain, years of being in pain had taken a toll on her resilience. She wasn’t the strong woman she once was, she was weak.

That night, one drink had turned into two, into three. Wallowing in her own self-pity had become second-nature, she felt like Hamlet, lamenting her circumstances, a constant turmoil monologuing in her brain. But this night felt particularly worse, for some reason. 

For the record, she had been doing better. But she was all-too-familiar with how grief worked, pulling her back down the dark side of the mountain, where she was forced to fight her demons over and over again. At some point, they were going to win.

It was a funny thing. Despite the loss of her husband, who she had loved dearly, his death had been easier to accept. Final. She couldn’t bring him back. Helmut on the other hand, was still out there, an open wound that could never fully heal.

Before she knew it, she was four drinks in, at her bedside table, fumbling through the bottom drawer, until she found what she was looking for.

Back on her couch, she stared at the card in her hand, the hastily written phone number on it, an international line. Helmut had given it to her, the day she left, stuck it in her purse while she wasn’t looking. She didn’t discover it until she had returned home.

It had been months since she last did this, pulled the card out of its hidden place in her drawer, placed it on the coffee table in front of her next to her phone, and considered dialing it. It had been a frequent occurrence when she first moved here, when she couldn’t find a job and spent most of her mornings either hungover, or stumbling home from rendezvous with men whose names she wouldn’t remember, and she wouldn’t care to, because there was only one man she really wanted. She could only hope he’d be as close as one call away. But she never called. 

I mean really, he’d probably moved on by this point. If she was going to call, she should have done it months ago, when there was more of a chance that he’d give a fuck. 

She considered this a setback. But she’d made her way halfway through the cheap bottle of whiskey, it was the drunkest she’d been in ages and she was curious. She didn’t know whose number it was, who’d be on the other end of the line, and never knew why Helmut would want her to have it to begin with.  

At this point, she wasn’t capable of good decision making. In general, it hadn’t always been her strong suit. So why did doing the right thing matter now? It didn’t, she decided. 

Taking a swig of whiskey straight from the bottle, she ensured she wouldn’t remember what happened next, at least not clearly. 

The phone rang twice before someone picked up. “Hello?” she didn’t recognize the sound of the man on the other end of the line immediately, so she didn’t answer. All she had wanted to do was maybe hear Helmut’s voice, he didn’t even need to know it was her that was calling. 

“Hello?” the man repeated, and she realized it wasn’t completely unfamiliar. The grandfatherly, comforting tone wasn’t her former lover, but someone close to him. And she supposed that wasn’t terrible.

“Is this Oeznik?” she asked. 

“It is,” he said after some hesitation. “May I ask who’s speaking?”

Truthfully, she was shocked she’d allowed herself to go this far. This was a bad idea. If she stopped now she could get off without doing any real damage. But just as she was about to hang up, she heard her name, muffled, on the other end of the line. 

“H-How do you know it’s me?” She raised the phone back to her ear. 

“I thought you sounded familiar,” Oeznik chuckled, low and soft. “Helmut told me you might call.”

“He did?” she squeaked. “Yes, although it was awhile ago. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I uh….I….well….” she managed. “I guess I just….I guess I wanted to see how he was doing.”  Her words flowed together like the liquor she was drinking, she knew she sounded drunk.

“Good, since we last spoke,” he said. “I don’t hear from him much these days...maybe every couple months. As you might imagine, he’s trying to keep a low profile for the time being.”

She nodded. Perhaps Zemo was as lonely as she was, hidden away in some cabin in the middle of nowhere. Though she had to imagine it looked much nicer than her current place, and maybe he had better company than a portly orange cat that begrudgingly liked him. “I understand.”

“How have you been?” he asked.

It sounded stupid, but she realized it was the first time someone had asked her that. Sincerely. Checked up on her. Even if she was the one who had dialed the number in the first place.

“I’m good,” her voice cracked. “Just keeping busy.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Helmut always had such nice things to say about you.”

“Really?” she couldn’t stop herself. 

“Of course, would you like me to let him know you called?” 

“No, no...I wouldn’t want to bother him,” she choked on her words, something catching in her throat.

“Are you sure you’re alright, dear?”

“I’m okay, I just….” she felt tears prick at the back of her eyes, lowering her voice, since she didn’t think her normal register would come out as anything other than a whine. “I think I made a horrible mistake.”

“What’s the matter? What did you do?”

She shook her head, shaking the tears loose and now they were lining her lashes, threatening to spill over. However, she managed to make the next words she spoke come out clearly. “Nothing, I just...it’s really stupid, I really shouldn’t have called.”

He sighed on the other end of the line, and she felt like, despite her attempt at staying calm, he could still see that she wasn’t somehow. “It seemed Helmut was awfully sweet on you,” Oeznik’s words next came hesitantly, calculated. “I shouldn’t be telling you this, but he told me if you ever called, to help you with whatever you might need, no matter the ask.”

Oh God, what had she done? A sob left her, one she couldn’t control, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle any more. Her tears were flowing freely now, tracking down her cheeks and along her chin. She wiped at them clumsily, clearing her throat. 

“That’s very kind of him, but you can’t help me. I’m so sorry to bother you, please just forget I even called,” she forced a smile on her face so that hopefully he could hear it. “Goodbye.”

She hung up, horrified, and within seconds had deleted the call log from her phone. She’d been thoughtful enough not to memorize the number, and the lighter she used whenever she smoked sat in front of her. Without a second though, she burned the card, watching the paper blacken and disintegrate, until it was all but a pile of soot on her Wal-Mart coffee table. It was a fair punishment, and ensured she’d never get the chance to embarrass herself like that again. 

And then she cried, sobbed into a pillow next to her, until her tears ran dry and she wore herself out, falling asleep on the couch alone. When she’d wake the next morning, the only evidence of her actions would be a throbbing headache and a dead phone. 

She wouldn’t remember the call.

----

Life went on, as it always did. It had been about a month, and since that night she grew more indifferent, remembered how to ignore heartbreak. For now, she was stuck in her purgatory, waking up before the sun and falling asleep before it set, smoking joints, drinking cheap liquor, and going on the occasional date with people who she didn’t really like, tourists who would leave after a week and wanted temporary company. 

Despite everything, she partly believed things were getting better. Maybe they weren’t, but the possibility that someday they would seemed feasible. And that was enough, for now. 

On her days off, she’d walk to the beach and lay on a blanket, reading a book until the sun dipped below the horizon and lit up the sky in hues of pinks and purples. She found a record player at an antique store and began collecting vinyls, listening to obscure artists whose albums she found in the $1 bin. It wasn’t so bad. Life wasn’t so bad. 

She took a shower after work. Tomorrow was her off day, and she wasn’t sure what she had planned besides maybe watching a movie and getting stoned. Maybe she’d try going to the beach. The weather was getting warmer, and she could even go swimming if the water wasn’t too cold. 

Exhausted from her day of work, she laid down in her bed, still in her robe, her hair wrapped in a towel around her head. The sun was setting outside, the windchimes she’d hung outside slowly clanging together, birds singing in the warm spring air. Her cat hopped on the bed, offered an affectionate trill and curled up at her side, purring, in a rare display of affection. A cool breeze drifted through the open window. And for the first time in over a year, she felt content. Closing her eyes, she savored the moment, committed it to memory, so she could recall it the next time she was drunk-crying in front of her TV. 

She fell asleep slowly, so slowly that when she woke, startled by something in her kitchen clattering to the floor, it felt like she hadn’t even been sleeping at all. The clock next to her red 11:31 p.m. and it was pitch dark outside, the cool breeze from before had grown stronger and her bedroom curtains were billowing, wind whistling loudly through the apartment. Her cat had left her side, and she frowned, shivering in the sudden cold.

Pulling the towel off her head, she made her way over to the window with the intention to close it, sleepily, lazily, until she heard something else. A creak in the floorboard. A heavy footstep in her kitchen. That wasn’t just her cat. 

Some kind of muscle memory was ignited then, an ancient instinct that called to her from a different lifetime. Darting across the room, the gun she kept was in her hand, stealthily pulled from its hiding spot beneath her mattress. Truth be told, she never thought she would’ve needed it. Anyone looking for her would be smart enough to kill her in her sleep, not be so foolish as to wake her first with their heavy footsteps. 

A dark silhouette stalked through her kitchen, moving slowly. It was a man, she assumed, based on his broader figure, and lack of coordination. In her experience, women were often stealthier without trying. He took another step, the floor creaking below him, shuffling on bargain linoleum. 

Staying low, she crept forward, ducking stealthily behind furniture, avoiding the spots on the floor she knew made noise. It didn’t appear the intruder had a weapon, in fact, it seemed he was bumbling about, searching for something. A burglar, and a bad one at that. An island full of vacation homes owned by rich doctors and they thought they’d find valuables in her shitty apartment?

It wasn’t until she was standing directly behind him, gun aimed at his head, that she finally spoke up. 

“I believe you’ve come to the wrong place,” she said flatly. “Whatever you’re looking for, it’d be in your best interest to leave empty-handed.”

Her eyes were still adjusting to the dark, but the intruder froze, arms slowly raising in defeat, empty-handed, as he turned around to face her. In the dingy room, she couldn’t make out any of his features, could only see that he was clad in all black.

“Unfortunately, liebling, that wasn’t my intention.” 

She would’ve recognized that voice anywhere, though the endearment he’d used was enough to clue her in. Hitting the lightswitch with her free hand, she was face to face with the man she’d spent the past year trying to purge from her memory, Helmut Zemo. 

Her gut twisted, her mind raced, but the only thing currently bubbling up, over the surface of every other emotion was the pure, seething rage left behind in the wake of fearing for her life.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she stepped towards him, gun still raised, fuming. 

“Hey, hey!” he staggered backwards, hands raised, eyes averted. 

“I thought you were a fucking robber!” she hissed. “I thought you were here to kill me!”

“Lower your voice,” he scolded. “You’re going to wake your neighbors.”

Taking a deep breath, she realized she still had her gun trained on him and she lowered it, clicking the safety and discarding the weapon on the countertop. “What the fuck?” she asked. “What the hell is wrong with you? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I didn’t know you had such a mouth on you,” he smirked, but she wasn’t finished, and she glowered at him. 

“You broke into my apartment!” she growled.

“I had to be sure I was in the right place.”

“Yeah? You couldn’t have knocked first?”

He nodded, eyes trailing down to her hands, which were trembling, she hadn’t even realized. He seemed to understand what he’d done then, and she flexed her fingers, eyes locking with his. “I suppose...you may be right,” he said, surrendering.

She felt the rage subsiding as she took in his appearance. He looked not so different from the last time she’d seen him, except a fair amount of stubble covered his jawline in a short beard. He was still devastatingly handsome. Zemo’s dark eyes, filled with longing, drank her in, tilting his head as his gaze shifted to her lips. It was like she could read his mind, she knew what he wanted, what he was thinking. And her body was going to betray her if he kept it up.

Despite everything, she was still upset. Upset and embarrassed, as the light was doing an unflattering expose of her tiny, cluttered apartment, full of mismatched furniture and water-damaged wallpaper that her landlord refused to replace. It probably gave the prison cells that Helmut had spent years in a run for their money, and was in stark contrast to every other aspect of his life.

“What’s this?” he asked, gesturing to the empty liquor bottles on her countertop, stowed in her trash can. “Have you been drinking?”

“Not tonight,” she quipped, on guard. Had to be. As much as some old instinct told her to throw herself into his arms, press her lips to the underside of his jaw, and let him envelope her in the comfort of his embrace, she knew she couldn’t.

“Hmm,” he brushed past her, frowning, looking disappointed, as he made his way to her living room. 

“How did you find me?” she asked, eyeing him wearily.

“I’m a wanted man, I trace every call that comes into my estate,” he said over his shoulder. 

Helmut was taking inventory of the cramped space, staring at the photos she’d hung in a collage on the wall behind her couch, with a few watercolors painted by her late husband. One in particular, that he was focused on now, was from her wedding. Of all the memories she chose to hang, this one was her fondest, her former partner was all dark curly hair falling into deep blue eyes, and she was the portrait of a blushing bride, wearing a dopey love-drunk smile, gazing at him, ignoring the camera. 

“You looked so beautiful on your wedding day,” he said, turning over his shoulder to look at her. He was so out of place here, standing in her living room, for a moment she thought he might be a hallucination, some physical manifestation of the heartbreak she’d experienced. “Although that doesn’t surprise me.”

She flushed, suddenly self-conscious in her thin black robe and still-damp hair. It occurred to her that she wasn’t looking her best, which made this whole situation that much more disconcerting. However, the compliment disarmed her slightly, and the anger she felt began to dissipate, slowly. She was going to offer him something to drink until her cat, who had been absent through the chaos, suddenly jumped up on the back of the couch and promptly hissed at him in an attempt to defend her territory.

“Pumpkin, be nice,” she said, although it was mostly to placate Helmut. Pumpkin never listened to her. 

Helmut let her sniff his hand, and she was stunned when the cat rubbed her face against it. Of course, Pumpkin would like him of all people. That made sense. Then again, she supposed it made them not so different. He turned away to look at the rest of the room. “I see you haven’t kicked that bad habit you told me about,” he gestured at the ashtray full of roaches on the coffee table. 

“Did you just come to my place to insult me?” she asked, putting her hands on her lips and feigning confidence. She could’ve rolled over and cried and told him how much she missed him, how many nights she’d spent crying over him, and while all of it was true, she felt indignation was the better option for her self-preservation.

“That’s a good question,” Helmut turned to face her now, hands in the pockets of the leather jacket he was wearing. Completely inappropriate for the weather here, but he didn’t seem to notice, or care. “Why do you think I’m here?” he asked.

She shrugged, feigning indifference. “I don’t know, but you shouldn’t be.”

He snorted, his frustration evident, and she saw a glimpse of the man that so many feared, the side that had earned him his dangerous reputation, that had him locked away in a high-security prison for nearly a decade. “I didn’t come all this way for nothing, draga, we’re going to have it out.”

“Fine,” she said, lacing as much venom as she could into her words to prepare herself. “Then get on with it.”

He stared her down, and the expression her wore startled her, something sparkled in his eyes, mischief, relief maybe? It was insulting. Like he didn’t take her seriously. But there was something else there, too, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but it was wiped from his visage before it registered.

The tension in the room dissipated slightly when Zemo sat on the arm of the worn couch she’d bought from a yard sale, and she winced. “I spoke to Oeznik the other day,” he said flatly, snorting, eyes focused on a stain on one of the rugs she owned. “He told me he had the pleasure of speaking to a friend of mine about a month ago.”

Frowning, she tilted her head, her eyes meeting Helmut’s. Something in her brain sparked a memory she’d once dismissed as a dream after a particularly bad night of drinking.

“He was concerned, you see, because this friend didn’t seem to be in the best state of mind,” Helmut rose from the arm of the couch, stalking forward slowly, and she couldn’t move backwards, not even if she wanted to, as he could pin her easily against the front door. His voice grew louder, faster as he went on. “He said she was crying, slurring her words, he told me he thought maybe she might be-” Helmut cut himself off abruptly and closed his eyes, clenching one of his fists, a look of distress on his face as he took in a terse breath. “I won’t finish that thought, but you’re a smart girl, you can imagine what I’m getting at.”

Swallowing hard, the phone call came back to her in pieces, the tears, sobbing on the phone to a man she hardly knew. It was the night she finally admitted to herself she’d made a mistake, even though she’d already known it, deep down when she left him in the hotel room. 

“Please forgive me for breaking in tonight,” Helmut said. “But I couldn’t bear the thought of you not answering the door, I needed to see with my own eyes that you were okay.”

Exhaling through her nose, she looked at the floor. “It’s not like that. I had too much to drink.” she said, keeping her voice as steady as possible. “It was just a bad night.”

“Then tell me, what was the horrible mistake you made?” he asked, stepping closer. He was close to her, now. So close. And his proximity made everything more difficult.

God, if only she could remember exactly what she’d said, the only thing that came to her were the emotions, desperation, sadness, grief. It was all too much, and he was threatening to bring them all back to destroy her again. 

“I shouldn’t have called,” she said, shaking her head. “And I’m sorry. What do you want me to say? What do you want from me?”

“What do I want from you?” He asked, tilting his head, his eyebrows pulling together. “Do you have any idea how worried I was? How hard it was to sit on a plane when all I wanted to do was be here? With you?” His hand rose to cup her cheek, stopping just short of her face when she flinched away from his touch.

“Please stop,” she managed, the burn of tears behind her eyes almost menacing. The last thing she needed was to cry in front of him. “You’re undoing everything.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked. 

“You’re….you’re here,” she murmured weakly, wetness seeping, glossing over her pupils. “I only have so much capacity for pain right now, if you touch me now, you’ll ruin everything.”

No one ever had this kind of hold on her, she’d never bent her rules to appease anyone else, and she’d gone toe to toe with super soldiers. He was just a man, and yet, he terrified her. 

“You really want me to leave?”

She couldn’t answer, but one tear escaped, sliding down her cheekbone, and she sniffled. 

“I’m not the one who did this to you,” his thumb, swiped along her face gently, wiping it away. He’d touched her, just barely, and she was reeling. 

“I know,” she stuttered, gasping. “I know it was me, but I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“You are so stubborn.” His expression softened as he looked upon her, his thumb tracing underneath her jaw, tilting her head upwards to look at him. Malleable, she obliged. “I’ve thought about you everyday since the night we spent together. You’ve plagued me. That can’t be a coincidence. Are you really happier this way? You must be honest with me.”

She shook her head, blinking out fresh tears. “No, I’m not. I just thought...by the time I realized I made the wrong choice, you’d have moved on. People like us don’t get to be happy.”

“Says who?”

How could she refuse him anymore? This would continue to go on until she gave in. And from the beginning, she wanted to give in. There was no use in fighting the inevitable. The small point of contact -- his hand on her chin -- radiated impressive warmth, and she could feel every part of herself being attracted to him, quelling some ache deep within her. 

Reaching up, she clutched at Helmut’s palm, which didn’t last long, because he pulled her into his arms, nestling her head underneath his chin. She melted into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his solid frame. 

“Come home with me,” he coaxed softly. 

“I will,” she murmured, surrendering to the comfort of his presence. “But you have to let me bring Pumpkin.”

He chuckled, warm and amiable, the vibration of his chest echoing in her own. “Of course, you’ll bring Pumpkin,” he murmured into her hair. Oh, how she had missed hearing him laugh. They could’ve stayed that way for hours, and she would’ve been content, but he pulled away, hands on either side of her face as he studied her.

Unable to hold back any longer, she leaned in to kiss him. It was chaste at first, all the memories of her last night with him came flooding back quickly when he parted his lips to deepen the kiss, but she didn’t want that quite yet, just needed a moment to process this. The simple comfort of being held by him, kissed by him, was more than enough for now. He’d been waiting for this, she could assume in the way that he responded, pulling her impossibly close so she was engulfed in him.

Her stomach flipped, a warmth blossoming in her chest as he pulled away, their foreheads touching. “Oh, I missed you,” she sighed, shivering as his beard tickled her neck, his mouth on her sensitive skin.

“And I, you,” he murmured. His eyes studied her, carefully, up close, and for the first time since meeting him, she really let him see her, teary-eyed and vulnerable.

She would never let him go again. 

---

A/N: So here we are! I know it’s been a ride, but I’m really excited for these two. However, I don’t feel like I’m done writing for Zemo yet. If ya’ll have any headcanons, thoughts, questions, requests, etc, feel free to drop them in my ask box or shoot me a DM. I’d love to talk more about him. I also would be down to write more oneshots based around this series, because I am sort of like….okay, they obviously have a connection, but they don’t know that much about each other, and I may or may not have a light future already mapped out for them. I might do an epilogue at some point even. But if you have anything you’d like to add, let me know!

Taglist: @juice-1981  @sapphiredreamer26  @tatooineisdry  @marvelsvision @spookycereal-s @trelaney @fireghost-x @booksarekindaneat  @thunderingbats  @felicityofbakerstreet @takacsgram @mischiefmanaged71 @fanfictionedagain @merelyhooper @gyllord @mundaytuesday @friday18eo  @lovegood7553  @adara-wolfhart @a-djarin @farawaywasteland @sky-writes-stuff @fuckinglittlekitten @katyasrussianaccent @agent-jbarnes  @neoarchipelago @pattispunk @kpopnena @purebloodwitch @spookyconsultingcriminal @msmarvelwrites @professorrw @lazyradeecal @captainrexstan @notyourfuckingbusinesss @felicityofbakerstreet @unlikekiana @maeday-18 @friendly-letters @fandom-lover-4 @meefal @queenfairyfangirl @gogomonbebelf @scullys-alienpussy @the-multiverse-approach @sky-writes-stuff @safiakillspop @eggofhumiliation @originalcollectorsaladsstuff @archangelproperty @friday18eo @jayden-rose-leon @actuallyanita @mayhemmachine @kermuddgen @zadiewrites @pach-inks @theokatz @reichelhache @autumnsoidier @mischief-siriusly-managed @danaaeaa @joey-motorola @singlemomslayer @stevesbestgirl @dinna-fashh @popriskra @xaanyhs @adorable-punk-superheroes​

#helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo x you #helmut zemo imagine #baron zemo #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #marvel #mcu #marvel writing #tfatws writing #daniel bruhl #zemo x reader #zemo x you #zemo fanfiction #helmut zemo fanfiction #writing #fanfiction #tfatws fanfiction #series

[hockeyboysiguess]

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

[iwriteficsandmore]

In Search of Something Special

So tired. Have a test on thurs. But i was so overwhelmed that i needed a distraction. I let myself write blindly and this came out. Hope you guys enjoy and sorry about the spelling errors x3

It'd been a long time since anybody had you feeling like such a piece of trash. Not so much because you had done something petty or worth the hate, but more because of how they treated you. And after months of it, it was only natural that it had you down on the floor like a beaten pup. 

Years had gone by since you last had been on the dating scene. Not because of anything bad. You were just much more involved in your own life and career to bother. Now that you were back and after a handful of less than stellar outings, it was clear that nothing much had changed either.

"Chivalry is truly dead and gone." A long swig from the cold beer in your hand at least did something to lessen the sting.

"Well, someone's partying ahead of time."

Red feathers swaying downward in front of your face told you exactly who dared interrupt your pity party for one. You hang your head back and meet eyes with the Winged Hero who only hovers over you with his gaze turned down to meet yours. Any other day you would've been fine with seeing Hawks. You were fellow heroes who worked near and around the same area. And although he seldom needed any kind of help in his neck of the woods, he was always a ray of sunshine to have when in dangerous missions that seemed like too much of a hassle to do alone.

You were both around the same age give or take a few years, and though your reputations weren't near the same caliber, it was obvious from the first mission you had together that you two worked like a charm. 

If only other things worked just as smoothly.

Heaving a sigh, you lift the can of beer and share a weary half-smirk with him. "Hope you're keen of drowning in booze if you're looking to join."

That characteristic smirk of his disappeared and turned into a quizzical frown without a warning as he landed.

"What's wrong?"

"Oh nothin' much." God, you'd only had about half a pack and you were already losing yourself a bit there. Certainly the heartbreak didn't help. "Just mourning how I only seem to catch total pieces of shit with honey is all."

Those golden eyes of his narrowed as if trying to decipher your mess of a sentence before they widened. Hawks approached where you sat and had a seat beside—the narrow space of your condo's rooftop where no fence kept one away from the edge just wide enough for two.

"You went on another date?"

"Yep. And was met by none other than yet another piece of shit."

"What happened?"

You sniffled, the words stuck in your throat as if not wanting to come out due to shame. Relying on Hawks had become more of a constant in your life than you'd like to admit, and he knew this too. Over time it was easy to see that aside from being good coworkers you two considered each other good friends. It was easy to talk to one another and bitch about work or any particular thing when not out catching thugs. All that made it easier to talk to him about the more intimate side of your life and get an inside on how to get a good guy.

But half a year of trying to find somebody with no fucking luck whatsoever had you're hopes running dry that there truly was any good man out there for you. And it wasn't anything new that when things went south, he was the one to answer your calls in the middle of the night. The one that the next day would come with cheap but delicious take-out from the most obscure, small diner he knew and tubs of ice cream to share for dessert over over-the-top comedy movies.

Bad as it sounded, Hawks was your fail-safe. The one constant you could count on that would be there when you needed it. And you knew how fucking horrible that was because he deserved better than to be stuck with your sorry ass. 

Yet you couldn't help telling him. You couldn't break out of that cycle or from that security that he gave you.

By the time you finish telling him what happened, he's already through his third can. You already cracked open your seventh from another six-pack to have for yourself.

"You have the shittiest luck with guys I've ever seen," he says with a slight grimace.

"I wouldn't think it crazy that I was cursed as a baby or something to just die by my lonesome at this point. That would at least explain things."

Hawks leaned forward, his cheek pressing against his knee as he brought his foot to rest on the ledge. His enormous wings cradled the two of you, the tip of the one closest to you holding you back a bit by your hip. You had huffed about it halfway through your story but no matter how much you protested he said he wasn't about to leave an unbalanced drunkard unbuckled on the ledge of a roof. You hated how he babied you now. You were a hero, god damn it, you could take care of yourself just fine, drunk or not. Hawks wasn’t budging anytime soon though and you were too tired to protest much past the first minute or so.

You legs dangled over the edge and the way you swayed them underneath you had your total attention. "Is it really too much to ask for someone who’s not a complete ass? I really don’t want to live the rest of my life alone."

"Is that really so important" he asked.

For you it was.

You'd seen what a great life your parents had had over the years of a long marriage. Through hiccups, they had stayed together to work out their problems and had lived together through it all. They always said one could never live without the other and it was a promise they kept when not days after her mother died, her father followed suit.

That’s the day she learned that sadness was the deadliest kind of killer. And in her case, loneliness wasn’t that far behind. 

More than wanting to avoid being alone, you just wanted to share that kind of love with someone. 

"I never really wanted this life of glitz and glamour that came with being a hero," you admitted through your own thoughts. “But I worked for it because I thought it’d make me happy. It wasn’t until after my parents passed that I realized...sharing life with someone you love is the kind of life I've always wanted. Now that I know what I want all this just seems...hollow.”

“Well...you’ve got me.”

His nonchalant reply had you chuckling. “I don’t think you heard a word I just said.”

“I heard you,” he corrected. “And I meant what I said.”

A sudden heaviness hits you as you turned to face Hawks. He avoids eye contact with you as he lays down on the ice-cold concrete instead, the glare of the rooftop lights hiding his eyes behind his vizor. 

“Whether it’s as friends, or as something more than that, you’re always going to have me.”

Why does he sound so serious? The way he tilted his head to let the glare disperse and finally meet your eyes told you that he was serious. 

Your cheeks suddenly turn a dark color that you hope was hidden well enough in the dark of the night. 

Hawks? Chicken-brained Hawks? 

Now that there wasn’t a possibility that had ever crossed your mind before. At least not seriously. All you guys had ever been was good friends. Sure, the media was always asking if you two were an item from how often you were seen together in and out of work, and you always promptly shot the idea down as soon as it came up, but was there any real merit in it? 

Was there?

No, there couldn’t be. You were comfortable with him, yes, and you really appreciated him for all the times he was there for you, but it just didn’t feel like...being in love. 

At least not the way that you imagined it would be like. But words your father had once told you when you were but a young girl came to mind at searching for the meaning of what ‘being in love’ really was. 

“How did you know mama was the one, papa?”

“When I realized what having her near me felt like.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I suppose we can say it’s a very calming feeling. A very...warm one, too. And I’ve never felt more at peace with myself and who I am than when I’m with your mother. Loving her taught me that...love is truly our one and only peace on earth. And without her, I will never know peace again.”

Peace.  

That’s what your father experienced and what he called love. And...a part of you could tell that you already knew that peace. Feeling so at peace with yourself with another, so comfortable that it’s like you’ve known them all your life—yeah, that was definitely a feeling you were familiar with during long drawn-out movies nights and cheap take-out. 

At the realization, you can’t help but chuckle and wonder how long this dumb bird brain had been hiding this. Or maybe he hadn’t been hiding it at all and you were just too dense and caught up in your dumb search to notice. Still...if this was the path you wanted to go through, it would crumble down walls that had been build through years of your friendship. Walls that would not come back up intact if things didn’t work out if at all. The risk was there but you also knew that something like what your parents had—that kind of loving peace—was worth the risk. 

“You’re so full of yourself, you know that?”

Hawks chuckled. “I’ve been told worse.”

“By who?”

“You, of course. And all have been more than accurate, I’ll tell you,” he said with another chuckle. All those laughs though didn’t last before he became somber. “But I don’t mean to push you into anything; I was just tired of holding it in and watching you get hurt so many times. But if don’t want to, we can just forget what I said and go back to how things were. I won’t hold it against you. And I promise that nothing will change between us.” 

Before you can answer, Hawks stands from his seat. The wing that been caring for you the hold time brushes against your bare arm sending chills down your spine as it pulled you back from the edge ever so slightly. A single feather stays behind as he heads to the door back inside—a gesture of his that he always made a point of making without any words.

A way for you to call him if you needed him, no matter the time or place. 

You hold it by its quill and twirl the feather between your fingers. 

Peace. That’s what you wanted. Mine—no...ours.

Your hesitation lasts only a brief moment when you hear the door finally open and you speak out without thinking. Your voice is just above a whisper but it isn’t him you’re speaking to. Your lips brush against the single feather as you speak and you know that alone stops him in his tracks. 

“A date.” The feather moves ever so slightly and you know you have his attention. Flustered, you try to make an excuse but it ends up as lame as can be. “I mean, only if you’re okay with it! Like you said, I’m not trying to force you either and I don’t know if I’m emotionally ready for another one, but...but if it’s you...I don’t think...I’d mind.”

“How does take-out and a movie sound to you then?” 

His voice reverberates across the space that separates you and forces you to look back at him. Funny how you’ve never noticed how bright his smile could be, or maybe this is the first time you’ve ever seen him smiling like that.

That peace returns and is accompanied by a flutter in your stomach. The good kind. You twirl the feather around as it brushes against your lips every time making your cheeks warm with anticipation. 

“Perfect.”

#hawks #bnha hawks #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami #bnha #bnha imagin #hawks imagines #keigo takami imagines #bnah fic #birds of a feather collection

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Observation.

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: Mini!Yandere!OC/Mini!Reader. 

Synopsis: It’s like being the pet of a pet. Shrunken down, trapped, and isolated… There are worse things you could do than keep your head down and try to play happy-family.

TW: Shrinking, Violence, Imprisonment, Gaslighting and Mentions of Kidnapping. 

“It gets better, after a few days.”

His voice was calm, laced with an unidentifiable accent and heavy with a calm, complacent undertone, the kind you’d expect from someone talking to an old friend rather than another hostage. You’d only been awake for an hour or two, but if he was going to panic, he didn’t seem to have any intention of doing so in front of you. Rather, he’d just greeted you and offered an insincere apology before helping you to your feet, spurring you on with promises of tea and explanations, both of which he seemed in no particular rush to provide.

The strangeness of your current state seemed obvious, by now, even if it didn’t really make sense. Your host was normal, a man of few words and tan skin with the barest hints of a spiraling tattoo peeking out from just beneath his sleeves, but he was the only normal thing you’d seen so far. The kitchen table was too low, pushing against the tops of your knees, but your chair was too high, the soles of your feet barely able to touch the ground. The empty vase on the nearest counter was ornate, but plastic, the cheap, overly-decorated sort of thing you’d decorate a playroom with. Most of the cabinets were false, but the few that weren’t contained plates too thick and too wide, cups that were just too small to be held comfortably, silverware that didn’t feel right in your hands. They were tools for toys, faux-commodities for dolls that didn’t need to really use them.

Things for people like you, now.

You crossed your arms on the smooth tabletop, staring down at your hands. Trying to see if anything about you was different, as you spoke. “I don’t know how you can say that.”

“It does,” He assured, making no exceptional attempt to sound any more convincing than he cared to be. “The headache will start to fade with a little sleep, and you get used to making do. We have a lot, but there’s always something missing.” He paused, chucking under his breath, as if the minor inconvenience was his own, personal joke. “I think he does it on purpose. To ‘simulate the difficulties of real-life’, or whatever excuse he wants to use to explain why I’ve been doing laundry by-hand for the past year and a half.”

You stiffened at the mention of your kidnapper, the person who forced you into  their little fucked-up experiment. The details of your abduction were blurry, a nonlinear series of pricks to your arm and nonsensical threats you couldn’t quite remember, but you didn’t push yourself to recall much else. You had a feeling you wouldn’t like anything you managed to dredge up. If someone had the capability to make you into something so small, something so helpless, and the apathy to put you on display like a prized pet… You weren’t sure they’d be nice enough to make the transformation as painless as you’d hope.

“I don’t live here,” You mumbled, more to yourself than to him, although the stranger saw fit to hum in response to the admission. “In this town, I mean. I just moved here for a job - I didn’t even really want to, but I needed the money. They set me up with an apartment and everything.” A kettle whistled, and he nodded sympathetically. He didn’t turn to face you. “I didn’t even get to see it, not before I got… shrunk, or whatever.”

“New faces make the most convenient targets. If no one knows you, no one can look for you. Everyone you used to know is too far to do any good.” You sink into your seat. Somehow, his words of comfort did little to inspire much hope. “I think I was a tourist. I was passing through, stopping at a bar, and then--” He clicked his tongue, waving in some vague, dismissive gesture. “--this.”

You frowned, biting the side of your cheek. “Were you scared?”

At that, he glanced over his shoulder, sending you a loose, careless smile. You attempted to return it as he pulled a mug from the nearest drawer, preparing a still-boiling drink with the idle concentration of someone who’d done this a thousand times before. “At first, but as I said, it gets easier. You never get used to it, but the homesickness fades, and you find ways to keep yourself occupied. The only thing that’s changed is your size.” Your shoulders slumped, your attention quickly drifting back to your own self-pity, but a sturdy hand came to rest on your shoulder before you could start to spiral. “You’re not alone, either. You have me, and we will get you through this. In the meantime, drink.” A mug was delicately placed in front of you, the handle just a little too thick to hold comfortably. “It’ll help with the nausea. You’ll feel better once you clear your head.”

You only leaned back, letting him rub slow, soothing circles into your back as you lifted the mug to your lips and took a sip, if only to see the way his smile seemed to grow.

~

By the sixth day, you’d come to terms with the fact that you were, undoubtedly, in a dollhouse.

The layout was massive, but easy to navigate. The building was split down the middle by a spiraling staircase, the dizzying structure decorated with halls in either direction, all leading to bedrooms or bathrooms or spaces so sickeningly domestic, you’d come to think of the kitchen as a neutral zone. Most were unused. Leon’s (he’d introduced himself properly later on that night, once you were stable enough to ask) bedroom was tucked into a corner of the ground-floor, but there were signs of life everywhere. An empty cup left in an otherwise unoccupied parlor, a book abandoned halfway through, little things, but things Leon didn’t seem like the type to overlook.

The only aspects of the house that hadn’t been tampered with were the industrial-style security cameras, each protected by a metal box and a colorful array of warnings, and one of the spare rooms on the top floor, this one covered floor to ceiling with pastel colors and stuffed animals, things for someone much, much younger than you or the home’s only other occupant. You didn’t try to investigate further. There’d been a camera in that room, too, and if your captor saw you looking around, they might’ve assumed you were curious about...

You’d moved on quickly. That’s all that mattered.

None of the doors had locks, either. You’d only found two so far, a row of deadbolts on the symbolic front-door and a padlock on the basement, both of which seemed to be later additions. Currently, you were lingering near the latter, unsure if you should persist and risk the wrath of your all-seeing voyeur or leave it alone, live to dwell in paranoid anxiety for another day. A part of you was scared, honestly. Nothing else had to be locked away, hidden behind a bolted door, and if there was something you weren’t supposed to see, you weren’t sure you wanted to. If it was Leon’s secret, you couldn’t--

You never got to reach a conclusion. Without warning, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you against a broad chest and pretending not to notice how quickly you went rigid. There was a laugh, a playful squeeze to your hip, and just as quickly as you were restrained, you were let go, forced to turn around and meet the dark eyes of your only companion. Leon was like he always was, cheerful and much too enthusiastic, despite neither emotion having an obvious motivation. Still, you fell into it quickly, attempting to mirror his joy. It was the least you could do, considering how kind he’d been, over the past few days. “I didn’t realize you were up,” He explained. “It’s still strange to have another person here. I wasn’t--”

Suddenly, he stopped, pursing his lips and scanning over you. His eyes never managed to rise above your neckline, though. “What do you think you’re wearing?”

It took you a moment to process the question. There was a closet full of clothes in the room you’d picked out, but you’d managed to avoid them, so far. Every piece was stiff, unyielding to shame or preferences, and the color scheme was akin to something you’d see in an ancient sitcom. It was a futile progression to dread, and yet, you planned on putting it off for as long as possible.

Judging by Leon’s expression, ‘as long as possible’ wasn’t for much longer.

“I didn’t want to change,” You admitted, a hand absentmindedly drifting to your wrinkled shirt, smoothing over the thin fabric. “It just feels… I didn’t want to, alright? Is something wrong with that?”

That earned a scowl. It took more self-restraint than it should’ve not to step back. “I left something out for you.”

You’d woken up to a pale-pink monstrosity laid out on the foot of your bed, still on a hanger. It’d been disregarded without a second thought. “I didn’t realize,” You mumbled, bowing your head just enough to seem apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think it would be a big deal… Does it matter?”

His scowl deepened, grew, but just as quickly as it’d come, Leon found a way so cover it up. It was there, but a second later, it wasn’t, an expression of disappointed sympathy sewing itself seamlessly into his features. With a gentle, patronizing sigh, he pulled you into another hug, choosing once again to ignore the gesture’s one-sided nature. “It does, angel, but we’ll make an exception this time, alright? When I do something thoughtful, you’re supposed to show me you appreciate it. That’s how this is supposed to work.”

You opened your mouth, thinking for a moment before closing it again. Suddenly, you were glad he couldn’t see your face. The concern slowly infecting it would’ve been… worrying, and you weren’t sure if you could think of an unimportant agitation to explain it away. “The basement,” You said, instead. “Do you have the key?”

“Don’t ask silly questions.” Leon pulled back, tapping the tip of your nose with his index finger. “Hopefully, that door will stay locked. I don’t see a reason either of us should have to go someplace so unpleasant.”

You nodded, and Leon took you by the hand, wordlessly guiding you back towards the center of the house, towards the spiraling staircase and towards your bedroom, where his selected outfit was still waiting, sprawled out over your comforter.

This time, you didn’t argue when he told you to put it on.

~

He waited three weeks to start sleeping in your bed.

It might’ve been an impulsive decision, on his part. It felt impulsive to you. One moment, you were huddled underneath thin sheets, just beginning to close your eyes and welcome the darkness, and the next you were wide awake, terrified and paralyzed as your mattress dipped, creaking as Leon moved onto it. If he cared that you were awake, he didn’t make an effort to show it, only sliding under your sheets and throwing an arm over your waist, holding you with a practiced intimacy, an undeserved intimacy. The kind of closeness you didn’t want any part in.

“Leon,” You mumbled, much too quietly to be taken seriously. As if there was anyone else you should be afraid of waking up. “Are you alright? Why--”

“Hush, now.” His voice was low, but not tired. Perfectly awake. Perfectly aware. More of a half-hearted threat and a command made out of fatigued necessity. “Sleep, sweetheart. Don’t ask questions.”

He closed his eyes, his forehead coming to rest against the nape of your neck. You didn’t.

~

“I see you're fond of your new companion”

Elias didn’t make an effort to pose the sentiment gently. He seemed bored, if anything, his chin resting on his fist as he stared down at you and Leon, seemingly numb to the oddity of talking to two people that barely measured up to his thumb. He’d been generous enough to let out of the dollhouse for - as Leon affectionately put it -  the ‘monthly check-in’, or… onto the table it rested on, at least.

It was disorienting, seeing the space that surrounded your world, all bare walls and scientific instruments you couldn’t identify, sterile but cluttered, like an unused room in a very lived-in home. Elias was nothing special, either, not the ominous, foreboding figure you’d imagined. He seemed average, if anything, a pair of black glasses and a head of unruly hair making for a rather unimposing figure. A captor, but not an intimidating one. A man with a hobby that just so happened to need a few unwilling volunteers.

Of course, that didn’t stop you from shrinking into Leon’s side when his gaze shifted towards you.

“They’re good company,” Leon answered, his composure never wavering. Why would it? He’d done this a thousand times before, and as far as you knew, he and Elias got along. As well as a captor and their captive could, anyway. “To tell the truth, I’m starting to think I’ve been here too long. I was almost glad this one wasn’t so stubborn, after last time.”

You felt your throat go dry. “Last time?”

“I don’t want to have to deal with another incident,” Elias warned, brushing off your question as if it’d never been asked. “You got along with your other roommates too, at first. Everything’s wonderful and terrific and perfect, until I come to check on you and find one less participant than I should.” He pursed his lips, shaking his head as he let out a noise of frustration. “I can move (Y/n) to another enclosure if this isn’t going to work. I don’t want to lose resources because you don’t get along with them.”

Leon gasped, pressing a palm to his heart in a show of betrayal. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to make a joke or distract you from the topic at hand. “I’ve never done anything that wasn’t necessary. You told me to take care of my home, and I am. I shouldn’t have to suffer because you have poor taste.” Elias rolled his eyes, and Leon laughed, slumping against you, intertwining his fingers with yours mindlessly. “You picked a timid one, and they’re coming along nicely. I don’t plan to waste such a rare opportunity.”

“Are you sure?” Elias asked, leaning back in his chair and fishing for something on the floor at his feet. A notepad, but you couldn’t make out what was written on it. “I’d hate to disagree, but your track-record says otherwise. I’m patient, but I do have my limits, Leon.” 

He glanced towards you for the first time since the start of their conversation, keeping you in the corner of his eye. “(Y/n)’s going to behave.”

You didn’t know whether or not you should correct him.

~

You should’ve corrected him.

“No,” You spat, not bothering to hide your disgust. It was a terrible feeling, a vile sense of wrong, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be surprised. Everything about Leon was telling, from the grimace pressed into his lips to the anger in his eyes, bright and fiery and terrible. Unconsciously, you pressed yourself against the tiled wall, gripping your towel a little tighter. It was the only barrier between him and you, and by god, you weren’t going to give it up. “Get away from me. Don’t touch me.”

“You’re being irrational,” He said, crossing his arms and taking a step closer. You considered making a run for the bathroom door, but you doubted you’d be able to reach it before he reacted, catching you and doing something worse than staring you down. “Couples bathe together. It’s normal, you’re just--”

“We’re not a couple!” It was the first time you’d yelled at him, the first time you raised your voice, and Leon didn’t try to hide his offense. He edged closer, but you were quick to press yourself against the wall, to bare your teeth and try to make it clear he couldn’t intimidate you just by existing. Not again. “We’re captives. We were kidnapped, I was kidnapped, you were kidnapped. You can’t keep acting like this is normal, and you can’t expect me to. I’m not just going to sit back and play nice while you--”

“I don’t think I like your tone,” He warned, his eyes narrowing. The shower was still running, hot steam beginning to fill the room, but Leon didn’t seem to feel the need to turn it off. You’d barely had time to cover yourself before he came in, your hair and your skin still dripping, but you were glad you had. If only to protect the few traces of dignity you had left. “Stop,” He ordered, grimly. “You’re going to say something you regret.”

That was your sign to back down. That you should give him what he wanted, or at the very least, do your damnedest to make sure you weren’t the reason he didn’t get it. When he stopped trying to patronize you, it meant he was mad. And when he was mad…

You tried not to think about what happened when Leon got mad.

You should’ve backed down, but you didn’t. You didn’t want to let him have his way. “You don’t even want to get out of here, do you?”

Grit teeth. A locked jaw. Your second warning. “You shouldn’t--”

“I shouldn’t ask questions?” You cut him off without hesitation. “What do you not want me to ask? What are you so scared of my finding out? That you like feeling powerful? That you want to be in control? You can’t lie to me, I’m the one that has to deal with you. All your rules and your comfort and your fucking clothes.” You forced yourself to stop, to take a breath and seek out the same composure Leon was so good at maintaining. He took the chance to make his argument.

“You’ve been here for a month, I’ve been here for nineteen. You don’t know what it’s like when Elias doesn’t get his way. You haven’t had to deal with that because I’m helping you.” Another step. He was practically breathing down your throat, now. “You should be grateful.”

But, you didn’t want to be grateful. You wanted Leon to stop acting like you should be.

You swallowed, letting the silence grow tense before you broke it. “Someone was here before me.” He made no move to interrupt. You persisted. “What happened last time?”

He flinched, and made no attempt to hide it. You didn’t need another warning.

You lunged to the side, aiming blindly for the door, a weapon, anything that could help you escape or fight or act. Leon was faster than you, though, and much more practiced. A fist closed around your shoulder, blunt nails tearing into your skin, and just as swiftly, a heel found its way to the back of your knee, sending you crashing to the ground, something in your ankle cracking as you collapsed. You were slammed into the unforgiving floor, your cheek soon pressed against the cool surface and Leon’s body bent around yours, his weight and his strength keeping you pinned down. Weakly, you tried to push yourself up, but Leon only growled, his resolve strengthened and his grip iron-clad. There was nothing you could do to squirm away, not unless he had a sudden change of heart

“Bitch,” He spat, letting out a string of less specific profanities under his breath. “I took care of you. I kept you safe. All you had to do was let me.”

You didn’t respond. Leon sighed, but his hold on you never loosened.

“You still want to know what happened, don’t you?” He sounded defeated, exhausted, but that didn’t stop him from kissing your shoulder as you struggled to nod, the gesture both fleeting and far too prolonged, at the same time. He pulled back, but didn’t let you go, only scanning over you with the same tight, loving smile he always wore when he was about to do something awful.

You’d never thought that smile would make you feel so sick.

“You’re about to find out, angel.”  

#yandere #yandere love #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere prompt #yandere prompts #yandere oneshot #yandere oneshots #yandere drabble #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere scenerio #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere ocs #yandere oc x reader #male yandere #yandere boy #yandere fantasy #yandere fanfiction #yandere core #yanderecore #yancore

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Check Ignition: Sander Schmander

By popular request (*cough* everyone on ao3 and @art3misjade), here is Sander's perspective on events

This segment falls right before Chapter Four of Check Ignition

Sander Driesen was drunk. Honest-to-god, shitfaced drunk. And for the first time in forever, too—he’d laid off the stuff since his treatment plan made it difficult to handle, and since he wanted the meds to actually work. But tonight, he thought, I’ve earned this. Everyone else was drinking. It would be weird if he didn’t participate when his own boyfriend was halfway through his fifth cup of punch.

Fake boyfriend. That was a whole thing.

Now, he lay on the stairs leading upward to the boys’ dormitories. Hopefully those stairs. He didn’t make a habit of visiting the common rooms of other houses, and the layouts tended to differ from one another.

“Sorry,” he croaked to everyone who shimmied their way through. “My bad. Deepest apologies.”

This was why he needed Britt, he thought, to reign in this kind of impulse. Granted, she was the only one who knew about everything else thus far, but he wasn’t going to tell Robbe all that, not when it was already hard enough existing in a magical world with a mundane illness. He wanted to hold onto this last little dream.

Midnight was fast approaching and the bustle downstairs had yet to dispel. Sander tried to move his arms and found them unresponsive. Or rather, he could move them, but it required too much effort to be worth it. He slumped back. More people flooded up the stairs to sleep off whatever terrible concoction was in that punch bowl.

“Robbe has such stupid ideas, I swear,” said Moyo, cresting the staircase. Sander perked up at the sound of Robbe’s name. Probably Moyo. Sander struggled to think through the names of Robbe’s friends—he had them listed in his bedroom for continuity purposes.

He recognized Jens easily enough, because Jens was wherever Robbe was. And Sander watched Robbe a lot. Sander held his breath, as if being quiet could prevent them from seeing him sprawled across their path.

“Shut up,” Jens shot back.

The third boy with them—Alex? Adam?—pitched in, “It’s not Robbe’s fault you don’t get any.”

“He’s throwing away the chance of a lifetime.”

“Shut the fuck up. You sound like an incel.”

“But like, why do they kiss so much? It’s not like you have—” Moyo stopped short as he tripped over Sander’s leg. Despite their somewhat rational conversation, they weren’t any more sober than Sander himself. “Shit, speak of the devil.”

Jens leaned down to Sander’s eye level. “You alright?”

“Never better,” Sander slurred. It came out more like a groan.

Moyo approached to help Jens move Sander from the center of the stairs. They sat him up against the railing on his left side, which was not any more comfortable than the steps digging into his back. Jens was still in full Quidditch uniform (even the chest padding!), Moyo sported a Hufflepuff tie over a t-shirt and jeans, and Adam-or-whoever stood at a quiet distance in a pair of burgundy pajama pants and his Quidditch robes. Sander would have made note to write these in on his list—a good indicator of personality.

Too bad he didn’t have the sense to do so.

“Can’t handle your alcohol, huh?” Moyo asked. He didn’t seem very threatening, though the question was definitely a taunt. Sander’s brain felt like vanilla pudding. Moyo turned to the boys. “Should we wake Robbe?”

“Yes,” said Sander. Oh, hell yes. Robbe. He liked Robbe so much.

The story itself was long and antiquated, a love-at-first-sight kind of deal for Sander. He couldn’t think of one version where he wasn’t the bad guy. He went on a double-date with Britt and her friend, expecting one of Noor’s usual yuppies to show up and bore the whole table with pointless conversation. Then it was Robbe.

Do you ever just see someone, really see them, and—how could he phrase it—know? Or think you know. All things considered, it wasn’t the best sign in terms of his condition.

He had to walk all the way into the next town over to call his psychiatrist, only to realize there wasn’t much to tell her. Hey, I’m infatuated with this guy that my girlfriend’s friend is dating. What should I do? She’d give him some common-sense answer like, Break up with your girlfriend, which he didn’t want to do until he knew what he was feeling would last. So he said, These side effects are nasty, and she reevaluated his dose of Lexapro.

“Let the virgin sleep,” said Moyo.

Sander pitched forward to grab Moyo by the arm. “No, wake him up.”

Because the thing was, time passed, and the feelings didn’t fade. Britt could tell he wasn’t present anymore and said nothing. Maybe she thought it was the Depakote that his psychiatrist added to the cocktail when the antidepressant dangled him on the edge of hypomania. She was a good person. It really wasn’t fair when he told her it was over via owl, and it really wasn’t fair when he seized his opportunity to kiss Robbe in the astronomy tower. The argument in question was not so bad. He conflated it for an excuse to leave her.

“Where’s Robbe?” said Sander. “I have to see him.”

“He’s asleep, downstairs. We gave him a blanket and everything.” Jens passed over his own cup of water. “Drink this.”

“I have to see him,” Sander repeated.

“Yeah, you have to go to sleep. He’s going to be here tomorrow.”

“It won’t be the same tomorrow.”

The whole relationship wasn’t even meant to be a thing. It was a cheap kiss, really, in the astronomy tower. Sander just wanted to know what it would feel like, and he thought it might serve Robbe too, so he did it. Robbe’s appearance the next day was the most unexpected, thrilling twist he could have dreamed of. Except, in a dream, it wouldn’t be fake.

Robbe never missed a chance to restate that it was fake. That wasn’t the best sign, either.

“Aaron, don’t just stand there,” said Jens. “Help me out. Grab his arms, will you?”

“Aaron.” Sander tested out the name. “But you’re Adam!”

“How much have you had?” Aaron grabbed Sander’s arms and lifted. The boys got Sander up two stairs before deciding he was too heavy. They sat him back against the wall.

“Try again,” Jens instructed.

The second try went about as well as the first.

Jens crouched to Sander’s eye level. “Look, is there someone else we can get for you? Or are you cool with sleeping here?” He had to hold Sander’s shoulders in his hands to keep Sander from pitching forward and rolling all the way back downstairs.

“We can’t leave our friend’s boyfriend here!” said Aaron.

“Fake boyfriend,” Moyo added.

Sander groaned. Yes, remind him of that! It was fake! He knew it already! If his psychiatrist could see him now, she’d say—alright, she’d say that he wasn’t allowed to drink on his overly specific medication regimen. But if that weren’t a factor, she’d say some more common-sense things like, “Tell Robbe how you feel. Tell his friends, if you want.”

Fuck, he missed her. He could seek out the phone booth sometime this week and tell her all about it. She loved hearing from him.

“There’s no one,” he slurred. “I’m okay.”

“Fine, there’s us, then,” said Jens. He hefted one of Sander’s arms over his shoulder. “Moyo, take three.”

Moyo took the other arm. They dragged him up the rest of the way, bumping his head on every other stair. He felt like a snow globe in a tourist trap shop, all shaken up, no escape through the glass. Huh. Poetic. Where was Robbe?

“Wake up Robbe,” Sander requested. Jens and Moyo dropped him into the fourth bed in their room. Aaron, Jens, and Robbe lived here; Sander could deduce that from the eclectic assortment of things piled on every available surface. The blankets of the bed in which he lay were already rumpled, implying that someone else had slept here recently. He touched something sticky on the top sheet. Okay, maybe they didn’t sleep.

Jens looked back and forth between Moyo and Sander. “Why?” he asked.

There were plenty of replies Sander could give. We’re fake-dating, and I want it to be convincing.

We’re such good friends, and I want to tell him so.

I think he has my cell phone. Jens might not know what a cell phone was. Sander could never tell with those purebloods.

He and I have plans to smoke weed and throw rocks at pixies in the Forbidden Forest.

Sander said, “I misssssss him,” with the s pulled to the end of the world. Yeah, that would work, too.

“Um, okay,” said Jens. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Then he, Aaron, and Moyo started laughing, although Sander couldn’t tell just what they found so funny. Sander had an alarm on his cell phone to take his medication at eleven PM, since schedule was important to the efficacy of the active ingredients, or whatever it was his psychiatrist said when she adjusted his Lexapro to 15mg. It buzzed in his pocket, but he didn’t have the pills. He was too tired, anyway. It wouldn’t matter if he skipped a dose or two; he’d done worse things than that with lesser consequences.

“You’re going to get Robbe, right?” he asked, and in a moment of clarity, he realized he was a needy boyfriend. He wasn’t a fan of needy Britt. You either die the hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

Jens yanked the curtains shut across the fourth bed and bound them with a spell. “You’re drunk, go to sleep. We’ll get Robbe.” The boys began another fit of giggling.

It didn’t bother Sander at all. He stared at the arcing pillars that held up the bedcurtains and hummed a David Bowie song into the darkness. He was young and drunk and in love, and anything could happen. So what if Robbe thought their relationship was fake for now? In a matter of time, it would be real.

#sobbe fanfic #sobbe #sander driesen #robbe ijzermans #wtfock #requested fic #sander POV #fake dating #Hogwarts au

[jemej3m]

a really bad (good) blind date

OKAY - there will be other parts to this i promise

*

Andrew was exhausted.

There were many reasons for that fact: he was halfway through his final year of the police academy, his brother had been broken up with (again) and had moved back in to live with Andrew (again) and Nicky had set him up for an evening out with a man he didn’t know (again). 

It was the last time Andrew would put up with these sordid blind date fiascos. Nicky insisted that he didn’t want Andrew to be lonely around the holiday season, and that it’d be perfect timing to have a significant other on Valentine’s Day, and had been extremely resistant to Andrew’s refusals. 

This one would be the last. He’d get a good night’s rest over the winter break, ignore Nicky’s pestering and continue on with life as normal when the half-yearly examinations finally ended. 

He hadn’t even bothered changing out of the jeans and sweater he’d been ambling around the house in all morning, merely shaving and spritzing on cologne to give a false sense that he’d put effort in. 

He wish Nicky had let them meet up in a club. It was much easier to preface a one-night-stand with little talking, dancing and a glass of whisky. He usually wouldn’t even bother taking them home, seeing as he knew the staff access code to the lounge at Eden’s Twilight.

Instead, he shuffled in through the doors of a restaurant, where the lights were just low enough that hopefully this guy wouldn’t see the shadows under his eyes, the sallowness of his skin. Maybe Andrew should just be his usual, sullen self, end the date early and go home and sleep. 

The thought of dealing with Nicky’s blatant look of disappointment when he inevitably heard of Andrew’s less than amicable behaviour was worse than the idea of talking to a cute guy (Nicky’s taste wasn’t bad). A worser fate than death would be Betsy’s eventual involvement, if Nicky thought Andrew wasn’t being social enough. His first-therapist-adoptive-mother-saviour-figure had a monopoly on Andrew’s tolerance of others, whether he liked it or not.  

He took a table, not seeing anyone with the alleged red hair, blue eyes or leather satchel - Nicky said he never went anywhere without it. That had been odd enough to pique Andrew’s curiosity, but not really in a good way. 

He took his place at the table and busied himself with a menu, even though he’d already elected what he’d eat prior to arriving. The few moments to himself allowed him to centre himself, readying for whatever bullshit his cousin had signed him up for this time. 

He supposed that no amount of time would have allowed him to anticipate what he was dealt, as the man who he was to have dinner with collapsed into the chair opposite. His hair was wild, auburn curls and a freshly buzzed undercut matching expressive brows and awfully long lashes - of which framed the clearest blues Andrew had ever seen. His freckles were like constellations across his cheeks. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he managed, swinging the leather satchel across the back of the chair. His buttons were askew but he hadn’t seemed to notice. It allowed Andrew to see the flush that ran down his neck and the hint of a puckered scar on his collarbone. 

A gunshot wound. 

Interesting, he thought. 

“Should we order?” the man asked. 

“I’m Andrew,” he said, pointedly. 

“Oh, right,” he ducked his head with a grimace. “I’m - Neil.” 

Andrew shrugged. “You can have a few minutes, if you’d like.”

Neil didn’t need time. He must have come prepared, as Andrew had. He took note of a few things as they ordered - he was health-conscious, only having a salmon dish and salad - he didn’t drink, not even the lightest champagne the place had to offer - and that he had the most elegant fingers. For some strange reason, Andrew could envision him spinning Andrew’s knives deftly. 

“So,” Neil started, awkward. “What do normal people talk about on dates?”

Andrew arched an eyebrow. 

Neil cleared his throat. “That wasn’t a testament of you being - abnormal - I’ve just never done something like this before, a friend put me up to it - I mean, I’m sure you’re interesting -” 

“It’s alright,” Andrew cut in, because Neil was truly digging himself a sufficient grave. “You should tell me three things you’ve never told anyone.” 

Neil blinked. “Why?”

Andrew shrugged. “Why not? I’ll give you one: I’m afraid of heights.”

“Cockroaches,” Neil echoed, cocking his head to the side. “You’ve never told anyone you’re afraid of heights?”

“What use does that information have?”

“Why can I have it, then?”

Andrew wanted to hear more of this petulant, argumentative tone that Neil had gradually developed. “Must everything have a reason?”

“Of course not,” Neil tapped a lithe finger on the rim of his glass. “But most things - or people - do. That’s what they tell themselves, at least.”

“Profound,” Andrew acknowledged, tipping their glasses together. 

Neil wasn’t uninteresting. There was something underneath those ocean eyes.

Neil liked maths - he’d gone out of state to study for a few years, in Virginia - and cats and took the strawberry from Andrew’s dessert because he hated sweets but would eat fruit any day. He’d also clipped the lip of a waiter who’d expressed irritation that they asked for a split bill, finding the other waiter who’d served them to give the nicer girl a fiver tip. 

It was an odd balance, Andrew observed, between real facets of ‘Neil’ escaping and a formulated restraint, clearly years in the making. Andrew couldn’t believe how late it’d gotten by the time they’d left. Even the way Neil smoked was baffling, holding the light by his chin and looking out into the dimly lit street that stretched out before them. 

“How’d you get roped into this, anyway?” Neil inquired.

Andrew shrugged. “My cousin likes to mess with my life. How does Nicky know your friend, anyway?”

“I think they might’ve had an economics class together in college, and decided they shared a passion for exuberance and high-heels,” Neil chuckled, taking a slow drag. “Allison always said Nicky Nights were the most fun she’d ever had.”

“Allison,” Andrew considered. He wasn’t really familiar with the name. 

“I should probably be heading off,” Neil said, idly checking a watch. He wore a watch. It didn’t look cheap, either. “Have to deal with - family mess.” The way he said family mess had Andrew practically in stitches with intrigue. There was simply nothing simple about Neil, nothing Andrew could put together without time and patience. He simply nodded, watching cars drive past as Neil leant off the wall. 

He’d already written his number on the receipt: fingers hooked into Neil’s sleeve, he spun the young man around, just before he could waltz off to his nice car and drive on home. 

“Here,” he said offhandedly, ignoring the way his heart skipped and leaped. 

Neil took the number slowly, tucking it into his pocket. 

“I’m going to be a bit touch-and-go for a little while,” he said. “Family’s back in town and all. But I’ll text you,” he rolled his lips into his mouth as his cheeks went red. “I will text you.”

Andrew waved him off. “I don’t care what you do.”

Neil’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Okay. I’ll see you later, Andrew.”

Andrew watched as Neil walked away, arriving at a sleek black car that ought to be keyed in a city like Baltimore. Before he set off, he leaned into the passenger seat, rummaging for something. 

Just as Andrew was thinking I didn’t even get his last name, he noticed an odd glinting of something from within Neil’s car. Something reflecting the streetlight, almost into his eyes.

In the compartment of the door was a knife-handle, a cleaver blade attached. It was so carelessly thrown into the door shelf that it seemed to (still?) have a few mild specks of something red across its spine.

Andrew let his cigarette fall to the ground, shoving his hands into his pockets as Neil glanced over his shoulder to give Andrew another one of his little smiles, something Andrew wanted to hold and cherish in spite of the probable weapon left in the passenger seat’s door. As the car skidded away, Andrew remained utterly still, the amalgamation of emotions swirling within his usually void-like chest cavity. 

how was the date???????????? Nicky texted. 

bad, Andrew responded. Because - in spite of everything, the awkwardness, the lack of punctuality, the gunshot scar, the probably bloodied knife in his car - Andrew wanted to see him again. In spite of everything, it had been a good evening. 

oh well! Nicky sent back, with a cheerful smiley face and a bunch of needless xoxo’s. Andrew’s phone buzzed twice as another text came through - this time from an unknown number.

hi this is neil’s number - figured i would text at the traffic light before i lost this receipt :D

Fuck it, Andrew thought. 

*

hi neil. this is andrew.

*

tadaaaa

blind date!! also, neil, dont leave bloody cleavers in the passenger seat door, you dumbass 

#andreil #mobster/cop au #cop!andrew #butcher!neil #first meeting #andrew minyard #neil josten #aftg #all for the game #yeehaw i love this but its so stupid lol #jem writes

[mrsdeanwinchester19]

Talk is Cheap

Written for @imanuglywombat​ 4k writing challenge

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: Bucky takes his wife on a second honeymoon after their first was cut short.  During the trip, an unexpected visitor arrives

Type: Fluff with some scary parts

Warnings: Gun violence, mentions of holocaust, mentions of sex trafficking, like 1 swear word

Author’s Note: The story mentioned about a Holocaust victim is 100% true, I know the woman personally

Prompt: Mountain moodboard/ Talk is cheap by Nick Murphy; Talk is cheap my darling/ When you’re feeling right at home/ I wanna make you move with confidence/ I wanna be with you alone

Actions speak louder than words.  It means jumping in front of a bullet, rather than just saying I would take a bullet for you.  This is a lesson I learned the hard way, but ironically, it also turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me.

My now ex-boyfriend David and I were at a bank on a regular day of the week, going to pull out some money out for a vacation fund. Five masked men came into the bank, armed and shouting for everyone to get down.  I got on my knees slowly and put my hands behind my head as they instructed us to do.  

One of the robbers walked up to the front counter and pointed his gun at the teller.  “Open the vault,” he says in a low voice.

“I can’t sir.  The vault can only be opened by a fingerprint scan and none of our fingerprints are registered in the system to open it.  I’m only authorized to pull out $15,000 at once,” she replies, close to tears.

“Fine then, get to work on that, and you-“ he says, pointing his gun to a young man standing next to the coin counting machine, “There has to be an override code for the vault somewhere in the bank.  Open all the offices for my men to look.  Ares!  Apollo! Go with him!”  Two of the men follow the man to the offices in the upstairs half of the bank, both pointing their guns to his back.  

While the teller was gathering as much money as she could, one of the men came over to my boyfriend and me.  “Give me your phone and your wallet,” he says to me.  

“I don’t have them,” I say honestly.  “You can check if you don’t believe me.”

It’s then that I notice the emblem on his jacket.  A red skull with six tentacles coming out of it. A symbol that always confused me, because a hydra has multiple heads, not tentacles like an octopus.  It makes sense now why the leader called two of them the names of Greek gods, considering the hydra is from Greek mythology.  However, as a historian and not a mythologist, it’s a symbol I learned about when we discussed Nazi Germany, where HYDRA got its start.  This isn’t just regular HYDRA then, it’s their small elite force that robs banks to pay for their diabolical schemes.  I let out an aggravated huff of breath when I realize who it is we’re dealing with, horrified that they’ve come back after Captain America took them down TWICE.  

“Stand up,” he says.  I slowly get to my feet.  “Turn around.”  I do as he says, a tear escaping my cheek as I realize he’s going to kill me, considering this is how many are executed when a socialist regime takes over a country.  I interviewed a woman once who fled Poland when they were invaded by the Nazis, and she spoke of a time when she was in the woods picking berries and saw a group of Jewish people in front of a trench, and Nazis shot them into the trench one by one.  

“And you, stand up,” he says, and from the corner of my eye, I see my boyfriend standing up as well.  We look over at him and I can see the same fear reflected in his eyes, though they don’t tell him to turn around.  “Lift her shirt up.”

My eyebrows furrow in confusion as I feel David’s hands grasp the hem of my red blouse and start slowing lifting it.  He lifts it up to where my bra strap is on my back, before the man stops him.  “Turn around again lady,” he instructs, before telling David to lift my shirt again. Now I understand what he’s doing, he’s checking to make sure I don’t have a phone, wallet, or gun hidden in the waistband of my pants.  He lifts it up to just under my bra again, but the man motions for him to raise it a little higher.  He brings it above my bra, showing my cleavage.  I close my eyes in embarrassment.  

“Women don’t actually keep money in their bras anymore,” I say bitterly once I’ve opened my eyes.

“Don’t get sassy with me miss.  You can put her shirt down now.”  He turns to my boyfriend.  “Where’s your phone and wallet?”

David’s eyes flitter to mine for a brief second.  “I don’t have mine either.”

“I don’t believe that,” he says venomously.

A new voice shouts, “Zeus, we found the manual key for the vault!”

They’re using code names, which means there’s a chance they’ll let us go, because we can’t identify their faces or give real names. However, once they get the money, there’s also a high chance that they kill all witnesses.  Or, if the teller pressed a silent alarm and the police are already here, they could keep us as hostages for hours.  

As the man pointing the gun at us is distracted by the person who found the key, David steps behind me, shoves me towards the man, and tries to run to the front door.  The person sees movement, shoots blindly, and an intense pain bursts from my abdomen.  I fall over, and the man shoots David in the back before he reaches the door.  

I hear someone outside shout “Shots fired!” and the doors burst open.  A familiar red, white, and blue shield comes through the door, followed by a suit of red and gold metal, and a man dressed in all black, a gun bigger than the robbers’ held by his metal arm.  The robbers don’t shoot the other few people in the bank, considering Iron Man has miniature missiles on his shoulders aimed at each of them.

“They say third time’s a charm, maybe you’ll actually stay dead this time,” Captain America says.

“Mmmm, not your best work,” Iron Man says to him.

Captain America ignores him, “Put down your guns.”  They put down their guns, but two of the men fall over.  They must still keep poison pills in their teeth.  The police run in and arrest the three men who didn’t kill themselves, while Captain America and Iron Man look at David to see if he’s alive.  The man in black rushes over to me and puts his flesh hand on my wound, causing me to groan in pain.  “She needs an ambulance!”

“You’re Bucky Barnes,” I say, recognizing him from my history classes.  

“Yeah, I am,” he says, clearly surprised I recognized him.

“I’m a historian…with a concentration on World…War II,” I say through gasping breaths.

“Alright doll, just save your energy, you can’t go to sleep,” he replies gently, as if he’s soothing a small child.  

“I always…knew…you were the good guy,” I say slowly before the world goes black.

 “Almost done packing babe?” Bucky asks, peeking his head into our room.  

“I just finished packing my clothes.  Did you pack the weapon bag?” I ask.  Some people think it’s weird that we bring a bag of weapons on vacations, but when your husband is an ex-assassin with 80+ years of enemies, it’s better to be safe than sorry.

“No, I told you this place is so safe we don’t even need guns,” he replies, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist.  

I sigh, “Alright if you say so.  I’m just happy we’re going on a relaxing vacation.  You’ve had too many missions lately and my job has been stressful as well.”  Columbia University asked museums in the area for a historian who could teach a class about World War II, and to apply for the job, we have to write a dissertation. Luckily, I have someone from World War II with me to answer any questions I have, but it’s taken up a lot of my time.

“Relaxing, but also exciting!”

“What?” I ask, exasperated.  “Bucky I need time to lounge around on a beach or cuddle by a fireplace in a cabin or something.  This is supposed to be our second honeymoon.”  

Our first honeymoon had been to Belize.  About halfway through our trip, duty called.  We called the rest of the Avengers and spent the rest of our honeymoon breaking up a huge sex trafficking ring.  We saved over 30 girls, and were happy about it, but our honeymoon was supposed to be our time to celebrate our marriage away from crime. And we love the team to pieces, but it was also our time to be away from them and the tower.  They say bad guys don’t take days off, but I had at least hoped the world could survive without my husband for a while.  I’m no agent or Avenger, but after Bucky and I started dating, he taught me over 100 different ways to defend myself, helped me train, taught me about guns and how to properly use them, and how to disarm a gunman within seconds.  I was able to help destroy the sex trafficking ring by being bait, which was scary, but I trusted Bucky and the rest of the team to keep me from harm; and they did.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, doll.  It’ll be relaxing during the day, but exciting at night because I have a bunch of new things I want to try in the bedroom,” he says, nibbling on my earlobe.

It tickles and I giggle.  “You got some kinks you didn’t tell me about before we were married?” I ask jokingly.

He spins me around to face him before gently pushing me on the bed.  “I didn’t want to scare you off before,” he says playfully, dropping onto me but not letting his full weight land on me.  He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head.  “Now that you’re legally bound to me, if you want to leave, it’s gonna cost ya.”   I laugh and he flashes a brilliant smile.  He leans his head down and starts kissing me deeply.

“Hey guys I-woah, sorry!” Steve’s voice says, panicked.

“Steve, you’re fine, Bucky’s just being silly.  We’re decent!” I say, pushing Bucky off of me and sitting up.

He walks back into the room, face flushed from embarrassment.  “Sorry, I just came to say that I filled your gas tank and took the liberty of putting your bags in the car, except that one,” he says, pointing to my duffel bag.

“Oh thank you Steve!” I say.

“Would you like me to take that one for you as well?”

Bucky replies before I do, “No, I’ve got it! You’re not the only gentlemen around here Steve.  I can be chivalrous too, she’s my wife.”

Steve raises his hands in surrender, gives a small smile, and backs away.  

“You didn’t have to be so sassy,” I say, lightly slapping his bicep.

“Steve always interrupts us right when things were about to get good,” he pouts.

“No, things were not about to get good.  The door was wide open and we need to leave so we can get there before dark.”

“You are excited, aren’t you?” he asks rhetorically.

“I’m just happy you’re actually taking me on this second honeymoon.”

“I said I would!”

“I know, I’m just used to people saying they would do things and then not following through,” I say, thinking back to David, who was always making empty promises.  I then compare it to Bucky, who has kept every promise he’s ever made me.  

I sit mostly upright in my hospital bed, mindlessly flipping through channels.  I stop Law and Order: SVU, but quickly change the channel when a character is shot. Baseball it is.  There are two small taps on my door.  “Come in,” I say.

A nurse walks in the door.  “You have a visitor here to see you.”  She walks back out the door, and Bucky Barnes takes her place.

“Hi,” I breathe out and a smile breaks out across my face.  “What are you doing here?”

He frowns slightly, but then fixes his expression. “You were pretty out of it in the ambulance, but you regained consciousness for a little while.  I told you I would come visit you in the hospital.  I hope that’s ok.  I brought you these,” he says, holding up a colorful bouquet of wildflowers.

“It’s completely ok, and thank you so much, that’s so sweet of you.”

“I figured you could use a little something to brighten the place up, but it looks like I’m not the only one who had the idea,” he says, gesturing to the three other bouquets that my family and my coworkers sent me.  

He sets the vase down on the bedside table.  I lean over a tiny bit take a deep breathe to try and smell them, since I can’t twist my torso over to them.  However, once I do, I grab my neck and start gasping for air. His eyes widen with worry.  “Sunflowers…allergic,” I spit out.

“Oh shit, I’ll go get a nurse!” he says, quickly standing up.

My gasping turns to laughing, and he stops, turning around.  “I was kidding.  You should’ve seen your face,” I say. I begin laughing harder when he pouts, but immediately regret it. “OW!” I put a pillow over my stomach to keep a little pressure on the wound.

He lets out an exaggerated sigh and rolls his eyes, but is smiling.  “At least you have a sense of humor.”

“They say laughter is the best medicine, though maybe that isn’t true when you have a GSW on your abdomen.”

“You’re just lucky it didn’t hit any major organs. How long is your sentence?” he asks.

“If this is jail, it’s a pretty nice one.  And they said at least two weeks, but it might go longer.  If it had hit major organs, they said it would’ve been 5 weeks, if not more.”  He hums in agreement but doesn’t say anything, so I continue. “Hey, if I ask you this, will you be honest with me?  Everybody around me has been walking on eggshells and avoiding answering this question, so I can probably guess what the answer is.”

He looks apprehensive but says, “I can try.  What’s up?”

“My boyfriend, David, is he dead?”

Bucky looks around uncomfortably, “Look, I don’t know if I’m the right person to ask this to…”

“If you’re worried you’ll break my heart with the news, don’t be.  Because whether he’s alive or dead, the relationship is over.”

“Why do you say that?” he asks, eyes narrowed in both suspicion and confusion.

“Because he’s the reason I’m in this hospital bed. He pushed me towards the shooter so he could run away.   He’s a coward.  So if he is dead, then whatever.  I know it’s poor to speak ill of the deceased, but he did try to sacrifice me to save himself. And if he’s alive, it’s over.  He showed his true colors.”

He doesn’t speak for a few seconds.  Probably trying to figure out how to best phrase it, or find out if I actually mean what I said.  He very quietly says, “He didn’t make it.   The bullet hit his right lung and it collapsed; they weren’t able to save him. He went through 3 hours of surgery before his heart gave out.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“For what?”

“Being honest with me.  I’m a little tougher than people give me credit for.”

A small smile creeps onto his face.  “I’m sure you are.”

 “Talk is cheap, my darling.  Anyone can say something and not mean it.  My ma taught me never to break promises if I can help it,” Bucky says.

“Your mom sounds like a lovely lady,” I say, giving his cheek a kiss.  “I wish I could have met her.  I wish I could’ve met your father too.  And your siblings.”

“Steve is just as much my brother as my actual siblings were, so at least you met one family member of mine.  But my folks woulda loved you.  Ma would be happy to see I finally settled down with an amazing woman, and maybe a baby on the way soon?” he asks hopefully.

“Buck, I told you I want to wait until two years after we got married, then I’ll pop out as many babies as you want, as long as that number isn’t over 5.  5 is the absolute most I would have.”

“I think 3 would be good.  But I still want to get started as soon as possible!”

“Ugh, Bucky, what am I gonna do with you?” I rhetorically ask, laughing.

“I could make a list,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. “But c’mon doll, I’m not getting any younger here!”

“Oh please, you’re over 100.  I think you can wait one more year.  They say waiting two years is good for your marriage when the stress from babies comes because then you have more happy times to look back on.”

“Oh screw the studies,” he says, sitting on the bed. He lightly grabs my hips and pulls me to stand between his legs.  “My parents got married and nine months later I popped out, and they were still married when I went to war.  It doesn’t matter how long you wait before having kids, it’s the people.  You gotta be willing to work through the hard times.”

“And you know I am,” I say, running my fingers through his hair.  “But we should get going.  We can continue this conversation when we’re back.  I want to be alone with you.”

-------------------- 

“Ok, this text from Steve says the key is hidden in the bear’s mouth,” Bucky says.  He grabs my hand and we walk up to the plain but nice cabin.  It’s sunset, so it isn’t quite dark out, but there’s not enough light to be outside.  There’s a small statue of a bear sitting on a stump on the front porch that says WELCOME. Bucky reaches in the bears slightly open mouth and pulls out a key.  “That’s deeper than it looks.”

He unlocks the front door and I’m about to walk in but he stops me.  “What? Tony said the place wasn’t booby trapped,” I say.  This is Tony’s cabin, but Steve acted as a mediator between Bucky and Tony.  Tony allows him on the team and to live in the tower, but he won’t go out of his way to talk to him.  Cordial but not friendly.

“No it’s not that.”  He suddenly picks me up bridal style.  “Gotta carry my wife across the threshold.”

“Oh please Bucky, that’s for when you move into your first house together, not a honeymoon redo.”

“I don’t care, I’m gonna do it anyways,” he says.  

“You’re ridiculous,” I say as he sets me down inside. As he shuts the door, I look around. An open concept downstairs area with a high end kitchen.  The living room has a vaulted ceiling and an enormous fireplace.  At the end of the living room there’s a staircase that leads to what I’m assuming is the bedrooms.

“So should we unpack tonight or wait until tomorrow and just go to bed?” Bucky asks.

“Bed?  But I’m not tir-oh,” I say when I see him giving me a suggestive look, biting his lip. “You know what, let’s go to bed.” He picks me up and starts running towards the master bedroom.

 --------------------

A loud bang wakes me from my sleep.  I lift my head, listening, and am about to go back to bed, thinking I imagined it when I hear the sound of glass shattering.  Is someone breaking in?  I sit up, holding the blanket to my bare chest and listen more. It’s silent for a few seconds but then thumps like footsteps are heard.  “Bucky,” I say, nudging my husband’s arm.  He grunts in response.  “Bucky!” I say, shaking his arm harder.  

“Go back t’sleep,” he mumbles.  I grab my pillow and slam it on his face.  He wakes up immediately.  “What?” he asks, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“I think someone’s in the house,” I whisper.

“Babe, it’s probably just house settling noises.  Let’s cuddle until we fall back asleep,” he says, laying down and grabbing my waist in an attempt to pull me back down to the bed too, but I resist.  The distinct sound of a frying pan being dropped on the door makes him shoot up in bed. “Ok, nevermind, those aren’t house settling noises.  You stay here, I’ll go check it out.”  He climbs out of bed and grabs his joggers off the floor.  He quietly steps into those before going over to his nightstand and grabbing a knife.  He flips it in his hand before gripping it tightly.

“I thought you said no weapons,” I whisper.

“I said no guns, not no weapons.  Plus, this was already here; I left it here when Steve and I went on our fishing trip.”

As he walks out, I grab his t-shirt and my underwear and throw them on just in case we have to run.  I nervously clutch the sheets as I wait for Bucky to come back.   After about 15 seconds, the door noiselessly opens and Bucky walks through, looking oddly calm. He shuts the door behind him. “Y/N, call 911.”

I grab my phone from the nightstand and quickly dial 911. As I do that, Bucky grabs an armchair and puts it in front of the door.  

“911 what’s your emergency?”

Bucky pulls the phone from my ear because he didn’t tell me what’s wrong.  He starts speaking quietly.  “Hi, we’re in the Stark cabin out on 360th street.  There’s bears in our kitchen.”

Are you serious I mouth at him.  He nods his head.  I can hear the woman on the phone tell us to stay in our bedroom, stay quiet, and that officers will be right out.  He thanks her and hangs up.  He gently sets the phone down on the nightstand and sits down in front of me on the bed, facing away, blocking me in case the bear breaks into our room.  I wrap my arms around his bare waist and set my chin on his shoulder.  “How many bears are there?”

“Three.  There were two cubs pulling things out of the cabinets and I was planning to just scare them away when I saw momma bear coming through the door.  I came back up here after I saw her, and I’m not about to knife fight a bear.  I must not have closed the door fully when we got here.”

“You promised this trip would be safe, you broke your first promise.”

He turns around and gives me a disbelieving look. I shrug my shoulders and then give him a small smile so he knows I was just joking around.  I lift my hands from his flat stomach up to his shoulders.  “Bucky you’re really tense,” I say quietly.

“Because there’s a family of bears downstairs!” he harshly whispers.  

“But the police are on their way, they’ll take care of it.  They probably deal with this kind of stuff all the time.” I begin rubbing his shoulders and he relaxes a little, but just barely.

After about 10 minutes, and more sounds of things breaking, we can see red and blue flashing lights coming from the window, but no siren. They probably didn’t turn it on so the bears wouldn’t get agitated.  There are three distinct thuds heard.  A few minutes pass and someone calls out “You guys can come out!”

“I’ll go talk to them, you stay here, you’re not dressed and we left out bags in the car.”  He walks out the door and I can hear him greet the officer.  I decide I want to see what’s going on, so I grab a throw blanket and wrap it around myself before following Bucky.  He turns around when he hears me coming down the stairs and holds out his hand for me like Jack on the Titanic.  I grab his hand so I don’t trip over the blanket.  

I look around and see the entire downstairs in disarray.  The couch that probably cost my entire salary is shredded with stuffing hanging out everywhere and a broken lamp next to it.  Glasses are broken on the kitchen floor and pots have been pulled out of the cabinets. The fridge door is open and food is littered on the floor around it.  Chairs are turned over and the hardwood floors are scratched up.  I look outside and see all three bears in cages.

The officer is explaining what happened.  “When we arrived and shot the momma bear with a tranq dart, the baby bears freaked out and started tearing up the sofa.  We got them as quick as we could so that they didn’t destroy even more things.  They’ll be relocated and hopefully won’t come back to this house.”

“Thank you, officer,” Bucky says.  The officer bows his head and leaves.  

We silently look around for a moment before I say, “Tony’s gonna kill us.”

“Yep.”

“Well, you were right, this trip is exciting at night!”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #avengers #imagine #vacation #winter soldier #white wolf #steve rogers #ironman #captain america #tony stark #writing challenge #fluff #uglywombat4kchallenge

[yourvenicebitchhh]

DEKAPPEL HEIST PART TWO of three

"Three DeKappels?" said Jesper incredulously. "to Visser, Meyer, and Van Eck?"

Kaz gave a nearly imperceptible nod. "That's three merchers the Dime Lions have their teeth in."

"Since when did merchers accept money from the gangs?" Inej asked.

"Times are changing," said Kaz bitterly. He'd have to reevaluate the stocks he held at the Exchange. They could be usurped from him if the dirty Council was paid the right price by any of the gangs. "Every damn share in this besotted city is in jeopardy."

It was the second night of the infuriating heat wave. Kaz's veins were unusually fraught, his patience ran out and his temper unchecked. The cheap clock on his office wall chimed its off-key tune marking twelve o'clock.

"Get to the door, Jesper," Kaz snapped irritatedly.

"I was going," Jesper said sullenly, shutting the door behind him.

Kaz barely registered the look of what might have been hurt on the sharpshooter's face as he got up to pour himself a drink. He slammed a dusty glass onto his cluttered desk and filled it halfway. He threw it back and drained it to the bottom. He poured another one and flung his coat and jacket onto the bed, then slumped in his desk chair.

Inej had moved silently to the window sill. "Bad business on the East Stave again tonight, Kaz," she said quietly, watching the people below.

Kaz took a sip of whiskey. "Look down the street, Inej."

He heard her exhale. "Bad business at the Crow Club."

Kaz's response was the thud of the glass on wood. His leg pained him worse in the cold than it did in the heat, but stress did nothing to alleviate that tension either. Agony was shooting up his taxed muscles.

Inej was still on the sill, gazing outside. She looked like a saint when she sat like that. She should keep sitting like that. But now she was getting up and pouring her own drink. There, a few sips down. Now she was balanced easily on the edge of his desk, despite the drink.

"You know what we need?" Kaz said.

"Business?"

"Money.''

"Lots of it."

"Let's steal a painting."

Inej pushed her drink away. "Kaz, no."

"Yes. Let's steal a DeKappel."

She met his eyes. "Everyone in Ketterdam knows fully well you're a thief. Committing every sin to prove it is unnecessary."

"I want a painting, Inej."

"Buy one."

"But you said I'm a thief. What good is a thief who doesn't steal?"

She looked away, exasperated, and Kaz immediately regretted his words. He gazed at the girl, the phantom poised a few feet in front of him. He wanted to touch her just to see if she was real.

Kaz slid a leather covered hand into one pocket and pulled out a packet of cards. He flipped the deck face up and fanned it out.

Inej turned her head back to him at the sound.

He squared up the deck in his left hand, thumbing four cards over to his right. He showed these to her: the ace of diamonds, the king of clubs, the queen of spades, and the jack of diamonds. "The merchers make a profit the same way we do. They watch and wait. They invest and reap. They steal and they con, Inej, they just do it under a title to justify it." He showed her the seemingly same four cards in his right hand, but this time revealing four aces. "These are the same merchers who exchange human bodies, exploit children, and swindle countries for their personal gain. And the rats have the gall to call it trade."

Kaz flipped over the four cards again, showing four kings this time. "At least I know I'm a thief." In the second it took Inej to blink, he had the set of queens added to his hand. "Let's steal a painting. A DeKappel. Only the best for you, my queen." He set the four kings and four queens down on the desk.

Gingerly, she picked up the king of clubs and queen of spades. "What is this Kaz? You show me a card trick and feed me pretty words and you expect me to go along with your wishes?"

Kaz swept the remaining cards away in annoyance. He was about to take a gulp from the whiskey bottle when she spoke again.

"I know the merchers are cruel men. I know firsthand, Kaz." She set down three cards. somehow Inej had gotten ahold of the jack of diamonds. He almost laughed. Of course. If there was anyone in the world who could have seen around his sleight of hand and done a number on him, it was the Wraith.

"Let's go on a heist," she said.

The fog in Kaz's mind seemed to ebb away. For the first time in weeks, his head space was clear, beautifully, blissfully clear - save for the diabolical plans in formation.

____

Inej watched Kaz find Jesper at his post. At two and a half bells after midnight, Jesper looked exhausted from filling in as the role of a barker.

"Jesper."

"Yeah, boss?"

"We're on a job. I need you." It was Kaz's version of an apology.

"Not the painting?'

"Three."

"Three DeKappels, boss?"

"Three hundred thousand kruge if we’re lucky."

Jesper's smile could have lit all of the Stave. "Does this mean I'm off the door?"

"Better than that. You're on Geldstraat, tonight."

Inej crept around the gutter of the Crow Club and hopped to the ground of the back entrance where she waited for Kaz and Jesper. "Three paintings?" she asked them indignantly.

"You must not know me very well," said Kaz. "When you steal one thing, it’s an endeavor. When you steal two, it’s because you want to. When you steal three it’s just to show you can."

She shot him a disapproving glare. Typical Kaz, withholding the full extent of his thoughts and revealing it only when it pleased him. "And you don't suppose selling three DeKappels would be conspicuous?"

"Oh, Inej," said Jesper, “Ketterdam sees me every day. You think she can’t handle conspicuous?”

"No," Inej responded, "it seems I am the only one who cares for our safety."

"You doubt my ability to lift three paintings in one night?" Kaz asked.

"No," she said again. Why was she reluctant? Was it that the DeKappels were Ravkan? That they were landscapes of home? Was she really that partial to art? Or that she just wasn't eager to steal? Inej pulled her hood over her hair. "I doubt whether your ego could handle it."

Jesper snorted. "His ego is just as expansive as his greed."

"Infinite," conceded Inej.

"Never underestimate the overconfidence of men," said Kaz as they climbed into a rowboat. "With the right amount of zeal and cheating, we can easily accomplish this."

"With the right amount of cheating, we can accomplish anything," Jesper snorted.

"And the locks?" Inej inquired, ignoring the arrogance of her companions.

"Leave that to me," said Kaz.

"No Grisha for the job, or am I the only watch?" asked Jesper. "I hear there's one at the House of White Rose. No demo either, so my ravishing looks must be enough."

"Not this again,” muttered Kaz. “A Ravkan Heartrender at the White Rose, but we won't need her, not for this job."

They moved quickly over the waters, the dust and grime of the Barrel vanishing as they grew closer to the wealthy districts. Kaz explained the plan in his usual fashion - disclosing the least amount of information in the most infuriating way. They tied the boat to a miraculously clean dock.

Inej dismounted, the package strapped to her back incongruously throwing off her balance in a way that was perceptible only to her acrobat mind. The first house was on the left, daffodils sprouting merrily in the front yard. She followed Kaz to a window on the bottom floor, trusting his ample knowledge of the security in all of Ketterdam. She saw Kaz direct Jesper to the same gazebo she'd been in last night, to keep a trusted eye on the street and a steady hand on his gun.

Kaz's delicate gloved hands reached out and slid over the intricate lock at the side entrance of the mansion. "Fabrikator made," he said.

Inej glaced worriedly at him. She knew better than to doubt his skill, but Fabrikator locks required more than just ability to crack. They contained magic. This explained the quick trip he had taken before they'd gone to rescue Jesper from his post.

Something like a stamp appeared in Kaz's palm. "Fabrikator locks are just complicated latches. Extremely easy to pick, if not for the pulley system that lifts the latch. Nothing but a Fabrikator enchanted insignia can budge that pulley."

"Where did you get one?"

"I know every official locksmith and every undercover lock pick in this city. The hard part wasn't finding the insignia - it was determining which of these idiots weren't selling counterfeit ones without even being aware of it."

"Well, did you tell them they were fakes?"

"Of course not."

Kaz's hands passed over the lock on the door. Inej heard a cranking sound, then saw the flash of metal picks in his hands as the door popped open.

She was in and out in under three minutes, her package one-third lighter. Together, they carefully carried the sheet-wrapped painting to the boat.

The process was repeated at the gardenia house, the only difference being the size of the painting.

At the tulip decorated house, Kaz didn't unlock a side door. He left her in front of an obviously unlocked second floor window. "This is Jan Van Eck's house. The man is more prudish than the rest, so his painting is already hung up to be kissed in his office. It's the room to the right of this one. Enter through this window; it appears he doesn't know it's unlocked. Use the insignia to open the office door, then use the picks to finesse the lock. It's very simple, I've taught you this one already. Like I said, never underestimate the overconfidence of men."

Inej nodded, though she found one flaw with Kaz's words. "He's in his office," she pointed out. "I can hear him moving."

"I know," Kaz said. "He's so devoted to his piousness he's not yet asleep like a good little mercher. In ten minutes, you'll hear him leave. At that moment, you'll have exactly four minutes before he renters his office. Be at the barge with Jesper by then."

Inej breathed out. "Okay."

"If all goes well, send Jesper to bed and meet me in my office. We need to fence these as soon as possible."

She raised her eyes to meet his coal-black ones, grim as ever. "No mourners."

"No funerals."

#six of crows #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #nina zenik #wylan van eck #crooked kingdom

[victoriousscarf]

You mentioned some time ago that you have moved a lot to find job after you graduated. I find it inspiring considering where I am now in my life. I sometimes think about moving to a new place and seek a new start but have never found the courage to actually do so. How do you make friend in a complete strange city/state? How do you move your furniture (mattress, books, etc) across the country?

Well...

First of all, wherever you are and what your plans end up being, good luck!

I have done some absolutely crazy moves over the past few years and I (so far) have managed to land okay every time despite the absolute hell of stress moving is. My last move I plopped down the entire deposit and cat fee and first months rent sight unseen while still halfway across the country and it's turned out remarkably okay for me (tho I don't recommend that as a rule). One time I moved with four days warning (like I knew I was moving but I got the "go" to actually start Tuesday morning ... Friday afternoon and booked my flight to get down there for Saturday morning, bought a car Monday, and was at work on Tuesday).

I'm saying this to prove that a) I'm insane so this may or may not work for folks but also b) despite stories like this it's always worked out so far. So while moving is scary and stressful as long as you're careful and do some research... You can do it. Seriously I've done things I never ever imagined I would and once you do it the first time I think you can prove to yourself you can keep doing it.

Also I've found most of the time if you're moving for work, somebody is gonna have some good ideas for housing or whatever, and I've always found my soon to be co workers helpful if I have questions about like where in town I should move and other services like that, so reach out and see what you get back. (I asked one supervisor about housing and got, I swear to God, an excel spreadsheet back of places other people have lived and pros and cons of each place. Really obvious that was a workplace of type a personalities).

But! You asked specifically about moving and friends.

The bad news is... My books are to this day still at my parents house. My dad is using them as his zoom background and getting many compliments. I also admit I have ditched more furniture than I care to mention at this point. Like I have my great grandma's dresser and that's also still at the parents house, because I'm lucky enough they're letting me store stuff there. Not everyone will have this. I have several friends who've either put things into storage (one friend just condensed her storage she had across three states into storage in one state ... Across the country from where we're working right now) and some who have simply ... Gotten rid of things. One friend got rid of 98% of her stuff at one point, including ditching her childhood teddy bear and I admit I couldn't live like that. I'm way too sentimental.

But the bad news is moving is expensive. There's things like pods now where you can pack up your pod and someone else takes care of trucking it across country and I'm a big fan of that, but it is not cheap. Or of course there's renting a u-haul truck yourself and going for it.

The other thing is, I've slept on air mattresses for like a month at a time. Ikea is your friend for cheap but will last more than 4 months furniture when you first move. Thrift stores, buy sell and swap pages, and co workers cleaning out their houses are all excellent resources for when you've landed in a new place What you try and take with you is gonna depend on your priorities.

As for making friends ... I've been lucky that I don't usually work at for-profit businesses. I usually work for a government or non-profit and while that may be a weird statement to make, it means most of my co workers have generally been passionate, interesting people, and no one goes into public service for a payday. I saw a post recently saying you shouldn't be friends with co workers because you don't know what they'll tell your bosses and maybe but... I have found many great and amazing and lasting friendships that started at work. It's not always gonna be the case, but it can be the case and I think you should leave yourself (carefully) open to it. Don't trust easily by any means, but take the time to get to know people.

It helps to leave yourself open to friendships with people outside of your age group/class group/whatever group, if you don't naturally do that. Some of my favorite people are the badass older women I know. And it helps to not judge people (which may be getting too philosophical). One friend was this older woman who had just gone through a terrible divorce and was partially disabled and could not, for the life of her, figure out computers. A lot of people sorta rolled their eyes at her or didn't help her, but I would sit with her and walk her through what seemed like really basic computer stuff, but it was a big deal to her. She sent me a care package when I moved. Being nice to people can go a huge way.

So I guess some basic advice is:

By open to friendships in weird places or from people you wouldn't expect.

Consider joining a hobby group because there are probably other people who want to find friends who maybe moved too.

Consider if you can, volunteering somewhere. Volunteering can help you find people who care about the same stuff you do, and it can help you meet other people sometimes in the course of whatever you're doing.

Real, deep friendships take time and it isn't easy. Personally I have a high threshold for being lonely (it takes me a long time to feel lonely) and my dad once described me as "self contained." So I don't mind waiting, and I have all my friends in different places I stay in contact with. Moving by yourself can be big and scary and yeah, lonely, but the reality is a lot of other people are doing it too. They're gonna want friends too. Or even people who have never once moved but are looking around for friends and companionship. Not everyone has settled down and gotten married and had kids, so take the time to put yourself out there. It of course also depends on where you go, because there are definitely some insular little towns out there who don't take kindly to outsiders, but I don't think that's the norm.

Like you've already taken a truly bonkers, huge risk just by moving, so making friends is just taking some other, smaller risks to put yourself out there and see who else is just looking around.

Like seriously one of my friends now is my car neighbor in our parking lot (because we have assigned spaces). She's older, divorced, has moved around a lot too, and keeps trying to feed me while watching Jane Austen movies. She's smart, funny, and we never would have met if we weren't assigned next door parking spaces.

So yeah this got ramblely about like... Moving in general. Friends are hard no matter where you are, so moving is just about making a new start and seeing what happens. And it's expensive to move stuff, but it's not cheap to replace it either, so it depends on what you can do, and how willing you are to let go of some things.

But mostly it just takes some courage to fling yourself into the unknown. Once that step is down, I think at some point the rest just had to follow.

#vs does an ask #i ramble about moving #moving is not easy and friendships are not easy ahahaha im definitely not a friendship expert #also for all the positives im saying here some people just turn out to be assholes #so while you should leave yourself open to new possibilities also know when to scoot the other way

[thewildomega]

Second Chance Ch. 4

Driving down the road you glanced again to the rear view mirror to see Nook's cage still strapped in the bed of your truck. You had thrown a tarp over it to keep the wind off of him and also help with the noise. Letting out a small sigh you looked back to the road. 

"Have you helped other animals before?" he asked her. They had been driving now for about an hour and spent the time talking about this and that. Well mostly him talking. He had been quick to notice that she wasn't much of a talker or rather she wasn't much for talking about herself. Not in a rude way though, she was never rude in fact she was kind. Quiet and kind. 

Nodding you grinned a bit, "Yes."

"What kinds?"

"Well I've done deer, foxes, a rabbit, dogs, cats. There was an owl and a wolf..."

"A wolf?" he asked, his brows raising a bit. 

Nodding you smiled. "Yep, he was definitely my toughest patient yet. He was about a year and a half when I got him, one of the local hunters found him stuck in one of their traps. He had broken his leg and nearly ripped off all the skin around it trying to get loose. They were going to put him down but I got there first. We tranquilized him so I could get his leg out without hurting him even more. I brought him home and got it all cleaned and bandaged before he woke up. Once he did wake up though..." you said with a huff and then grinned. "I'm pretty sure he wanted to eat me." you told him and heard him laugh. 

"So what happened then?" he asked, enjoying her story and seeing how much it made her smile. 

"Well I kept working with him for the next month. I didn't want to tranquilize him every time I had to clean his leg so I slowly got him to let me see it which didn't work all that well because he bit me when I poured the alcohol on it..."

"He bit you?"

"Yep. Right on my thigh." you told him. "He bit me again the next day when I went to feed him but he learned his lesson real quick." 

"What do you mean by that? What did you do?"

Licking your lips you tilted your head a bit, "I... well I bit him back." 

"You bit a wolf?" he asked with a chuckle.

"Hey he bit me first. The time with his leg I get, he was in pain but the second time I didn't even do anything, I was just bringing him something to eat." you quickly said, defensively and heard him laugh loudly. "Laugh all you want, he didn't bite me no more after that. Actually after that we got along pretty damn good." you said with a smile. 

"So were you able to release him as well?' he asked.

"Yes, I took him to the National park as well. Come to think of it you might get to see him, his pack stays around where we are taking Nook and sometimes when I go up here he comes to pay me a visit." 

"Does this wolf have a name?" he asked. 

"Smoke." you said with a proud smile. 

Grinning at seeing her smile he felt that warming in his chest and sighed. A while later she pulled up to a small place and parked the truck before turning it off.

"Come on we'll go grab a drink. We're about halfway there now." you told him, taking off your seatbelt and getting out of the truck. 

Following her into the store he noticed it was a bit colder here than it was at her home and was glad she had mentioned him bringing the thicker over shirt she had bought him. Standing beside her he looked over the many different drinks with his arms crossed over his chest. "There are so many different options." 

Giggling you nodded. Reaching forward to grab your own you saw him look to what you had and raised it for him to see. "It's a green tea. It's got ginseng in it and honey. They are really good and actually cheap." When he moved to grab one you quickly spoke up. "You don't have to get this, get whatever you want." 

"I'm going to take your word on it darling." he told her with a smile. 

Returning his smile you nodded and turned to the other isles "Do you want a snack?" 

"More choices. Any recommendations?" he grinned down at her.

Humming you looked over the snacks and then up to him. "Depends if you want something sweet or salty... or both." 

Looking down into her eyes he again felt that warmth in his chest. He enjoyed how small she was next to him but not as small as she would have been if he was his normal height. Standing beside him she came up to about his mid chest. He was still much wider than her, much larger but in a good way. 

Seeing him just looking at you and then realizing you were just looking back you blinked and reached forward to grab a bag of chips. "Here how about these and some jerky?" you asked. 

Snapping out of his thoughts he looked to the bag she had been holding out for him to take and nodded. "Sounds good lass." 

Once they were back in the truck he munched on the chips which were actually really good, the drink as well. 

"So what does this home island of yours look like?" you asked, wanting something to talk about. 

"Sphinx? Well it's a small island, it's better off than it used to be, when I was a boy it was a rough place. Now it's a peaceful place.. or at least it was... I would hope by boys would keep an eye on it for me." he said, mumbling the last part to himself. "Anyway it has mountains and hills with bright green grass, flowering shrubs and evergreen trees...."

Listening to him describe the island you couldn't help but smile softly at how much he seemed to care about his home. When you started asking about his crew, the people he considered his sons and daughters you smiled even brighter at the genuine love in his voice, in his smile. You learned that Marco was his first and how then after more and more joined him. When he spoke of his sons, Thatch and Ace you saw his smile falter and his eyes turn sad. He told you about how they had been killed. Thatch being killed by this Blackbeard fellow over the devil fruit he wanted. Then there was Ace who he told you was the true son of his long rival Gol D. Rogers. He told you how he was meant to be killed for simply being the son of the king of the pirates. 

"A child should never be punished for their parents wrongdoings." he said deeply. 

Hearing the pain in his voice you licked your lips. "I'm sorry for your losses Edward." you said softly. Seeing his eyes meet yours you gave a sad grin. "Thatch and Ace sound like they were amazing people, all of your children do. Also sounds like you raised them all to be great individuals and to do what they deemed to be the right thing. Ace may have died but he died saving his little brother, that's a very selfless and courageous thing to do. Something that he and the rest of your family learned from their father no doubt." 

Blinking he looked into her kind e/c eyes and sighed softly, feeling a sort of peace come over him. "Thank you y/n."  Seeing her smile he looked around and noticed that they had stopped. Looking around at the landscape he saw tall snow covered mountains and a large lake, all of which were very beautiful. "This is it?" he asked and saw her nod. Damn, seems like every time he went to ask her about her own life something came up.

"Hey y/n."

Hearing the male voice he looked out the window to see a man coming over to the vehicle and noticed y/n getting out. 

...................................

Standing back he watched the scene in front of him with a small smile. Y/n seemed to have no fear, or at least none that dealt with animals. After arriving at the park Tyler, the you, well he guessed he was older than him now, the park ranger had welcomed them. Y/n had introduced them to one another, telling this Tyler that he was her friend which put a smile on his face. Helping her get Nook out of the cage they had loaded into the truck at her home he saw y/n let him out making he cub instantly run to her legs. It hadn't been hard for him to notice the sad grin on her face as she looked down at the cub. Although she kept saying how she was happy he was going to be released back into the wild, to live a life of freedom he could tell she was going to miss him. 

Following Y/n and Tyler through the park they got to a boat and saw Tyler step down into it, y/n following him and calling for Nook to as well. When the cub looked hesitant to follow he chuckled and lifted him up before stepping into the boat and handing Nook over to y/n who had sat down on the back bench. Taking a seat next to her he watched as the cub went about playing with her and then him. Grinning he allowed him to gnaw on his hand and arm, listening to his little growls and grunts. 

When Tyler started the boat you felt Nook tensed and noticed Edward tense as well. Grinning you looked to him and saw him look towards the motor on the back. "I take it there is no motors in your world?"

"No darling we use sails." he told her.

"Alright ya'll hold on." Tyler called back before taking off.

"What if there is no wind?" you asked over the motor, holding onto Nook tightly. 

"Then you either sit there until it starts back up or use the oars." he told her. Noticing Nook start panicking and Y/n having trouble holding the bear cub that was about half the size of her he scooted closer and quickly wrapped his arms around both her and the cub as they hit a rough spot and she almost fell. "Woah, I got you lass." 

Snapping your eyes up to him you saw him looking down at you with his warm yellow eyes. Feeling the warmth from his body you swallowed hard and gave a grin, "Ugh...thanks." you said, looking back down at Nook to hopefully hide your blush. 

It was about a ten minute ride across the lake to the area where Nook would be released at. Helping Y/n out of the boat he enjoyed the feel of her hand in his for that short moment. Following her and Tyler once again they walked along a trail, listening to the two of them talk. 

"Beth is already there with Kayla and her cubs. She has been very calm for the past few days and we have been trying to keep her around this one area." Tyler spoke. 

"Well I think she will do good with him, She has taken in foster cubs before and she has some of her own right now so that's a plus." you said. 

"Yea, we are hopeful that within a years time Nook will be able to start heading out on his own after learning from Kayla." 

Making their way to an open meadow of sorts he looked out to see a large bear with two other ones close by her. Getting closer he saw what looked to be something along the lines of a smaller vehicle and a woman standing by it. As she turned to them he saw her smile. 

"Y/n, it's good to see you again. I see you brought a friend this time."

"You to Beth. Yea, this is Edward, Nook's latest chew toy. Edward this is Beth, Tyler's wife. She works directly with the bears here at the park." you said with a small smile up at the tall man. 

Chuckling at her words he smiled down at the woman and gave her hand a small shake when he saw her hold her own out. 

That had been a few hours ago. Now he watched along with Tyler and Kayla as the small woman worked with the bears. Y/n seemed to be completely in her element with the wild animals, a smile on her face. She even stood close to the mother bear, giving her small treats out of her hand and rubbing her. To everyone's surprise it had taken no time at all for Kayla to accept the new cub. Now Nook was playing with the other two cubs but every now and again he would come back over to hug Y/n's legs. 

"She really is something isn't she?" Beth asked with a smile. 

"Yes she is, I think the bears like her more than they do you honey." Tyler chuckled. 

"Well in my defense I have yet to see an animal that doesn't take to her." Beth said with a grin. "Smoke especially." 

"Very true, that wolf hates everyone but her." Tyler said. 

"Really?' he asked, joining in on the conversation.

"Oh yes, There is no one else that he allows near him. Even if it's one of the park rangers he starts showing his teeth but her, well I'm sure you will see for yourself, y/n is sure to go pay her demon child a visit while she is here. Warning before hand though, don't touch her or even get close to her while he is near or you're going to end up with about 42 sharp teeth in you." Tyler warned. 

"I take it that was a lesson learned by someone before?" he asked, one brow raised. 

Nodding Tyler looked to him, "One of the old rangers that worked here, Chris. Everyone tried telling him how iffy Smoke was of people. He followed y/n up there one day when she came hiking..."

"Stalking her is more like it." Beth huffed. 

"Stalking her?' he asked with a frown.

"Well yea okay. He had a thing for her and didn't really know how to take a hint that she wasn't interested." Tyler said, rubbing the back of his head. "Anyways Chris followed her up to where Smoke and his pack stay at and well it didn't end well."

"He practically ripped off Chris's thigh when he tried to wrap his arm around y/n." Beth added in. 

Raising both of his brows he looked across to Y/n and saw her still playing with the bears. "Is he like that with everyone she brings as well?" he asked and saw the couple look to him with furrowed brows. 

"You are the only person that she has ever brought with her." Beth told the large man. 

Sighing you watched as Nook tumbled around with the other bear cubs and interacted with Kayla, the mother bear already acting like she was hers. You knew you needed to slip away now. You always hated this part. Crouching down you saw Nook look to you and move over to go tackle you like he always did. Placing your hand behind you to balance yourself you rubbed his head and scratched behind his ear. "You be a good boy and don't give Kayla a hard time huh." you smiled softly. "I'll come back and see you in a month or so okay." kissing the top of his head you stood when he ran back over to the other cubs. Looking to Kayla she must have understood and you heard her let out a small huff before walking away, the cubs following right behind her. Turning around you moved over to Edward and the others but stopped when you felt a thump against your legs. Looking down you saw Nook there and smiled, "You go on now." you told him. 

Watching her and the bear cub she had been raising for almost a month now look at each other he tilted his head. Seeing Nook nuzzle into her leg and let out a grunt he smiled as the cub took off towards the others. 

"And some people saw animals don't have feelings." Beth huffed. 

Smiling you watched him go over the hill and then looked up to Edward to see him smiling softly down at you. "So want to go see Smoke?" you asked. 

"Where you go I will follow darling." 

....................................

It had been true what Beth and Tyler told him. As soon as they had gotten close to the wolf's den and Y/n had let out a loud whistle he had heard many wolves and saw them instantly come running over to Y/n and him. Stiffening he readied himself to act if they tried to attack her but to his surprise he saw them instantly knock her to the ground and start licking her, their tails wagging and little noises come from them. 

"Aw come on guys I already had my bath for today." you grumbled as the wolves went about licking at your face, neck and hair. Hearing Edward laugh the wolves seemed to notice him and some of the younger pups went over to sniff at his feet and legs. Crouching down some and going to pet them he saw some of the other ones quickly move away from y/n and glanced up to see a larger male come trotting over to them. The male was quick to pull his lips back over his teeth in a snarl, his tail bushing up in warning. That had to be him. 

"Smoke." you said in a motherly tone. "Come here bud." you called, noticing how the wolf was looking at Edward like he was his next meal. Sitting up you watched as smoke came over to you and instantly started smelling at you, no doubt picking up Nook's scent. "Yep yep I know I cheated on you." you told him, moving your hand to pet him. 

The wolf had kept his eyes on him the whole time and every time he had moved even a fraction of an inch towards y/n the wolf had started to growl. Before long though Y/n had said they need to head back, it was already getting late and they still had a long ride back to her home. 

Leaving the park you decided to stop for some supper on the way back home. Getting a booth in the back you had sat across from Edward and ordered a white Russian and a glass of water for yourself, "They have ale of you want." 

"Ill take one of those then." he told the woman with a grin and saw her nod, telling them she would be back with their drinks soon and handing them their menus. Looking it over he glanced across the table to Y/n and saw her reading over the menu. Looking back down he glanced over everything and saw her put down her menu. "Already decided darling?" 

Nodding you smiled. "Yep, do you have an idea of what you want?" you asked. 

Humming he gave a nod and placed his menu down just as the waitress came over with their drinks. Seeing something white get placed down in front of Y/n he knit his brows but said nothing as he and she ordered their food. He had been surprised when she ordered a steak. Good to see you actually eating something lass." he said in a teasing manner.

"Ha ha. I do eat, when I have time." you told him. Sipping at your drink you saw him looking it over and grinned. "What?"

"Is that milk?" he asked looking at the short glass with the darker brown liquid onto he bottom and this whiteish liquid clouding over the top. 

Giggling you smiled. "No, it's called a white Russian." Stirring it to blend it all together you looked up at him and rose a brow, "Want to try it?" you asked. 

Looking to her he hummed, "I suppose." Taking it from her when she slid it across the table he lifted it up and took a sip from the glass. Tasting the alcohol and coffee flavor he hummed as he sat it back in front of her. "It's good but I think I will stick to my sake."

"I've never had sake." you said and saw his eyes go wide. 

"You're kidding?"

Shaking your head you saw him smile. "We are going to have to change that darling. Now I don't know about the sake here but back in my world..." humming at the end he heard her give a small laugh again. 

"Here I'll add it to my list." you said, taking the small notebook out of your purse and flipping to the page you were looking for. "Try Sake." you said as you wrote. 

Seeing her write it in that book of hers he narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. He had seen her writing in it before but he didn't exactly know what it was. "What is that thing you have there." 

"Oh this... it's just this notebook I keep on me. I write my reminders and stuff like that in there. Then in the back there is my bucket list." 

"Bucket list?" he asked. 

"Yea it's this list you can make, things you want to do or try before you kick the bucket." you told him, folding the notebook back up and placing it back in your purse. 

Humming he looked at her as he lifted his own drink to his lips. "So what's some of the things on your list?"

"Um... well there's stuff like see the Niagara falls, try sake..." you named, thinking about some of the other things to tell him that wouldn't make you sound pathetic. "Uh, well see the ocean..." 

"Wait." he said and saw her stiffen. "You have never been to the sea, never seen it?" 

"Well I mean I've seen it on TV and stuff...." 

"But you have never personally been to it?" he asked and saw her shake her head. Letting out a deep sigh he looked to her and shook his head. "Never tried sake, never been to the sea... your killing me lass." he said and heard her let out a small chuckle, her eyes dropping to her lap. Thinking he may have embarrassed her he went to speak but then their plates were being set down in front of them. 

After they both had ate and she had paid for their food they went back out to the truck and he readied himself for the long drive back to her home. They had ate in a comfortable silence but something had been itching at him for a while now and he wanted to ask. "Y/n darling..." he said and heard her hum. "How come I've never heard you talk about any of your family,  I've been with you for a little over a week now, you've heard me talk about mine but you never mention anything about your own. Where are they?" he asked, noticing her stiffen up and her lip move between her teeth. "I don't' mean to push you on it lass, I'm... well I'm just curious."

Taking a deep breath you sighed. "It's not something I like to talk about... not something I like to think about." you told him honestly, not wanting to sound rude you licked your lips. " I... don't know where they are and I likely never will." 

Hearing this he frowned, being able to pick up on the pain in her voice, the sadness, the loneliness. While he wanted to know more he wouldn't push it, for now. "Alright darling, I understand." he said and saw her nod. Hearing her phone ring he saw her pull it out and answer it, listening as she talked to someone from her work as it sounded. Thinking about what had just happened he looked out the window into the dark landscape. He had seen people with troubled pasts before, most of his children came from rough pasts and it was because of that he he knew that he would need to have patience and not push her, or else she would shut down. 

Moving to hold the wheel with your elbow you brushed back your hair and grit your teeth as Trish went about venting to you about the bar tonight and how she would need a break tomorrow. Then she threw in how she wanted to hang out with her boyfriend and blah blah blah. "Okay. Yea fine, I'll take your shift tomorrow. Look though I can't work morning the day after I... hello... Trish..." Pulling your phone away you saw she had hung up on you and shook your head. "bitch." you muttered under your breath. 

Hearing her curse he rose his brows and looked over to her, "Something wrong lass?" 

"Just an issue at work." you sighed. 

It was early into the morning when they arrived back at her home, the clock reading 4:26 am. Having to make a detour when there had been an accident it put them getting home later than they should have. A few times he couldn't help but doze off making him feel guilty knowing she very well couldn't sleep. Taking off his boots he turned to the woman and saw her rubbing her eyes. "I would say goodnight to you but well it's morning." he chuckled and heard her hum, her lips tugging up the tiniest amount. 

"Sorry about us getting back so late." you said, dropping your purse to the entry table and kicking off your boots. 

"Don't apologize darling it was nice, I enjoyed the time with you." he grinned. 

Glad for the dark room to hide your blush you took a deep breath. "Well thank you for the company." you told him and then covered a yawn. "I think I am going to try and get some sleep, I have to be at work in a few hours." 

Frowning at that he saw her already walking towards her bedroom. 

"Good morning Edward." you said, waving back to him. 

Smiling a little he let out a huff and then moved to his own bedroom. "You too lass." 

#Whitebeard #whitebeard one piece #one piece whitebeard #whitebeard x reader #young whitebeard #Young edward newgate #one piece #One Piece Fanfiction #soulmate au