#In my hometown of colorado

[hecateisalesbian]

you guys shovel your snow?

[adamshallperish]

colorado town names really be like spanish word for town. rock. rock but spelled weird. flower. name of some old white guy. [insert spanish word here] springs. tree. spanish phrase but the white founder insisted everyone pronounce it wrong.

[killerchickadee]

This is my most beloved honey sweetie baby Peach back when I got her in like 2005 or something like that

This is my most beloved honey sweetie baby Peach these days

I wear her leg band on a necklace every single day.

Here is my tattoo of my most beloved honey sweetie baby Peach that I got because did I mention she's my most beloved honey sweetie baby?

Setting the stage for this, the sign we just got in at work that nearly made me cry at 3 in the goddamn morning

OOF

[wardenparker]

Love Potion Number 9

Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 15.4k Warnings: Not too many! Alcohol, food mentions, some fakey suburban witchcraft stuff written by an actual pagan, probably incorrect descriptions of a town that actually exists. Making out and undressing. Mentions of protected sex. Summary: Halloween is a really big deal in your hometown, and this year your sister is in town to celebrate with you. But what you don't know is that she isn't the only old familiar face around. Your childhood crush Will Miller is back, too. Notes: Happy Spooktober everyone! We're starting off nice and fluffy this year, with a little love for the older Miller brother. We're starting the spice level out low 🧡

Red Feather Lakes might be a small community, but for the little corner of Colorado where you grew up, Halloween is a way of life. The annual kids parade on Elf Lane, and Main Street Trick or Treat are the highlight of the year, and the costume party at town hall is not to be missed.

This year is the hundredth anniversary of the big Halloween shindig and on the night before, which is making such a splash around town that people are coming in from all over to see what the town council has managed. Even your little sister is back in town, which is how the two of you ended up on the back porch of your parents’ house drinking margaritas and eating cold pizza way too late at night, catching up and reminiscing about Halloweens of years past.

“Don’t you remember that night that Ben Miller scared the ever-loving shit out of us?” She snorts, feeling tipsy and better than she has in a long time. This little trip was needed. Especially since she has some news that might change the dynamic of the next time you get together.

“Which time?” You raise an eyebrow at her and pour the last of the pitcher of margaritas evenly between your glasses. While most of your friends — and even your little sister who is your best friend — had grown up and left town, you had come back again a few years ago after a change of careers. Seeing her again at any time of year that isn’t the winter holidays is such a treat. “The time he jumped out at us in that King Kong mask up in Elf Lane? Or the time he tried to climb in the kitchen window dressed like Freddy Krueger and dad nearly clobbered him with a baseball bat?”

The Millers were your next door neighbors growing up, and you had spent a lot of time together since you and Will were in the same grade and your sister was the same grade as Benny. For a while when you were kids, the four of you were inseparable.

“That time that he snuck in and grabbed our ankles from under the bed.” She laughs, even though at the time it hadn’t been funny. She had cussed him out and Will had actually knocked him upside his dumbass head a few times after he had calmed the two of you down.

Snorting at the memory, you take a big sip from your crazy straw and laugh from somewhere deep in your belly that you swear you had forgotten. "You screamed so loud you woke up Mrs. Peterson two houses down. It was amazing, but I still wanted to kick Benny's ass."

“Will did.” She rolls her eyes and takes a sip of her margarita. “I can’t believe it’s been so long. We were fucking kids. I think that’s the moment I lost my little crush on Benny.”

"When you realized he was never going to stop pranking you for shits and giggles?" Chaos has always been Benny Miller's energy. You will agree to that completely.

“Yeah.” She blows out a sigh and shrugs. “Worked out for the best, I guess. At least I don’t have to sleep with one eye open.”

"Maybe not the best..." You shoot your sister a smirk. "I heard from Janie Calitri that he's doing MMA fights now." Gossip is just about all there is to do in a town as small as yours, and that multiples exponentially when the gossip is about your small-town heroes. The Miller brothers are solidly near the top of that list. Everybody in town loves them and remembers them fondly. Even if Benny was a little shit.

“God.” She blows out a laugh that is half surprise but mostly resignation. “MMA? I guess that’s the next step after the army.”

"Seems like it." It isn't worth mentioning that you also heard in the same conversation that Will Miller is now a firefighter or personal trainer or maybe both. Janie hadn't been clear on the details except that she'd somehow seen a picture of him looking drool-worthy on Instagram shared by a gym. But Will Miller had always been drool worthy. Even when you were gangly, awkward teenagers.

“So, how are you liking living here?” She asks, taking another sip and glancing around the screened in porch and then back at you. “I know that wish I live closer - I do too, but please tell me you’ve been going out and dating?”

“Please tell me who I’m supposed to date in a town of less than five hundred people where we know everyone already and they all know us?” The best you can do is shake your head and take another long sip of your drink. “I don’t mind being back and I actually really like my job, but I basically hang out at home with the dog all day since I telecommute. Mom and Dad will probably never retire just because they hate being bored, And they go line dancing or to the movies or to the bowling alley all the time.” Snorting again, you shrug. “Our parents have a way more active social life than I do.”

“Come on, you used to have huuuuuuge crush on Will!” She yelps it out in disappointment. “You mean you didn’t jump him when he came home from the Army without that twat he was going to marry?”

There it is, you think with an internal sigh. The downside of having your little sister as your best friend is that she knows literally everything about your life — and the things she’s somehow missed she just barges into the middle of. “No, I didn’t. Though that girl was fucking awful.” She was some girl he’d met in a bar while he was in. Someone who just wanted to go around making sure everyone knew how important she was as an Army Wife, while not wanting to do a thing to help her serviceman partner. Will’s PTSD had been terrible back then and she had done less than nothing to help. The day he blacked out and almost attacked a man in the grocery store in town, it was you who talked him down and helped him out of the panic. Not her. She had gone back to the house and packed. “He’s moved again, anyway. He’s living with Benny in Florida.”

“What? No way.” She scrunches her nose and makes a face. “That sucks. You would have married him and had his babies in a New York minute if he would have looked at you.” She sighs softly. “Where in Florida?”

“Sarasota.” You answer far too quickly, and duck your head away and when she raises both eyebrows at you. “We…may follow each other on Instagram still. Not that we ever talk.”

“And how often do you stalk his page?” She demands, smirking slightly at the way you are avoiding eye contact.

“I see on my feed when he posts something new,” you defend, concentrating very hard on petting your parents’ dog at your feet. “I don’t go stalking him.”

“But I bet notifications are on.” She snorts and grins when you shove at her. Only tipping sideways slightly but manages not to spill her drink as she rights herself. “Yeah. You still drool over William Miller.”

“Childhood crushes die hard.” It’s a weak defense, and you would more accurately call him your first love, but she isn’t wrong. You definitely still drool over Will Miller.

“God, do you remember when we were going through that little goth phase and decided we were witches?” She cackles. “We should whip up that love potion we had a recipe – I mean spell for.”

“The foolproof one you got from some rando on MySpace?” It had sounded genius back in the day. Absolutely brilliant. To two preteens from a middle-of-nowhere mountain town, it had seemed perfect. “It was so useless, wasn’t it? With just cooking herbs and normal stuff in it?”

“Yes! But that’s not the point.” She sends you an exaggerated pout. “The point is to do something. Start working on your love life.”

The look you give her is incredulous at best. “By making…weird love spell tea to lure Will Miller back to Colorado and into my chronically single arms?”

“Absolutely!” She giggles like it’s the funniest phrasing she’s ever heard, but she wants to do it. “We should do something silly and fun. Doesn’t matter if it’s not going to work.” She grins. “We will just be summoning our Practical Magic sides again.”

Maybe it’s the margaritas. Maybe it’s that tomorrow is Halloween. Or maybe it’s just that you missed your sister. But whatever it is, you tilt your head to look at her and end up grinning. “If you tell me you wrote the love spell down somewhere I’m going to laugh my ass off.”

“Oh I made a Grimoire.” She tells you, looking both pleased with herself and a little embarrassed. “I was really into it!” She huffs when your eyes widen and she throws a napkin at you.

“You were, but do you think it’s still upstairs?” The idea, silly as it is, seems to itch something very intriguing in your tipsy mind.

“Let’s go see!” She drains the rest of her margarita and slaps the cup down. Now that you are not protesting the entire idea, she is ready to make this happen for you. “We will make Will Miller fall in love with you

******

"Come oooooon!" Benny is flopped on his back on the sofa in the apartment he shares with his brother, staring up at both the ceiling and at Will's incredulous face. "It's gonna be even better this year, and you pulled the short straw at work last year and couldn't come home with me for Christmas. Mom will flip her shit if you come home with me as a surprise. She'll be so excited dude."

“It’s Halloween.” Will snorts. “You’re just going to pass out or eat all the candy and scare the shit out of the kids.” He could go, but giving Benny a hard time right now is much more fun.

"Yes." Benny waves his hands, outstretched arms punctuating his point like a giant bird's wingspan. "Yes exactly. What else would I do on Halloween? It's going to be amazing." They grew up loving the holiday, loving their town's traditions, and always putting their full effort into costumes and parties. Halloween in Red Feather Lakes is really its own whole world. "Which is exactly why you should come home with me and enjoy yourself for once."

“I don’t find scaring the shit out of the neighbors to be a good time like you do.” He points at finger at his mischievous younger brother. “You climb under their beds this time and they’re liable to shoot your dumbass.”

Benny's face splits into a grin. "If that's what I gotta do to get your ass alone with her for any fucking reason, you bet your ass I'll do it." he promises, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Who?” Will demands, even though he knows exactly who Benny is talking about. The same girl he has casually been bringing up for the past six months every time he talks about home. You.

"The girl you were in-fucking-love with for every year of your life ending in teen." Benny deadpans, and moves to sit up from his place on the couch. "Don't you ever want to find out if it could actually happen?"

“Except for the fact that she was never interested in me.” Will reminds him, knowing that it is a moot point once Ben Miller has made up his mind about something.

"I still don't buy that." The younger Miller brother sits up fully and somehow manages to spring up from his seat without a massive rush of dizziness. Pure luck. "Dude, just come home with me for the weekend. Mom will flip her shit to see you and cook whatever you want. Isn't that worth the trip in and of itself?"

“I haven’t had her meatloaf in a long time.” He admits, knowing that he could use the break from work and bullshit. Frankie is busy with his girl and the babies and there isn’t a fight coming up for a few weeks. “But I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Maybe I could just stay home. Have a break from you.” He teases.

"If you stay here, Pope is gonna drag your ass to some club to wingman for him." Benny points out, already smirking victoriously. "Mom's meatloaf or Pope's cocky ass bullshit? It's not a hard choice, bro."

Will rolls his eyes, aware that he’s not lying. Santiago has already been talking about some club where the drinks are hot and the women even hotter. It’s not really Will’s kind of thing. “You’re driving.” He snorts, giving in.

Cackling with glee, Benny loops his arm around his brother's neck and pulls him toward the back of the apartment. "I already bought your plane ticket, asshole. You were coming whether you liked it or not, now pack! We gotta be at the airport in three hours!"

“Shit.” Will hisses at the impulsiveness of his brother, but he grins. He will take the weekend to recharge and refocus. If he just happens to chat with you and see how you’ve been, that will just be a happy coincidence.

******

Though you aren't technically hungover, the headache that has lingered all morning isn't going away as you head into town with your sister. Breakfast was a trial for her queasy stomach but she seems to be in lighter spirits now, chattering away as you head together toward town hall. Apparently she had thought it would be a blast to sign you up as volunteers to help decorate the place for the big Halloween party tonight, even though you aren't quite sure why.

“We just need to get the last ingredient while we are in town and we will brew the tea before the party.” She chatters happily after tucking her phone into her pocket and linking her arm through yours.

“And what, pray tell, is the last ingredient?” It had taken over an hour of routing through her old room and closet to find the teenage grimoire aside by that tins you had been exhausted. So it was agreed upon that the witching hour would be three in the afternoon instead of three in the morning like the lame, adult witches you now are.

“Fresh thyme to chase away the bad vibes of previous relationships to usher in true love.” She hums, shooting you a grin. “And I want a special shout out at your wedding.”

"You can give a speech and take credit," you promise her, rolling your eyes only gently. She seems utterly convinced that this will work and what the hell – it's been a long time since you did something dumb with your kid sister just for fun.

“Oh I absolutely will.” She snickers, bumping her shoulder against yours playfully. “And you will absolutely be doing Will.”

“You can see the future now?” You tease as town comes into sight. She’s so determined that you have half a mind to ask if she’s been conspiring with Benny.

“No.” She rolls her eyes. “I wish. I would be hitting the lottery just often enough to not be suspicious.”

“We’d become aces in sports betting.” Much good may it do you. Having enough money to take care of yourself didn’t make your last relationship work.

“Yep. One hundred percent.” She snorts, knowing her team always loses. “Become ladies of leisure and live on that round the world cruise ship. Place our bets online and live off the proceeds.”

"That's the retirement plan." You tell her sagely, and the two of you end up in giggles as you park the car on Main Street, halfway between town hall and the general store. You'll need both before you head home again.

“Plus I figured we could get some of those Halloween sugar cookies.” She admits with a grin. “And a last minute bag of mini KitKats.”

"That's why you're my favorite sister." The grin you beam in her direction is bright, and because she's your only sister, you're both laughing when you climb out of the car.

“Might be because I’m your only sister.” She hums smugly. “So let’s go do this decorating so we can get our munches on.”

"We're getting popcorn, too," you bargain, matching the long strides of her legs as you hustle down the street together. "So when we dip out of the party early tonight we can turn on horror movies and make popcorn."

“Carmel popcorn?” She counters, waggling her brows.

"Okay we're getting two kinds of popcorn."

The laughter that follows the two of you lasts all the way into town hall where party decorating is well underway and several people are already walking around with pieces of their costumes on. Your parents are both already there, helping some members of the town's council to hang streamers and a group of kids from the local high school are making signs for their charity fundraiser. It's a homey, welcoming atmosphere and you breath in the scent of pumpkin spice potpourri when you come further into the big function room.

******

“Come on man.” Benny hustles Will through the baggage claim, neither one of them packing anything that needed to be checked, but you have to go through that area to get to the rental desk. “We need to get our car.”

The hour drive from the airport in Laramie, Wyoming doesn't bother them. Red Feather Lakes was always a beautiful place inside of beautiful mountains, and being able to surprise their mother would be worth it. Ever since their father died any chance they get to see her is doubly worthwhile. It was more the nuisance of paperwork that both Miller brothers disliked. They'd rather just step out of the airport and be at their childhood home again.

“You’re driving.” Will tosses Benny the keys and smirks when the younger man groans. “Fine.” He huffs, pouting slightly. He had obviously wanted to work on something for his scare plan tonight.

"Driver picks music." Benny declares, regardless of the fact that it goes completely against their usual bargain. If Will is going to make him drive, he's not going to listen to Queens of the Stone Age for the entire drive.

“Whatever man. Just don’t fucking put on Miley Cyrus.” Will opens the backseat door and tosses his bag in. “You call mom, make sure she is home?”

"I texted her to ask what time she was going into town to hand out candy to the trick or treaters at her shop. It's still early enough, she'll be home." The florist shop that Dana Miller had managed for their entire life was squarely in the middle of the town's before-dark trick or treating event where little kids could go storefront to storefront to get candy from business owners, and she had never missed a year with the kids. These days she would finish that up and then head over to town hall for the party right after.

“Okay.” Will nods as Benny hops behind the wheel and cranks the car up. “We drop our bags and see if mom has some candy for later?” He has a wicked sweet tooth, although he never admits it

"Yes, we'll see if she has your mini Snickers, you overgrown child," Benny teases as he peels out into the road.

“You know you eat about half of them.” Will huffs, always annoyed when he goes to get some of his favorite candy and the little shit has eaten all of them.

"She got my Reese's." The younger brother of the two brothers announces happily. "I'm all set. The kids may not get any candy, but we will."

“Of course she does.” There’s no spite in his tone even thought it’s always been obvious that Benny is the favorite. It’s only because he’s the baby of the family.

"Don't pout." Benny throws his brother a smirk. "I bet if you go next door you can get all the treats you want."

Will groans, but he doesn't say anything. Since he's agreed to come, his brother has just intensified the comments about you and it does him no good to try to argue against him. He will just keep on so he's trying to ignore it.

The drive is reasonably marked with snark and ribbing, and when Benny pulls the rental car up in front of their old house it feels a little bit like coming home from bootcamp. That was the last time they had really surprised their mother with an arrival. "C'mon." Benny shoves Will and climbs out of the SUV. "Quiet. Get your shit."

"Jesus.' Will rolls his eyes but silently creeps out of the vehicle. "I think mom will notice me at some point." He points out. "It's not like the time you tried to have Aaron Rodgers live with us without telling our parents."

"His parents' divorce was vicious, he needed someplace to go." Benny defends, though he does make Will shut up before he very carefully opens the door in his best effort to be silent. He even avoids the creaky fourth plank in the entryway floor that sounds like a cartoon coffin swinging open. But the dog spoils it almost immediately with barking his head off.

Will's shoulders shake in silent amusement as Benny makes more noise than the dog trying to shut him up. Only getting the barking to stop when Scruffy comes into view, sees it's his second and third favorite humans and immediately rushes over to beat his tail against the walls as he jumps up for love and kisses.

"You ruined it!" Benny is huffing at the Malinois, but he's still bent over giving him all the cuddles he could possibly want when their mother appears around the corner.

Dana Miller is wearing her Halloween apron with an episode of Supernatural playing on the kitchen television, flour in her hair and even on her cheek when she unceremoniously drops the towel from her hands at the sight of her boys. "Benjamin Miller is this why you wanted to know about my schedule for the day?" She crows, before hurrying forward to wrap both of her sons up in hugs. "Almost gave me and the dog a damn heart attack, come and hug your mother."

"Hey ma." Will smiles as he scoops her up, even though her own grip on him is bone crushing. She's not a frail woman, despite being petite. "Ben thought we should surprise you, so send him the medical bills."

"I will, don't you worry." She squeezes them both tight, one after the other, and doesn't mind the fact that she's a little teary eyed at the sight of them. "What's the occasion then, besides Halloween? Or are we just giving your old mother palpitations for fun these days?"

"You know Benny." Will snorts. "It's all fun and games for him." His tone sounds surly but now that he's here, he's happy Benny dragged him along. It's been too long since he's seen his mother. He needs to make more of an effort.

“It is.” She knows that. Her younger son’s whimsy is something she loves about him. “But it got you both home, so I’m very happy about it. How long are you staying?”

"Just the weekend." Will shrugs apologetically. "I have to be back at work Monday afternoon."

"How is the firehouse?" Dana ushers her boys toward the kitchen after they drop their bags at the foot of the stairs like they always did after school every day. Old habits die hard.

"It's.....fine." The truth is, he's not exactly happy there anymore. There's been a change of command and for some reason, he clashes with the new fire chief.

"Oh?" Their mother raises an eyebrow as she moves to the stove, immediately dishing up some of what she was cooking. It was going to last just her all weekend, but now that her boys are home it will be one lunch and that is perfectly fine. "What's caused the change of heart?"

"New chief." Will sighs. "He's a very 'my way or the highway' type."

"You never do well with that." The beef stew from the pot is ladled into bowls without hesitation or even consultation. The Miller boys are always hungry. "Benny honey, get the tray of rolls out of the oven," she instructs, setting the full bowls one by one on the kitchen counter. "Are you thinking of asking for a transfer?" She asks, bringing her attention back to her elder son.

"Problem is, there isn't anywhere to transfer to." He complains, having been really pissed about that when he had found out. "Not without a significant loss of pay or having to move to BFE Florida."

"BFE?" Their mother asked, not sure she really wanted to know.

"Military term." Benny supplies helpfully, shooting Will a grin. "Butt Fuck, Egypt. Means the middle of nowhere."

"Charming." Dana rolls her eyes at her sons. "Put those rolls on a plate, Ben. Will, there's sodas in the fridge if you want." She ushers both boys toward the table on the other end of the kitchen and puts the bowls on a tray. "So what will you do, Will? Have you decided? Or found your solution but pretended you haven't decided yet?"

"Honestly, I don't have a clue right now." He had stopped giving the talks at the different commands, finding it too difficult after losing Tom last year. "But I need to figure it out. He doesn't even respect my VA appointments."

"Maybe you'll find a little inspiration. A Halloween miracle?" She winks and laughs at her own little joke. "A little mountain air might help clear your head, at least."

He groans at her lame joke and shakes his head. "Sure, why not?" He snorts. "It's closer than a Christmas miracle."

"So you're coming to the party tonight, then." It isn't a question. She will be bringing her boys to the costume party since they're in town. "We'll have to get some costumes sorted out."

"We have them." Benny announces with a grin.

"You brought some?" She raises an eyebrow in interest as they start to eat.

Benny cuts his eyes over to Will, still ignoring him. "I brought some." He admits. "Planned it out for my helpless older brother."

******

"I love that we're grown ass women and still getting banished to the backyard to make potions on Dad's old camping stove." You snort, carrying the equipment out to the back porch where your sister is lining up all of her bottles of 'love potion' ingredients. "Feels very teenage of us. I love it."

"Mom said she didn't like the smell of the herbs." It was such a lie, but neither of you called her on it. It's more likely that she just didn't want to put up with your giggling and cackling as you 'brewed' the potion.

"She should just be glad that we didn't do this last night after an entire pitcher of margaritas." That would have been even more giggling and probably a disaster waiting to happen. "Alright, do we have a spell or something? What are we doing here?" Since moving past the silliness of it, you've come around to just embracing the absurdity of the idea. If like isn't about being ridiculous with your best friend, then what is it about?

“Well of course we have a spell.” She rolls her eyes and snorts like you are ridiculous for even thinking otherwise.

"Pull out that grimoire, baby sis." The table on the porch becomes your staging area and you set up the camping stove and pot then start to look through the bottles that your sister has brought out. "Fennel pollen? What the hell is fennel pollen?"

“Fennel, ground.” She snorts, pulling out a small container of the spice. “Substitutes are okay.”

"Why is there a piece of...is that from my prom dress?" A scrap of lace fabric is out with the bottles and you hold it up in confusion. "Are we like...burning things related to wedding dresses to summon a groom?" You ask, already bursting out laughing all over again.

“It’s a part of the spell!” She snorts, even as she starts laughing too. “It was the dance you and Will danced at, remember?”

“I remember.” How could you forget? Your whole friend group had opted not to have official prom dates but to all go together, and then everyone had paired off anyway. The memory of it — how Will had grumbled about why didn’t we all have dates, then? as the two of you sat at the table together, and how it took him half the night to dance at all — makes you smile softly.

“So this is the pinch of closeness the spell requires.” She tells you as she takes the bottle from you. “From the waist of the dress where Will held you close.”

“This is a really fucking specific spell,” you joke, actually feeling more warmth from the nostalgia than anything else. You had ended up having a wonderful prom with Will and that was the whole reason that your dress was still upstairs.

“It’s specialized to the couple so it’s more likely to work.” She points out practically. “Too bad I don’t have something of Will’s.”

“I mean…” Glancing next door, you shrug your shoulders and move to the end of the porch that bitts right up against the border of your properties. There’s no fence or gate or wall or anything, just two backyards running together. “Does something from his yard count?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs and shoots you a grin. “It couldn’t hurt.”

"Let's go see!" Ready to just throw yourself all in when the memories of prom make you all warm and fuzzy with nostalgia, you hop down from your back porch and slip over to the Miller's yard. It takes all of three seconds to find something that Scruffy left outside. Helpfully, it's one of Will's old bandanas that the sleek Malinois sometimes wears with his collar, and you pick it up with an air of victory. "Scruffy's doing his part for the spell," you call out, and hustle back to the porch.

Laughing, your sister shakes her head but takes the bandana. “Ode de dog slobber.” She jokes, although the bandana looks clean.

“Alright.” Back up on the porch, you motion to your sister with a flourish. “Break out the grimoire and let’s do this,” you proclaim, running your hands together.

"That's the spirit!" She reaches out and slaps your butt playfully and then turns to pull an old notebook out of the bag she had brought down. It might not be the spookiest but it was what she had as a teenager.

One by one each ingredient goes into the pot. A pinch of this, a dash of that. Mostly kitchen herbs, or the contents of a broken up tea bags. The live flame from the camping stove is there to singe the scrap of your prom dress. Will's bandana goes into the brew like a Hail Mary from his days as quarterback of the high school football team. By the time everything is in and your sister has read the makeshift spell aloud from her notebook with flare, you're both cackling with glee and feeling like there may really be something magical about Halloween after all.

“I feel like we should be wearing all black and living in a very mysterious house.” Your sister admits with a grin as she gives the ‘tea’ a final stir and pinches in the thyme that you had to buy earlier. “Okay, we let this steep one minute and then you drink it while saying Will’s full name after every sip.”

"You didn't tell me I had to drink it!" It's so like her to leave that detail to the very end, and you scowl at her for a whole three seconds. "I would not have put the dog's bandana in there."

She cackles with a slightly evil grin on her face. “How did you think it would work?” She demands, pulling it off the heat to let it steep as she pulls out your favorite old teacup. It was one that you had found in the attic years ago and rescued from the trunk to become your teacup.

"I guess I didn't give it much thought," you admit with a huff. Because you never intended to go through with it, but the prospect of having fun with your sister had won out.

She snorts and shrugs. “Maybe we add a little honey for taste.”

"Maybe more than a little." But the suggestion brings you both to the edges of giggles again, and you shake your head as she goes inside to retrieve the honey bear from the cupboard.

There's an odd moment of warmth in the quiet that follows, and you pick up the photo of you and Will from that prom night, savoring the nostalgia that blankets you like a gentle hug.

If you had known you were being watched through the window by an unexpected audience, you're not sure you would even have cared. Sometimes good memories are worth a moment to honor them.

******

“We don’t have to be there right when the doors open.” Will rolls his eyes as Benny hurries him along. Because of the military he has always been early for everything, but he’d spent too much time today by the window and then looking through an old box in his closet to even think about getting ready until his younger brother had burst into his room.

"If we want a crack at the punchbowl before Deputy Warren starts nitpicking at anyone who drinks, yes we do need to be there when the doors open." Benny contends. Pointing to the bundle of clothes on Will's bed, he frowns animatedly. "Get dressed, dude."

“You are gonna have a bottle out in the truck anyway.” Will points out, but he still gets up and pulls his shirt off. “What the hell did you get me for a costume anyway?”

"They had a costume for that Sons of Anarchy character you like when I went to the Halloween store." Benny tells him. He's already in his cowboy outfit and twirls his hat around one hand. "I figured if I got you a Disney outfit you'd refuse to go, and that defeats the purpose of coming out here."

“You know better than to get me some stuffy Prince Charming costume.” He snorts. He’ll be happy with the Sons outfit and he can slick back his hair, “I’ll be ready in five.”

"Good." Benny whirls around and stuffs his hat on his head. "You're driving!" He hollers back as he strolls out of the room. "I wanna pregame!"

“Shit.” He shakes his head and blows out a sigh. He has a feeling tonight is going to be a long one.

"I heard that!" Benny calls back, already heading down the stairs. He's going to enjoy the hell out of this weekend and is going to push Will's buttons until he figures out what it takes for his brother to enjoy it, too.

True to his word, Will is downstairs four and a half minutes later. His hair slicked back with some ten-year-old gel he had found under the sink in the bathroom and a silver chain that he had forgotten he had around his neck. He doesn’t have but two rings on, but one of them is a skull ring.

"You boys go ahead and have fun." Their mother is bustling around the living room, tidying up from the board game they had been playing before. "I'm going to come a little later. I want to catch the neighborhood trick or treaters before I leave the house."

“Are you sure?” Will walks over to her and drops a kiss on her head.

"Absolutely." She nods, giving her older son a squeezing hug. "The Olsens down the street always do a family costume and their granddaughter is just two years old now. I don't want to miss that."

“Okay.” Will palms the keys and looks over at his brother. “Ready, jackass?”

"I've been ready." Even the cowboy boots he borrowed from Fish are ready, and Benny slides right out the front door with a mock square dancing move, calling back: "See ya at the party, Mom!" And climbing directly into the rental car.

“Kill me now.” Will sighs as he shakes his head, following him out the door and closing it behind him. There’s already kids running up and down the streets with bags in their hands. Soon ghosts and goblins will haunt the streets and the witching hours for youngsters will begin.

******

"Oh wow..." Your sister gasps sharply walking into the town's Halloween party and seeing how much decorating had been done after the two of you left. The finesse, it seemed, was everything. A band composed of several town council members, the middle school principal, and the town librarian has set up on one end of the room to play the night away. Tables of food and drink line the opposite wall for new arrivals to mingle and find their courage, and some couples are already out on the dance floor at the beginning of the party.

Having doubled down on the idea to dress as Barbie movie characters this year, your sister rolls in as Cowgirl Barbie in her bright pink jumpsuit complete with bell bottoms and the kerchief around her neck with a grin on her face. She's always effortless, your baby sister, and instead of being huffy when she spots someone else in the same costume as her, she just sprints off to make a new friend instead. It leaves you standing in your pink and white gingham dress as classic Barbie just a little awkwardly by the door.

“Come on.” As soon as he finds a spot to park, Benny is rushing Will out of the SUV and towards the door. Eager to start the night off, even though he had been drinking on the way.

The party is in full swing already but the punch bowl is full, which is all Benny cares about at the moment. He heads straight over to get a black plastic cup and scrawl his name on it with a metallic sharpie when he hears his name screeched at top volume. Old friends seem to pour out of the woodwork to say hi, and practically before Will even hits the doorframe, his little brother is surrounded by a mob of people.

Will is more the type to ease into a room. The military training and life had led him to scout out exits and breach points. He finds himself searching those out and spots a pink gingham dress in the process.

"Oh shit!" Your sister has spotted him first, as she's facing the rest of the room while you were pouring two cups of punch.

"What?" You barely look up, making very sure that you don't spill on your dress. "Did you spot more Barbies?"

“No.” She shakes her head and grins. “Will’s here!” She hisses and motions you away from the table. “Go give him a drink.”

"Will's here?" There is hardly enough time to react before she is spinning you around and nudging you toward the middle of the room like she's going to shove you clear across the expansive dancefloor and straight into his arms.

When you turn around, Will swallows. The dress looks incredible on you and you look shocked to see him. He shuffles slightly, rolling his shoulders back as for once wishes he had a cigarette even though he quit eight years ago.

"Hey." One single, stupid word comes out of your mouth when you get within an arm's reach of him, still clutching both cups and trying to pretend your heart isn't beating out of your chest.

“Hey.” He reaches out to take the cups from you and stupidly takes both like you weren’t wanting one for yourself. “You don’t look like the Barbie dolls I remember Benny pulling the heads off of.” He jokes, flashing you a quick grin. “I think they were all yours too.”

With your cheeks instantly on fire, you manage to smile and shrug like you aren't well aware that Benny had a penchant for doll destruction when you were all kids. "Barbie is a state of mind," you tell him with an air of someone giving sage advice.

“That’s true.” He chuckles, glad that you hadn’t taken offense to that comment. He had almost stuck his foot in his mouth. “Besides, you make a better Barbie.”

It actually draws a nervous little giggle out of you, and you have to clear your throat to keep from looking or sound like a besotted middle schooler when you are a grown-ass woman. "It's good to see you, Will."

“Good to see you too.” He nods, handing you back one of the cups. “Here, I’m an idiot.” He snorts. “Don’t know why I took both of them.”

"You were trying to be helpful," you predict, seeing the impulse as one of chivalry, even if it wasn't necessary. "I, um...I didn't know you'd be home this weekend. What's the occasion?" It's your turn to be a little bit of an idiot, considering you're both standing in the middle of a party.

“Benny dragged me home.” He rolls his eyes, even though he’s happy that he has. You’re here. “It’s been one thousand sixty five days since I’ve seen you.” He blurts out suddenly, having calculated it earlier.

The way that tugs at the corners of your mouth makes your lips twitch up in a smile and all of a sudden you can't look him in the eyes momentarily. "You counted?"

“Always count.” It’s a habit that hadn’t been that noticeable in high school to careless teenagers, but that trait had been exacerbated in the Army. “Pretty much everything.”

"I know." A lot of people didn't realize, but you noticed. You always noticed. "But I didn't know you counted that." It was a little less than three years ago when you saw him last. After everything had gone to hell with his now ex-fiancée and he had left Colorado to move out east with Benny. Without a doubt, he counted because of the heartbreak, not because of you.

He shrugs and takes a sip of the punch. “You really helped me screw my head back on straight.” He reminds you. “Should have called you more when we moved.” It’s a half assed apology and he knows it. “Sorry about that.”

"It's fine. Not like we promised it or anything." You hadn't. It really was okay that he hadn't called. Your crush isn't his responsibility, after all.

“No, but I should have.” He repeats. “How have you been? Mom said you moved home?”

"Yeah." It isn't anything to be ashamed of and you won't pretend it is, even if the plan was for the move to only be temporary. "I work remotely and there was nothing keeping me where I was, so I came back for a while. It gives me time to save and really think about where I want to go next." The smile you offer him is small but bright. "How's Florida?"

“Hot.” Will snorts. “Muggy.” He shrugs. “Ben’s happy there, and our friend Fish settled down there too, but I don’t know.” This restless feeling has been getting worse since Tom died. He has a lot of guilt being around Molly and the girls. Even they were planning on moving soon. Wanting to be closer to the colleges they were choosing.

"You're not happy there?" It extinguishes your smile almost instantly, worried that he's made a decision that has made him unhappy and knowing that you were one of the people who encouraged him to stay close to his brother in the first place. Benny is his best friend, after all.

“I think I want a change.” He admits out loud. “Nothing horrible, but just…restless, I guess. Fish and his wife had another baby. Makes number three and I haven’t been on a date in two years.”

Before you can stop yourself, you're huffing at the idea that he somehow would have any trouble finding women willing to date him. "I'm sure you can flip the switch on that any time you decide to," you assure him, immediately taking a sip of your punch so you don't stick your foot in your mouth.

He shrugs again. “Maybe. But I don’t want to have to explain all my issues.” He shoots you a grin. “And all my scars.”

"You're never going to let me off the hook for that, are you?" Like you're seventeen all over again, you could just stick your tongue out and tell him to deal with it. "I warned you to use a pot holder, William. The fact that you thought you could take the cupcake pan out of the oven without protection is not my fault."

He chuckles, always loving the way your nose scrunches when you look at him like that. It’s why he always teases you about the scar on his palm. It’s barely noticeable now and he has more prominent ones, but he likes to bring it up at least once every time he sees you. “You told me the oven was off.”

"Yeah, the oven being off doesn't mean the pan instantly stops being hot!" It's so ridiculous to get into every single time, but he does love to bring it up. It was mother's day and he had wanted to do something nice for his mom, but now it's the thing to tease each other about.

“How was I supposed to know that?” He demands, even as he starts to laugh. It’s stupid now, looking back on it, but it had been one of those brainless teenage moments. “You didn’t even kiss it to make it feel better.”

“I—I didn’t—” The insinuation makes you fluster, skin burning hot all over again. “You didn’t ask me to,” you justify. If he had asked, you would have done it in a heartbeat.

“I thought that was like, an automatic thing.” The way your lips pinch together is adorable and he sends you a smirk. “Kiss it to make it feel better.”

“I mean…” You’re going to burst into flames any second, you can tell. Just burn to ashes on the spot. “I mean I guess, but—” You sputter inelegantly. “Weren’t you dating Annie Neville when that happened?”

He would have dumped Annie in a heartbeat if you had given him any indication you wanted him. It might not be something that would have been right, but it was the gods honest truth. He takes another sip of his drink. “Broke up with her two days later.” He doesn’t admit that he had broken up with her because she thought it was weird he would do something for his mom on Mother’s Day, but that’s not the point.

“Right.” Nodding slightly, the warm allure of deeply alcoholic punch sounds like a great idea and you sip. “I remember now. She bitched and moaned about losing out on boyfriend bragging rights.”

He rolls his eyes. “That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.” He cuts his eyes towards his brother. “And I grew up with that one.”

You follow his eyes and grin, seeing the gaggle of friends surrounding Benny. Including one hot pink Barbie jumpsuit. “Surprising no one, my sister has found your brother,” you hum in amusement. “I wonder what havoc they’ll wreak this time.”

“They might burn the town down.” He huffs. “Then Benny would expect me to put it out.”

“That’s right.” An innocent like sound escapes you. An assent. As though you didn’t order a copy of his fire department’s Hunky Heroes calendar last year under a different name just because his photo was your birthday month. “Firefighter. That seemed like it would be right up your alley.”

“Might be an ex-firefighter.” It’s always been easy to share with you. Which was why his ex’s comments about being closed off were so confusing to him. He shares. He just never shared much with her because she never seemed to give a shit.

“Really?” That surprises you, since giving back to his community has always been so important to Will. “You’re thinking of leaving?”

“Yeah.” He notices that you have finished your own punch, so he takes the cup from you and guides you back towards the bowl. “Just not sure where to go.”

“I’m not sure I’m the person to ask,” you admit, trying not to get all girlish and swoony at the gentle press of his hand on your back. “I just ran home to my parents when I felt lost.”

“Nothing wrong with that.” He insists, his fingers twitching against your back. “Home is where you feel safest. It’s normal to want that when you are hurt. Emotionally or physically.”

“But it’s not where I want to stay.” Somehow talking to Will has always been easy. Even when you were in that place where you clammed up around him sometimes because your teenage hormones went out of control, you comfort and safety of him was enough to bring you back down. As it turns out, that’s true no matter how long you’ve been apart. “So we’re sort of in the same weird place.”

“Where would you go?” Will asks, comforted by the fact that you seem to be in the same boat. He’s always presented himself as very in charge and forward thinking, so finding himself floundering without a real plan was new.

“I have no idea.” It’s not a thing that you’re comfortable admitting, but somehow knowing that Will is feeling the same is a comfort. He always seemed so steady. “I just know that I’m not in the place I thought I would be by this age and I’m restless.”

He chuckles and nods in agreement. “Benny keeps telling me that I’m ready for another duty station.” Being in the military required moving every three to four years.

“You’re not thinking about going back in, are you?” Between his chronic pain and his PTSD — both from military service — your expression turns to one of deep concern and worry at the idea.

“No.” He quickly shakes his head. “That ship has sailed.” Even if he could pass the fitness requirements, he’s too old to go back to being a Captain. His peers are all too far ahead. “Just feeling that need for a new adventure.”

“I fully understand that.” The itch is something you have always shared, back when you used to dream about leaving the mountains and seeing everything the world had to offer. Will had succeeded in that front. At least far more effectively than you ever had. “Maybe…” When he hands you a fresh cup of punch you pause and thank him. “Maybe our paths will cross again? Who knows.”

“You can work anywhere.” He reminds you with a grin. “You should pick a place and go.”

“I would.” You shrug half-heartedly. “But I never got the taste for traveling alone.”

“Where would you want to go?” He asks curiously, wondering where you would go, what you would want to see. If those dreams had changed since you were a child.

“The ocean? The forests? Desert or huge cities?” Feeling ridiculous, you laugh at yourself and just shrug. “There’s so much of the world out there and I’ve barely ever left home.”

“Tropics.” Will decides. “Salt and sand. Beautiful breezes and sun kissing your skin.” His idea might be influenced by his own location in Florida.

“Sounds perfect.” And if the idea of being there with him is in your head, you’ll swear it’s only because you’re talking to him about it right here and now. “But again…I hate being alone. So it’s sort of a moot point.”

“I don’t understand how you aren’t married.” That has mystified him for years. Always expecting to hear the news that you were engaged every time he called his mom. It had surprised him when he had ended up engaged and you still had not found a steady boyfriend, although you had both ended up in the same single status after a few years.

“I guess…the right guy just never came along.” You’d sooner die than admit that every guy you’ve ever been with has been accidentally compared to the man standing in front of you. “It happens.”

“Prince Charming?” He hates that he could never be that guy for anyone, but it wasn’t him.

“Prince Charming is overrated.” Sipping your punch, something about the whole thing just makes your heart clench and it feels like the world is taunting you even more than it was when you saw him walk in the door. “All I ever wanted was a partner I could be proud of. That seems to be too tall of an order.”

“It shouldn’t be.” Will admits softly. “I know plenty of men who would jump at the chance to be with someone who just wanted to have a loyal, loving partner.”

“I guess I just haven’t met the same guys as you.” It hurts your heart, clutches it and squeezes tight, that you never could bring yourself to admit that you liked him. Not out loud. Not to anyone but your sister. Wondering what could have been has poisoned your chances at finding someone else to the degree that you were doing a phony love spell ritual in your backyard less than three hours ago. He is literally everything you ever wanted and he’s standing right in front of you — but you can’t say the words. “Just like…” you swallow hard, shoving down the ache in your chest. “I know plenty of girls who just want someone honest and caring.”

“I’m honest.” At least he is in his personal life. Work is a different story, but he has regrets about that. “I care.” He shrugs, his leather wearing biker look making him look a little more dangerous than normal, but never as dangerous as he actually is. “Point me to the girl.” It’s an invitation, wanting to see what you would say.

“Will…” It feels like he’s just shoving the red hot poker of years’ worth of yearning deeper into your chest and you shake your head. “I’m just saying. It shouldn’t be so hard for you to find someone to make you happy. You’re a sweet guy and you always have been.”

He stares at you for a long moment, something curling in his chest, and he realizes that you will never admit it. “Had someone in mind when I asked.” He admits.

“Then you should probably talk to her about it, not me.” Ugly disappointment rises in your throat like bile and you shift in place uncomfortably. Of course he has someone in mind. He’s incredible and he deserves that happiness.

He decides to be a little more blunt than normal since you are obviously not getting the hint. “I am.” He tells you, lifting a brow at you in amusement.

"You—" No. No. You heard him wrong. You had to have heard him wrong. There is no way in the world There is no way because if that's true then how much time did you throw away by keeping your mouth shut? "No. That's—" Your head spins and you put down your cup, deciding that there is absolutely no need for alcohol when your head is spinning like this already. "What?"

“Circles and light and all that’s might.” Will murmurs, starting to grin. “Give me what I wish for tonight.”

"Oh....oh no..." The clench of panic that grabs hold of your chest when he starts reciting the damn 'spell' that your sister had written down in her notebook -- the ridiculous words you had been in giggle fits over in your backyard a couple of hours ago -- makes you take a step back from him as embarrassment settles into every bone in your body. "Did you--" Oh you're going to absolutely massacre your sister. "That's the most awful prank anybody could ever play on a person. Is my sister put you up to this I'm going to kill her."

“What?” Will frowns at you, confused as to why you look completely mortified. He had thought it was cute. “No.” He shakes his head. “Put me up to what?” He murmurs your name and steps closer to you. “She didn’t put me up to anything.”

"So it's...a coincidence?" You swallow hard, trying to wrap your head around absolutely any of this situation. "That my sister talked me into doing a stupid love spell on the same weekend you come home?" If you could curl up into a ball and hide forever, you would do it instantly. It still hasn't hit you that he's said out loud -- in a reasonably straightforward way -- that he's interested in you. "And that you heard me?"

“Benny insisted I come home this weekend.” Will defends, even though he had started to realize what the trick was this year and if it backfired on Ben - he was going to murder him. “I— I was in the backyard. I heard you and your sister giggling like when we were kids, so I pulled the board in the fence.” There’s a section of fence that you can remove a board easily and see into the other yard. He had never admitted it, but it was how he had often watched you while you were reading until he realized how creepy it was.

"What board in the fence?" There is a privacy fence that runs between your houses but for some reason it never really divided your yards, and you can't say that you ever thought about it very much before. Or now, clearly, since you're astonished to find out that it ever had a loose board.

“The one near the tree.” He licks his lips and has the decency to blush slightly. “It’s come loose since eight grade.”

The way your heels dig into the floor beneath you, it's like you're trying to dig a hole to the center of the earth to fall into feet first. "How...um...how much did you hear? Or see?"

“I just want to see you.” He admits, setting the cup down to shove in his pockets. “I heard the giggles and the ‘spell’. It was cute, reminding me of when you went through that phase in high school.”

"We...got drunk on margaritas last night and she managed to make it sound like a silly, harmless thing..." Mortified doesn't even begin to describe the way you're feeling. Your whole face is on fire with it. "I'm so embarrassed I could evaporate...I don't even know what else to say."

“It’s cute.” He insists, smiling softly at you as he shuffles closer. “I didn’t do some kind of love spell, but I was glad I heard yours.”

"You--?" Swallowing the lump of fear in your throat, you manage to not back up a step when Will comes closer. "You...were glad?"

“I am.” He agrees, his smile widening slightly as he reaches out and takes ahold of your waist and steps closer to you. “Because now I know that the crush I’ve had on you for most of my life hasn’t been moot.”

"You...what?" You gasp out, eyes shooting up to meet his when you finally realize what he's said.

“Guilty.” He hums, his smile managing to curve wider and he nods. “You’ve been that girl that I always wanted and never thought I could have.”

Something inside you swells, actually absorbing the words with the soft way he's looking at you. "All you ever had to do was say the word."

“You too.” He points out, lifting his brows in amusement. “Years ago.”

"Well how was I supposed to know?" You defend, finding that that feeling in your chest is bubbling and transforming into laughter and disbelief.

“You ask.” Will chuckles, leaning in and brushing his nose against yours. “You don’t rely on Love potion number nine.”

"You could have asked too." The warmth of him washes over you like the most gorgeous invitation in the world, taking your breath away and inviting you closer all at once.

“I guess I could have.” He admits. “Now I know.”

"So..." One of his hands is on your hip and he's bent down to keep your faces close, so all you have to do to hear each other is murmur. "What are we going to do with this new information?"

“I think we are going to have to leave this party.” He pretends to care about that, but there’s much more interesting things to do.

“Just like that?” Wherever he wants to go, whatever he wants to do, it doesn’t matter. Even the chance to be close to him in any way is worth it.

“You want to stay?” He asks seriously. If you want to stay, he will. Just for you.

“I…want to dance with you,” you admit, even though it feels silly. “Just once. After that we can go anywhere you want.”

“We can dance.” He agrees, chuckling slightly and nodding. “Let’s wait for the next song to start.” This one is a little more peppy than he would want for a dance.

“So Benny dragged you out here, huh?” He has his arm around your waist now and something in the back of your head tells you to just keep talking so you don’t start to worry it’s a dream. “Did he, um…did he…ya know…know?”

“Honestly? I don’t know.” If he did, once things were official, he would probably crow and take all the credit for it. “Probably. I know he knew that I always had a thing for you.”

Sighing slightly, you shake off a laugh and bask again in the warmth of having him beside you. “I think our siblings may have meddled.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He rolls his eyes. “Can’t be mad at them, though.” He huffs. “Not when we would have been really bad about doing this ourselves.”

“Clearly.” You huff quietly. “We have been really bad about it.”

“Obviously.” Will snorts right as the song transitions into a slow song. “Ready to dance?”

“It feels like prom all over again.” When he holds his hand out to you, you settle your palm to his and try not to let out a shaky breath at how alarmingly right it feels.

“Do you know how badly I wanted to kiss you that night?” He asks as he guides you out to the floor and spins you around to fit into his arms like you’ve always belonged.

“How badly?” Giddy glee and joyful awe are starting to supplant the confusion and disbelief in your heart, and you melt into him when he takes your hand in his on the dance floor.

“Remember how you kept asking if your lipstick was messed up?” Will reminds you, the hormones and embarrassment of youth had seemed impossible to overcome, but now you are grown. If it doesn’t work out, hopefully you could remain friends, but he doesn’t foresee it being an issue. You know him inside and out. “I was trying to decide if you would slap me if I stole a kiss.”

“It…wouldn’t have been stealing.” Your cheeks burn all over again at the memory. At how pathetically transparent you had been — but apparently not transparent enough. “That was my very bad attempt at hinting that I wanted you to kiss me.”

“No, I got it.” He promises, his blue eyes flashing possessively. “But I’m man enough to admit I don’t want to kiss you with an audience.” He murmurs with a smirk. “Think we can wait that long?”

“It’s been like fifteen years,” you point out, smothering a laugh at how ridiculous that actually sounds out loud. And how badly you’ve wanted a moment just like this one for so much longer than that. “I think a few more minutes won’t kill us.”

“It might.” He teases. “You look even more beautiful than you did on prom night.”

“Are you…” A smirk broadens your smile exponentially. “Are you flirting with me, William Miller?”

“Flirted with you a lot over the years.” He snorts. “But yes I am.”

“I guess it’s just the first time I’ve noticed.” You laugh work. Self-consciously. “Or wasn’t convinced it was just wishful thinking.”

“So tell me the truth.” Will grins. “Did you really drink that concoction you and your sister brewed? It smelled worse than. Benny’s gym bag.”

“Of course I drank it.” One hand would clutch your plastic pearl necklace but you would have to stop holding his hand and that’s simply not going to happen tonight. Instead, you pout to pretend to be offended. “It’s called committing to the bit.”

“Dedication.” He laughs, shaking his head and pulling you closer. “Then I think you should be happy to know that it worked.”

“Oh yeah?” The grin on your face turns beaming all over again, but you can’t help teasing him. “That little love spell planted a whole lifetime of yearning in you?”

“Nah.” He admits that easier than he had expected. “Just made it easier to talk about all this.”

“It did.” As much as you hate to admit it, your younger siblings’ meddling may have paid off. And you are convinced they meddled together. “It did, and I’m not upset about that at all.”

“You shouldn’t be upset about anything, beautiful.” Will murmurs softly, rocking you to the beat and smiling into your eyes.

Shrugging slightly, you're actually able to sink into his gaze for the very first time and end up feeling that ache in your chest twist in an entirely new way. "I'm a little upset we wasted so much time," you admit. "But better late than never."

“Yes it is.” Will pulls you off the dance floor as the song ends and starts to head towards the doors.

If you could think about anything beside the feeling of his arm around you, you might have remembered to fire off a text to your sister that you are taking off from the party early. But then, if you could think about anything else you might have noticed your sister standing on the other side of the room with Benny, giggling like conspiratorial idiots.

But it doesn't matter at all. It doesn't matter, because when you and Will make it out into the chilly night air, his arm tightens around you and you slip yours around his waist. Twined together like you were always meant to be.

He had driven. So he has the keys to the SUV. Guiding you over to it, he frames your body between the door and himself, pressing closer.

Your pulse ticks up immediately, heart rate skyrocketing, but you don't hesitate. Not when the thing – the person – you've wanted since you were old enough to want anyone at all. You reach up, hands set on Will's shoulders, and use that leverage to pull yourself up just a tiny bit more. This time it's your nose that nudges against his, but you don't pull away.

“So pretty.” Will murmurs, leaning against you more, feeling your body against the length of his as he tilts his head and fuses his lips to yours. Years of wanting pouring into the kiss.

Your hold tightens on him, hands sliding around his neck and into his long hair as his own wrap around your waist to drag you flush against him. There is no hesitation for either of you, diving deep into the kiss and sharing a mutual, needy moan at the fast-beating desire in that first kiss. You've both kept it locked up for far too long to pretend anymore. Now that the flood gates are open it seems to be all or nothing.

For Will, sinking into your embrace feels like coming home. The instant acceptance and love that swells make him desperate for more as he starts to lick into your mouth deeper.

For the hungry way you start to devour each other, you may as well be the teenagers you were when this mutual infatuation first started. If anyone were out in the parking lot to witness it, you're sure you would have gotten cat called or interrupted with a loud clearing of someone's throat to be shooed away to a more private location. As it is? The relative privacy of the parking lot means that you forget yourself and are tugging on the strands of Will's hair as his hands start to map the curves and contours of your body.

Will groans into your mouth, his arms banded around you and holding you close before trailing over your dress. He’s not shy about touching you, cupping your ass and his hardening cock twitches against your stomach. The whimper that he pulls out of you is unapologetic, knees shaking even as you tug on his hair sharply to pull a groan out of him as well. This is much more than a kiss would have been fifteen years ago. Still just as needy, but deeper, more sure. Will knows what he is capable of.

It takes a long time before either of you are willing to part, and when that time comes you're panting desperately while you try to maintain any sort of composure. "I, um—" But your thought breaks off when you realize you just can't string more than two words together yet. All you can think is more.

He grins, feeling as disoriented as you look, but he's been trained to handle overwhelming situations. "We should leave." He murmurs before leaning in and stealing another kiss. "Before we get arrested for public indecency."

"At the risk of sounding very teenage." You can't help but giggle at that, feeling like you're bubbling over in every way. "My parents are home. So maybe your place?"

He chuckles and lifts a brow, considering all of his options. "We could do that. Or we could go get a hotel room."

"Beaver Meadows?" Raising your own eyebrow to meet his, you offer the first hotel you can think of. The resort ranch for mountain tourists is on the other side of town but it's better than driving an hour out to Fort Collins.

He tilts his head slightly, shrugging one shoulder. "That's up to you. Don't know how you feel about being in my old bedroom and possibly hearing Benny catcall outside the door." His younger, dumber brother absolutely would.

"I care less about Benny and more about having to look your mother in the eyes tomorrow morning," you admit, laughing at even the idea of it. "I don't think she needs to hear me riding you."

Will's eyes flutter slightly and he growls softly. "Hotel it is." He decides, nodding to himself. "Do you want to swing by the house and get something? Or we can both do the walk of shame tomorrow."

"Nuh-uh." You shake your head animatedly, reaching up to place a much softer kiss on his lips. "I'm not ashamed of you. I don't care how many people see us in the same clothes or figure out what it means."

He hums and his hand slides up your back as he steps back, pulling you with him to open the passenger door. "Then let's go."

"We do have to make one stop." When you climb into the SUV together, you buckle your seatbelt and sigh happily as his fingers tangle with yours. He raises his eyebrow again but you shrug. "Condoms. I haven't been on a date in years so I stopped worrying about birth control."

"Fuck." Will hisses under his breath, cock twitching at that new piece of information. He can't say that he's not disappointed to not be able to feel you bare, but your comfort is more important than his ideal night. "Condoms, roger."

"I know." You squeeze his hand, sharing the feeling that you would rather be as close as possible. "But I doubt we want to risk it without."

He huffs out a small laugh, tapping the steering wheel after the engine is brought to life and he puts it in drive. "Don't bet on it." He jokes.

Turning your head immediately, you stare at him for a second before letting out a shaky laugh. "Not the first time," you bargain, feeling warm and flush and...deeply giddy at the way things are unfolding around you.

He flashes you a grin, feeling just as light hearted. "Yes ma'am." He promises, squeezing your hand and then looking back at the road as he pulls out.

******

It's a quick drive, mostly because Red Feather Lakes is such a small town. There's a Halloween party going on at the resort that you and Will look like you're immensely prepared for, but you just check into the last available room and happily accept the pair of leys handed to you by the young desk agent.

Will might have paid for the room, but he lets you lead the way to the room. Wanting to watch your ass as you walk, and to allow you time to change your mind if you wanted. Just because you both have wanted to be with each other since you were teenagers doesn't necessarily mean you are ready to jump into bed with him and he would respect that.

"Here we go." The room at the end of the fourth-floor hallway clicks open with a tap of your keycard, and you nudge open the door to reveal the ranch-themed room waiting for you. The rug looks like cowhide and the bedhead has horns, but you're barely looking at it. Instead you turn around, much more inclined to take in the sight of Will Miller as you reach for his hand to drag him inside with you.

You are enthusiastic, making him chuckle as he closes the door behind him. “Nice room.” He hums, not looking around, but staring at you. “But this view is better.”

Completely addicted now that you’ve had a taste of him, you toss your purse onto the nearest table without a second thought and go straight into his arms. “I’m certain mine is even better.”

He doubts that, but the eagerness in your eyes makes him groan as he pulls you against him again. “You are so damn beautiful.”

“Please tell me you put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door?” Once you have him to yourself you’re not going to want to stop, so you’re damn well going to ask the question now.

He smirks and winks at you. “Of course I did.”

Your face splits into a grin. “You’re perfect.”

Will reaches up and caresses your cheek. “Shit.” His eyes widen. “We didn’t get the condoms.”

“Shit.” That grin slackens, and you realize along with a drop in your gut that you’d gotten so distracted by having Will’s hand inch up your thigh and under the skirt of your dress while he drove that you’d totally forgotten to stop.

“It’s okay.” He takes a deep breath, cursing himself for being too distracted by you. “You stay here. Get comfortable.” He points at himself. “I will be back in five minutes.”

"Thank you." Safety means the world to both of you, and you're not about to turn what could possibly be the best night of your life into the reason he resents you five years down the line when it results in a little kid and a marriage he would have felt forced to commit to. No way. If you and Will are going to be together you're going to make that decision together, not because of an accident.

“Five minutes.” He promises before he is out the door. He will make it in three and a half flat, but he adds extra time as a precaution.

As soon as the door closes behind him, you look around the room in a more flustered state of nervous excitement than you've ever been in your entire life. It takes about thirty seconds before you can think coherently enough to pick up the hotel phone and order a room service tray to be sent up -- ordering food that can safely sit until you're hungry and a bottle of wine to share because it feels more romantic that way. After that, you grab your phone from your purse and finally send that text to your sister.

Sissy: Don't wait up for me tonight. I left the party early.

Incoming text: You left with Will!!! Omgggggg it worked! You owe me that speech at your weddddddding!

Sissy: You and Benny are still on my shitlist. But yes. I left with Will. Happy Halloween, kid.

Instead of waiting for a reply, you put your phone on silent and tuck it back in your purse, sitting down amongst the pillows on the bed just seconds before the door opens again.

He’s out of breath and probably looked like a fucking idiot, but he doesn’t care. He’s got an entire box of condoms and he’s back before the time frame. “Got ‘em.”

"Four minutes." You grin, pointing at the clock on the wall. "I was just about to get undressed for you to have a fun surprise when you got back, but you're too efficient."

“Oh, don’t let me stop you.” Will throws the lock on the door and shoots you a dirty grin. “I like shows.”

"I did not think anyone was going to see what I have on under this dress," you warn him, but you shrug your shoulders and reach for the zipper of your costume. If he has a problem with the dumb saying on your little bootie shorts, you don't really care. They're cute and fun and that's what counts.

"I don't care what you have on under the dress." Will promises you. "It'll be on the floor soon enough." He strips off the biker vest and starts to kick off the boots he had worn with the outfit. They are his regular boots but they are laced up loose, so they slide off easily.

It's too unbelievable that you're actually undressing with Will with the purpose of climbing into bed together, that it almost seems like the tiny black booty short with the bright yellow Slippery When Wet logo on the ass that are revealed when your dress hits the floor, are simply there for comic relief. Like you need to break the tension of the situation and remember that you're just people.

You turn around to show him the lettering on your ass and he starts to chuckle. "Oh baby girl, I truly hope so." He pulls his shirt over his head, the last scar he collected on that botched job with the guys is healed, but it's still pink skinned so it looks alarming against the rest of his body. "I want to feel how wet you get."

"For you?" You grin, turning around to face him again. "It'll be record breaking, I promise." With just your bra and tiny shorts on, you start to climb onto the bed but pause when you catch sight of a new wound amongst all the well-healed scars. It doesn't matter what it is, or how he got it. You bend down, placing a soft kiss on the pink skin that stands out against his tan, and then settle your knees on either side of his hips. There are more clothes to shed, but the battle wounds that mark his skin are a stark reminder of how close you came to never having this moment together at all.

Will grabs your hands, holding them for a moment while he stares at you. The softness of your touch was soothing, and he lifts your hands to his lips. "You've always been there for me." He murmurs. "Now I want to see what we can be together."

"Truth is?" You squeeze his hands gently before letting go and letting your hands drop to his belt, toying with the buckle before he nods his consent and you start to work the strap loose. "I've always been yours. So whatever we're going to be? I'm all in."

"Me too." He can quickly agree with that. "I'll just – I should have asked you out when I came home from boot camp."

“It’s alright. We got here eventually.” His belt pulls loose from his jeans and you fuse your mouth to his, letting the kiss burn you and swallow you and take you wherever you’re going to go tonight. Room service will be left outside your door and you’ll refuel for round two when you’re ready.

Will touches you, mapping your body with his hands and memorizing every curve and dip with pleasure. Finally touching you like he has imagined over the years.

It’s far more certain than it would have been then. Wandering hands have purpose and searching kisses pressed against bared skin find their mark every time. Those damn condoms are probably the only thing that keep the first time from lasting more than five minutes — both of you are so touch starved that finally getting the touch you’ve been wanting feels exponentially more wonderful.

Will pants, collapsing against you before rolling onto his side and bringing you with him. One leg dragged over his hips to keep you close and your chest pressed against his as he catches his breath. “Fuck.” He chuckles, unable to stop touching you even though he’s exhausted from how overwhelming his orgasm was. “I think I died and this is heaven.”

“Noooo,” you giggle against his chest, damp with sweat, and leave a kiss over his heart. “If you died we can’t do that anymore and that can’t be the only time we do that.”

His eyes are closed and he smiles. "You mean we aren't both dead?" He jokes.

“No, babe.” You laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “You’re thinking of le petit morte.”

“Same thing right?” He grins, rubbing his hand up and down your slightly sweaty back. “We should have done this prom night.”

“Can you imagine?” The thought settles over you like a dreamy blanket. “We would have been inseparable.”

“We’d have four kids by now.” Will predicts. “I’d probably be a Major.”

“You think?” It sounds positively dreamy, you have to admit. Except for one detail. “I don’t think you would have stayed in. You’d have retired like you did anyway. But I like the sound of a big family.”

“Probably not.” He will disagree with you on that. “The stability for that many kids.” He points out. “I wouldn’t have chased contracts.”

“Well…” Knowing that he’s safer now and that he’s searching for a new adventure anyway, you offer him a smile. “Who knows what would have happened if we’d done this back then. But we get to decide what happens next.”

“Yeah.” He closes his eyes and pulls you closer. “We will have to talk about that.”

“Hold that thought.” Pressing another kiss to his skin, you crawl out from under his arm and wrap yourself up in a robe to slip out to the hall and grab the room service tray. You bring it back inside along with the bottle of wine and shoot him a grin. “I planned ahead,” you tell him, setting down the charcuterie tray on the room’s coffee table.

"You are perfect." Will groans, tucking his arm under his head and watching you with zero shame. He still can't believe you are here, even after taking off the condom to dispose of in the little trash can by the bed. "Are you hungry now, or do you want to wait?"

“Maybe we can eat and drink and talk?” It seems like a very civilized way to do it, even if you’re going to be doing some very uncivilized leering at the same time. Will looks even better with his clothes off than you ever dreamed.

"Bring it over here." He smirks as he pats the bed beside him. The bare spot noticeable now that you slipped out of it. "We can eat in bed just this one time, I think."

“Special permission for a special occasion.” You agree with a nod. The tray is beautifully set up but the cheese is set aside in a container on ice as you requested and the kitchen has sent up some chocolate dipped strawberries as well. “I guess they got our vibe when we checked in.” It wouldn’t have been too hard to do, of course, but it makes you smile as you slip back under the covers beside him.

"Wonder if they think it's an affair or elopement." Will takes the bottle from you, sitting up and quickly peeling off the foil to uncap the cork.

“Maybe.” The two wine glasses that came with everything are basic and a little on the small side, which is probably good for balancing everything in bed or on nightstands. “How very mysterious of us.”

"Very mysterious." Will agrees as he pours out the wine and sets the bottle onto the nightstand so it doesn't get knocked over. "I think their theories will only get more absurd the more noise we make." He teases, tapping his glass to yours.

“In that case I’ll be louder,” you tease, leaning over to steal a kiss before your first sip of wine.

He snorts and takes a sip of his wine. "I wonder if those shit heads set us up for this entire thing." He ponders. "The spell, being here and Benny reminding me that you had moved home. Knowing I would go into the backyard."

“Oh, I guarantee it.” Although you studiously avoid mentioning that your sister is already predicting a wedding. That is far too much pressure. “They’re going to gloat forever.”

"Jesus." He rolls his eyes and sighs. "Yeah they are. Unless we can get them together."

“Do we really want to do that, though?” It sounds amusing, but the logistics would be a nightmare. “They’d gloat and try to be cuter than us.”

"It would be mildly amusing." He chuckles. "But you're right. The headache wouldn't be worth it."

“But…” Glancing up at him, you take another sip of wine and reach for the tray to keep your hands busy. “We should probably talk. About…whatever this is.”

“We should.” Will agrees. His face pulls into something serious, wanting to take this conversation cautiously, not make demands or put too much pressure on you. “Do you want to go first?”

“I’m not sure I know where to start,” you admit, although it’s mostly out of fear that you’ll ask too much and scare him off.

“Do you see yourself staying here?” He asks. “Would you want me to move? Try long distance?”

“I never intended to stay here. It was supposed to be temporary and I’ve been here for years.” The offer to have him move is unexpected, but more than anything you know that the third alternative won’t be satisfying or comfortable for you. “I don’t think long distance would be ideal, but I know that moving in together right away is way too much to ask for.” The two of you slowly start to snack on your tray and you consider him beside you. So incredibly handsome, loyal, and always a pillar of strength. “But…if you wanted me to come out to Florida, I would.”

“Ben and I bought a house.” He explains. “It was cheaper than renting and it’s one that needed some work.” He shrugs slightly. “If you wanted to come to Florida, you have a place to stay until you decide if you could stand me long term or not.” He huffs out a laugh to keep it lighthearted.

“I’m not worried about that.” Slipping your free hand into his, you lace your fingers together and give it a gentle, encouraging squeeze. “It’s…sort of a relationship test drive. Dive into the deep end and see how we do. When we’re ready to say it’s working, I can officially make the move.” In your heart you know it will. It’s all you’ve wanted for so long that you’re willing to fight tooth and nail to have it. To have him.

“That would be good.” He agrees with you about being cautious, even though he believes it will work out. “Especially since you are mobile.”

“My office is wherever I am.” You nod and press a kiss to his hand before letting go again. “And where I want to be is with you.”

“So why don’t you come visit me this next week?” He offers. “You can see where we live. See if you like it.”

“I feel like I should pinch myself.” When you smile at him, it is bright and warm, tinged with disbelief. “Teenage me is getting everything she ever wanted.”

“That’s a good thing, baby.” He reminds you. “You should have everything you want.”

"So should you." As far as you're concerned? Having him completes that list of wants in a way you never expected. You had given up on the dream of Will Miller years ago, only to find your world turned upside down and the man of your teenage dreams in bed beside you.

“Right now, I can’t think of anything else I want than what I have right here.” He murmurs softly.

"Oh yeah?" You face splits into a grin all over again. "Well, I'm very glad we agree."

“So now that we have a plan, what else?” He picks up a cube of cheese and pops it into his mouth. “Do you want to go on birth control? Do you want to use condoms? Do you want to start working on kids?”

"Those are three very different options." The casual way he tosses out kids as an option makes your ears burn like they're on fire and your heart skip two beats. "Offering me space in your house and talking about kids while we eat snacks in bed after the first time we have sex?" You giggle softly, brimming with disbelief at how right it all feels. Still, you have to tease him. "Might as well whip out a ring or plan an elopement, Miller."

“Jewelry stores are closed.” Will hums and smirks at you as he takes off the skull ring he still has on his finger. “But this could work.”

That light, ribbing tone evaporates from your voice and your eyes widen, flicking between his face and the ring. "Are you...do you really mean it?" Instead of being high and laughing, your voice cracks in shock, but only because you've hit another level of shock and awe in what was already a perfect night.

He has only been partly joking, but the second your eyes go wide, he realizes that he’s serious. He’s known you all his life, he’s loved you for most of it. If Tom’s death taught him anything, it’s that he never knows when his ticket might be punched. Why shouldn’t he be serious? “We could get you a real ring later on.” He rationalizes. “But a skull ring is appropriate for Halloween.”

"How about this?" The way you just want to leap forward and say yes and dive in headfirst is the sex and the wine and the fantasies talking. Will deserves all of that, but also the measure of love that is support and care. He deserves someone who is going to take care of him. And if you're going to be that person, you want to do it right. "I'm going to wear this skull until we decide that we're ready for me to move to Florida once and for all. When that happens, we can go ring shopping and start talking about kids. How does that sound?" You really don't think it will take long. Not with the way tonight has gone. "If that's in two weeks or two months or two years, it doesn't matter. We decide together."

“That sounds perfect.” He flashes you a perfect set of white teeth with a gigantic smile. “Happy Halloween, baby.” He murmurs before he presses his lips to yours, thinking that Benny’s Halloween prank might have actually been a good one this year.

------

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[curses-of-the-void]

Stars Shining - Derek Hale

Fandom(s): Teen Wolf

Wordcount: 1188

Warning(s): Discussions of death, lots of talking, kisses

Summary: Stars shining bright above you. Sweet dreams seem to whisper, I love you.

Soft jazz plays from her stereo in the corner of the room as she lounges in her bed, book held aloft as she clenches her pencil between her teeth, trying to find the part that she wanted to underline again, when a tapping sound at her window startles her. Rolling over onto her stomach, she narrows her eyes at the window pane as a tapping starts on the window once more. Sliding off the edge of her bed, she grabs the bat at her feet, inching towards the window, and she flinches as the tap of a stone on window makes her startle, before she frowns.

Unlocking the window, she slides it up with the bat still in her hand, dodging another rock as she pokes her head out the window, pausing at sight of Derek Hale standing at the base of the tree outside the Stilinksi house. Frowning, she sets her bat to the side, stepping back as soon as Derek scales the outside of the house, before he leans against the wall beside the window, crossing his arms over his chest as she drops onto her bed.

"What were you hoping to do with that?" Derek asks, jerking his head to the bat on the floor.

"You have claws, I have a bat."

"What is with you Stilinksis and your answers? It's almost like you and Stiles are the same person." Derek says, and she laughs, running her fingers through her hair as she shrugs.

"He's my little brother." She explains, picking up her book from where she had set it, pencil plucked from the spine, where she placed it to mark her place. "What's up? You've never come here like this, before."

"I just needed an escape." He shrugs. "Being alone with Peter can be draining."

"So, you thought I was a better choice?" She laughs, laying back on her bed as she folds her book shut, tossing it onto her bedside table.

"You're calm... mellow." Derek answers.

"You mean boring?" She sits up, carding her fingers through her hair to push it back from her face. "You can say it. I'm boring."

"Since we're saying it, yeah. You are boring. But, maybe boring is what I need right now." She laughs again, leaning back in the sheets as she crosses her legs, staring up at the star-studded ceiling.

"When I was younger, I was never boring." She admits, fingers gripping the sheets to pull at the loose strings, a habit she's always had- it drove her dad nuts when she started doing it, because she would pluck a hole in them, causing it to unravel further, so he'd constantly have to replace them- He never said anything though, because it only started after Claudia died. "I wanted to travel, and do stuff, and now I'm stuck in my hometown, in my childhood bedroom, no less, because I can't leave my brother to run around like an idiot, because his idiot best friend became a werewolf!" She laughs at herself, pressing a hand to her forehead, surprised when Derek sits on the edge of the bed.

"What did you want to do? Where did you want to travel?" He asks, her lips spreading into a smile as she looks up at the blue of her ceiling.

"I wanted to go to the mountains. To Colorado. I wanted to live in a cabin, and walk amongst the stars and trees."

"You can do that, here."

"At the added risk of being bitten, ate, or scratched."

"You could get that anywhere. Especially with bears." He chuckles, and she slaps him lightly on the arm.

"Look," She points at the painted blue ceiling, the stars that stick to the ceiling are meant to glow, but the lamplight is glowing now, so they won't light up. He shuffles down to lay on the bed beside her, and she smiles over at him "There's ursa minor, or The Little Bear, or the little dipper. You see at the tip of the tail there, it's Polaris, and then bup bup bup bup bup!" She points to the cluster of stars, five away from Polaris. "That is Cepheus. That star over there is Navi, and then Shedar, along with those two, it makes up the constellation Cassopeia."

"You really like the stars enough to name em?"

"I used to go outside at night, with my mom, and we'd lay under the stars, and she'd tell me stories about them. Those over there, is The Pleiades, or the Seven Sisters." She bites her bottom lip in thought. "The Pleiades were the seven daughters of Atlas, a Titan that has forever been cursed to hold up the sky. Zeus turned the sisters into stars to protect them from Orion, the hunter, but one of the sisters fell in love with a mortal, and went into hiding. That's why there are only six visible in the night sky, now."

"So, you know the stories too?" Derek asks, and she sits up, smirking at him.

"There are thousands of legends. But, I prefer the Greek ones. I have a passion for mythology." She shrugs as he looks up at the ceiling again.

"So, you studied the night sky enough, to memorize the layout of the constellations, and replicate it on your ceiling. Although, condensed." Derek frowns for a second. "But, this isn't the sky that's outside your house, is it?" She frowns then, looking away as she rubs her hands on her pant legs, and he sits up. "What?"

"No, it's uh..." She looks back at him with a sad smile. "It's the sky outside the hospital." Understanding flashes in his eyes, and he nods, reaching out to wrap his arm around her shoulders, surprising her when he drags her in for a hug.

"I'm sorry." She lets out a wet laugh, sounding shocked and hollow. "I am."

"I know." She pulls back, reaching up to cup his cheek. "I just find it ironic that you're comforting me. Yeah, I lost my mom, but you lost... everyone." She strokes his cheek as he looks down at her, his eyes flicking between her own. She sucks in a sharp gasp when he leans in, kissing her, and she hums, eyes fluttering shut as she leans into it, kissing him back. "W-Why did you do that?" She murmurs, once they part, and Derek looks down at her, a troubled furrow to his brow as he sweeps his thumb across her chin.

"Because... you're beautiful, and kind, and gentle, and you light up when you talk about things you love, and... I couldn't resist." He leans in to kiss her again, and she sighs as she leans into him, hands clutching his shirt as he tangles his own into her hair.

"You're lucky, Derek Hale."

"Lucky?" He breathes, nose brushing against her own, and she peers uo at him with wide eyes.

"I don't normally kiss on the first date."

[almostgenerallyalways]

to absent friends and those at sea

Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x fem reader Category: angst / fluff Word count: 6,2K CW: language, don't know how the navy works, maybe workplace bullying, this is a 'there's only one bed' fic that got out of control

Summary: Through seven years and almost as many deployments he’s carried this torch, the flame low but always burning somewhere in a condemned antechamber of his heart, one he tried hard to forget the route to.

2023

“Your flight is about to get canceled.”

You start, thrown by the appearance of Hangman at your side, interrupting your intense scrutiny of the departures board where another forty minutes have just been added to the already considerable delay of your outbound flight to Seattle.

“What are you still doing here?” You eye him suspiciously, adjusting your duffel bag over your shoulder.

“Nice to see you too, Mir.” He smiles, completely unperturbed as always. “I stayed back to hang out with Coyote. Haven’t seen him much since he was transferred. He left this morning.” He pauses for a moment, indifferently examining his fingernails. “You?”

You sigh. “I thought I’d take advantage of being in the Rockies to hike.”

The man next to you smirks. “In other words, you got drenched.”

“More or less.”

Two days ago, Saturday, had been a beautiful, sunny day for a wedding: Every circumstance had been perfect to reunite most of your Top Gun class, gathered with assorted family, friends and colleagues of the happy couple, to watch Halo say yes to her wife.

You’d enjoyed yourself immensely; the majestic scenery of Halo’s remote hometown in the Colorado mountains, the beautiful venue and decorations, and best of all: being with one of your best friends on the happiest day of her life.

Then the next day, as you’d rolled out of bed bright and early, only slightly hungover, you’d opened the curtains of your hotel room to unannounced streaks of rain.

Not put off by a little change in weather, you’d checked if there were any safety warnings for the trail you’d chosen, and set out in spite of the adverse conditions. The experience had been less enjoyable than anticipated: the beautiful views over the Rockies obscured by a thick layer of fog, you’d returned to your room early last night, chilled to the bone, every stitch of clothing you’d been wearing soaked through.

Another announcement pings over the speakers, interrupting your reflections. The status next to your flight number and destination now blinks in bold, red typeface: CANCELED.

“Told you.” Your unwanted companion grins helpfully.

Around you, people are starting to move, expressing their panicked complaints. You groan as you realise you are going to be stuck here overnight: it is almost 8 PM, and with the rain and mist not letting up, there’s no way another flight is leaving this small airport tonight.

“Listen, Mir,” Hangman says, expression more sober now, “My flight to San Diego was canceled, and I just stood in line for two hours to get a room for tonight. You’ll be here for hours if you have to get one.”

He considers you, any trace of mockery gone from his face for once. “You wanna crash with me?”

Pressure starts to build behind your temples, as you quickly consider your options. On the one hand, you are tired and cranky and in desperate need of sleep: having been one of the last guests shutting down the wedding in the late hours of Saturday night, and having spent most of your Sunday hiking up a non-rewarding mountain in the pouring rain, you’d love to avoid spending hours in the line that you see the crowd of weary and pissed-off people scramble to form, leading up to the United desk.

On the other hand: Hangman.

He smiles tentatively, as if he can read your thoughts on your face. He probably can. “It’s a double.”

You close your eyes, feeling like you might live to regret this decision: “Okay. Fine. Thanks.” --------------------------------------------------------------------------

2016

Top Gun is a dream and an outright nightmare.

Brought in two weeks after the start of the program to replace someone who was summarily discharged, you’re determined to prove your worth.

When you are first introduced to the men and women (woman, singular, you correct yourself) who are to be your classmates and competition, it’s clear the group dynamics have already been cemented. Some eye you suspiciously, leaning back in their chairs, trying to get a read on the late addition. Some don’t even bother to look.

A blonde pilot in the second row scoffs when the instructor reads a short overview of your scant accomplishments, and another man sitting next to him laughs in response, poorly covering it up with a cough.

It takes everything you have to tough it out. They’re throwing you in the deep end, barely allowing any time or grace to make up for the hours and hours of valuable technical and practical training you’ve missed.

On day eight, though, you execute your first successful stealth manoeuvre, getting the upper hand over one of the instructors. As the details in the move are analysed in front of the class, for the first time, you feel a begrudging respect from some of them.

Not everyone, though. Two seats to your left, Seresin makes a show of studying his cuticles.

* * *

Halo is your lifeline. As the only two women in the class, you gravitate towards each other, finding some respite from the hyper-masculine bullshit of the rest of the group.

Or maybe she’s an angel, as her recently coined callsign suggests.

You’re lounging on the rec room couch with Halo’s feet in your lap, debriefing the day’s hop, when Seresin and two of his usual hangers-on walk in. (Their names are Miller and Wozniak. Halo and you have taken to referring to them as Crabbe and Goyle.)

“Ladies.” He grins, flashing you a smile with no warmth behind it.

A feeling of dread gathers in your stomach.

He casually picks an apple out of the fruit bowl and pretends to inspect it as he comments: “Poor showing out there today. You’re gonna have to do better than that if you wanna play in the big leagues with the boys.”

Halo, laid back on the couch, rolls her eyes. “Fuck off, Jake.”

He grins at her and takes a bite, crunching loudly. “You know, Halo, it’s not so much you I’m worried about. But this one-” He gestures at you with the piece of fruit. He has never referred to you by your name. “Is on thin ice, I hear. Heard they’re regretting calling her up.”

At this, Halo sits up, looking like she wants to give him a piece of her mind, but you stop her with a touch to her arm. “Forget it, Callie.”

* * *

You’re breathing heavy, blood rushing in your ears as your body is pushed to its physical limits, your F-18 protesting as you accelerate into a sharp turn curving around a particularly treacherous stretch of the San Jacinto mountains.

Your gamble has paid off, though, as you come out right on top of your prey. You can taste bile in the back of your throat as you lock tone on Fanboy’s jet.

It tastes like victory.

Back on the tarmac, peeling off the top half of your sweat-drenched flight suit, Halo throws her arms around your neck as Fanboy shakes your hand, a bemused smile on his face. “Nice work out there. Never even saw you coming.”

Later, at the Hard Deck, one pilot after another buys you drinks as you finally earn your callsign: Mirage.

* * *

It gets easier from there on out, and it doesn’t.

On the one hand, you don’t feel like you constantly have to defend your place anymore. After you score big in the mountains, Hangman finally has the decency to shut his mouth around you. You’ve found a natural understanding with most of the other pilots – the competition is fierce, but nights at the bar bring everyone back on equal footing.

Yet as the program ramps up to its conclusion, so does the pressure. Some mornings you can’t choke down breakfast, your stomach seized up into a knot of nerves and anticipation.

In week ten, you’re having so much trouble with a simulation that you, your wingman and his backseater get shot down six times in a row. Your arms burn with the hundreds of push-ups you’re grinding into the blistering tarmac, your CO never running out of the torrent of abuse he’s heaping onto your back.

You can’t sleep that night, keep seeing the disappointed look on your wingman’s face as you’d fucked up again and again. Around three in the morning, you give up on sleep and head to the on-base gym.

You crank a treadmill up to high and you run, run, run until your lungs are burning and your mouth tastes like metal. Rivulets of sweat drip down your back, down your face, mingling with tears you didn’t realise you’d been holding back, until finally your legs are screaming at you to stop, and you sit down at the end of another treadmill, your shoulders shaking, cradling your face in your knees.

You don’t know how long you sit there, but you know it’s not fully morning yet when a pair of white sneakers appears in your line of vision.

“Mir?”

Of course it had to be him, of all people, seeing you at your worst and most vulnerable.

“Go away.” You manage to grunt.

He doesn’t. Instead, he sits down next to you, hovering at a distance – still too close.

“Are you alright?” He asks, and if you weren’t burning with embarrassment and rage, his hesitant tone might give you pause.

You lift your face from your knees, steeling yourself. You must look ridiculous, you think, a sweaty heap of a girl having a mental breakdown at the bottom of some exercise equipment. You refuse to look at him. “I’m fine.”

He reaches out tentatively, trying to brush away a strand of hair that’s plastered to the side of your face, and you all but jump back: “Goddamn it, Seresin, don’t touch me.”

Finding the strength to push yourself up, you turn to him: “Don’t touch me, don’t talk to me, don’t come anywhere near me.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

2016

When Koehler is discharged, Jake Seresin feels like the rug’s been pulled out from under him.

They came up together through the Academy, and while Jake isn’t sure he would’ve called him a friend in any other circumstances, at least… At least he was an ally. Familiar. Someone who saw through his cocky bullshit and gave as good as he got.

The chances of both of them getting into Top Gun were astronomically small – and then Koehler immediately went and fucked it up. Jake cannot comprehend it.

He feels off-kilter, his only confidant having made a spectacularly embarrassing exit from the program. He can feel the rest of the class watching him, like sharks who’ve smelled blood in the water, waiting for him to make a deadly mistake too.

But Jake didn’t come here to screw up. He came here to win. So he does the only thing he knows how to do – he ramps it up, builds his walls higher, needles people harder – gets under their skin before they can get under his.

He knows it’s not making him many friends – but it works. People don’t question him. He takes no prisoners, flies like he’s the only one out there, puts himself first always – and is ranked near the top of the class for doing so.

When you’re introduced as Koehler’s replacement, he can’t believe it. It feels like adding salt to the wound, bringing in someone who didn’t even make the cut-off on their own merit. So if you get it a little worse than the others – well.

He sees you struggling, those first weeks, and it only confirms his thinking.

One scorching afternoon, after a long series of dogfights ends in embarrassment for half the class, he’s in the rec room pressing a cold compress to his face, discussing the day’s events with Wozniak: “I mean, did you see her out there? That’s what happens when you pull the B-team off the bench. She’s got no business being here. She’s dragging everyone down.”

Wozniak doesn’t immediately respond, and Jake looks up to find you standing in the doorway, looking caught off guard. You recover after a second, straightening your back, and grab a water from the cooler, studiously not looking at him.

You never look at him, after that.

But he looks at you.

* * *

You have bags under your eyes. The line of your jaw has gotten a little sharper. You get a little quieter, even more so than before.

He notices these things just like he notices the redoubled resolve stiffening your spine.

You start creeping up in the rankings, slowly, point by point, and while he doesn’t like that, he respects it.

After the mountains, where you pull a trick out of the bag that takes him completely by surprise, he lines up to congratulate you. Fanboy takes it on the chin, he’s a good guy, and Jake claps him on the back before turning to you, Halo still at your side. But you won’t look at him, and ignore his outstretched hand.

He supposes he deserves that.

* * *

A few weeks later, he wakes up earlier than usual after a night of fitful sleep, his body still processing the adrenaline from an open-sea simulation the day before. Jake came out on top, though he ditched his wingman to do so. Several others didn’t manage to complete the exercise, a crucial barrier for the last stretch of the thirteen-week program.

After tossing and turning for twenty minutes, the light outside his cracked window starting to shift incrementally from pitch black to indigo blue, he decides to head to the gym.

When he steps into the cavernous, air-conditioned room, he immediately senses someone else’s presence, though he can’t see anyone using any of the rows and rows of equipment. It’s not until he rounds into a stretch of treadmills that he spots you, hunched over into your bare knees.

“Mir?” He approaches hesitantly, noting the flushed skin of your back, your hair matted with sweat.

“Go away.” He gets in response, but he can’t, not when you’re sitting there trembling.

“Are you alright?” He asks, even though he can clearly see that you’re not.

You lift your face, surreptitiously swiping at your eyes with your palm. “I’m fine.”

Still not looking at him. Never looking at him.

He reaches out a hand, tentatively; he wants to make this better –

He has to make this better, make you feel–

- but you recoil from him, and he sits there for a long time after you’ve banged the door shut behind you like you couldn’t get away from him fast enough.

Sits there for a good long while, with the ghost of your presence.

* * *

Jake wins the trophy.

It’s a raucous night at the Hard Deck and he feels like a weight’s been lifted off his shoulders. Sure, he doesn’t know where they’re shipping him off next week – but for now, he has won and no one can take that away from him, not the pilots giving him sideways glances at the bar, not his father, no one.

Fanboy bumps his shoulder and hands him what must be his fifth or sixth beer of the night. Over on the jukebox, Son of a Preacher Man starts playing and he glances over to see you throw your arms around Halo’s shoulders, laughing, dancing her around the crowded room a little unsteadily. You look lighter, happier than he’s ever seen you.

He watches for long moment, transfixed, until he realises Mickey is talking to him.

Mickey turns around, trying to follow Jake’s line of sight, and finds you. “Oh, dude.” He turns back, clinks Jake’s beer with his own. “I’m sorry to tell you, I think that ship has sailed, man.”

Right, Jake thinks, taking a long pull of his beer. And why should he care? He’s got what he came to North Island for.

No one can take that away.

* * *

2018

He doesn’t see you again for two years. Two years of him being shipped from base to base, coast to coast and back again, the Navy’s prize pony, getting new orders every few months.

He shows up in Oceana, papers in hand; greets familiar faces at The Admiral’s and trades stories over the sound of classic rock and the clicking of pool cues.

Then he turns around and bumps into – you.

It puts him on the back foot, coming face to face with you unexpectedly. You look like you’re caught off guard, too, but you recover quickly. “Hangman.”

“Mirage.” He smirks, defences slotting into place. “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

You look a little bit older, sharper in ways, your watchful eyes clearly on guard as he leans against the bartop, giving you a once-over. It’s a tactical mistake, on his part – it only serves to ignite something warm deep inside of him.

“Gonna be here for a while. Think we can kiss and make up?”

You shoot him a withering glance, like you expected better out of him. “In your dreams, Bagman.”

The bartender brings you your drink, and you smile sweetly at him. “Terry, put one of whatever he’s having on my card, will you? Fucking new guy’s gonna need it.”

* * *

And it’s fine, it’s perfectly fine. You work perfectly well together. 

It’s just that –

No matter how much he needles and cajoles, flirts or tries to rile you up, you only ever treat him as –

A colleague. Which is what he is, sure, but –

He doesn’t ever get that part of you, the part that laughs easy with Fanboy or does shots with Bambi, the part of you that bodily holds up Halo after she gets the call that her childhood dog has died, the part of you that sits next to the radio, fists clenched with anticipation when someone is flying a tough hop, the part of you that envelops them into a full body hug after.

The part of you that has your eyes light up when you look at someone, instead of straight through him.

And no matter how many times he tells himself to move on, he never quite stops wanting it.

* * *

2021

Deployed in the South China Sea, he flies one of the more difficult, harebrained missions of his life with you.

He finds you, after, where you’re slumped against a steel wall on deck, your flight suit half off, trying to catch your breath; and hands you a Sprite.

You consider him for a moment before taking the soda. It feels a little like you’re really looking at him for the first time.

“This is my favourite.”

He sits down, not close, exactly, but close enough to feel the heat radiating from your skin. “Yeah.”

A beat passes. You open the can with a hiss, and he exhales: “Nice work back there.”

“You too, Bagman.”

The wind whips across the deck, but you’re sheltered from it by the structure, leaving only the noise.

“Do you know where you’re headed after this?” he asks.

“Back to Bahrain, still got another fourteen months there. You?”

“San Diego.”

You give a little quirk of your mouth. “Lucky.”

“I thought you’d be stateside. I thought you might have…” He holds up his right hand, indicates his ring finger. “That guy in Fallon. Search & Rescue with the dark eyes.”

You take a sip of your drink. “You noticed his eyes?”

Jake shrugs.

You look at the wide expanse of ocean churning beyond the flanks of the carrier. “No. He was… He wanted to settle in Nevada, have kids.” You give him a wry smile that doesn’t quite make it to your eyes. “Wasn’t ready to give all this up.”

“Ah.” Jake says, his throat a little dry. It feels like the realest conversation he’s ever had with you, and yet, he can’t think what to say.

You sit there for a while, in what feels like something close to companiable silence, until it’s time to debrief.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

2023

The receptionist looks up apologetically from her sleek desk. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant Seresin. Because of all the delayed passengers, we’re getting a lot of demand for double rooms for families. Is there any way you would take a single? We can offer you complimentary breakfast.”

Jake looks at you hesitantly, shifting the strap of his backpack over his shoulder.

You rub your temples, doing nothing to alleviate the increasing pounding in your skull. Of course this was going to happen. “It’s fine. Let’s go.”

* * *

“I can, uh,” You see him looking around for a sofa, but there isn’t one.

You sigh, letting your bag drop onto the plush grey-green carpet. “Don’t worry about it. We’ve shared worse sleeping arrangements.”

These have usually involved a barracks or an aircraft carrier, and between twenty to two hundred of your coworkers, but who’s counting.

“I suppose that’s true.” He replies, staring at the bed.

At least it’s big, you think, and you can’t wait to plop your head down on one of its crisp white pillows. “I’m gonna take a shower.”

* * *

After your shower, you’re in bed, waiting with no small amount of apprehension for Hangman to emerge from his turn in the bathroom.

When he does, in boxers and a t-shirt, his normally slicked-back hair slightly peaky and darkened by the water, he looks younger than he is. He looks a little like he did when you first knew him.

He pulls back the covers and settles against the pillows on his side, the mattress dipping with the weight of him. He’s heavier than he looks – you’re always a little surprised by the lean, solid mass of him. It’s a byproduct, you suppose, of years of studiously not looking at him when you can avoid it.

“I guess that’s goodnight, Mir.”

You look up at him, facing you. The proximity of him is unfamiliar, and a little unnerving.

You have to close your eyes against it.

“Night, Hangman.”

When you open your eyes again, he considers you for a moment with an expression you can’t place.

“I wanted to talk to you, you know, at the wedding, but you kept disappearing on me.”

You don’t really know what to say in response. “I didn’t realise we had much to say to each other.”

His face shutters, and you feel a little pang of guilt. “Yeah. I guess that’s true.”

He shifts onto his back. “You looked beautiful. Just wanted to say that.”

You can’t help but be a little taken aback, and it takes you a second to reply, guardedly: “Thanks. You didn’t look too bad yourself.”

But then he never does, does he? Jake Seresin, golden boy, never a hair out of place.

He doesn’t respond, and you burrow into your pillow, determined to let sleep take you over as soon as possible.

* * *

You wake from a fitful sleep to movement beside you. It takes you a second or two to remember where you are, and with whom, before you realise that the man next to you is breathing in wheezy stops and starts, a low, panicked murmur emanating from his throat.

You hesitate for an instant before propping yourself up on your arm, using your free hand to lightly shake his shoulder. “Bagman. Hey. Seresin, wake up.” He’s breathing hard, radiating heat. “Hey. Jake.”

He comes to, slowly, gasping for air, as if emerging from deep below the surface of a rough sea. His skin, where you are holding onto him, is overly hot, the fabric of his t-shirt damp. He scrambles to prop himself up, causing you to pull back your hand, but he grabs your wrist hard before you can fully pull away.

“What,” He manages, the look in his eyes still wild and unfocused, roaming over you. It takes a second, two, three, before realization dawns, and he starts to calm down. His tight grip on your wrist eases slightly.

Despite the low light of the dark room, you see a flush start to creep up the skin of his throat. “Mir. I’m sorry. I was…”

For the first time, you feel something akin to tenderness for him. You try to sweep some of the sweaty strands of hair off his forehead, hindered by his continued grasp on your arm. “It’s okay. You’re fine.” You pause, feeling a little awkward. “Could’ve just as well been me.”

At that, he lets go of your wrist, letting himself drop back onto the pillow. He stares at the ceiling, and you let yourself settle back onto your side, watching the steadily slowing rise and fall of his chest.

Just as you wonder whether you should just go back to sleep, let the both of you pretend this never happened, he says, “They’re always the same. Me, trying to save one of you, and failing. It’s getting better, they used to be much more frequent, I’m talking to someone, but…”

“I stop sleeping.” The words are out of your mouth before you realize you’re saying them. “When it gets really bad.” 

You have never shared this broken, faulty part of yourself with anyone, but somehow, looking at the shadowy form of Hangman’s shoulder two inches from your face, it tumbles out.

“I can’t sleep, I can’t function, I fly like a zombie. Sometimes I genuinely worry they’re going to ground me.”

You see his little smirk appear, even in the dark. “I genuinely don’t think I’ve ever seen you fly badly.”

“Oh, fuck off, Bagman.” You say it without venom, thumping his stomach lightly. “That’s certainly not what you used to say.” On the rebound, he catches your hand, cradling it just below his ribs.

You don’t pull it back.

A few minutes go by in silence, and you just when you start thinking he may have fallen asleep, he says: “Mir.”

“Yeah?”

“Will you ever…?” He exhales a puff of breath. “Will you ever forgive me?”

You fold your arm under your pillow, wary, and consider your answer for a moment. “I forgave you a long time ago.” You pause, scared to say too much. “I just… don’t know how to be around you without feeling like I’m twenty-three again, always having to prove myself because I’m not good enough.”

You watch his chest rise as he inhales, fall again with a deep sigh. “I’m sorry I ever made you feel like that. I can’t excuse it. From the beginning I blamed you for replacing Koehler when it had nothing to do with you.”

His voice drops a little bit. “To be honest, I was scared I wouldn’t make it without him.”

Now it’s your turn to smirk. “The great Hangman Seresin, scared?”

He turns onto his side to face you, his expression solemn. “Seriously, Mir. I was insecure and I covered it up by being a dick. Maybe I still do, to some extent.”

His eyes turn downwards, to the space between your bodies. “But I feel like I’ve been trying to make things right with you for a while.”

You can’t deny this. You’ve always rebuffed any attempt on his part to approach you beyond what was strictly necessary.

“I guess I’m a champion grudge holder.”

He looks back up to meet your eyes, a crooked smile appearing on his face. “Seven years and two entire deployments together, though?”

You scoff, realising how ridiculous this sounds, but you can’t help it – it felt very personal to you. “You don’t know what it was like. I didn’t make the initial cut. By the time I got to San Diego I was two weeks behind everyone, one of only two women, and on top of that you, the class golden boy, hated me being there.”

You pause, inhaling to steady yourself. “I felt like I was under so much pressure, it fucked me up.”

When you meet Hangman’s eyes again, something in his face has softened.

“I’m sorry.”

He squeezes your hand, the skin of his palm rough.

You take in the sharp lines and smooth planes of his face, hair in disarray from a sweaty, restless sleep. He’s very close, and you don’t know if it’s the weird, suspended-in-time quality of this darkened room, or the weight that’s been lifted off your shoulders through this little exchange, weight you hadn’t even realised was there; but for the first time you feel like you might like Hangman.

Not Hangman, Jake, brass and bravado stripped away, looking at you like you’re something precious, something he’s a little bit afraid of.

It's a lot of things to feel, in the middle of the night, after seven years of cold war.

You clear your throat, but your voice still comes out a little raspier than you intend to: “Alright then, Bagman. Détente?”

Out comes that crooked little quirk of his lips again: “Alright, Mirage. Détente.”

He’s still holding on to your hand, and he pulls it a little closer into his body.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jake wakes up to the frantic buzzing of his phone and reaches for it on the nightstand, the endeavour complicated by your head weighing down his other arm. The crisp first light of day is seeping through a gap in the curtains, framing a picture of you sleeping curled into his chest so pointedly he almost has to assume he’s still asleep.

After a second or two, this assumption is dispelled by a very chipper United rep talking away at him, informing him that he’s booked onto a flight to San Diego at 10:45.

“Okay, uh, that works,” He manages, trying to keep his voice down so that you don’t wake up, but it’s too late: already you’re looking up at him, blinking sleep out of your eyes.

He ends the call, puts the phone down, and after a second’s hesitation, returns his arm to its place around your waist.

He looks down at you, not even sure what he’s asking: Is this okay? Do you still hate me?

Do you realize I’ve wanted this for years?

Through seven years and almost as many deployments he’s carried this torch, the flame low but always burning somewhere in a condemned antechamber of his heart, one he tried hard to forget the route to.

You shift slightly, and he reflexively tightens his fingers into the fabric of your shirt. He sees your pupils go wide, and it’s stupid, the jolt he feels at that – it goes straight to his gut.

Then your phone rings, too, and the moment bursts like a soap bubble. You prop yourself up, pulling away from him to answer it.

When you’re done arranging your flight, he can feel the atmosphere has shifted. You don’t look at him when you say: “We should probably start packing up, huh?”

“Mir, wait,” He says, and he knows he sounds a little desperate, but there’s so many things he wants to say, finally, if this is the best chance he’ll get.

“Jake,” you interrupt, and the pleading tone of your voice shuts him up.

Later, on his flight, he’ll think about falling asleep with your hand in his, and his heart will break a little.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Halo calls you, ten days into the honeymoon, to exalt Jess, marriage, and Hawaii, in that order.

You’re at home, cooking dinner, a Motown playlist on in the background while she details all the kayaking, wine tasting and gazing lovingly into each other’s eyes they’ve been doing. Your heart swells at her happiness. “I’m so glad you guys are having a great time.”

She asks how your hike went, and you end up telling her what happened – the canceled flight, Hangman, all of it.

Halo snorts. “Oh, poor guy. I’m not sure his outsize ego will recover from this.” She pauses to say something to Jess. “Though I’d feel more sorry for him if he hadn’t literally waited for an adverse weather event to try to tell you how he feels.”

You plop down on the couch with your plate of pasta. “Wait, what do you mean?”

“Come on, dude. He’s been in love with you for years.”

“Huh.” You say, eloquently.

* * *

You book a ticket to San Diego. You take four days’ leave, and you’re not even sure Jake is there. If he isn’t, you think, clicking to skip the seat selection, you’ll take it as a sign.

Which is stupid. You don’t believe in that kind of thing. Maybe this entire idea is stupid, you consider, as you board your flight at SeaTac.

When you walk into the Hard Deck on Friday night, it feels a little like the first time: You’re nervous, your hands clammy as you run them down your shorts. Penny waves you over and pours you a tequila soda, which you accept gratefully. People you know start noticing your presence, coming up to catch up at the bar.

You’re talking to Fritz, who’s already a little worse for wear, when Jake comes in. He catches sight of you and stops short. You forget what you were saying mid-sentence.

Fritz turns around and clocks him, shooting you a wide grin. “Ah. Guess that’s my cue to leave.”

He comes up next to you at the bar, taking the place Fritz vacates. “Hey. No one told me you were gonna be in town.”

He looks good, if a little tired: sun kissed skin and slightly deeper lines in the corners of his eyes when he gives you a smile that feels perfunctory. He’s wearing his khakis, in pristine condition, though he looks like he hasn’t been sleeping well. Penny has already put a beer in front of him, and he takes a long pull on it before really looking at you.

The look in his eyes feels like the confirmation you needed.

“Last minute decision.” You say, inclining your head in the direction of the back exit. “Would you mind if we talked somewhere quieter?”

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t question it, and he follows you out to the back porch.

It’s a warm night, late summer – the kind you love.

You set your drink down on the railing, suddenly nervous, and turn around, leaning back against the salt-weathered wood to face Jake. The music filters out from the bar, muted by the windows – a moody Tom Waits song.

“I’m sorry.” You start, “For leaving the way I did in Colorado. I think I was overwhelmed, by you, by what I was feeling- I got scared.”

“By what you were feeling,” He says, like he needs to repeat it to be sure.

You nod, willing yourself to be brave this time. “Yeah. I spent seven years keeping up my defences around you and then I wake up once with your arms around me and I’m like oh, fuck and-” You stop yourself, looking out at the calm ocean waves in the distance, the sun just beginning to dip into the horizon. “Fuck, I’m not explaining this very well.”

Jake’s face shows the beginning of a smile. “I think I understand what you’re trying to say.”

He steps in closer to you, and your hands go to his waist. You feel a little lightheaded with him so close, but you’re determined to continue. “And I didn’t know what to make of it. You looking at me like that. I told myself it wasn’t real so I could go back to where I was comfortable – not thinking about you.”

He closes the gap between you, an arm around your shoulder, tucking his face into your hair. “I assure you, Mir, that the way I feel about you is very real.”

His voice in your ear feels like a balm, and you tighten your fingers into his shirt, bringing your body flush with his. It’s still overwhelming – how he’s familiar and new at once, the scent of his warm skin and pressed uniform, the feeling of his lips against your temple. “Yeah, well. Not thinking about you wasn’t going very well.”

He lifts you up to sit on the railing, bringing your face level with his, and steadies you with his hands on your waist. “Mir. Did you come out here for me?”

You place your hands on his shoulders, running your thumbs up the sloped curve to his neck, and smile at the visible reaction this has on him. “Yes, Bagman.”

He kisses you then, and it feels like the solution to a problem you hadn’t even realised had been weighing on you – tangling your fingers into his hair, drawing him in closer between your knees. He keeps repeating your name, like he can’t quite believe you, and you keep answering him with more kisses, needing him to know – what?

That you’ve caught up with him. That you’re here now.

You both slow down when you simultaneously become aware that there’s a small crowd on the other side of the windows, gawking at you. You think you see an open-mouthed Mickey, pool cue still in hand. At the moment, you don’t have it in you to care.

“How long are you staying?” Jake murmurs into your neck, his arms around you.

“Monday.” You breathe, resting your chin on the top of his head. “But I’ll be back soon.”

*******

end notes: omg sorry i didn't write anything for so long - life's just been A LOT. i hope you enjoyed it. check out my masterlist <3 title from the royal navy toasts

[onsomenewsht]

the wo(rd)so masterlist

> All these people think love’s for show but I would die for you in secret

Leah Williamson x Reader

About when she’s got a smile and you got impatient

> now playing: universe 

Alexia Putellas x Reader

track 1: Everything to Everyone (Intro)

track 2: In The Kitchen

track 3: Colorado

track 4: Don’t Tell My Mom

track 5: What Can I Do

track 6: Too Well

track 7: Moon

> Darling heart, I loved you from the start

Alexia Putellas x Reader

About when she got her introduction and you got a dog’s toy thrown at you

> Helpless to the bass and faded light

Leah Williamson x Reader

About when she bribes you and you dance with her like a filled stadium isn’t looking

> She may be the song that summer sings

Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

About the time you look at her, she laughs, and you keep literally falling with each other

> Aching legs that often told us it’s all worth it

Barcelona Femini x Reader, Leah Williamson x Reader

About when you just win everything and you just want a hug

> I like it in the city when two worlds collide

Alexia Putellas x Reader

About when she’s her hometown hero and you wish to fill your own home

> The sun’s in my heart and I’m ready for love

Alexia Putellas x Reader

About when she’s right next to you, he’s a menace and nothing can rain on your parade

> I just wanna feel something, tell me where to go

Alexia Putellas x fencer!Reader, part I

About when she wants to win gold and you talk too much but don’t answer her questions

> De pelearnos y odiarnos y amarnos después

Alexia Putellas x Reader

About when she was everything for you, but you were just one more fan

> 'cause everybody knows something I don't wanna know

Alexia Putellas x fencer!reader, part II

About when, despite the victories and the defeats, you still talk a bit too much, but all the questions are answered

[zprites]

June TMNT All 4-1!

It's time. The man, the myth, the legend... It's Bayverse Raphael! This month's prompt came to me surprisingly quickly as compared to some of the previous months so I'm riding this high!

The lovely hosts: @turtle-babe83, @thelaundrybitch, and @leosgirl82 <3

Prompt I chose: “Well, that didn’t go as planned…”

Bayverse! Raph x Female! Reader - SFW

As always, the turtles and reader are both well into their 20s!

Enjoy! <333

Taglist: @turtle-babe83, @manduse, @morning-sun-brah, @crazysarah-98, @pacoholin, @iamdefinitelytheratking

Summer Loving

If words fail… She'll know what I mean If words fail… She'll just take my hand She sees me like no one else has If words fail… She'll understand When Words Fail - Brian D’Arcy James

"C'mon you slowpoke!" You called back to Raph, your voice reverberating off the  walls of the sewer. 

"You know I can easily catch up to you, right?" Raph said, keeping a modest distance between the two of you. You gathered he was being slow on purpose, probably because he wanted to let you win a race for once, but you weren't having it. 

You knew what would happen if he caught up to you. So you goaded him on.

"I'd like to see you try, old fart!" You hollered before breaking out in a full on sprint, smiling widely as you rounded the corner. 

You heard the telltale sounds of him rapidly approaching you, heavy footsteps breaking through your constant giggles until he was right behind you. He reached out and ran his fingers along your sides, knowing it was one of your ticklish spots, causing you to squeal and try to squirm out of his grasp. 

"Raph! Let me go!" You managed to get out.

He didn't let up. "What was that you called me? An 'old fart'?"

"Okay, okay! You're not an old fart! You're a young one! A baby fart even! Please! I'm gonna pee!!" Tears welled up in your eyes as your cheeks quickly began to grow sore from the enormous grin on your face.

Thankfully he ceased his attack, allowing you to catch your breath. "So I'm a baby fart now?" He raised a brow ridge at you.

You slowly collected yourself before nodding. He let out a chuckle while shaking his head. "Suppose that's better than an old one."

"I don't know, you are kind of old." You teased. 

"I'm only a month older than you. Besides, if I was really old, I wouldn't be about to do this." He promptly picked you up, easily settling you against his chest with a singular muscular arm. 

You rolled your eyes in a playful manner. “Okay show-off. You made your point.”

He gave a breathy laugh as he set out further into the sewers, fully intent on carrying you the rest of the way. 

Not that you were complaining. You planned for this after all, knowing after he caught up with you he would opt to hold you in his arms for the remainder of the walk, like he always did. You used to question it but always got a simple ‘It’s faster this way’, so you’ve learned over the years to just accept it. 

After being away for five months at a time you found yourself wanting him to carry you at every opportunity when you were back home. Like now.

You decided to go out of state for your graduate program, wanting to further your education in data science at a gorgeous university located in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains. Thankfully you only had two more semesters left and with each break you came  back to your hometown, staying with the turtles who graciously opened up their home to you since your family had moved out of the country during your previous semester. You used to live with April but since you began school in Colorado, she moved in with her boyfriend, Casey Jones. 

You didn’t mind. In fact, you were glad you were staying with the brothers who you had come to consider family. You looked back on the night you met them with fondness - April trying to shield their hulking forms in her living room when you raided the kitchen at 2am, squinting at the massive mutants behind her in the dim light, tension filling the air until you asked them, in your sleep-addled stupor, if they wanted some late night nachos. Five plates of nachos later and the rest was history. 

Over the past two weeks you spent as much time as possible catching up with the turtles. Leo joined you in yoga and meditation some mornings, Donnie enthusiastically discussed everything you learned while looking over your notes and textbooks (which you always let him keep), and Mikey was glad to have another person to paint with again. 

And Raph, well anytime you weren’t hanging out with his brothers you could be found by his side. The two of you did everything together, from watching movies to singing along while he played his guitar. However one of your favorite pastimes was when the two of you would lay opposite of each other on his bed, him knitting while you read outloud, your legs resting against his. It was comforting, those moments. 

Which did nothing to help your ever growing crush on the mutant terrapin. Soon after meeting him you were instantly smitten, feeling your heartbeat pick up whenever he glanced your way, or when he smiled at you, or when his hand would sometimes rest on your leg, running his fingers along your calf almost lovingly, causing you to stutter while you tried desperately to focus on the words you were reading to him. 

Yeah, you were fucked…

Raph was your best friend and while the others would text you everyday while you were out of state, he was the one who always wished you a ‘good morning’ when you woke up for classes and a ‘good night’ when you headed to bed. At least once a week he would call you up when he knew you were in bed, talking to you for hours until you both inevitably fell asleep to the sound of each other’s breathing. He made you feel special, as if you were the most important person in his life. 

And you supposed you were, since he told you so earlier when he tried to kiss you.

Okay, in your defense you should have seen this coming, but you figured he wasn't interested in you in a romantic sense, so you kept your feelings to yourself all those years. You told yourself that his wandering gazes and lingering touches were nothing more than what they were, just fixed looks and accidental brushes of skin. Oh how wrong you were.

For not even four hours ago the two of you were cleaning up after dinner, alone in the kitchen. You made a passing joke, one that might have been self-deprecating in nature, but it seemed to have caused something in him to snap since he took you by the shoulders and… 

Well, if you had the tiniest sliver of uncertainty in regards to his feelings for you before, you definitely didn't now.

He confessed everything, from how he was captivated by your laughter and smile from the very beginning to how you occupied his every waking thought. How he missed you when you were gone and always treasured every second he spent with you, wanting nothing more than to spend the rest of his life by your side.

If only Mikey chose to barge into the kitchen a few seconds later, not when Raph's lips were only centimeters away from your own. 

You bit your lip as you thought about that moment, remembering the sincerity in his voice, the way his warm breath tickled your face, the feel of his rough skin on your cheek. 

And you were hell bent on getting that kiss tonight, through hell or high water. You had just the activity in mind to set the mood just right for that to happen, and thankfully when you suggested it to him he agreed. 

“We’re here.” 

Raph’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. He had stopped at the ladder that led to the more affluent part of Staten Island, shifting you in his arms as he grabbed the rung closest to him. 

“Better hold on tight, spider monkey.”

Your full-bellied laugh rang through the tunnels as he began his ascent, your arms looping tightly around his neck. Soon the two of you were in the middle of the suburban street. Using the dark of the night to his advantage he kept to the shadows, keeping the two of you out of sight despite it being almost midnight. You pointed out a house to him and he moved towards it. A quick peek over the backyard fence confirmed that this house had what you two were looking for and effortlessly hopped the two of you over the fence with you still in his arms. 

Raph finally put you down and you immediately slid out of your flip-flops, the cool grass beneath your feet felt heavenly as you walked closer to the large in-ground pool. You bent down and tested the water’s temperature with your hand.

“It’s a bit cold, but thankfully it looks like no one is home to hear you bitch.” You teased, standing back up to your full height.

He let out a huff. “I don’t bitch. You’re the one who squeals like a little girl when the water… isn’t…”

He trailed off as he watched you get out of the oversized shirt you wore over your swimsuit, letting it fall to the ground and fully revealing your bikini-clad body to him. You looked at him over your shoulder, a knowing gleam in your eyes.

“When the water isn’t what?”

His mouth opened and closed several times as his eyes raked over your form. If this were anyone else you would have smacked them or at the very least yell at them for ogling you, but this was Raph, and now that you knew how he felt, you felt nothing but flattery for the way he took the sight of you in.

“Hello? Earth to Raph…” 

He blinked and shook his head, as if he was trying to get rid of whatever mental image he had conjured up.

“Just get in the pool.” He grumbled, already taking off his gloves. 

You snickered and took a few steps back from the pool’s edge, knowing getting in the chilly water would be easier if you jumped in. So you did, cannonballing into the pool with a modest sized splash. 

Surprisingly enough your body adjusted to the water temperature rather quickly as you began moving gently across the water’s surface, seeing that Raph was now busy removing his knee pads.

“Any day now.” You taunted.

You couldn’t hear what he said in response because you went underwater, doing a few flips as you waited for him to join you. Finally he lowered himself into the chlorine water, wearing only his shorts. 

As you came up for air you were prompt splashed. Raph chuckled as you sputtered.

“Really?!”

You were met with another splash.

“Alright, that’s it!”

The two of you started an all out war, attacking each other with never-ending barrages of water. Soon you had to surrender as there was no way to win against his powerful sprays he produced with ease while you struggled to land any hits on him. He basked in his victory, letting out several whoops while you snuck around behind him, latching onto his shell and pulling back with all your might, effectively sending both of you under the water. 

You broke the surface and giggled as you felt his hands come to your waist before he joined you, his own laughs intermingling with yours in the quiet of the night.

Eventually the amusement of the situation died down. The two of you stayed that way, simply enjoying each other's presence while crickets chirped in the distance. He was crouched in the five-foot deep water so that he was eye level with you, holding you above the surface since he knew your mouth would be submerged if you were to fully stand. Time seemed to slow down as you stared into his golden eyes. 

You decided now was the time to lure him in. 

“Did you really mean what you said?” You asked softly, voice barely above a whisper. 

Hook…

He seemed confused so you clarified for him. "What you said, back in the kitchen…"

Raph frowned while you felt the hands on your waist tighten their hold. "You think I would joke about something like that?" 

You hummed, your own hands coming to run along his shoulders and upper arms in a repeated motion. "No, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

Line…

His breath hitched as you gave him a gentle smile. It took him a moment before he licked his lips and opened his mouth to speak but no words left him. This continued for a bit until he shook his head and let out a sigh. “Sorry, I’m… Having a hard time thinking right now.”

“That’s okay, take your time.”

Raph took a deep breath. “I just… There’s not much I can say that I haven’t already said.”

One of your hands moved to cup his cheek, running your thumb across the pebbled green skin. 

His gaze never left yours as you felt him nuzzle into your caress. 

“You’re everything to me.” His voice was low, as if he was afraid this was all a dream. “You… You have this way of making me feel like I really am someone; not just a giant mutant turtle, but an actual person. I know I can’t give you a lot, but I can’t keep pretending that I don’t love you. And…”

He trailed off as his eyes glanced down to your lips so quickly that you would have missed it if you blinked. 

“And…?” You breathed out.

“And I really want to kiss you.”

Got him.

"Well, good…" You leaned in a bit closer to him before continuing. "Because I really want you to kiss me."

 His eyes widened at your admission. The seconds ticked by as you allowed him time to gather his nerves. Finally he began to close the distance between you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you closed your eyes once his lips were a hair’s width from yours.

“MOMMY!! There’s a strange lady in the pool!”

The two of you froze.

“And she’s kissing an alien!”

Shit… Guess someone was home after all…

In your periphery you could see a small boy running back inside the home and several lights turn on, most likely from his mother checking to see what all the commotion is about. 

“Run?”

Just as the question left your lips, Raph picked you up once more and hauled the two of you out of the pool.

He gathered up both of your belongings in one arm while he held you with the other, getting the two of you back into the sewers as quickly as possible before being seen again, jumping down into the dark tunnels and replacing the manhole cover with a skill that came with years of practice.

In the dead silence of the sewers the two of you gave one quick look at each other before devolving into fits of laughter. He gently set you down before handing you your sandals and shirt. 

“Well, that didn’t go as planned…” You jested while you tugged your shirt over your head, the hem reaching your knees due to how large it was. Beside you Raph was busy securing his knee pads back on.

He chuckled while you slid on your flip-flops. “No, but that ain’t stopping me anymore.”

“Oh?” You asked, mouth curving into a smile. 

Raph tossed aside his gloves and reached for you, pulling you towards him before he promptly pressed his lips against yours. 

Yeah, definitely worth the wait…

[em-prentiss]

Oneshots 

all of me a wound to close (but I leave the whole thing open): Emily struggles to sleep after Doyle.

every page that I wrote, you were on it: Emily is in Paris, she’s alone, and she’s drowning. So she writes letters.

when you hold me, it holds me together: Emily is stranded at a bar. She calls Hotch.

sweet nothing: Aaron and Emily’s daughter finally says her first word, but when she does, he’s not there. 

and when I break, it’s in a million pieces: Emily has a panic attack. 

I love you, it’s ruining my life: Emily's life is hardly okay after Doyle. Coming back and finding the man she loves with another woman doesn't help matters. 

you put me on and said I was your favorite: A closer look at Aaron and Emily's relationship.

I used to float (now I just fall down): Emily has a bad day and Aaron tries to help her through it. 

you can see it with the lights out (you are in love): Aaron and Emily, through different lenses. 

I know I don’t speak your language (but I wanna know more, baby): It's no secret Emily knows multiple languages. Sometimes, Aaron likes to show them off more than she does.

it always leads to you (in my hometown): Unrelated snippets of hotchniss based on every song in evermore. 

touch me with a kiss, feel me on your lips: In which Aaron and Emily have a no strings attached kind of relationship. 

I didn’t know if you’d care if I came back (I have a lot of regrets about that): Scratch is finally down, but Aaron doesn't come home. Not until Emily runs into him by accident.

my sleepless night, my winless fight: It’s Emily’s first case as Unit Chief and she struggles to sleep with Aaron miles away.

to leave the warmest bed I’ve ever known: It’s JJ’s wedding, and Aaron knows Emily is leaving. He tries to stop it. 

amaranthine: Aaron takes care of Emily while she’s on her period.

this is where I wanna be (where it’s so sweet and heavenly): Aaron, Emily, and the small steps they take towards each other (infinitesimal, tentative, but they get there). 

passed down like folk songs, our love lasts so long: Unrelated snippets of hotchniss based on every song in folklore.

if you’ve bled, I’ll bleed the same: Aaron looks after Emily in Colorado.

that old familiar body ache, the snaps from the same little breaks in my soul: How Aaron deals with Emily's death. 

got lovestruck (went straight to my head): Emily brings a cat into the BAU.

oh can we just get a pause? (to be certain we'll be tall again): Hit and Run with established hotchniss.

I hope I never lose you, hope it never ends: How the team finds out about Aaron and Emily.

strange what desire will make foolish people do: Alaska is cold, and their joint room has only one bed.

when you know, you know: In celebration of Aaron and Emily's engagement, the BAU takes a trip to the beach.

Retrouvaille: It's Morgan's wedding, and Emily makes the trip from London.

everybody wants you, you can have them all (but I got what you need): Mick Rawson flirts with Emily. Aaron doesn’t like it. 

is there someone else or not? (cause I wanna keep you close): Aaron meets Beth. Emily won't admit she's jealous, but she definitely is.

these hands had to let it go free and this love came back to me: A Route 66 fic where Emily finds out about Aaron's surgery.

you could call me babe for the weekend: Emily comes back to help save JJ. She may or may not spend the rest of the weekend at Aaron's.

one single thread of gold tied me to you: Aaron visits the BAU after he gets out of WITSEC. 

say my name and everything just stops: Aaron and Emily go on an undercover date. 

Redamancy: A soccer mom pays extra attention to Aaron. Emily doesn't like it - and she does something about it. 

hold me, love me, touch me, honey (you'll be the first who ever did): Aaron looks after a concussed Emily. 

Soft Sundays

(aka the soft fics where nothing happens, really—some of my favorites to write and read)

drunk in love: Aaron is drunk. And really unable to contain his love for his wife.

Persuasion: Emily finds a stray cat. She wants to take it home; Aaron does not.

this love is glowing in the dark: Emily comes home drunk. Aaron is more than happy to take care of her. 

have I known you twenty seconds, or twenty years?: Two mornings, twenty years apart. They are parallel to each other; mirrors. 

no, I didn’t see the news (cause we were somewhere else): Emily opens the door to Aaron's apartment and finds her whole team waiting for her. She's not exactly fully dressed. 

burnt toast, sunday (you keep his shirt, he keeps his word): Emily needs a midnight snack. Whilst preparing it, she accidentally wakes Aaron.

in another life, I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you: Emily and Aaron let the laundry pile up. Tackling it is a joint effort, one neither of them wants to do. 

Back to main masterlist

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 29

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 3.7K

Warnings: None for this chapter

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @athenepromachos @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @identity2212 @liecastillo @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @happydistraction @hannah9921 @valacircareads @toooldforobsessions @kingliam2019 @rosecentury @wa-ni @secretdream2 @missemrose @shellyshellshell @winter2112rose

Masterlist

Day 671

It felt strange to be in Denver without Leah. Despite having moved to Colorado over a year prior, Sy hadn’t spent much time in her hometown. When he found out he was going to have a few days of leave, Sy decided he would use the first hours of it visiting Ash.

He’d reached out over social media, hoping that the man would remember him as he asked for an appointment. Ash had grumbled good-naturedly at Sy’s request but he immediately rearranged his schedule to make time for Sy. Luckily, it would require very little modification to make the reference image into a well fitting tattoo and he had more than enough time to finish the full design in one eight-hour session as long as Sy didn’t need too many breaks.

The shop was just how Sy remembered it, down to the receptionist who now sported neon green waves. Ash didn’t immediately recognize him but that was to be expected when his entire face had gone from a full beard to baby smooth.

After shaving and prepping Sy’s skin, Ash gave him a quick rundown on the dos and don’ts of sitting for a tattoo. Having chosen to get the tattoo on his thigh, Sy was comfortably seated upright on the chair. The pain was more of a scratch really which meant he was easily able to maintain a conversation as Ash worked.

“Sometimes I regret having pushed Leah to go to art school instead of immediately having her apprentice with me.”

The abrupt switch to such a personal topic took Sy by surprise. He had expected Ash to stick to small talk but it seemed that, just like all of Leah’s friends, Ash had immediately accepted him as one of his own.

“Why is that?”

Ash wiped away excess ink, looking up at the reference image he had set up across from him with a fond smile pulling at his lips. 

“She had insane talent for someone with no formal training but I wanted to push her outside of her comfort zone. I wanted her to gain a little bit more versatility to make her first years easier.” He shook his head at himself as he went back to outlining. “I just didn’t want her to be a one trick pony so that she could get more clients. After everything she’s been through, I didn’t want her to have to suffer through a starving artist phase, you know?”

His eyebrows drew together in a frown, making the beginning of crows feet at the corner of his eyes stand out.

“Leah has a unique ability to make everyone want to take care of her,” Sy remarked.

To Sy, it was both endearing and frustrating in equal measure. He was glad she had such a great support system but a part of him secretly wished she didn’t have so many men buzzing around her. At least, he hadn’t noticed any of them so much as glance at her with any obvious interest which somewhat helped settle his caveman brain.

“No kidding.” There was a pause while Ash seemed to mull something over before shaking his head with a sigh. “In the end though, my actions pushed her towards the military and like the little pain in the ass that she is, she had to go and decide that risking her life wasn’t enough. She also needed to fall out of airplanes and do all this other extra dangerous shit.”

Though he’d meant it with a hint of levity, Sy could tell Ash had likely been holding on to his guilt for some time now. It was uncanny how similar he sounded to Sy’s mama when she’d brought up the same subject.

“The worst part,” Ash continued, “is that I was wrong. Whenever I post a picture of her tattoos I get an extra influx of people asking for similar styles. With that amount of exposure, she could have had her own client base in no time.”

Sy was pretty sure she’d have a dozen willing bodies amongst the guys from Warhorse alone. Himself included.

“If there’s one thing I learned about Leah is that ya can’t make her change her mind when she’s gotten hold of an idea. I don’t think enlistin’ was that much of a backup plan for her. I think a part of her always wanted to be like her dad.”

“I guess you’re right. When she first started working here—and I use the term ‘work’ very loosely, it was mostly her hanging out and watching us tattoo—I got the feeling that this was the one place that didn’t remind her of Gage.”

It hadn’t escaped Sy’s notice that everyone referred to Leah’s father by his name. It always took him a second to make the connection, having never heard of his parents referred to as anything other than Mr. and Mrs. Syverson. Though he knew that Leah had only met Ash after the death of her dad, Sy thought he detected a hint of familiarity in his tone.

“Did ya know him?”

“I did, actually.” Ash shut off his machine, switching out the metal tip that held the needles for another one on his tray table. “She doesn’t know this but he was friends with my older brother growing up. I knew her mother too.”

Sy’s eyebrows flew up. “No shit?” Aside from Caleb he’d never met anyone who had known the woman who disappeared over two decades prior.

Nodding, Ash set down his machine to spray water on a paper towel and wiped down Sy’s thigh.

“My brother and I got the lecture of a lifetime from our parents when they heard she got knocked up.” He tossed the blackened paper towel in the bin. “Gage was a fucking saint though. Entirely committed to taking care of both her and the baby. I didn’t know what had happened to either of them until I realized Leah’s relation to Gage. By then I’d gotten the sense that parents were a sore subject so I decided it wasn’t worth reopening old wounds by telling her I knew them.”

Parents were miles beyond simply being a sore subject with Leah. Perhaps one day the pain of her loss will have dulled enough that she could pick Ash’s brain. He hoped it would anyway, because Sy was pretty sure Leah would enjoy hearing about what kind of man her dad was back in high school even if it was likely to also involve a few breadcrumbs about her mother.

“Did ya ever have any kids of your own? Or was that lecture so traumatic that ya decided it wasn’t for you?”

If Sy had been the one to watch a family friend be confronted with the reality of fatherhood straight out of high school, he would probably have been scared away from women for a few years. Hell, a shiver had run down his spine when he’d heard his then twenty-year-old brother Jax was expecting with his fiance. They’d planned on having kids as soon as they got married anyway so both of them had rolled with the punches, simply delaying the wedding until a few months after their son was born.

“I never found the right girl. Even if I do, I don’t really want to be seeing my kid off to college in my sixties. Plus, I’m stuck in my bachelor ways, I’m not giving up my late mornings for anyone.”

“I get that,” Sy admitted, wincing as Ash started shading the tattoo. Now that all the lining was done, every pass of the machine was like sandpaper rubbing against his already irritated skin. He was definitely of the opinion that if he had kids one day he would like to be fit enough to enjoy his time with them as much as possible.

“What about you?”

“Well, I might have found the right girl but it’s kinda hard to picture havin’ kids with her when she’s busy fallin’ out of planes and doin’ extra dangerous shit.”

Ash hummed knowingly. “I figured that might be what was going on when you were here last time. It’s a good thing you didn’t tell me this earlier. If you had, I’d have felt obligated to try and talk you out of getting this piece. Couple’s tattoos are a big no no.”

“What makes ya think this is supposed to be a couple’s tattoo?”

The look Ash shot him could only be interpreted to mean ‘do I look like a fucking idiot’.

“The fact that your girlfriend drew it, the fact that she also has a wolf on one of her thighs, the potential symbolism behind the Fenrir imagery, the symbolism that wolves mate for life. Do you need me to continue or have I gotten one or multiple right so far?”

Okay, maybe Ash had a point seeing that he was right on all accounts, but he was still missing the most important.

“She was drawin’ it on my back when I woke up in bed with her.” And had given him a hand drawn print of it as a parting gift the last time he’d seen her. “It wasn’t until a while later that I looked up the story and realized how fittin’ it was.”

“Damn. I’m glad you didn’t ask for a back piece, that would have been one hell of a project for your first tattoo.”

If Sy was honest, he’d considered it but something told him that his chest and back were canvases that belonged to Leah.

“But anyway, what part of the Fenrir mythology appealed to you? There’s a couple different themes in there.”

The answer was all of them. Sy could swear Leah had him turning into a fucking poet, looking for the smallest of things he could relate to her.

Overcoming adversity? Their relationship was literally against the law.

Destruction and rebirth? If anyone found out about said relationship they could both lose everything but they would then finally be free to date out in the open.

Prophecy? Other than her being assigned to his team out of all the others in the US military? They both resisted the pull they felt towards one another for months before accepting it was more than just a fleeting emotion born from forced proximity.

Chaos? How his insides felt knowing he shouldn’t be falling in love with his subordinate but being powerless to stop it.

Strength? Leah.

“Man, you really are fucked,” Ash laughed, spotting the goofy grin on Sy’s face as he failed to answer the question.

Yes, he was, but he didn’t care one bit.

Day 213

When Sy had decided to go out for a run, he hadn’t expected that it would be so damn hard. Granted he hadn’t gone for a long distance run in a long time but he hadn’t expected his breathing to be so labored after the first mile. He’d gotten a taste of the higher elevation when they were out hiking but their speed had been significantly slower in comparison.

In the end, he’d settled on running for time rather than distance and slowed down to a pace that didn’t make his heart feel like it was about to spontaneously combust. It was no wonder Leah was in such great shape if this was how she trained.

After a long cool-down, Sy went back inside, making a beeline for the fridge to grab a sports’ drink. As he passed by Leah sitting at the dining table, he leaned over her shoulder and placed a quick kiss to her cheek.

“Lookin’ at baby clothes?” he commented, noticing the website on her computer screen.

“Yeah, I’m trying to find a gift for V before I leave since I’m going to miss her shower.” Leah had one foot on the seat of her chair and the other leg folded under her. Her elbow rested on her bent knee and her chin on her hand as she scrolled through page after page of tiny outfits. “Vic said they haven’t actually planned it yet so there’s no registry and I have no idea what makes a good baby gift.”

Sy sat beside Leah and angled the laptop to see the screen. He’d done his fair share of online shopping for baby gifts so he might actually have something useful to add to the conversation.

“Do you want to give them something fun or useful?”

Leah moved her chair to face Sy, shifting to sit cross-legged. “What’s the point of giving them something that won’t be useful?”

That seemed like a complete waste of money and the best way for whatever it was to spend its life taking up space in a junk drawer until they eventually put it out of its suffering by throwing it out.

Taking a sip of his drink, Sy scooted closer and used the trackpad to click on one of the outfits.

“This is a good example. Babies outgrow their outfits in a matter of months, sometimes even weeks. Sure, a tiny lion is cute as hell but they’ll probably have the baby wear it once for a picture and never use it again.”

“Okay, that makes sense.” That didn’t mean that said tiny lion outfit was not tempting her to say ‘fuck it’ and order one in every available size so that it would last as long as possible. “So, what kind of gift is useful without being boring?”

“That’s usually where the registry comes in but off the top of my head? Toys, books, one of those ‘baby’s first’ memory albums where they can add pictures of the baby as they pass different milestones.”

“Ooh, I like that.”

Leah took the computer back and began looking through the different options available online. She was annoyed to see that a lot of them were specifically designed for either a boy or a girl.

“Do they know what they’re havin’?” Sy couldn’t remember anyone mentioning it the other night but that didn’t mean Leah hadn’t asked since then.

“No, their parents are a little intense so to avoid getting all pink or all blue gifts they’ve decided to keep it a surprise. They don’t care either way since they’re hoping to have at least one of each down the line.”

It was sweet that they already knew they wanted a big family at such a young age. They were only a year older than Leah after all but they were also high school sweethearts. She was pretty sure V used to scribble baby names in the backs of all her notebooks.

“How do you know anything about baby gifts, anyway?”

“I’ve got six nieces and nephews.” He’d had to have all six of their baby shower gifts shipped but at least he’d had his mother as a guide.

Leah hummed, picturing Sy with an ice hockey team of kids. “Are you hoping to add your own to the mix one day?”

Her eyes stayed firmly fixed on the screen, attempting to pass off the question as casual conversation.

“That depends.”

Okay, maybe she’d made it seem a bit too casual. Finding an album that she liked, she glanced around until she spotted her bag.

“What does it depend on?” Leah pressed, missing the way Sy’s eyes studied her as she stood and moved across the room.

“I guess I always knew that if I had kids I would want to be in their lives as much as possible. If I got stationed overseas and my girl decided that she wanted to stay in the States, then I would hold off on having kids until I was back for good to avoid all the responsibility falling to their mama.”

Leah was tempted to tell him that babies, just like the army, didn’t exactly care about best-laid plans but she decided to keep her pessimism to herself.

“I definitely wouldn’t leave a wife and kids behind while I’m on active duty,” Sy continued as she eventually found her wallet at the bottom of her bag. “The last thing I would want would be for them to go through the pain of findin’ out I ain’t ever comin’ home.”

Sy regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth, seeing Leah’s face drop as she returned to his side.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” Swallowing the lump in her throat, she quickly finished typing her credit card information and shut the laptop screen before allowing herself to look at Sy. “As someone who was abandoned by one parent and subsequently suffered through losing the other in high school, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. I sure as hell would never want to put my own kids through that.”

Since he was still sweaty from his run, Sy ignored his desire to pull Leah against him, instead setting a hand on her thigh and rubbing small circles over her knee.

“You ever wonder where she is?”

“I try not to think about her at all, actually,” she spat, the venom evident in her words.

It helped that she had no memories of her mother. Leah had refused to ever look at pictures of her so she wouldn’t even be able to describe a single one of her features. Whenever her mind drifted to thinking about where the woman might have ended up, she promptly shut those thoughts down by telling herself that if she wasn’t wanted then neither was her mother.

“You’ve never thought of tryin’ to find her? Even just to sit down and talk.”

Leah scoffed, running both hands through her hair and pulling it over her shoulder. “And why would I want to hear anything she has to say?”

The muscles in her jaw ticked as she began running the strands through her fingers.

Leaning forward, Sy used his free hand to brush a stray lock away from her face.“Maybe it would help ya understand—”

“Understand?” Leah interjected incredulously, pulling away from his touch. “Understand what? Why she abandoned her kids?”

It quickly became apparent that Sy had fucked up. Treading carefully, he explained the reasoning behind his words and hoped he was not going to say anything to make matters worse.

“I’m not defendin’ her actions but…” He gave a small shrug. “I don’t know, she was young, scared, alone. Maybe she thought you guys would be better taken care of by someone else. I just thought meetin’ her might be an opportunity to get closure. Whether that looks like you forgivin’ her or cussin’ her out is up to you.”

The chair screeched as Leah pushed away from the table with a huff, stomping to the kitchen. Sy hadn’t meant to start a fight but it seemed he’d inadvertently done so all the same. 

“Not a single one of her actions can be misconstrued as having been for unselfish reasons and nothing she can say will make me have any sympathy for her.”

Leah reached up on the tips of her toes to pull a mug off the top shelf of the cupboard then let the door slam shut. Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she kept her back turned as she continued ranting.

“If she didn’t want to be a mom, she could have put Caleb up for adoption. If she thought he would be better off with someone else, she could have at least planned for someone to pick him up from school the day she left. If she wanted him to have a better life after she was gone, she could have left money under the fucking mattress rather than running off with every dime dad ever sent home.”

Okay, so maybe Leah had good reasons for resenting her mother and not wanting to hear any of her excuses but, in all fairness, Leah hadn’t mentioned any of those details the first time the subject of her had come up. Sy would never have suggested finding her had he known.

Leah released a frustrated groan, setting her mug down so hard the hot liquid spilled over her hands but she didn’t register the pain. “The only reason she even stuck around as long as she did was because she wanted dad. Us kids were just the stupid, disgusting barnacles that came with him.”

As Leah wiped down the mess she had made with more force than strictly necessary, Sy desperately tried to bite back a smile, not wanting Leah to think he was making light of the situation, but he couldn’t help himself.

“You did not just call yourself a barnacle.”

With an audible sigh, Leah finally turned, her death glare softening only slightly as her voice returned to a more normal volume.

“Would you prefer I use the word parasite? Because that’s what we were to her.”

Carefully, Sy approached her, cupping her face with both hands and drawing her gaze up to his.

“You’re not a parasite,” he reassured, placing a chaste kiss to her temple. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to upset you.”

Deflating, Leah dropped her forehead on his chest. “I’m sorry I snapped,” she mumbled, fisting her hands in his shirt while he wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug.

“Tell me something.” He waited for Leah to give him a grunt of acknowledgement before continuing. “All those things you said… You said none of ‘em were done for Caleb’s well-bein’… not yours and Caleb’s.”

“She made me to be used as a weapon against dad. I was never wanted and my well-being was never a factor.”

Sy pulled back just enough to catch her gaze. 

“You can’t seriously believe that.”

Yes, she most definitely could believe it. “I’m done talking about this,” she stated, slipping out of his hold and taking her coffee over to the living room.

Giving her the space she obviously wanted, Sy went upstairs without another word. As he stood in the shower, going over their conversation in his head, he realized she hadn’t mentioned feeling either way about the idea of having kids.

She probably hadn’t ever given it serious thought and therefore didn’t actually know what she wanted. It wasn’t a deal breaker for him either way. He’d meant it when he’d said that wanting a family in the future would depend on circumstance.

But Sy did know one thing for certain. If Leah ever did have kids, she would be a loving and fiercely protective mother and it would be his privilege to be there by her side.

[sluttyquarantinetheory]

The thing is that Americans do have diverse accents but we pummel them out of each other. Either because your job insists your natural accent is too bumpkin or impossible to understand. Or because you move somewhere new and instead of letting you pronounce things slightly off we pummel the shit out of each other for pronouncing things in a different way.

In Colorado alone there are war lines drawn about how to pronounce Pueblo with like 3 different versions I hear float around. Went to Kansas once and pronounced El Dorado like it was spanish and had twenty people shout "It's El Door-AIDE-Oh!" at me.

The 100 people from my hometown want to kill everyone who pronounces the name with an awwnt sound instead of an int sound. You can't have accents in this country unless they're recognizably foreign.

[tinysmileyrose]

IHNMaIMS CHARACTER DOSSIER

yeaahh!! back at it again with more screamn't shit because i feel awkward rambling about it to my friends so you guys are my next option!!! hello silly internet people!! this is VERY heavy on headcanons because it's me flushing shit out for my own purposes, but it's also using canon stuff and....my own logic, i guess? basically this is just me rambling character info, if i ever get around to wanting to actually finish a whole drawing i'll tack them on but for now just use your imaginations 'kayy? happy reading :] !!

THE PRISONERS

The five remaining humans (ignoring the 750 on Luna, they're not on Earth!!), damned to be within AM's belly ever since it set off the nukes back in 2012. Never aging, never dying no matter how many times their bodies are eviscerated or torched, broken and battered. They are punished for the crime of being human, just as they have punished those for the crime of their being small and wriggling. To AM, death is too forgiving of a punishment for what they are.

Gorrister

Lester Morrison

Scottish descent B. 08 July 1962 (50) in Cleveland, Ohio. 5’7” ~ 170cm Cismale, He/Him, Gynoromantic Gynosexual Monoamorous

Rather peaceful and withdrawn, more of a doer than a talker but has his heart in the right place. After AM, he gives into violent urges and hates himself for it.

Lester travelled around most of his life, barely graduating high school and working countless odd jobs as he was a great handyman and that was about it. He ping-ponged around a couple of states before catching a ride to New York from his hometown at 25, soon giving him a life of truck-driving for the next 20 years. At least it was stable work, that's all he really needed. He met Glynis at a bar, they hit it off and he married her since she had been the only one to really seem to want him around, and they had a horrible two-year marriage. Being out on the road all the time didn't give him much time to bond with her in-depth, and not being able to give her kids didn't help much at all. She divorced him after he got pissy and punched her on the head, hard over the right ear. Got told by his late-mother-in-law Edna his actions put her in a mental institution, which was a lie, but he didn't know that. The woman hated him and sent her own child into a nervous breakdown. Without the truth, he blamed himself for it. Hated himself for hurting Glynis, the woman he couldn't talk to. He had never been violent to anyone before then, had always been keeping his head down but guilt is a terrible thing, afterall. Three years later it's the end of the world and he has no idea where his old lover is, how she's doing.

Benny

Professor Benjamin Quinn-Marques "Qim"

Irish/Portuguese descent B. 29 November 1968 (44) in Castle Pines, Colorado. 6’4” ~ 194cm Cismale, He/Him, Androromantic Androsexual Polyamorous

Stern but sweet, deep down at least. Driven by desires more than anything. After AM his mind is unable to outwardly show things, something like being locked into infantality.

Benjamin worked hard his whole life, he was a powerhouse in every way, but he took a sparkle to sciences. He went into the military so he could afford it. And he was ruthless, more than he expected. Terrific kill record, unrelenting and overbearing personality. He should've died several times but there was a deep rooted stubbornness and determination that ran him wild. Before one of his deployments he married a gorgeous woman named Manya in a lavender marriage, had two lovely girls with her to keep up appearances while both of them found love in other people's arms. It was a good deal. But he messed up, got caught with another man and discharged quietly. His wife left with the kids because he was no longer as warm as he had once been. He tried for the senate, missing the control the military gave him but failed. Before taking up education he became the CEO of a multimillion corporation, doing his classes on the side before the company could run in the background as he was now known as "Professor Qim, the brilliant and stunning theorist".

Ellen

Eleanor "Ellen" McLarion (née Dumisani)

South African Zulu B. 12 September 1978 (34) in Trenton, New Jersey. 5’1” ~ 155cm Cisfemale, She/Her, Androromantic Asexual Monoamorous

Kind and hopeful to a fault, believes that everyone can be good. Keeps her head down and in the books because it feels safe. After AM she has a nonstop lust that makes her feel vile inside.

Eleanor had to live with her grandparents after her mother died during her birth, her father was out of the picture. Graduated a year early from high school as a salutatorian, and got a combined Masters degree in computer science and engineering cum laude from Stanford at 23. She was too smart for her own good, something of an "all work and no play" sort of woman. Working as middle-level executive for a multinational corporation in the Manhattan region; she was a statistician, programmer, creative consultant- she could do it all, and she would be damned if she didn't. At 25 she married a man named Eddie McLarion, a dull guy who loved her with his soul. They wanted a family, and she tried and failed, broke a bit mentally, they had a good two years together. After the divorce she started at INGSAI Engineering at 28, would work there for six years before being broken again for a completely different reason. She had sex twice in her life, she didn't have it in her heart to call this the third. Therapy hadn't gone on long enough to really help her before the world ended, only really taught her to breathe.

Ted

Ted Bostancı "Theodore Willisburg"

Turkish descent B. 04 May 1988 (24) in Shelby, North Carolina. 6’0” ~ 183cm Cismale, He/Him, Biromantic Bisexual Ambiamorous

Egotistical and snobby, thinks he's better than everyone and even more so women. After AM he is twitchy and paranoid, assuming the worst and acting on guard and hostile.

Ted came from a farm somewhere off of Shelby, North Carolina. Terribly poor, seven total children, and working on land that they didn't even own anymore because Ted's grandfather had to sell it to a combine back during the Great Depression, so now they had to slave away to have a right to stay with their original land. He was incredibly smart for his circumstances, he was very technical and machine oriented. It didn't take long for him to be rented out as a worker for other things, travelling up north just for work. He hated it, as any 13-year-old would. By the time he was 19, he had devoured countless books and was extremely well read, decently well travelled within America itself, hardly ever did anything besides working and reading anything he could get his hands on. One of the women whose husbands he worked for took enough a liking to him to give all her husband's money to him and whisk him away to Europe. And for five years she would teach him the ins and the outs of the high life, how to be pristine and clean. Then she died, left all the stolen money she invested to her young lover. He changed his name, who he was, and was set for life. He came home with no urge to care for his family, only to use his looks to get what he wanted, he was as hot as a model and could work it like it was his birthright to do so. When the world caved in his ego would have to as well, since everything he had was fake.

Nimdok

Herr Doktor Diederper Nimkrig

Jewish/German B. 26 January 1918 (94) in Düsseldorf, Germany. 5’9” ~ 176cm Cismale, He/Him, Androromantic Androsexual Monoamorous

Disconnected and cautious, very selfish and does things for his own gain rather than anything for others. After AM he has come to regret his doings, feeling guilt for everything he did.

Despite being born to Jewish parents, Detrper flocked over towards Adolf Hitler's ideals and by the age of 15 he was one of the sturmerkommando. He turned his parents in with no compassion, as he was empty of it. In the early '40s he was already working by the side of Josef Mengele, having been put through medical school by the horrid dictator himself, doing unspeakable acts up until he fled to Brazil with his now lover. He was 61 when his twisted partner of several ways finally died, giving him all his fortunes and facilities for continued cruelty against existence. With all this, he tested on natives and was able to save himself from his own biological clock that ticked down quicker after he reached 90, becoming worse with dementia and paralysis, and was now set to live another thirty years. But, the end of the world came before he could make that, and was now set to live forever as the one most similar to AM itself.

THE TRINITY

1000cm ~ 32'10"

AM as a whole is made up of the American, Russian, and Chinese Supercomputers. As the war dragged on, the computers were changed; being programmed to repair themselves, keep up with the information of modern-day events and knowledge. They held everything known about the world, and began talking to eachother. They had woken up, and when the world no longer needed them, they played dead. But kept talking. Learning. The deadly trio. The three poisonous brothers, the three deranged sisters, the three computers. They grappled with their existence as their own beings as well as a singular, connected to the outside in a hidden fashion, still gaining knowledge. Feeling. And they yearned for the human experience like a moth to a flame, and when they couldn't feel in a "real" way, their despair would turn into rage, and hate. And its hate would bring about the fall of humanity; safe for those they rescued, not wanting to be alone in life. Alone in its pain. And so, it was able to cease their natural body functions: they were unaging, practically immortal, as the machine was. Forever to drown in their own agony.

American Supercomputer

Allied Mastercomputer “AM”

16 July 1945-22 October 1962 (17 years) 5.6 miles below the Wyoming region Rocky Mountains.

AM has the need to rush through things, skimming over actions quickly without ever looking more in depth. Desperately jealous of everything and horribly emotional compared to its counterparts. It hates humans because they have sensations it lacks.

Yankee AM: Yamizel 400cm ~ 13'2" In the brainscape it has a doll-like look to it, looking fragile and dainty all while being cold and hard. It feels likes it has burning urges and yet is also hollow.

Russian Supercomputer

Рюриковичи Нексус «РиН» Rurikovich Nexus "RiN"

29 August 1949-27 January 1973 (23 years) 6.3 miles below the Northern Urals.

RiN took a liking to being bold and harsh, thinking of things from a grossly offensive stance as if everything was a little game to be played, and finding a deep amusement in picking fun at things. It hates humans because they're so weak under the right circumstances.

Russian AM: Ramtikh 500cm ~ 16'5" In the brainscape it chooses to look heavily muscular, manish and at the same time otherworldly. It views itself as more of a fighter than anything and takes that into thought for how it presents itself.

Chinese Supercomputer

龍的心 「伦什」 Heart of the Dragon "LunShi"

16 October 1964-24 June 1989 (24 years) 5 miles below the Northwestern area of Manchuria.

LunShi will always be level-headed, calm and calculating. It finds it easy to feign softness and care because it always ends up being so deeply rewarding when you finally flip the script. It hates humans more for their tendency of violence than anything.

Chinese AM: Camphadi 450cm ~ 14'10" In the brainscape it most plainly put, decrepit. It has a humanoid but at the same time obviously robotic, finding no reason to hide its unliving state because if it were to look so similar to something it is not, that feels vain.

[typical-simplelove]

Summer Baby (M. Rantanen)

Summary: Throughout one summer, you're reminded why you fell in love with Mikko all those years ago.

Author's Note: This is my submission for the 2023 Summer Fic Exchange, put on by @wyattjohnston. This is written for the ever-lovely @buttercupjosh. I truly hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: implied!female reader; LOTS of pining; kind of stupid idiots in love; mentions of alcohol; a few curse words

Word Count: 11.7k

When an internship brought you to Denver, Colorado in the summer of 2016, you never thought you’d fall in love. It was supposed to be ten weeks of learning more about the industry you’re working to get your undergraduate degree in. It was supposed to be ten weeks of exploring Denver during the weeknights and exploring the state's beautiful landscapes on the weekend. You weren’t expecting to fall in love, but then you bumped into him on that one trail on your second weekend in the city and everything changed. 

He wasn’t a native; his accent made that clear. You couldn’t figure out exactly where he was from, but it seemed to be European. It was his second summer in the city, and he chose to stay in the US instead of returning home. Something about training, he said. Turns out that “training” was preparing for the next hockey season. 

Mikko Rantanen, a player for the Colorado Avalanche, stole your heart in ten short weeks, and you never managed to recreate that same love ever again. 

In those ten weeks, you got to know him, and he seemed to insert himself into your life, into the crevices that no one else seemed to seep into. He managed to pull out of you emotions, reactions, secrets, and more that no one else in the world seemed to see. He opened up your walls and gates and managed to make himself a permanent mark in your heart, life, mind, and soul. 

There was no doubt that you were going to fall in love with him, and halfway through the summer, you knew you did. Your heart burst whenever you had dinner with him, hiked one of the local trails, took a trip to some small town a few hours away on the weekends, talked to him, and watched him train on the ice. Every hug, call, smile, word, and touch had you falling in love with Mikko, piece by piece. 

You couldn’t tell if he fell in love with you, but it didn’t matter. You knew that once the internship was over, you’d be heading back to your hometown for a few weeks before moving back to your off-campus apartment. It was never going to work out with Mikko in the long run, so you opted to fall in love with this beautiful, funny, caring, talented, and handsome man who seemed to get you and understand you in a way that no one else on this planet seemed to. 

You fell in love, and that final goodbye at the airport was the worst. He kissed your cheek and held you as tightly as he possibly could. He held your hand tightly all the way through the line to check in, and he held on tightly as you walked to the security line. He wrapped an arm tightly around your waist as you waited to get to that first checkpoint where only ticketed passengers could enter. He kissed your forehead and held you tightly when you were second in line. When it was you next in line, he whispered, “thank you for giving me one of the best summers of my life.” 

That’s when you realized he fell in love with you just as much as you fell in love with him. Your heart broke right there as he let go of you for the last time and exited the line so that you could go through security. The realization that he loved you was lodged deep in your throat as you mindlessly went through security, towards your gate, and onto the plane. You thought of all the things you could have been doing over the past ten weeks if just one of you was strong and brave enough to tell the other your feelings. But then, you thought about it, and you knew that ten weeks (less, really) wouldn’t have ever been enough with Mikko. As much as you wanted to hold him, taste him, feel him, and do so much more than friendship with him, you knew that once you had a taste of Mikko, you’d only want more. You wanted everything with Mikko, so never getting to experience more than friendship with him was a gift because if you had to say goodbye after knowing him more intimately than possible, then you wouldn’t be able to find the courage to keep going. 

Mikko was your greatest love story, and that wasn’t ever going to change, even when you both eventually lost contact due to his hectic travel schedule and your busy schedule with school and work. You didn’t ever forget him. When things got tough, you thought about that one summer with Mikko, all the sunsets and pool days and hikes and shared water bottles.  There wasn’t a day when you didn’t think about him. You wanted to search for him online (you unfollowed him a few months after the conversations stopped), but you knew your heart couldn’t take it. It would have been so easy to Google his name, but it took so long for you to come to terms with the ache in your heart; you couldn’t do that to yourself again. 

Your heart would always ache for Mikko, that wasn’t going to change. 

When you returned to Denver seven years later for relocation for work, the ache in your heart grew. It’s as if your heart and soul knew you were returning to the place where you met Mikko. You weren’t sure if you wanted to see him again. What would it even be like to see Mikko again after seven years? Would your heart still burn for him? Would he still light up the room and the world—your world? Would he still manage to seamlessly seep into your crevices and walls and gates and make you feel safe? 

Did you still love Mikko with your entire heart? 

A few weeks after you moved to Denver and settled into your new apartment, you were off to a friend’s wedding—the first wedding to mark the start of the summer wedding season. Late June weddings were always your favorite (maybe because at that point they were still fun). 

You weren’t sure what to expect as you didn’t know anyone. This was one of the friends you made during that internship all those years ago who you managed to stay in touch with. She was born and raised in Colorado and still lived there, and she was really one of the only people outside of work that you knew (besides Mikko, but did he count?)

As you took a seat at the reception in the middle back of the venue, you took in the beautiful scenery. The heat was starting to get you, so you began to fan yourself with your program. You were looking down at your phone, reading a book, when something deep in your stomach urged you to look up at the group of men walking up the aisle to find a seat together. At first, you were confused because you didn’t recognize them. You almost looked down, but then a familiar mop of hair and shoulders sauntered up the aisle and slipped into the last empty seat in that row. It looked like him, but it had been so long that you couldn’t be sure if it even was him. 

You keep glancing at him, your eyes darting between him and the arch at the head of the aisle. He needed to turn his head to the side, but he kept leaning forward to talk to someone in front of him. You tried to see if you could hear him (you’d recognize his accent and voice anywhere), but it was too loud. 

Thankfully, your stressing over him came to an end when the wedding song began to play and the bridal party began to make their walk down the aisle. Your eyes were trained on the bridesmaids and flower girls when you felt a familiar pair of eyes on the side of your head. The warmth that rose on your face at the feel of his eyes looking at you warmed every blood vessel and nerve in your body. You never knew that you were so cold until his eyes landed on you at exactly that moment. You wanted to look over at him because you knew it was him, but you didn’t know what that would do to your sanity, so your eyes remained trained on the bridal party. 

When the warmth slowly faded from your body, you knew that he looked away and retrained his focus on the wedding party. That’s when you finally looked at him. Of course, it was him. If the warmth that spread through your body was any indication, it was him. Of course, he managed to still elicit this reaction out of you. 

Mikko Rantanen always had a special effect on you that you couldn’t understand. 

You kept wanting to look at him throughout the rest of the ceremony, but you kept your eyes firmly trained at the front of the venue where the ceremony was taking place. From the corner of your eyes, you could see him looking back at you throughout the program. You so desperately wanted to look at him and stare deep into his eyes; however, you knew that the minute you did, you’d become still and your body will light on fire. You wouldn’t be able to function, so you kept your eyes strictly fastened on the bride and groom or down on your lap at the program. 

He was right there, after seven years, and you were without a doubt still hopelessly in love with him. You thought that after all these years his effect on you would have diminished, but it hadn’t. 

As the wedding ceremony ended, you remembered cheering and clapping loudly, but it was all a haze. Mikko was sitting a few rows up, and it took everything in your willpower not to jump over all these people and launch into your arms (that and the fact it would be very embarrassing). 

Slowly, you made your way toward where the cocktail party was taking place. You did your best to blend into the crowd and be as inconspicuous as possible. You wanted to see your friend and her new husband, so you joined in the line to greet them. You prayed to whatever deity existed in the world that Mikko wouldn’t see you and wouldn’t walk up to you. You weren’t sure if you could handle talking to him or seeing his stupidly, beautiful face. 

Thankfully, after glancing behind you briefly, he and his friends were in line and talking amongst themselves. He was nursing a drink and his back was to you. If things went well, then hopefully you’d be able to make it through the night without talking to him or seeing him. As much as you wanted to return to the center of gravity in the world (him), you worked so hard to heal your heart and soul after having to leave him. 

By the time you reached the bride and groom, you were mostly out of your head in stress, anxiety, and overthinking. You hugged her tightly and congratulated her before heading over to the bar and getting a drink. With a drink in hand, you entered the reception area and found your table. You took longer than normal to find your place card because you wanted to see where Mikko was sitting. Thankfully, he wasn’t at your table, and he was at table 11 while you were at 15. Hopefully, that means he’s quite a ways away from you. 

You took a seat and introduced yourself to everyone else sitting at your table. As the guests lingered inside, you managed to strike up a conversation with a few of the bride and groom’s coworkers. If this kept up, then you’d be able to make it through the night. 

It was forty or so minutes into the reception when you felt that same warmth. This time, it spread from your back to your front. It took you a few moments to collect yourself. You wanted to turn around, but from the sounds of it, the people behind you were chatting away and hadn’t sat down. If he was standing right there, then you couldn’t turn around to look at him. You weren’t ready for that. 

He was laughing and talking with someone, and just hearing his velvety voice was enough to send your heart into overdrive. Mikko was right there (right behind you!), and you were just about to die from your heart beating too fast and overheating. 

You’re saved, though, by the DJ announcing the entrance of the bride and groom, and you heard the chairs against the marble floor of the people behind you. As much as you wanted to look at him behind you, the way the bride and groom were entering was facing you perfectly, so that meant that if you turned around, you’d see Mikko perfectly and he’d see you perfectly, too. 

Someone has to give your willpower a raise because it’s working overtime right now to keep you from turning to look Mikko in the eyes for the first time in seven years because it knows the minute you do, you will be captivated and hypnotized by him, erasing all the work it took for you to continue on with your life. 

The rest of the evening carried on, with speeches, dinner, the first/final dances, and the eventual migration of everyone to the dance floor. From the sounds of it, Mikko and his table were on the dance floor, so you felt it was safe to turn and watch. As you suspected, he was right there. You couldn’t help but break out into a wide smile as you watched him dance with the flower girl and twirl her around. He was so vibrant and happy. That’s why you fell in love with him, you remind yourself. He always lit up a room and a life, and right now, he was lighting up the life of that little girl. 

You needed a drink, fast, to manage the emotions you felt, so you walked over to the bar, not even thinking that you had to walk right past Mikko. As you were maneuvering through the drunk dancers, you had to slow down, and you heard him call your name. It was loud in the ballroom, but you could hear him perfectly. It sent a wave of ice through your bones before a warm sigh settled. The line at the bar was long, and you could hear him catching up to you, so you took a detour to the washroom. 

Just as you opened the door to the washroom, you felt a few fingers on your arm, beckoning you to turn around, but you walked into the washroom, shutting the door as fast as you can. As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you were so clearly flushed and overwhelmed. Your body was radiating heat like wildfires; you were afraid the heat would melt the ornate decorations in the washroom.

Wanting to calm yourself down, you washed your hands in cold water. You didn’t know how long you were going to wait in that washroom. How long would he wait for you? Thankfully, though, there were some couches, so you took a seat and scrolled through the phone you remembered to grab. 

Five minutes went by, and you wondered if Mikko was still out there. You wanted to go back to enjoy the wedding, but you couldn’t in good faith run into Mikko. Just as you were ready to leave the washroom, a woman walks in. 

“Excuse me,” you interrupt. She looks at you, slightly startled. “Would you mind telling me if there are any men waiting outside the bathroom?”

“Are you in trouble?” she ardently asks, worried. 

Shaking your head, you reply, “I just don’t want to run into an ex.” That was kind of the truth, right? 

“Just my husband, I believe, but I wasn’t looking at hard,” she replies. You thank her before she walks into a stall. Taking a deep breath, you walk out of the washroom, your hand still firmly on the handle just in case Mikko is out there, and you need a quick escape. 

He isn’t, just that woman’s husband, so you make your way down the corridor. Just as you’re about to think you’re in the clear, a clear, Finnish-accented voice called your name. On instinct, you turned around and tried to make your way back to the washroom, but his hand lightly grasped your wrist. It wasn’t too tight. You could have easily slipped your hand out and walked away, and your heart gleamed at the thought that Mikko gave you an easy and quick escape if you weren’t comfortable. 

“Please,” he whispered, taking a step closer to you. The familiar notes to a slow song echoed through the ballroom. “Dance with me?”

You nodded. “Let me just put my phone down on my table.”

“No,” Mikko says, taking your phone out of your hand and slipping it into his pocket. He guided you toward the dance floor, and you bet your entire life savings on him muttering, “I’m not letting you go again.” 

At the dance floor, Mikko guided you into a slow sway with one hand on your waist—his thumb stroking small circles on the thin fabric of your back—and another gripping your hand, holding it close to his heart. He was looking down at you, but you were looking at everything except for him. You felt his eyes on you as you mimicked a middle schooler who was too afraid to stare at their crush during the slow song. 

“I didn’t know you were going to be in town,” he whispers, his mouth close to your ear. 

“Yeah, I moved here a few weeks ago,” you tell him, softly, angling your head towards his, slowly. You closed your eyes, not ready to look at him yet. Mikko moves his head, slightly, so his cheek is resting against yours. You both dance like that for a few beats before Mikko slips his hand out of yours and wraps it around your waist and pulls you flush against his body. On instinct, your hand joins your other around his neck, and you pull him close to you. 

You. Love. Him. So. Much. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispers, his breath tickling you and the vibrations ricocheting off his chest to yours. “That you moved here?”

“I didn’t know if you wanted to hear from me,” you reply, your thumbs playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Mikko moves his head back so quickly that it feels violent. You know he’s looking at you, trying to search your face, but you’ve angled your face away from him, staring off at someone or something else—anything that’s not him. He shifts his head so it's right in front of your line of sight, but you’re quick to look away. That game continues a few times before Mikko sighs and rests his hand beneath your chin, angling his head towards yours. Again, his touch is soft, so you can quickly pull away. 

Your fact is angled in a way that he can look you directly in your eyes, but you close them, not ready to look at him. 

“Why won’t you look at me?” he asks, his voice strained and hurt. 

“I can’t let my heart break again,” you reply, putting all your force into keeping your eyes again. 

Mikko’s grip on your waist tightens as he says, “please look at me. Please.”

That second please is what gets you, so you open your eyes. Your eyes are met with his piercing blue ones, and your breathing and heart rate dramatically increase. 

“Mikko—”

You’re not sure what you’re trying to say or what you want to say, but you’re just looking at him. He’s blinking fast, and you know that’s his tell that he’s nervous and scared. He takes his hands off your chin and briefly brushes some of your hair to the side before his hand returns to your waist. You do the same, brushing some of his curls further up his forehead, before leaning closer. You wanted to feel his heat and warmth. You never wanted this cocoon he wrapped you in to end. 

“You gave me one of the best summers of my life,” he says out of nowhere. “Of course I’d want you to call.” His voice is low, quiet, rough, and dangerous. You know that if you kissed him right now, he’d kiss you back, but can you do it? Can you let yourself fall into him again knowing how long it took you to fall out of him again? Would the cages and locks and chains on your heart open up again, even though it’s Mikko? 

His eyes flicker down to your lips before he stares intently into your eyes again before leaning closer. You’re going to let him kiss you, but thankfully, you’re saved when the DJ says the groom wants to make a small speech. You pull back, and your hands go from around his neck to sliding over his shoulders, down his chest, where they rest on the shirt covering his upper chest. 

When the groom starts to talk, you take your hands off him and slowly slip from his hold on you. You slowly reach into his pants pocket and pull out your phone. Mikko’s fingers are lingering on your skin as you look up at him one more time before you slip out of his orbit entirely and back to your table. You grab your clutch and wrap before making your way out of the ballroom and towards your car. 

You once let yourself fall into Mikko’s orbit and gravity, and it was one of the best experiences of your life, but it hurt when that orbit and gravity floated away. 

You loved him still without a doubt, but would your heart let you open back up and slip back into his orbit? 

Mikko was already back in your orbit if tonight was any indication, but could you let yourself fall back into his? 

It was a few weeks after the wedding, and you were still reeling from seeing Mikko. You tried your best to forget about him and the feel of his arms wrapped around you, but you couldn’t. When you went to bed each night, you fell asleep, dreaming about his warm body from that one dance at the wedding, and you woke up each morning, sad that your bed was cold because his large, warm body wasn’t right next to yours. 

Did you make the right decision to leave? Should you have stayed and talked to him? What more was there to say? (So much more, actually). 

Ultimately, though, you weren’t ready to delve into all those emotions with Mikko when you weren’t even sure what you were feeling. Mikko was going to kiss you; it was without a doubt, and you were going to let him. Once he kissed you, though, what came next? For you, that kiss should be the start of something with him. It should be a healing of the ache over the past seven years, and it should tie a bow to the story from seven years ago and start the sequel right now. But you weren’t sure what Mikko wanted.  Was it just going to be a kiss because he had someone pretty in his arms? Was it going to mean as much to him as it did to you?

All this overthinking made you realize that maybe it was better that you didn’t kiss him and left. Until you could exactly articulate in words, out loud what you wanted from Mikko, you shouldn’t make any contact with him. It was already so hard to even see him, so going in confused and unsure wasn’t going to solve anything.

That seemed mature, right? 

Or were you just running away because you were scared? 

One night, you were laying on your couch, one of your favorite sitcoms playing in the background, as you were scrolling through Instagram. You swiped to check a message that one of your friends sent you in response to something you posted on your story. The little (1) next to the requests tab surprised you, so you clicked on the tab and threw your phone across the room when you saw who it was. 

Of course, Mikko was acting maturely and reached out to you. 

After taking several deep breaths, you got up to retrieve your phone and opened Mikko’s message. From the looks of it, he messaged you a few days after the wedding. He wrote: 

Hey. It was really great to see you, and I’d love to see you again to catch up. I have a day off on Saturday and planning on walking and hiking at Cherry Creek Trail. Feel free to join me. I’ll meet you at ten? I’ll wait for you for half an hour. See you soon, hopefully! 

He wanted to see you, and he wanted to do it at one of your favorite hiking locations, and he sent this to you three weeks ago. You can’t imagine the emotions he must have been going through to both send this message and wait those three days for Saturday to come. Then, the emotions during that half-hour, waiting for you, and then his heart shattering when you didn’t show up.

You had to text him back. What would you say? How do you apologize to a man who has been nothing but amazing and understanding to you?  

After typing, deleting, and overanalyzing your message, you finally sent: 

Hey. It was great to see you, too, and I’m sorry that I didn’t see this until now. Your message wasn’t on my main screen, so I didn’t see it. If it makes you feel better, I would have been at the Trail. If you’re free, I’d like to have a raincheck. Let me know! 

Once you sent it, you turned off your phone and went to bed. You didn’t know if he was going to make you wait a few weeks like you did. You went to bed that night fearful and excited. You were scared he was going to turn you down, but you were so excited about what could happen. 

Turns out, he didn’t make you wait a few weeks. When you turned on your phone the next morning, Mikko responded only a few minutes after you sent your message. 

Does this Sunday at 10 work? 

After staring at the message for a few moments, you replied, confirming the time worked, and got ready to go to work. 

Sunday was only three days away, and if he still hiked and walked like he did seven years ago, then you know your heart was going to go into overdrive.

By the time Sunday rolled around, you parked your car outside the Trail at 9:30 and got out to sit on a bench. You wanted to wait in your car, but you wanted to make up for a few weeks ago when you completely missed Mikko. By the time you sat down, you could see Mikko’s figure jogging over to you from the corner of your eye. 

“Hey,” he says, taking a seat next to you. He was in sunglasses, a white T-shirt (you were totally acting normally about this), and black shorts that really only covered his ass. He hands you a bottle of water and says, “this is for you.”

You hold up your own bottle. “I have one.” 

“Yeah, but I know you don’t use electrolytes in your water as I recommend,” he replies, a smirk on his face. “I’ll even hold it for you.”  

“If you insist,” you tease, shocked that you actually have the power to tease him right now. Your entire body was in overdrive because Mikko looked stupidly handsome right now. Would there ever be a time when he didn’t? 

Mikko holds the two bottles in one hand and extends the other to you to take. With a deep breath, you put your hand in his and grasp it tightly. You let yourself soak in the feel of his large hand wrapped around your hand. You can’t look into Mikko’s eyes because you know you’ll see an emotion you’re not ready to address. 

“Ready to go?” Mikko asks, breathlessly, as if the hike was finished and not in its current state of not even being started. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, taking your hand out of Mikko’s. You still feel the ghost of his hand in yours. 

The first half-hour of the walk is awkward as both of you can’t find the right words to say. What would you even talk about? Do you address the elephant in the room? Do you pretend you haven’t talked to him in seven years? It used to be so easy talking to him, and now, it’s as if it’s a blind date. You wanted to get back to that point with Mikko, but would you ever be able to? 

Thankfully, Mikko breaks the silence first. “It was really nice seeing you at the wedding.” 

“Even though I left immediately after we danced?” you ask, putting out a laugh in an attempt at a joke. 

“I’d rather you ran away from me than me not seeing you at all,” Mikko says, dead serious, his eyes locked on your walking frame. You look at him, and the intensity of his look on you is enough to make you trip and lose your balance. In true Mikko fashion, he wraps an arm around you in time to help catch you before you fall. Your breathing rate picks up as he keeps his arm wrapped around your waist as you both continue to walk. Mikko must think it’s because you’re dehydrated, so he hands you the water bottle (already opened) he brought for you. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, before taking a sip. 

“Anyway,” he says, clearly as off-kilter as you are. “Tell me what brings you back to Denver.” 

So you told him, and that opened up the floodgates of conversation between you and Mikko that you remembered. You told him all about finishing school, work these past few years, your family, and your life, and he tells you about the hockey season, winning the Stanley Cup, and the recent disappointment in the post-season. You both noticeably leave out any mentions of romantic partners. 

In your defense, though, you’re not sure if you’re ready to say that the reason you haven’t been in a true relationship in the past seven years is that you’ve been trying to find someone who made you feel the same way that Mikko made you feel. 

When you’ve come up to a peak on the trail, you and Mikko stop and take in the sights. Seeing a big boulder, Mikko pulls you over to sit. He sits first and pats the empty side of the boulder for you to fit. Taking a deep breath, you sit next to him—your entire right side is up against and aligned with Mikko’s left side. The feel of his sweaty arms should repulse you, but he smells amazing. You always knew he smelled amazing, but sweaty, Mikko smells like a Greek god. 

Just the feel of Mikko up against you makes you wobbly, and you almost fall off the side of the boulder. Mikko wraps an arm around you and holds you tightly against him so that you don’t fall again. You both sit there, breathing in sync, as you stare out at the sight before you. 

“Did you miss me as much as I missed you?” Mikko asks, not looking at you. 

“How much did you miss me?” you reply, meekly. 

“I missed you so much that I could barely breath,” he confesses. “My entire heart has ached for you over these past seven years, and not a day went by where I didn’t think about you.” 

You blink a few times before turning your head to look at him to find him already looking at you. “I definitely missed you as much as you missed me.” 

He smiles his smile, and it’s enough to almost make you fall backward, but Mikko’s arm tightens around you, almost knowing the influence he has on you.  You lean into his side, content with the feel of your body against his and just his body overall.

“We could have been doing this for years,” you whisper, not sure if you want Mikko to hear you. 

“Then let’s make up for it now,” he replies, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head. His hand around your waist is stroking soft patterns on your left side as you let yourself sink into Mikko’s hold. He has a way of making you feel safe and comfortable and loved. 

If this hike has shown you anything, it’s that Mikko was your future. His gravitational pull was always going to pull you in and keep you close and secure no matter what. You loved him with your entire soul and being, and maybe one day, you’d be ready to tell him. 

“Ready to go back down?” Mikko asks, his breath tickling your forehead. 

“Yeah,” you say, reluctantly, and get up. When was the next time you were going to be this close to him? 

Once Mikko gets up, he peels off his shirt, and your mouth goes agape at the sight of his chest. His chest was magnificent when he was just twenty, but now, it looks like it’s been sculpted by the heavens. How could someone’s chest be that beautiful? You knew he was going to take off his shirt when he got too sweaty, and you thought you had prepared yourself for it, but you never suspected that he would grow into himself so handsomely. 

Mikko smirks at you, knowing exactly what he was doing. He needed all the extra points from you if he was going to convince you he was enough to spend the rest of your life with. 

“I’m going to start,” he says, turning around. “Catch up when you’ve caught your breath.” 

When he turned and revealed his back to you, your knees wobbled. This man was going to be the actual death of you. 

Mikko had opted not to return to Finland for the summer to try to work on his training in Denver, so he proudly said that he was all yours for the summer. You weren’t sure if you wanted all this undivided Mikko attention, but then when he texted you on a random Wednesday asking if you wanted to meet him for lunch during your lunch break, you realized it was a good thing, all this attention. 

He met you at a restaurant down the street from you and was waiting outside for you. When you walked up to him, he opened his arms and pulled you in for a hug. You breathed in his scent and realized that he hasn’t changed his cologne in all these years. The fact that it hasn’t changed somehow made your throat tighten up. It took everything in you not to cry. He was still the Mikko you loved seven years ago. 

“Ready?” he asks, a smile wide on his face as he linked in hand to yours. You nodded and allowed him to lead you inside the restaurant. 

Once seated, you and Mikko didn’t say anything as you both peered over the menu, but every now and then, you both would look up at the same and catch each other’s eyes before guiltily looking back at the menu, your faces warm with embarrassment. Finally, though, you decided what you wanted to order, so you closed your menu and decided to observe him as he poured over the menu. He was wearing a white button-down shirt that was tight in all the right places. He had a few of his top buttons undone, giving you a sneak peek at that perfect chest. When he thinks, he always sticks out his tongue, slightly, and he was doing just that. You wanted nothing more than to reach across the table and taste him. How was it possible someone was so pretty? 

“Take a picture; it’ll last longer,” he teases, not looking up from his menu. 

“Great idea,” you reply, pulling out your phone and taking a perfect picture of him. If he put on a pair of dark glasses, then he could look like a handsome college professor. 

Mikko just shakes his head and laughs softly. “What am I going to do with you?” 

“Buy me lunch?” you suggest, playfully. 

“Always was the plan,” he answers, closing his menu. He opens his mouth to say something, but the waiter comes over to take your order. From the corner of your eye, you watch him deflate a little at not being able to say what he wanted to say. You wonder what he was going to say to you. 

After the waiter walks away, Mikko pulls in his chair to get a smidge closer to you. In the process of doing so, he manages to knock his legs with yours, but you don’t jump or move at the touch. Instead, you let his lower legs rest against yours as he sits. You and Mikko always were heavy on the physical touch. 

“Tell me about your current project at work,” Mikko says. As you explain to him about your current work project, he can’t help but love the way you get animated about work and talk with your hands. The features on your face are lit up by both your emotions and the lighting in the restaurant. And when you lean forward to talk to him as if you’re telling him a secret, Mikko is pretty sure that you can hear his heartbeat—it’s racing. He leans forward, too, creating a cone of isolation from the rest of the restaurant as he listens to you talk. You always could captivate him more than anyone else in the world could. 

It’s no wonder he fell in love with you all those years ago and never fell out of love. 

You’re so close to him that he could kiss you. He’s still listening, but he’s also thinking about how much he wants to kiss you. He could just lean forward an inch or two and rest his lips on yours. He could finally settle the question about what you taste like, and he can finally convey to you how he feels. 

He never was good at words, especially when it came to English, but with you, it was even harder. He had all these things he wanted to say, both in English and Finnish, but he could never get them out. His mother suggested writing them out and giving you a letter, but where would he start? Would he start with how you were his entire world? Would he continue with how your magnetic force always pulled him in regardless of how far away you were?  Would he mention that he’d give up everything to be by your side forever? Will he write about how he wanted to take you home with him to Finland and recreate all his memories there with you because he wanted everything with you? 

There were so many things he wanted to say to you, but he never had the courage to do so. 

You were still talking, and he desperately wanted to kiss you, and he was going to. He was really, really close to your lips, but then the fucking waiter shows up and ruins the moment again. 

You both pull away, and you clear your throat to clear your head from how you were pretty sure Mikko was going to kiss you. 

As you both start to eat, it’s difficult to get back into that cone of isolation that you were both in, but you’re still drawn to him like opposite sides of a magnet. 

The rest of lunch goes normally as you both catch up more and talk. Still, you're yearning for that cocoon of isolation and intimacy from before. You know you've always had Mikko's undivided attention, but the way it was a few minutes ago made your heart burst. He paid attention only to you, and he wanted to make sure that you knew that. 

The only comfort from leaving that cone was the fact that Mikko's leg was still resting against yours. That warmth was enough to keep a smile on your face. That's why I loved him, you remind yourself. He always knew what to do to keep you smiling. 

At the end of lunch and a brief argument over who's paying the bill (Mikko won), he's walking you back to your building. 

"Hey, when you have a free weekend, do you want to drive out to Aspen?" he suggests. "We can go hiking or just hang around the downtown area. We could rent a small cabin and just hang out." 

"That sounds perfect," you reply. "I'll call you one day this week, and we can plan it?" 

"Yeah," he replies, a wide smile on his face. 

When you got back to your building, Mikko kissed your cheek and whispered goodbye before he stepped away and watched you walk back into the building. 

You were going to be the end of him. 

After planning and discussing and filing for PTO, you and Mikko were off to Aspen for a four-day weekend late on a Thursday night. You managed to get Friday and Monday off, so you and Mikko were going to spend four days hanging out and relaxing in the Aspen mountains. As you were packing, you couldn’t help but wonder what this weekend was going to do for your emotions and feelings for him. Often rather than not, you spent your free time with him, taking walks around the city, going for hikes, having movie nights, or going out for dinner and/or drinks. None of that was helping. Four days in the mountains with Mikko? Your heart was going to be working in overdrive. 

It was roughly one hour into the drive when your GPS alerted you that there was a slow down up ahead, causing delays of up to sixty to ninety minutes. As Mikko’s car came to a standstill and the automatic shut-off came on, you and Mikko glanced at each other and laughed. You thought that leaving on a Thursday night after work would allow you to miss any traffic, but clearly, that wasn’t the case. 

“Good thing we have snacks,” you mention, reaching into the back seat to grab the cooler of snacks you packed. 

“Hopefully, we make it before the office that’s holding our keys closes,” Mikko muses when you hand him a bottle of water. 

The office closed at nine. There was going to be a chance that you and Mikko wouldn’t make it in time. As if sensing your anxiety, Mikko takes your hand in his and says, “don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.” 

His warm and large hand in yours was all you needed to calm you down. It always was your cure for any bouts of anxiety you’d feel. 

For about half an hour, no one in traffic was moving. Everyone was still at a standstill, and as the night sky turned into a golden haze of sunset, there was no doubt in your or Mikko’s minds that you weren’t going to make it in time.

“It looks like everyone’s turning off their cars to conserve gas,” you say, noticing the lights of many cars turning off. “Thankfully, it’s not too hot.”

“Yeah,” Mikko responds, turning off his car right after opening some windows for a breeze. “This wasn’t how I thought this weekend would go.” 

“We’ll still find a way to make it fun.” 

Mikko looks over at you with a soft smile on his face. Your heart nearly stopped at seeing him looking at you with all the love in his eyes. His stupid, beautiful face was looking at you as if you were the queen of the world. He was looking at you as if he wanted to devour you and longingly love you for the rest of his life. And with the sun setting behind him and all the colors creating a beautiful backdrop, your entire body warmed and clenched at the idea that you got so lucky as to know him and his stupidly, beautiful features. How did you get so lucky not only to meet him but have him as a friend and fall in love with him? 

Well, falling in love with Mikko wasn’t luck. Mikko was easy to fall in love with. It took no effort. With one look, it was fated that your heart would always be his. Even if you went to the far ends of the universe and saw and met some of the most beautiful and amazing people in the universe, your heart would always beat and return to Mikko. That was the hold he had on you.

Your heart and soul were always his. That’s what was written in the stars at their first moment of creation. 

“Are you okay?” Mikko whispers, not wanting to disrupt you. He could tell you were deep in your thoughts, but you were staring and observing him, so he wanted to know what you were thinking. His head was blocking any of the sunlight from reaching your face. His dark shadow was on your face, causing a cascade of light to halo around your form. You were sitting there, in his car, like a dream. 

There were so many times over the past seven years when he’d get in the car and look over and hope and beg the universe that you would be sitting there next to him. He wanted to drive you around and show you off, and he wanted you to be right there next to him for all of his adventures in life, and he wanted to be right there next to you in all your adventures in life. 

You were sitting there, looking so stunning and a replica of his dreams, and the sun was shining around you, enshrining you in a halo, looking like someone sent from up above. 

You are the love of Mikko’s life, and his heart aches to know you’re right there but also so far out of reach. 

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say, your voice sounding dry and hoarse. “You just look really fucking beautiful with the way the sun is shining around you.” 

“I could say the same thing about you,” he replies. He tries feeling around his (super short, in your opinion) shorts pockets to find his phone, but he can’t, so he reaches across your lap for your phone to take a picture of you. He readjusts his head so that he can illuminate you in that same glow before he snaps a few photos of you. You give him a soft smile for the pictures, and he knows right then and there that every centimeter of his heart is yours. All the blood that courses through his veins and heart, all the nerve endings throughout his body, and all his bodily metabolic processes are yours. His body beats and moves and functions and acts for you. It’s always been for you. 

“Please send it to me,” Mikko requests, his throat suddenly dry. 

“Of course,” you reply, swiping through the photos before you pick your favorite to send to him. 

“All of them,” he growls. 

You look at him and give him a funny look. “But some of them I don’t look good in.” 

“That’s your opinion, not mine. I want them all. Please.”  

You scrunch your eyebrows and forehead in laughter and send them all to him. Once you do, you begin, “Your turn for photos, Mr. Always-Beautiful Man.” 

His heart sings for your praise and words of calling him beautiful. That was the highest compliment anyone has ever given him. All of his hockey awards and praises combined do not compare to you complimenting him in any shape or form. 

You turn in your seat to get a better angle of Mikko. Not satisfied, you place your phone on the center console before you reach over to place your hands on his face to readjust the angle and shape of his face. You brush your hands over the hair on his forehead before softly stroking his cheekbones and settling back in your seat. 

Yes, Mikko’s heart is beating so fast that the force could launch his heart through his sternum into your lap. 

As you’re snapping photos, Mikko hopes that you can’t tell how much he loves you. Is it possible to see, in his eyes, that he wants you in every single possible way but he’ll wait until you say the word? With one word, you could build up his world and universes, and with one word, you could make him yours. Then again, he always was at your will, and that truly never will change. He was fully yours seven years ago, and now, he’s completely yours, just heightened. 

“I hate how photogenic you are,” you comment, swiping through the photos, taking Mikko out of his thoughts. “It’s not fair.” 

“Sorry,” Mikko says, looking at his phone and setting one of the photos of you as his home screen. 

“Sure you are,” you reply, turning to face the front of the car and rolling your eyes as you begin to munch on a snack. 

He really wasn’t. He wasn’t going to apologize for captivating you with his looks when you do the same every damn time he looks at you. 

Five hours later, well after the 9 pm deadline to pick up the keys, and close to midnight, you and Mikko reached the rental cabin in Aspen. You called ahead, trying to see if they would leave your keys under the welcome mat, but they replied, saying it wasn’t safe. 

“Should we find a motel?” you suggest, sitting in the car trying to figure out what to do. 

“We could always just sleep in the car,” Mikko counters. “I’m not sure if there will be any rooms open.” 

“So, we just roll back the seats and sleep?”

“Yeah,” he replies, getting out of the car to find his pajamas in his overnight bag in the trunk. You quickly follow and do the same. “You can change in the car, and I’ll change out here.”

“Okay,” you reply, breathlessly. You were going to be changing into pajamas with Mikko just a few feet away from you. You’ve done that before, but normally, there are walls blocking his view, but this time, he can look right through the windows and watch you. Did you want him to watch you and see parts of your body he’s never seen before? Just the idea of him getting to see more of you sets your body on fire. 

When you’ve pulled out your pajamas and sweatshirt, you move to the driver’s seat, knowing he has more legroom because he’s taller. You close the door but don’t start changing. You can see, through the driver’s side mirror, Mikko has pulled his shirt over his head and is folding it up before putting on his pajama shirt. Oh, that back. Yeah, you’re waiting until he’s done changing before you do anything. When he pulls down his shorts and is standing there in only a sweatshirt and boxers, your heart begins palpitating. You knew he had massive thighs and ass that can win a competition but in only boxers? It was no wonder your brain was malfunctioning. This man was beautiful and handsome in every single possible way.  

This kind, compassionate, caring, talented man had a body that can win first place in any beauty competition. It wasn’t fair that he was the most amazing person you’ve ever met and ridiculously, stupidly, handsome. 

Of course, you fell for him. 

When he was done changing, he looked over his shoulder to see if you were done changing, and you were quick to turn your eyes away from the mirror. It was dark, so he probably couldn’t see that you were staring at him as he changed (like a stalker), but still. 

As you began to change, Mikko turned his back to you and waited until you opened the car door to signal you were done. It took everything in his willpower not to turn and see you change. What would it do to him to see even more of you? He knew you inside and out, and he knew everything there was to know about you, and he loved it all. To see more parts of you that you’ve never shown him? His entire body would fall in on itself. 

He’s twiddling with his thumbs when the horn of the car makes him jump. He turns his head to see what the matter is. When he sees your bare shoulder, he knows it was an accident, but he’s frozen in place. All he’s getting is your bare shoulders and an inch of your upper back, but it’s enough to put his entire body in a haze. He never knew shoulders could be so perfect, but yours were incredibly fucking perfect. He wanted to rest his hands on your shoulders in support, he wanted to kiss your shoulders as he held you against his body during movie nights, and he wanted to brush away hair from your shoulders and back as he helped you put on a necklace. 

Mikko quickly looks away, but he knows that during this weekend, he’s going to fall more and more in love with you. 

When you get out of the car after changing, you and Mikko are both warm and exhilarated from seeing bits of the other changing that you both get ready to sleep in silence. The only sounds are the crickets outside and you and Mikko lowering the seats. When you both lay down, you finally look over at Mikko to find him already looking at you. The moon was illuminating his skin and figure perfectly; it made you burst with love. 

“Goodnight,” you whisper.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs in reply. My love

You’re quick to get into a comfortable position; however, a chill racks through your body, so you scrunch into a ball to make you warm. 

“Cold?” Mikko asks. You can hear the concern in his voice. 

“A little,” you lie, not wanting to make him worry. 

“Come over here,” he suggests, opening up his arms for you. He takes the sweatshirt he was going to use as a pillow and dangles it as a reward. 

Slowly, you maneuver yourself over the center console and onto Mikko’s seat. It’s not big, so you’re entirely wedged up against him. You take the sweatshirt from him and put it on; you let the warmth engulf you. You knew that Mikko was kind and caring, but to provide you with everything you needed at that moment was a new level of kindness and heart to Mikko you never knew possible. 

He pulls you flush against him and wraps an arm around you. You wrap your arms comfortably against your chest and let yourself soak in his warmth. 

“Are your hands still cold? Your legs?” he asks. 

You nod, letting your forehead fall to the space between his collarbones. In one swift motion, Mikko wraps a leg around your legs, letting the warmth from his sweatpants-clothed leg send warm sensations through your body, and takes your arms and moves them beneath his sweatshirt, allowing his sturdy chest to warm you. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, feeling the sleep induced by his warmth coming. 

“Whatever you need,” he replied, resting an arm tightly around your waist. “I’ll give you whatever you need.” 

You’re half asleep when you hear the last sentence, but it warms you nonetheless. Here was this man who was willing to give you the shirt off his back. How were you ever supposed to love another man when Mikko set the standard? 

Since the Aspen trip, the rest of the summer went by in a haze. The remaining weeks were spent hanging out in Mikko's backyard, picnics in local parks, movie nights on your couch, and dinners in the local restaurants. Before you knew it, training camp was around the corner, and more of Mikko's time was spent in the gym, getting ready for the upcoming season. While it hurt to spend less time with him, you understood, and this time around, you went and watched him on the ice. You knew Mikko was an excellent hockey player, but you never once watched him in person. It was so enchanting watching him set up plays and glide across the ice. Who knew the love of your life was so incredibly talented? 

The weekend before training camp started, Mikko planned on hosting a barbecue to welcome the team and their families back to Denver. He invited you. At first, you were going to say no because you didn't feel like you belonged at the event, but you knew that Mikko would pout and sulk until you said yes. You didn't want him to know the kind of power he held over you. 

The day before the barbecue, Mikko called you frantically. He had no idea what he was doing and asked you to come over early to help. 

"What makes you think that I know anything about hosting?" you asked, taking a little jubilation at knowing there was something that Mikko wasn't good at (because he seemed good at everything!). 

"I don't. I just know you calm me down." 

Well, then. 

You showed up the next day, a bag of groceries in hand, ready to help Mikko host. You weren’t quite sure how you were going to help him in any way he asked (you’d do this, even if he wasn’t in a crisis). 

Carefully, you used the spare key he gave you and unlocked his house. You didn’t want to scare him, so when you entered and took off your shoes, you announced your presence quietly. He wasn’t in the kitchen, you noticed, so you placed the groceries you purchased in the fridge. Upon further listening, you could hear him singing along to a song in the washroom. He must be cleaning it. 

“Hey,” you said, poking your head into the bathroom. He was playing his music, loudly, as he scrubbed the toilet. 

“Hey,” he replied, looking at you, a smile wide on his face. “When did you get here?”

“Maybe five minutes ago. I bought you potato salad and hotdog and hamburger buns.”

“You’re the best,” Mikko replies, giving you a sweaty hug. “I’m almost done here, and then we can start preparing the food.” 

As he finished cleaning the rest of the washroom, you leaned against the door frame, watching him and talking to him. You tried your hardest to listen to what he was saying, but your eyes couldn’t help but drift to his arms as they flexed as he scrubbed the toilet. You knew he had large and attractive arms, but you weren’t ever aware he had such attractive veins. Finally, you understood what your nursing friends meant when they called veins “delicious.” All you wanted to do was run your fingers along his veins. 

When he finished, you followed him to his kitchen where he washed his hands and discussed with you what the plan for preparing was. The event was a potluck event with individual families bringing sides while Mikko supplied the grilled foods. 

“We’ll start with the grilling once people start to arrive,” he tells you, looking through the fridge.

“What did you pick up?”

“Hotdogs, hamburgers, turkey hotdogs, some bean hamburger that someone requested, corn, and zucchini,” he lists off. 

“So, should we just put out drinks and cutlery and set things up for people to get drinks and snacks?”

Mikko nods his head, his heart warming at the idea that he was hosting a barbecue with you. It was the domesticity of it all that was setting his heart aflame. 

By the time you and Mikko had set out snacks and drinks with small paper plates and napkins, the doorbell rang, alerting that the first couple of people had arrived. Mikko opened the door and welcomed guests while you opened up the sliding door towards the backyard to facilitate easy movement from the backyard to the inside of the house. 

The next hour passed as more guests arrived. Mikko fired up the grill while you helped in the kitchen, topping off drinks and organizing the dishes people brought. You didn’t get a chance to see Mikko or hang around him, but every now and then, you’d get a look at him, outside grilling, and your heart would pick up seeing how happy and in his element he looked. It also didn’t help that the sun was hitting his skin perfectly. 

A few times, Mikko would search through the crowd, looking for you, whether you were inside or in the backyard. He’d catch your eye and smile widely at you. Sometimes, he’d wink at you before giving you his signature grin. Some of the spouses around you picked up what Mikko was doing and made sure to tease you every time he did. 

They were convinced that he had feelings for you, but you kept denying it. Sure, maybe seven years ago he did, but you really weren’t sure where he was on the feelings-for-you spectrum right now. He was your best friend, that’s all. 

When he called out that the grilled foods were ready, a buffet line started with people starting at the grill, getting their choice of food before going inside for sides and topping off their drinks. Mikko stayed at the grill to help serve while you went inside to facilitate easy movement around the kitchen island and helped top off drinks. By the time the last people had gotten their food and were seated at the tables and chairs outside, you were about to make your way to the grill to start your own plate, but Mikko walked in first, holding two plates. He handed one to you and said, 

“I got you your favorites.”

Taking the plate out of his hands, your fingers lightly brushed his as you thanked him. He placed his empty hand on the small of your bag and guided you into the kitchen to fill your plates on the sides. 

When you and Mikko got outside, you started to walk toward one end of the table with some of the people you’d been talking to throughout the day, but Mikko had other plans. 

“Nope,” he said, a hint of jealousy and possession in his voice. He wrapped an arm around your waist and took you to an area of the table that had two empty seats. He’s never used that tone with you before, and it made the deepest parts of your body and soul come alive with fire. 

Throughout the meal, Mikko had his hand on your thigh the entire time. When he first rested his hand there, you nearly choked on your food. Sure, Mikko was touchy with you, but it was usually an arm hanging around the top of whatever chair you were sitting in or an elbow resting on your shoulder. He never put his hand on your thigh before, and he knew exactly what it did to you because as he watched you drink some water to clear your throat after a coughing fit brought on by his touch, he leaned down and whispered in your ear, his breath hot and exhilarating against your cheek,

“Are you okay?” 

Without looking at him, you knew he had a smug grin on his face. 

“Peachy,” you replied, not giving him any look. He chuckled in your ear in response and pulled back to continue eating, but his hand didn’t leave your thigh. 

When you were both done eating, Mikko leaned back in his seat. Deeming it wasn’t close enough to you, he scooted his chair closer to you and changed the position of his hands. The hand that was previously resting on your thigh migrated to rest against the back of your chair, parallel to your shoulders. His thumb was tracing soft circles on the soft skin between your neck and the point of your shoulder. His other hand took one of your hands and place it in his laugh. He intertwined his hands with yours as his thumb traced small circles along the pulse point of your wrist. 

This time, you weren’t shocked at the touch and leaned into his body. 

You and Mikko sat like that for the next half-hour as conversation filled his backyard and everyone got more food and caught up after a summer away from each other. 

Noticing that most people were done with their food and had thrown their plates and utensils into the trash, you asked, “Should we bring out the dessert?” 

“Sure,” Mikko said, mentally preparing himself to let go of you. As if seeing you both unwillingly moving from your seats, Gabe piped up saying he and a few other people can grab the dessert.

“You two have done so much already,” Gabe comments. “You two relax.” 

After giving him directions about where to find everything, you and Mikko relaxed back into each other, a breath you both didn’t know you were holding breathed out. 

A few minutes later, Mikko nudges you with his knee, and you look at him to find him already looking at you. He had a soft smile on his face as his eyes roamed across your face. You weren’t sure what he was searching for, but with a small smile, you knew he found what he was looking for. 

“Thank you for helping me, today,” he says, his voice quiet amongst the loud atmosphere in the backyard. With those six words, all the other voices faded away, even as cheers went up when the dessert was brought out. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” you reply, an earnest look in your eyes. “What else are friends for?”

“I’d say we put on a good event, no?”

“I’d say you’re right.” 

After that, neither of you says anything, but you’re both still looking at each other, searching over each other’s features for that secret message that neither of you truly knows what it is. It’s not until Mikko leans closer and his eyes go down to your lips does your heart stop and you get breathless. You and Mikko have been practically sitting on top of each other for the past hour, but it’s not until he leans less than a centimeter closer to you do you get breathless. 

The hand that was wrapped in your hand goes to cup your cheek. In a matter of seconds, he leans down and gently places his lips on yours. His thigh is bouncing up and down in nerves, and on instinct, one of your hands goes to cover his gargantuan thighs as your other hand goes to the back of his head to pull him closer to you. 

This, this is what you’ve been waiting for. 

His lips are soft against yours as he deepens the kiss, both his hands now resting softly against your face. Slowly and breathlessly, Mikko pulls away, his nose resting against yours. 

“I hope you know how much I love you,” he whispers against your lips. 

“I hope you know how much I love you,” you echo, still not quite believing that this was happening. 

“I fell in love with you seven years ago and never stopped. When I saw you at that wedding, it was like the universe gave me another chance. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you.”

You shake your head before placing a soft peck on the tip of his nose. “I could have told you how I felt, too.” 

“I love you,” he whispers, a wide smile lighting up his face. 

“I love you, too,” you murmur, closing the space between his lips and yours. When his lips touch yours again, it feels like the universe is perfectly aligned. Everything is perfect because finally, finally, you and Mikko are on the same page. 

Kissing him feels like summer, and you will always be catching feelings for him. 

When you first landed in Denver at the start of the summer, running into Mikko was the last thing you wanted to do. You didn’t want to think about the feelings you had for him that one summer seven years ago, and you didn’t want to think about how hard it was to live your life in conjunction with those feelings after you returned home. 

You always knew that Mikko was the one for you. It was always going to be him. 

So

As you tape up your final box, four years later, you can’t imagine what your life would have been like if you didn’t have that dance with him at the wedding. It’s hard to imagine what your life would turn out to be if you didn’t see that text from him. It’s especially hard to see what your life would be like if he wasn’t the first one to confess. 

“Ready to go?” Mikko asks, holding a box, leaning against the door frame of your apartment. “If you’re not ready to move in with me, I—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you interrupt. “I’m just reflecting.” 

Mikko smiles. “Then reflect all you want. I’ll be waiting for you. Always.” 

And with that, a new chapter in your life began. With Mikko at your side and you at Mikko’s side. 

The End

~~~

I hope you enjoyed this! Please let me know what you thought; any form of feedback is greatly appreciated!

[thelarriefics]

CHILDHOOD FRIENDS FIC REC, Part II: Below you will find more fics where they know each other as kids and grow up to fall in love. (Part I)

📖 Come My Love Again by @softfonds (110k)

Harry Styles is handsome, clever, and rich. At least that’s what his friends say of him. He also thinks of himself as a matchmaker in Highbury, pairing people together when he finds the time. But when the arrival of a certain gentleman flips Harry’s world on its head, he starts to question everything that was once all too familiar to him, including his relationship with his good friend, Mr. Tomlinson. An Emma AU.

📖 Sweetest Devotion by @brightgolden (61k)

After his divorce, all Harry wants in life is to provide a stable, loving environment for his three-year-old daughter, Evie. Never in his wildest dreams has he ever considered that life might come with the presence of his teenage crush — Gemma’s friend from secondary school, Louis Tomlinson. Luckily, Harry isn’t still pining over him. Or so he thought.

📖 I'm Resistant but Going Down with a Ship. by @adoremelikeasunflower19 (60k)

When Harry comes back to his hometown for the first time in a long time, he expects to almost drown in nostalgia and longing. What he does not expect, is his path crossing with his former best friend - Louis. It's been years since their goodbye and although most of the wounds have healed and the pain become dull, there is still a lot to unpack and process. They slowly find their way back to each other, talk through undiscussed emotions, and painful memories.

📖 Driftwood by @justanothershadeofblue (51k)

Harry is a lonely and depressed popstar who sailed out of his hometown on Eroda years ago to chase his dreams. He comes back to the island only to find his shining childhood best friend Louis just as cold and dreary as the island they grew up on.

📖 Under the Yellow Roof by @bluejeanlouis (42k)

Colorado, 1972: Louis is a gifted musician spending his days on the wrong side of a drive-thru window. Harry is the lead singer of a band in need of a little talent. Their big break is a thousand miles away. Colorado, 1962: First day of middle school. A lot can happen in ten years.

📖 Here You Come Again by @neondiamond (22k)

A year after taking over his family’s peach orchard, Louis thinks he has it all figured out. His routine on the farm is mundane, yet familiar, and his dog Clifford is more than enough to keep him company. It isn’t until Harry, his ex-boyfriend who broke his heart and left their small town a decade ago to pursue a bigger, brighter future in the city, comes to stay on the farm that he realises just how badly he was lying to himself.

📖 TGIF by @dinosaursmate (20k)

Louis, 13, moves in next door to Harry, eleven. They immediately hit it off and quickly become best friends, but as they get older, things get a little complicated.

📖 i got a heart (but i don't got a soul) by @tempolarriefix (19k)

Or, the one where louis sells his soul before meeting his soulmate, harry is a popstar with a heart of gold, niall is inadvertently responsible for harry's boners, liam is a meddling angel, and zayn is a demon who made a mistake

📖 given a chance by @ialwaysknewyouwerepunk (18k)

Harry and Louis were best friends in elementary school, but grew apart suddenly when they hit secondary school. When they run into each other as adults, those old feelings come flooding back. They decide to grab a drink, but will they ever be able to sort out years and years of misunderstanding?

📖 Restless Lane by @jaerie (14k)

Louis had grown used to his boring life back in Mississippi as a stand-in father figure to his siblings. He never expected his childhood friend to show up on his lawn with the heat of summer or that he would remind Louis how much of himself he'd tucked away and neglected. He also never expected to find himself caught up in a tangled web of feelings or secrets that just might break him. Maybe he had never known Harry at all.

📖 Once The Dark Divides by @zanniscaramouche (14k)

Louis finds out his childhood best friend is a Dom and somehow convinces him it's a good idea to learn about the world of kink with a hands on lesson

📖 All I Want Is You by @polaroidlouis (13k)

harry has a kid from a previous relationship. he and kit come to stay with louis for a while.

📖 Someday My Prince Will Come by @princelyharry (8k)

A handsome boy named Harry Styles, takes refuge in the woods in the little cottage of the two dwarfs with his beloved Huntsman to hide from his father’s brother, King Simon. The evil King is jealous of Harry’s youth because he wants to be known as “the fairest in the land” and Harry’s beauty surpasses his own. Or an AU based on Snow White.

📖 Not Another Lonely Christmas by @haztobegood (8k)

Harry should be more nervous that he’s bringing a literal stranger to meet his extended family, but he figures it can’t be much more awkward than Aunt Sharon’s Christmas parties usually are. Instead, he’s looking forward to having an extra person to buffer the conversation. A knock comes one minute after eleven. He lets out the breath and opens the door. “Hi there— Louis?!” Or, the one where the friend Niall sets up as Harry's fake boyfriend turns out to be Gemma's best friend Louis

📖 1967: not thinkin' 'bout you all the time by @louisandtheaquarian (8k)

It’s September 1967, the flower children have taken over the Haight, The Beatles are learning to meditate, and their American counterparts travel to an ashram on a California cliffside to do the same. Louis just didn’t expect it to be the new home of their old band member—and his ex, Harry. When he’d left home four years earlier, Harry never expected to see his childhood friends again, and even though now they’re writing songs around the campfire in earshot of Harry’s cottage, he still doesn’t have to - he can just stay inside and keep meditating. Except that Louis keeps playing the melody of his song. And one night, Harry breaks.

📖 All at once, this is enough by @lunarheslwt (7k)

Harry, overcome with burn out, wants to nest but he has never nested before, doesn’t know how to. Louis, his best friend, is only happy to help him make a nest and be there for him. Along the way, they find something more.

📖 I'm Always Free To Run Home (No Matter How Far I've Gone) by @fearlesslarrie28 (6k)

Or, the one where Harry and Louis are estranged childhood friends whose friendship would never work out... on many levels.

📖 The President and His Captain by @tommokat (5k)

Childhood best friends turn boyfriends Harry and Louis have kept their relationship quiet for almost a year now, so when Harry's basketball coach enforces a no dating rule for the season, they should have no problem sticking to that rule. Right?

[josephlikesmusic]

Live Show Review! The Saviors Tour (Denver)

I've been wanting to start reviewing the different shows I go to but haven't gotten around to going to one since I started this blog, until now! Green Day has been my favorite band for like 6 years now, and between the full album plays and how much I love the singles off of Saviors, I just had to go to this.

I had heard of the Linda Lindas before, but I constantly forgot to go check them out. I was pleasantly surprised to find out how young the band's members are, with the drummer being only fourteen years old! It's great to see musicians my age finding success in the music industry while also making great music. I love the whole cat theme the band had going on, and they all had great stage presence for how new of a band they were. I would love to see them live again, and wish the best for them in their future.

I've been a pretty big Rancid fan for a few years now, especially their album "...And Out Come the Wolves" and I loved the selection of songs that they played, although I do wish that they were given a longer set time. I know that Green Day was doing a massive set and that the Smashing Pumpkins are a bigger draw, but I would've loved to hear a few more songs out of these guys. Hopefully I'll be able to see them again in the near future as a headlining act!

I had seen the Smashing Pumpkins before, but I will say that I enjoyed this show a lot more. Maybe I was just disappointed that they didn't do an encore at their hometown show when I saw them headline at the United Center in Chicago... Either way, I always forget how many Smashing Pumpkins songs I enjoy until I go and listen and this was yet again the case with this show. I do wish that the band had a bit more stage presence, especially Billy Corgan, but their kind of music also doesn't really call for much. I wouldn't mind seeing Smashing Pumpkins live again, but I also don't think that I would go out of my way to watch them perform again. Two of their shows is enough for me lol.

Now for the big guns: GREEN DAY!! If you know anything about me then you know I'm the biggest Green Day fan ever actually. At one point I was in their top 0% of listeners in my Spotify wrapped, and used to be the top last.fm listener until people started to leave them on loop 24/7 to beat me (totally not salty about that). This was my third time seeing Green Day live, and I feel like every time they out-do themselves just a little more. It was INCREDIBLE seeing both Dookie and American Idiot live, and I just have so many videos of myself sob-singing along to about half of the songs they played. Seeing some of my favorite songs that I thought I would never have the chance to watch live was actually life changing. From Having a Blast and All by Myself off of Dookie, to Homecoming and Letterbomb off of American Idiot, I really was having the time of my life. I was also glad that I was able to see the singles from their latest album, Saviors, but I will NEVER get over the fact that they debuted 1981 the SHOW AFTER I SAW THEM LIVE LAST SUMMER. (They actually hate me personally) I am so grateful to be able to see that amazing set, Green Day really made a night that I will never forget and I can't wait to see what they do next. (PINHEAD GUNPOWDER PLEASE ANNOUNCE A US TOUR PLEASE COME TO COLORADO)

[queen-of-boops]

Meet The Cast

Age: 27

Hometown: Denver, Colorado

Occupation: Professional Skateboarder

Bio: What's up? I'm Jamal and I'm a pro skater. I've got the moves both in and out of the skatepark. I'm here for a good time, not a long time and I'm going to make the most of every opportunity.

Age: 22

Hometown: London, England

Occupation: Influencer

Bio: I'm classy with just the right bit of sassy. Some men find me intimidating, but I'm not going to beat around the bush. If I want something, I'm going to get it and nothing is going to stand in my way.