#and I’ve been debating both of those as options for a career

[sadiecoocoo]

Guys… I have to go back to school… in twelve hours

[thedilfydoctorshow]

My Type

A/N: So I used to write fics back in the day and I haven't written anything in years but noah wyle and his stupid brown eyes have pulled me into the depths of the pitt and I cannot leave

Summary: I kind of got stuck on the idea of Robby and younger reader who is a kindergarden teacher and how their relationship would unfold

Warnings: smut (cunnilingus, felatio, etc.), age gap relationship (Robby = 50s, reader = 25 (20s in general works but there is one specfic date of birth joke)), medical inaccuries because author does not work in the healthcare field

Are there more important things the chief attending physician to be doing than some simple stitches. He’s sure there is something that needs his attention but he needs to take a break and do something basic before he ends up back on that roof he told Abott he’d try to stay away from. 

And so here he is, looking at his patient’s arm before he starts. Mid 20s, kindergarten school teacher sliced her arm with an exacto blade while prepping her classroom. 

“Oh that’s a nasty gash,” he whistles when he unwraps the towel she has around it, “You did this to yourself?” 

“Not on purpose,” you say quickly, “Like you don’t need to call a psychiatrist for me or anything. It’s the end of the month and I have this big calendar that I do with holidays and the kids birthdays and stuff so I was getting that set up and I was cutting a piece of cardboard for it and it just kind of got stuck and yeah. I’m kind of embarrassed because I tell my kids about scissor safety all the time and here I am.” She gestures at her arm

Robby laughs, “Accidents happen all the time, trust me, this isn’t remotely the most embarrassing injury I’ve seen.” 

You pause like you’re debating on asking what you want, “I’m sorry, I have to ask, but please feel free to tell me to shut up if I’m overstepping. What’s the strangest thing you’ve ever had to…remove from a patient.” 

Ah yes, everyone’s favourite question to ask an ER doc. So common Robby immediately knows his answer. He debates not answering. 

“Way back in my med school days someone came in with a flashlight stuck in them.” 

Your jaw falls open, “A full flashflight? Not partial and it got stuck?” 

“A full one. Still worked when the surgeons got it out of him too.” 

You laugh, “of course it was a dude.”

Robby shakes his head in amusement, “it’s always a dude. Women live longer for a reason.”

He finishes up relatively quickly, it was a pretty standard irrigate and suture - probably would have been good to have the med students lean, but Robby is grateful for the small pause in his day. 

“Alright keep those dry for the next 48 hours. After that they’re okay to get wet in the shower just make sure you dry them off properly afterwards. You can get them removed in  2 weeks.” 

“Not to sound totally vapid but how badly is this gonna scar,” he sees the way you bite your in anxiety. 

He chuckles, “Not to worry, it’s a completely normal question. But, lucky for you, I have been doing this for a very long time and I am very good at my job so scarring should be minimal. If you’re very concerned then you can speak to a dermatologist and they’ll have some options for you as well.” 

You smile at him, “Dr. Robinavitch I hope you don’t mind my asking but sometimes I ask people to come in and talk to my kids about their work. Obviously they’re young and not actually thinking about careers but it’s a fun exercise for both the kids and the adults that have participated so far.” 

Michael Robinavitch is many things. He is a good physician, a decent father figure for Jake, an above average tennis player. But at the end of the day he is still a man, and a weak one at that. He noticed your sweet face as soon as he walked in, the way your brightly coloured dress complemented your deep skin tone and highlighted your curves-

“What exactly would I have to do?” 

You light up at the realization he might say yes, “Oh its simple really. You just talk about your job as a doctor, maybe some interesting cases - but they are kindergartners so not too interesting. I doubt parents would like it if their children came home talking about foreign objects in rectal areas.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind” 

~~~

So that’s how Robby ended up in a kindergarten classroom on one of his precious days off. He did some prep, it reminded him of his med school days a bit. Even his actual presentation felt like he was being interrogated by his peers in an auditorium again - except this time his peers were 5 year olds. 

“Dr. Robby, I went to the doctor and they took my blood away. Why?” 

And honestly, Robby is having a great time talking with the kids. Usually the ones he deals with in the ED come in distress so he rarely gets to interact with them when they’re having fun, “Oh it’s very common. Your doctor was just making that your body is healthy, and blood has lots of stuff in it that can tell us that.” 

“Dr. Bobby,” a few of the kids keep messing up his name, he can’t bring himself to correct them, “My brother broke his arm at hockey and the doctor took a picture of bones.” 

“Yes, that is called an X-ray.” 

“And then they put his arm in a cast and our cat scratches it like her tree in my room.” 

“Well you probably shouldn’t let your cat do that.” 

By the end of his time Robby feels lighter. The kids are heading out for their recess and sticks around to help clean up after the activity you set up for them. 

“Oh, Dr. Robinavitch, you don’t need to help me clean up.” 

“Just Robby, please,” he says as he collects the discarded items, “I don’t mind, really. Do you think the kids had fun?” 

“I’ve never seen them ask so many questions before. And you answered them well even when Ava asked how her baby sister got in her moms belly.” 

Robby feels like he didn’t handle that one super well, he kinda just clammed up and sputtered until you had guided the conversation along, “Oh I never know what to say to kids about that.” 

“Yeah I know that I’m their teacher but I teach little kids, not reproductive health so I feel like that conversation is above my pay grade.”

By now the classroom is clean and it’s time for Robby to take his leave. But he lingers for a moment debating his options. You’re obviously very pretty, but you’re also nearly three whole decades younger then him. He doesn’t think he’s making up the way you look at him, but the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable.  

“Dr. Robby,” you say as he starts to pull on his coat, “I know that you’re a little bit older than me but if you wanted to ask me out, I wouldn’t say no.”

~~~

“Mikey” 

Your voice rolls around in his head as he kisses down your throat. He tried to be the gentleman his mother raised - took you out to a nice a dinner, paid the bill, and was about to drop you off home and call you in the morning. But the second he got into the drivers side of his truck you climbed over the centre console, planted yourself on yourself on his lap and pressed your lips to his. Conversation over dinner had been pleasant, the two of you taking the time to get to know each other, but now Robby is learning that there is a completely different side of the sweet kindergarten teacher.

“Baby,” he tries when he feels you messing with the buttons on his shirt, “baby, slow down.”

“You look so sexy in this suit. I’ve been wanting to rip it off of you as soon as we sat down.” 

It takes every ounce of willpower for Robby to physically pull away from you, “No. Not here.” 

“Afraid your old man knees can’t handle some good old fashioned car sex?” 

And honestly Robby does consider dragging you into the backseat to show you exactly what these “old man knees” can handle, but he has plans for you. 

“The car does not have enough space for me to bend you over the way I’ve been planning since you walked through the doors of my ED.”

~~~

Robby has died and gone to heaven. He’s sure of it. You, between his knees on his bed, looking up at him with your big doe eyes, nuzzling his cock through his boxers. You tease him, your hand coming up to comb through the wiry hairs on his stomach before they dip below the waistband and pull his cock free. Robby’s head falls back against the headboard. 

“Oh you’ve been holding out on me,” you let out a moan as you lick a stripe from base to tip, “might not fit.” 

“Don’t worry, baby, we’ll make it fit.”

Your lips stretch around the tip of his cock and he’s certain his heart stops for a moment. His head falls back. You reach up and thread your fingers between his before guiding his hand to your hair.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, “You’re going to kill me.” 

That spurs you on, bobbing your head lower and lower each time. He can’t control the way his hips juts up as you swallow him down, but you don’t seem to mind. You use your hands to help with what you can’t swallow. You let out an occasional cock-drunk moan and the vibrations go straight up his spine. He loses track of time, doesn’t know if he should be embarrassed by how quickly he feels that coil in his belly. Needs you to pull off so he can savour the moment. 

“Baby, “ he tugs on your hair, guiding your head up, “baby, need a minute.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

Your voice is hoarse, and the knowledge that he’s the reason why makes his cock twitch. You look up at him, lashes wet with your tears. Robby wonders if you’re wearing mascara, and if it’s waterproof, and what he needs to do to get you to throw it out and wear something that runs. 

“No, god no. You’re perfect but if you keep going I’m not gonna last long enough to fuck you.” 

You smile at him, “I don’t mind.” 

“I mind. In case you haven’t noticed, I am much older than you.” 

You roll your eyes, “yes and-”

“And that means once I finish, I’m out for a while.” 

“Oh,” you look like you’re processing the information, “well unless you were planning on kicking me out, we’ve got all night.” 

And really what else is he supposed to do except flip you over and bury his face in between your legs until it feels like your thighs are going to cut off his oxygen supply.

~~~

Robby is not an idiot. He knows 30 some years between the two of you is a lot. In fact he was worried that after the initial lust faded that the two of you would be left in awkward silence. But that time never came. 

You might not see the worst that humanity has to offer while working with 5 year olds, but you understand the struggle of being overworked and underfunded - though you and Robby have a fundamental misunderstanding of what underfunded means (Robby nearly has a heart attack when you ask him for budgeting help and he sees your biweekly paystub - he decides then that he’s paying for your gas every week, would also take care of your groceries if you’d let him). You listen when Robby complains about his inability to move borders because of the hospital’s refusal to hire more nurses and he returns the favour when you have a breakdown over the district’s decision to increase class sizes again. 

On his days off he looks forward to picking you up from work and either taking you somewhere nice to eat. You both are aware of the optics of your relationship; pretty young woman, getting wined and dined by an older man who probably bought the expensive dress she’s wearing and the sparkling rocks in her ears (because he did). Sometimes you like to play that part of the relationship up, thanking him for dinner by getting down on your knees in his living room and sucking his soul out through his cock. But Robby isn’t actually a skeevy old man, the night always ends with you tired and spent, curled up against Robby’s body. 

~~~

Dana’s the first one to realize he’s seeing someone. He’s not surprised, no one can ever hide anything from her. 

“Let me see a picture of the new girl,” she all but attacks him as they walk into PTMC together. 

“What new girl?” he knows playing dumb isn’t gonna work, but he has to try anyways. 

“You think I don’t know you? This is the happiest you’ve been in years, and I know it’s not because of Jack’s therapist…unless the new girl is Jack’s therapist.” 

“Jack’s therapist is a man,” he corrects, because he is a feminist after all, “I don’t know if I want to tell you about her yet.” 

“What are you hiding from me?” Dana punches him lightly in the shoulder, “I gotta know what she looks like. I’m your emergency contact, I need to know who else to call if you end up dropping dead on me.” 

“Won’t be much longer if you keep making jokes about me dying. You’re not that much younger than me, you know.” 

“Tell me about her.” 

“No.” 

“Why not?”

“Because she’s…” he’s trying to figure out some way of getting out of this, “young. A lot younger than me.” 

“Collins was younger than you.”

“Younger.” 

Dana stops in her tracks, “Robinavitch, she is legal, right?”

“Jesus, fuck, Dana yes. She’s 25. She’s a teacher. I’m not some pervert.”

She hold her hands up in surrender, “You were scaring me there a bit. 25 is…fine.” 

“You’re judging.” 

“I’m not judging, I'm just surprised. I thought you would end up with someone who had the same number at the beginning of your birth year.”

Oh. 

It had never really occurred to Robby that you were born this century. Or that he was born last century. 

~~~

When he finally gets home after his shift that ended up going overtime again all of his qualms about your relationship melt away once the smell of whatever delicious meal you’ve conjured up hits him.

“Hey baby,” you smile at him, wine glass in hand. You’ve changed from your school clothes to one of his old shirts that hangs off you like a dress, nipples poking through the fabric like something out of a wet dream, “hope work wasn’t too awful.” 

He just wraps his arm around your waist and pull you close to him. He’s still in scrubs, you don’t care. 

“Dana figured out I was seeing someone.”

You gasp in jest, “finally telling the world about us?” 

“She gave me shit about you being half my age.” 

“What, she doesn’t think it’s sexy?” 

“I don’t care what she thinks.” 

He lifts you on top of his counter, stepping inbeween your legs before he slides your body so he can feel your pussy against his clothed crotch. He peppers kisses down your neck, scratching with his beard the way he knows you like. He continues down loweer, a trail between your breasts, still covered in his shirt. He continues lower until he sinks down to his knees. He already knows you’ve forgone the panties - still shudders when he hooks your legs over his shoulders and presses a kiss to your inner thigh. 

He squeezes your thighs, roaming then presses a kiss to your clit. You let out a soft hum, hand coming down to card through his hair. He can never get enough of you, his hands tighten around your hips, holding your legs open as he dives in. He can feel his nose bumping against your clit, gulping you down and moans. Every bad thing that’s happened that day melts away as you writhe underneath him, chanting his name.

 Robby, Robby, Robby 

It plays through his mind on a loop as he adds two fingers. He can feel the heels of your feet digging into his shoulders trying to pull you impossibly closer to you, can feel the way the cabinet handle is digging into his sternum hard enough to leave a bruise and yet he doesn’t care. Nothing matters except for the sound of you coming undone for him in ontop of his kitchen counted. 

[delicateperspective]

https://www.tumblr.com/delicateperspective/782767157576679424/hi-ive-noticed-theres-a-lot-of-debate-about?source=share

But isn’t it true that Sony sabotaged Louis’ career for a long time? That’s why people criticize Harry for being so close to Columbia/Sony and for staying with them, like he's just not working with them, they seem like friends (or at least that's what we see). Sorry, I just want to understand some of this better.

Hey anon, that’s a really good question!

I think a good place to start is by remembering that Louis Tomlinson is a complex human being, like anyone else. There’s the part of him that’s the scrappy, stubborn, working-class kid from Doncaster (the one who used to steal sandwiches and has always had a “fuck you, I do what I want” streak). But there’s also another side: the smart, strategic, deeply passionate artist who’s always loved music and performing and who understands the business better than people give him credit for.

And humans are allowed to be both. They can want freedom and still play the game. They can be pissed off by the industry and still choose to stay in it — because it’s the only way to do what they love.

It’s also really important to remember that what we see from the outside is rarely the full story. There are smiling photos of me with bosses I’ve had issues with. I’ve gone to events with them, hung out at their homes, and still had major frustrations under the surface. A job is a job (whether you’re someone like me, or someone like H). The difference? I could walk away from my job tomorrow and probably be fine. H couldn’t. Not without risking everything he’s worked for.

Also, H didn’t just randomly “choose” C*lumbia out of nowhere. 1D was signed to Syc* in the UK and C*lumbia in the US, which means that when the band went on hiatus, those companies likely had what’s called “first right of refusal.” That means that before an artist can sign with another label, the current label gets the chance to match or outbid that offer and keep them. So chances are, H had to stay with C*lumbia unless someone came in with a better offer — and clearly, C*lumbia was invested enough to make sure they kept him. In the same way, Syc* held onto Louis, and it seems they had very different plans for him.

2015/2016 Was Messy, Let’s not forget how chaotic that time was and all of the different gears that were spinning for all of them. Around then, S*ny execs (including R*b Str*nger) allegedly wanted both of them. (L to stay behind the scenes, writing songs while H became the face.) And at the time, that probably made sense to them — L was most proud of his songwriting credits in 1D more than anything else, and H had already been getting the solo star treatment.

But L didn’t do what was expected. He didn’t choose songwriting. He didn’t choose to manage acts under Sim*n. He chose to make his own music — and in doing so, he pissed off a lot of powerful people who expected him to play a different role. That’s when things started to get really difficult for him.

Now, whether or not R*b Str*nger (or anyone else at S*ny) actively sabotaged Louis — that’s something we may never fully know. But let’s say, hypothetically, he did. Should H have walked away from C*lumbia? (and lets be clear, he couldn't have until he gave them three albums - at least - and the contract could have also included what is called "options" which would mean he still might owe them more under the first contract. So, his first oppertunity to walk way would have JUST happened.)

Honestly? I don't think so. Harry snubbing R*b Str*nger publicly would be career suicide. Like it or not, Stringer is one of the most powerful people in the music industry. Ghosting him or switching labels in protest wouldn’t just hurt H — it could hurt L, too. Both H and L know how this system works. H staying close to C*lumbia/S*ny isn’t necessarily a betrayal. It’s playing the long game. It’s making sure he still has the platform and the power to make the kind of music and statements he wants to make.

TL;DR:

L is complex. He made a choice that went against what S*ny & Syc* wanted — and it made his road harder.

H’s connection to C*lumbia/S*ny isn’t just about loyalty — it’s about business, contracts, and survival in a cutthroat industry.

What we see (smiling photos, friendly interactions) doesn’t always reflect the full truth.

Criticizing H for staying with C*lumbia is easy from the outside, but the risks of leaving would have been far bigger than people realize.

Hope that helps clear some of it up, anon. If you want a deeper dive into L's journey and how it relates to R*b, I'd suggest these posts from @fookinhellcurlyyy.

[auxcordlawd]

Part One: Wandering Thoughts of a Ravenclaw

Summary: 18 year old Ravenclaw student is dating Miles Bletchley (Slytherin), and gets on Professor Snape’s bad side

Warnings: French Kissing, Heavy Petting

Side Note: I prefer long drawn out stories, and this has been a fantasy of mine for quite some time. This is my first time writing fanfic, so lmk any comments, suggestions, feel free.

The snow was finally melting outside the castle, a sign that Easter break was near. After Easter break you only have one more term at Hogwarts, which gives you mixed emotions. You’re excited to start your career, debating between teaching at Hogwarts for Potions or working at St. Mungos as a healer. Both are realistic options due to receiving O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s in Potions, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Charms.

You were now sitting in Defense Against the Dark Arts which is now taught by none other than Severus Snape. An ornery, greasy haired, hooked nose professor whom most students either feared or despised. Thankfully you never saw his worst as you followed the rules, yet he seemed annoyed by you. Maybe it was because I’ve typically done well in his courses. That is until this term.

You, a Ravenclaw, recently started dating Miles Bletchley, a Slytherin in your same year. He’s been walking you to classes, and just kissed you for the first time while dropping you off at Defense Against the Dark Arts. You can’t quit thinking of it, and are having trouble paying attention. It’s not until Professor Snape drops books heavily in front of you that you realize you completely zoned out.

“Miss (y/l/n)?”

Snape says looking down at me with a scowl.

“Yes Professor?”

You say while blushing, feeling uncomfortable under his harsh gaze.

“I asked you to repeat the spell you would use to lure a dragon to sleep. The one I mentioned not ten minutes ago.”

“Umm.”

Is all you can get out. You completely missed that part of the lesson.

“Detention with me after class. Perhaps you should concern yourself less with boys and focus on your studies Miss (y/l/n).”

Snape said while lowering his voice for the second sentence.

His concern gave you an odd rush.

After class was over you stayed sitting in your seat, holding you breath for what was about to come.

After the last student left he slammed the door, and briskly walked to your desk, his dark cape flowing behind him.

��Miss (y/l/n), I expect this behavior from the hormonal 4th year girls, but you, an 18 year old young woman, should not be daydreaming about a boy during my lecture. I truly could care less about your personal life, but since you have applied to teach Potions next year, I must question your competence.”

“Professor-“

He cuts me off before you can try to defend myself.

“You will be assisting me to grade papers for the 3rd and 4th year students for the next week starting tomorrow. You will arrive directly after dinner in my office ready to work. If you can get though this simple task I will not immediately remove your application from our files.”

“But-“

“All you need to say is ‘Yes, sir’.” He says in a commanding tone telling you the conversation is over.

“Yes, sir.” You say before grabbing your belongings and heading the Ravenclaw common room to process what just happened.

Your career now hanging on a thread by the most temperamental professor at Hogwarts. It took this for you to realize how badly you wanted to teach as opposed to being a healer. As you process this you start to feel angered by the entire evening.

You feel your stomach growl and realize you've almost missed dinner. You run down the spiral staircase and fall into Miles, who catches you with a smile.

“Woah there (y/n), where are you off too so fast?”

Miles states with a smile, still holding your waist. His blue eyes twinkle in a sexy way as he looks at you. You can’t help but admire his short blonde hair and athletic build, no doubt from all those hours on the quidditch field.

“I am starving, ravenous even.”

You say with flirty grin, liking the feel of his hands your waist.

“Come with me.”

He says pulling your hand away from the Great Hall. You follow without question excited for the distraction from the earlier encounter.

He leads you down the grand staircase and whispers the current password to the Slytherin common room. As the door opens you see a delicious looking spread of food being brought by disgruntled looking house elves. You feel a pang of guilt for the elves, but your grumbling stomach wins.

Miles gestures to a green tufted loveseat, and begins filling up a plate for you. He plops down next to you, handing you the full plate. You start scarfing down the delicious meal as Miles watches with amusement.

“Do they starve you over there at Ravenclaw?” He says with a smirk.

You laugh with a full mouth and elbow him in the ribs.

You finish your meal and start chatting with Miles. Your legs draped over his, his hand on your thigh. You start feeling the building desire to kiss him as the common room empties. You climb onto his lap and start to lightly kiss him as he pulls you closer. His tongue slipping into your mouth, your tongue lightly pushing against his as the heat between you builds. One of his hands slides to your ass under your skirt, the other on your ribs just below your breast under your uniform shirt.

“Ahem.”

You jolt up causing Miles to quickly remove his hands. You turn towards the common room door to see a tall dark figure standing there watching you.

“50 points from Ravenclaw, and Miles you will be reporting to Professor Sprout for detention for two weeks directly after your classes.” Professor Snape said with a smirk seemingly directed at you. “Miss (y/l/n), go straight to your dormitory.”

[qnewsau]

Treading the Balance with Dr Kerryn Phelps

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/treading-the-balance-with-dr-kerryn-phelps/

Treading the Balance with Dr Kerryn Phelps

Dr Kerryn Phelps’ religious marriage to her wife Jackie in New York in 1998 and subsequent outing in the media really stated the debate around marriage equality in Australia before it was on the radar of even many people within the LGBTQIA+ community.

Dr Phelps has now released Power of Balance, a memoir of both her personal life and life in the public eye, and gave this exclusive interview to QNews.

QNews: Even by the early 2000s there was still opposition to the idea of marriage equality from within the LGBTQIA+ community where some people feared that gay people marrying would turn us heteronormative or that non monogamous and polyamorous people would be slut shamed. None of that really came to pass. Can you talk about that?

Dr Kerryn Phelps: When Jackie and I said we were going to New York to get married in 1998 we knew that it wouldn’t be legal anywhere in the world. That was a very personal decision, and something that we shared with family and friends. But it very soon became public knowledge.

We were in the situation of being the first couple in Australia to be publicly talking about the need for marriage equality, and a need for recognition of long term relationships for those people who wanted their relationships recognised in that way.

I do remember the varying views in the community about that and that it did actually take a bit of time for everyone to be on the same page.

It’s been 20 years since John Howard banned same-sex marriage. That was really framed at the time as a way to prevent same-sex couples from adopting overseas. How did that make you feel as a parent?

The main thing that 2004 change to the Marriage Act did was to stop same-sex couples who had been legally married in places like Canada from having their marriages recognised in Australia.

It was cutting off the option to use the marriage laws in other countries to have those relationships recognised as opposite-sex couples were able to if their marriages were performed overseas.

There were also same-sex couples who were raising children through various ways of forming families. Some had children before the relationship so they wanted recognition of step parents or co-parents, or there were couples who were fostering and wanting to adopt, where they were only allowed to adopt as single people.

There was a situation where some types of families were given recognition and rights and others weren’t and that wasn’t fair to the children or the parents.

There was an incident I remember from around 2010 that didn’t make it into the book- an Australian Marriage Equality fundraising dinner in the overseas passenger terminal at Circular Quay where a guest started choking and you had to jump in to clear their airways to save them. Do you remember that?

I do! I’d heard about the heimlich manoeuvre in my medical training but it was the first time in my career as a doctor that I had the necessity to use that skill. So I was very glad that I was there but I’ve never had to use it again since that night. You describe in the book about how you became an early believer in the medical use of cannabis. Can you tell me about that?

I was a medical reporter for the Today show on the Nine Network and I arranged a trip to the US to report on a number of stories.

I went to the Mayo Clinic, and interviewed the cast of ER which had recently started on Nine in Australia.

I also visited California which was in the process of legalising medicinal cannabis.

I interviewed legislators, medicinal users of cannabis, doctors who were prescribing it. I visited a cannabis club in San Francisco and I saw how that whole system was working.

That really transformed my view about the need for medicinal cannabis to be regulated and used as a part of the treatments that we’re able to offer people who had intractable symptoms that weren’t able to be treated in any other way.

That was really an important first hand experience of speaking to people who are directly affected and who had benefited from it. Australia has now legalised medical cannabis. But the cost of patients can sometimes be as much if not more than accessing marijuana from illegal sources. Do you think medical cannabis products should be subsidised under the PBS?

It’s something for the PBS to look at. There are a lot of people who are gaining benefits where it is being prescribed as a medication and I think under certain circumstances it would be helpful for people who need to take medicinal cannabis to have support from the PBS for that cost. Do you think Australia will legalise recreational cannabis in the future and Is that something you’d support?

Cannabis is not a harmless drug. It has known adverse health effects like bronchitis, cardiovascular damage and mental health impacts.

That said, the current system of regulation does need a review. Criminal penalties for personal use can be counterproductive. Cannabis use should be treated as a health issue and not a criminal justice issue.

If people are using cannabis to self-medicate, I would encourage them to speak to their doctor and if medicinal cannabis is the most appropriate evidence-based treatment for them, they could be provided with a prescription.

In the book, you talk about how you helped Magda Szubanski come out in 2012 so that she could support the marriage equality campaign. Could you talk about that?

Magda had been considering it for some time and I had a number of private conversations with her about it. In the end we had a meeting at Jackie’s parents’ place. Alex Greenwich was there, myself, Jackie, and Magda.

We discussed how and when she could do that because she really wanted to lend her support to the marriage equality campaign and so we made a decision that it would be on The Project and it would be live and I suggested that it would be Valentines Day which was just a few months away.

Magda’s coming out was really transformative to the marriage equality campaign because she has that warm and clever and funny way of putting things, and it made the Australian people really want to become involved in that campaign.

In the book you recount a few run-ins that you’ve had with former Liberal Senator Bill Heffernan. Does he really introduce himself as “the devil” when he calls people?

Yes, he did that to us. Jackie picked up the call and said there’s someone on the line who says he’s the devil. And it was Bill Heffernan.

What were the high points of your time as the Member of Wentworth?

Winning the by-election unexpectedly with a historic swing of almost 20 percent which was thought to be impossible in a suburban blue ribbon Liberal seat.

We’d seen Cathy McGowan do that in Indi and Rebekha Sharkie do that in Mayo but that hadn’t been done before in an urban setting.

Then when we had the power balance after Julia Banks left the Liberal Party to go to the crossbench, we were able to pass the Medevac legislation. That gave a renewed focus on the way Australia treats refugees who need medical attention.

So within months of that byelection all of the children and their families were removed from Nauru, some of them who had been there for years. The consumption of alcohol by Australian politicians has been in the news. What do you think needs to change around that?

I didn’t witness it personally but I had an office that was alcohol free.

People do work long hours in parliament. They will quite often have dinner on the job, so people might have a glass of wine with dinner as you would in the dining room.

I don’t think that a ban on alcohol in parliament is the way to go but I do think there needs to be a Code of Conduct around alcohol.

The other thing to look at is under what circumstances alcohol is available at functions in parliament and I think the government has been working on an alcohol strategy around that.

-Power of Balance is published by Hardie Grant Books.

Kerryn Phelps To Become First Openly Lesbian MP In House Of Reps

Kerryn Phelps On How She Became An ‘Accidental’ LGBTIQ Activist

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.

[masn-mount]

Can u don’t an imagine when you go to your first initial scan to see your baby

I'm going to put three requests in this, I hope you don't mind!! It's going to be, finding out you're pregnant, giving Mason the news & the first scan! I also added telling family because I thought it would fit and be cute + some extra fluff in the end. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think. xx

words: 6k

warnings: pregnancy, I’m not a doctor and I’ve never been pregnant so I’m not an expert, just bare with me in those parts please 

“Maybe you’re pregnant” where the three words playing over and over in your mind since the night before. You had met up with a few girlfriends for dinner and ended up talking about how nauseous you had been feeling recently, your friend Amanda lightheartedly spoke the words that wouldn’t leave your mind since. Truly you hadn’t thought about the possibility, maybe it was a little naive of you but now that you were thinking about it you felt a little nervous. You’ve always wanted kids and you know you want them with Mason but you weren’t actively trying to get pregnant so it worried you that it might be too soon. Mason was at the peak of his career and even if he’s home a lot and both of you have settled down you’re not sure if having a baby right now was on his mind. You talked about having a family quite often, especially during the nights when neither of you could sleep and you even remember the first time he had brought it up. You had met his niece for the first time when she was only a few weeks old and as you held her Mason was sitting next to you looking at you with those eyes as he teased you about having his children one day. You had told him to shut up but the blush on your cheeks had given away that you wanted the same thing and when the topic was brought up ever since then it was always about it happening in the future, maybe two or three years from now. 

You were trying to not overthink as you stood in your bathroom, looking into the mirror as you waited for the four pregnancy tests sitting on the counter to show their results. You were anxiously biting your lip and Amanda who you had called on FaceTime had to tell you to stop before you’d bite through it. You were too in your own thoughts to even register that the alarm on your phone had started ringing, indicating that it was time for you to look at the tests. You were only brought back to reality by Amanda’s voice through your phone. “Am I going to be an auntie?” with shaky hands you reached for the tests and when you turned them around all of them read ‘pregnant’ and all you could do in that moment was nod your head before you burst out in tears as your friend was squealing on the other end. 

You spent the rest of your morning in bed, debating if you should just blurt out the news to Mason or surprise him in some way. You decided to go with the second option, maybe you were feeling nervous about the whole situation but it was a special moment that you wanted the both of you to remember for the rest of your lives. You didn’t even notice Mason walking into the room, your mind so far away. “Hey, something wrong?” 

“Hey, I didn’t hear you. I’m good Mase, how was training?” You smiled at him but you know he wasn’t buying it. 

“I can tell something is up, it’s better if you just tell me.”

“I promise I’m fine. I just felt a little sick earlier but I’m good.” You dismissed but in reality the way he was looking at you was making you want to change your mind about the surprise and just blurt the news out. 

“Anything I should be worried about?” 

“No, now come here. You left way too early this morning and I’ve missed you.” You smiled at him with open arms and when he laid down on top of you and you both got comfortable Mason started talking about his day as you ran your hands through his hair and down his back. You were trying to pay attention to him and occasionally reply but you couldn’t help it when your mind drifted elsewhere and when Mason’s hands were running up and down your sides, sometimes brushing over your stomach and it made your whole body heat up. 

It had been one week since you took the tests and a few days ago you had booked an appointment with your doctor just to be sure and she had confirmed the news that the pregnancy tests had already done. You’re not entirely sure how you had managed to keep the news from Mason for a week, you were awful at keeping anything from him it didn’t matter if it was good or bad news. You remember when you had organized a surprise birthday party for him when he turned nineteen and you had almost spilled the whole thing and for a full week you had to make excuses on why you couldn’t speak on the phone instead settling for just texting. 

You knew you wouldn’t be able to keep it to yourself for much longer so the next morning after Mason had left for training you grabbed your laptop, ‘baby Chelsea kits’ is what you typed in your google search bar and when you put the smallest one in your basket the personalized print on the back made you almost cry. 

Two days later you had got a notification about an incoming package and you knew that it was the shirt. You had kept an eye out of the kitchen window all morning and afternoon, waiting for the package to arrive so you’re not sure how you had still managed to miss it. “What have you ordered from Chelsea?” The question made you completely stop in your track and you could feel yourself go red because you knew you were going to have to lie to him again.

“What? nothing!”

“So you changed your name without telling me?” If you weren’t feeling anxious that he would open the package you would have laughed with him.

“Give me that!” You didn’t mean to snap and you regretted it right away especially when you could tell Mason was surprised and hurt by your harsh tone, the smile on his face falling completely. 

“Can you stop acting like this, please? I don’t know what’s going on with you but it’s making me nervous. You won’t even talk to me, y/n.” He had been walking around on eggshells around you for the past couple of days and you were feeling awful about it and in that moment you were ready to just say fuck it and just tell him that you were pregnant but you had already decided to stick to your plan. 

“It’s nothing, just give me the package.” Thankfully he handed you the little box and he didn’t have time to question you more because the second the package was in your hands you hurried up the stairs and into your office. You stayed in there until Mason had come knocking on your door telling you that he was going out for dinner with some of his friends. One small kiss was pressed to the side of your head before he hurried out of the door.

You were feeling awful. 

Mason had told you that the dinner was planned a week ago but in reality he just needed to get out of the house for a bit. He knew you were in a mood and he wasn’t sure for what reason but he knew it wouldn’t take much for him to snap soon so he thought it would be better to go out and clear his mind and once he got home he would talk to you. He had started to overthink everything he had done or not done for the past week. Wondering if he had forgotten an important date or day but he knew it wasn’t your anniversary yet and neither was it your birthday. 

Nothing was coming to his mind and that was confusing him even more.

You were sitting in the livingroom waiting for Mason to arrive home and you had felt excitement build up in your body about finally telling him and until you heard the door open you hadn’t felt nervous at all. You put the box that was sitting in your lap under the big pillows before you stood up and met him in the hall with a bone crushing hug. You knew you had been acting weird all week and there had been moments when you had snapped at him for no reason and yet he had never been upset with you or snapped back, he had just kept asking you what was wrong. You love him so much and you’re happy you don’t get to just spend your life with him but also that you have created one with him. “Hi, darling.” He said as he squeezed you back, his hands finding their way under your jumper immediately making you feel so much warmer even if his hands were a little cold. 

“Hi, I missed you.” You smile up at him as you lean back a little before cupping his face and bringing him closer to yours. “I love you” you said, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips as he mumbles the three words back to you. “I have a little surprise for you.” You say, wrapping your arms back around him, voice slightly muffled by his neck.

“Is you finally acting like your usual self not the surprise?” He said into the soft spot between your jaw and ear, his hands roaming up and down your back.

You know he was teasing but you couldn’t help but pout a little before Mason leaned down and kissed you. “I’m sorry about how I’ve been acting. It’s not something you have done. Well, it kind of is but also not.” You laughed a little at the confusion on his face. “Just let me show you, okay?” Mason nodded as you grabbed his hand, dragging him to the sofa where you had previously been sitting and once you were both sitting down you grabbed the little box you had hidden before and handed it to Mason. “Okay, open it!” The smile on your face made Mason smile too but when he noticed your suddenly slightly glossy eyes he stopped himself from removing the ribbons you had tied into a small perfect bow to ask if you were okay. You just nodded, telling him to continue and it seemed like hours passed before Mason finally removed the green wrapping paper covering the white box.

“That’s some very nice wrapping skills, baby.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the comment telling him to just hurry up and open it already. Once he opened the box and his eyes settled on the little blue shirt hiding inside you felt yourself biting your lip as your glossy eyes stayed focused on Mason’s face, waiting for his reaction. You heard him so quietly whisper ‘what’ before his eyes locked with yours for a second and all you could do was nod your head towards the box, encouraging him to look at it. When his hands took ahold of the shirt you felt like you were about to cry on the spot because it looked even smaller in his hands and for you the print on the back was clear, ‘DADDY 19′ decorating it.

“This is smaller than Summer’s.” You wiped the few tears that had fallen down your cheeks before you laughed a little at his comment, finding it adorable. The second he saw your face and noticed your tears he looked even more confused before he finally turned the shirt around. The second the word registered to him you could tell the shock on his face right away, how his mouth opened and closed a few times before his eyes moved from the fabric in his hands to your eyes as he silently asked for a confirmation and all you could do was nod because you felt like you couldn’t find words. Just a second later the shock on his face was covered by the happiness that took over him, his smile seemed bigger than you’d ever seen it, possibly even bigger than the day he watched you walk down the aisle but just like that time the tears instantly filled his eyes. “Baby?” He softly whispers and for the first time you’re not sure if he was reffering to you when using the word. “Fuck, you’re pregnant?” He laughed a little before putting the box behind him so he could reach for you, pulling you into him so you were staddling his lap as you both held each other with tears running down your faces. “I can’t believe this, holy shit. We’re going to be parents, gorgeous.” He couldn’t stop smiling for a second and the excitement in his voice made you love him even more, if that was even possible. “Are you okay? Happy? Fuck, I can’t believe this.” He said lowly, speaking into your ear. You lean back a little so you could look at him and Mason couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward and kissing you any longer. 

“I’m so good and so happy, Mase.” You say and Mason hugs you so tightly before he kisses you over and over again. 

“Oh my God. You’re fucking pregnant.” He says again and you can only nod through a giggle. You couldn’t quite believe that you had been worried about telling him at one point but you were happy you had waited to tell him like this. You’re sure the image of him holding the tiny shirt will be ingraved in your memory forever. You start crying again when Mason’s slightly trembling hands move up your shirt and slowly settle on your belly before he softly whispers, “our baby”.

“Yes, handsome. All ours.” 

“This is the cutest thing I have ever seen. Our baby is going to wear this, that’s fucking insane.” It makes you smile how he’s not let go of of the shirt even once since he opened the box.

“They are, yeah.”

“I love you.” You could feel him smile against your jaw, something he had been unable to stop doing. “You’re feeling alright? have you done any checkup? How long have you known?” 

“I am, I’m good, Mase. I’ve gone just once and it was to confirm that I’m pregnant and it went well. I’ve only known for a week.”

“I will be coming to the next and all the others after. I promise to not miss a single one.” He said as his hands wandered back under your shirt, resting on your belly right away. “‘Ello, little one” he whispered as his thumbs caressed the skin. 

“I know you will be, I love you, we love you.”

“You’re going to be the best mum ever.”

“You’re going to be such an incredible dad, Mase. I know it.” 

“You’re gonna be the hottest mum too.” You just rolled your eyes at that.

The first weeks of your pregnancy had gone relatively well besides the fact that you were struggling to keep it a secret from your friends and families. You had decided to keep it a secret for a little bit, until you were clear and knew everything was okay with the baby. You didn’t want to worry Mason so you told him it would just be better to tell everyone once you were showing a little more. You were now eight weeks pregnant and on you way to your first scan, you were excited to finally get a glimps of you baby because since you had found out you both had been talking about it nonstop. How you would tell your families, how Mason was going to tell his teammates and if you thought it was a boy or a girl. It was way too early to know but Mason was adament it was a boy even if he would say that he wouldn’t mind a girl either. 

You were so happy and excited that you could barely keep your hands to yourself on the way to the doctor, reaching for Mason’s hand and squeezing it. “We’re seeing our baby today, Mase.” You squealed as if he didn’t already know. He would just nod and when stopping at a red light he would lean over and press a kiss to your cheek. 

You weren’t feeling very nervous until you sat down in the waiting room and after ten minutes the nurse came looking for you. “Y/n Mount?” You took a deep breath before you stood up and followed the nurse into another room, Mason right behind you and once you sat down the wait felt like forever. Your leg was bouncing up and down and you were biting your lip as you looked at Mason who you could tell was feeling nervous too but the second he felt your eyes on him he just smiled at you before reaching for your hand, pressing a kiss to it. It made you instantly calm down a little until you heard a knock on the door. 

“Hello!” Dr Elizabeth greeted with a smile on her face. “Are mum and dad feeling alright this morning?” You felt a little giddy at someone outside of your little bubble reffering to you both as parents. 

“I’m good, thank you.” You smiled.

“Yeah, good too, thanks.” You could tell Mason was feeling even more nervous than you so you just squeezed his hand a little before your eyes turned to your doctor again. 

“Lovely. I can tell you’re both nervous which is fully normal but I’m sure it’s going to go very well. Just lay back a little for me and relax as much as possible, y/n.” You talked a little about how your first eight weeks of pregnancy had went and after she started explaining what she was going to be able to tell the both of you from the scan today. “I’m going to check the baby’s heartbeat and then we will be able to see if you’re having just one baby or possibly two.” She smiled as she put on a pair of gloves. “I will also be able to estimate your due date.” It all sounded great until Dr Elizabeth mentioned that she would also check that you were still pregnant. That had your heart raising and your whole body stiffen, she could tell instantly so she just smiled at you and told you that it was going to be fine. 

“I will try and get as many pictures as possible for you both.” She laughed when Mason asked. “Alright, mummy, let’s see this baby.” You couldn’t help but smile because this was the moment you had been waiting for. Mason’s hand was still in yours as Dr Elizabeth put the gel on your tummy. The probe was pressed to your tummy as your doctor tried to find your baby and once she did, she pointed the baby out for you before clicking a few buttons as you waited for what you assumed was a heartbeat. When nothing could be heard you noticed a frown on her face but it was quickly concealed once she noticed your eyes on her. You wanted to ask if everything was okay because from everything you had read in your books and online it wasn’t meant to take this long but your throat felt dry. You felt like hours had passed before you could finally hear the sound you had been waiting and dreaming for. You immediately started crying and you could hear Mason let out a sigh of relief next to you before he stood up from the chair and pressed a series of kisses to your head. 

“There we go! We got a little prenkster in there for sure, just like his dad I’m assuming.” Dr Elizabeth laughed before you joined in after confirming her assumptions earning a protest from Mason. “That’s a nice and strong heartbeat. They just wanted to mess with mum and dad for a second.” Your eyes were blurry as you looked at the screen in front of you, your first look at your baby. You could hear Mason crying behind you so you just pulled him closer to you as you pressed a kiss to the back of his hand. “How does a summer baby sound?” She smiled. 

“That sounds perfect.” Dr Elizabeth tells you everything you need to know and you schedule your next few appointments, making it easier for Mason to plan them around his schedule. He was determined to not miss a single one and it made you smile. Before you left the room she also handed you four copies of the first pictures of your baby and once you both got in the car you sat for about ten minutes just looking at the pictures in your hands, it felt surreal to you.

“Our baby, darling. Fucking insane, isn’t it.” 

“You do know you’re going to have to stop swearing soon, right?” You teased, earning a shake of the head from Mason as he laughed. He didn’t let go of you for even a second on the way home, holding your hand and kissing it every few seconds as he drove home. When you let yourselves into your house you move to the kitchen and secure one of the pictures in the middle of the fridge before you feel Mason’s hands sneak under your shirt as they settle on your stomach and you relax against him. “We have to remember to put something over it if someone comes over, for now.” You smile a little turning your head to the side, “take me upstairs now, handsome.”

You were feeling awful.

Not only because you were sick most mornings but you had noticed it’s taking a toll on Mason too. He’s really trying to not show it but it’s been bottling up and the fact that he can’t talk about it to anyone, since you still haven’t shared the news was making it even more difficult for him. He just wished he could ask his mum or sister what he could do to make you feel a little better. This morning you had woken up and felt a lot better, you hadn’t even felt nauseous so you thought today was going to be a good day and it was until Mason found you sitting on the bathroom floor throwing up with tears running down your face.

“Why didn’t you call me, angel?” You just shrugged a little as he held your hair and rubbed your back. “I want to help you, okay? We’re in this together.” You just nodded and when you felt a little better he helped you stand up before you washed your face and brushed your teeth. “If you’re not feeling good we can cancel tonight. I don’t want you to stress.” Mason says softly as he leans against the counter next to you before pressing a kiss to the side of your head. 

You had planned to tell Mason’s family about the pregnancy tonight and you had been looking forward to it for a week and unlike the other three times you were not canceling. “No, Mase. I’m excited about finally talking about our baby with someone other than just you and Amanda” you smiled, “also, your sister and mum have been giving me looks, they know something is up.” Mason just nodded and once you were done brushing your teeth you turned towards him. “Help me pick a dress out?” 

Maybe you hadn’t really thought through how you were going to tell Mason’s family. You had a lot of ideas but all of them seemed to be over the top or not special enough. “I promise it doesn’t matter how we tell them, they’ll be excited regardless” is what Mason said but you felt like that was a little boring so you threw the tiny Chelsea shirt in your purse earning a teasing from Mason, “you’re just gonna whip it out during dessert?”

“That sounds so crude, Mason!”

“There they are!” Mason’s brother’s voice was drowned by the sound of the chatter from the busy resturant and the soft music playing. You were already regretting not organizing this dinner in the intimacy of your house instead. You both smiled at everyone sitting around the table before making your way around the table, greeting everyone with hugs and kisses to their cheeks. Once you said hello to everyoe and gave Mason’s niece a lot of cuddles and kisses the both of you sat down.

“Y/n, you are glowing! That dress looks stunning on you.” You felt your cheeks heat up at the comment from Mason’s mum and even more so when his sister who was sitting next to you nudged your arm and raised an eyebrow at you. You just smiled and thanked Mason’s mum before he changed the topic to his game that was coming up in two days. You were leaning your head on Mason’s shoulder as you played with his niece who was sitting on his lap while the conversations with his siblings and parents were flowing. 

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Truly you were feeling tired but you weren’t going to tell Mason that knowing that he would just get worried and want to leave. “I’m happy to be here.”

“Stop whispering around you two. Come get drinks with me!” You laughed at his brother as you shook your head, telling him that you were sticking to water tonight. With a kiss to your cheek Mason got up and joined his brother at the little bar at the end of the resturant. You turned to his sister, the conversation was light and mostly about what the both of you had been up to during the days since you last saw each other and mostly the conversation shifted to Summer and what she had learned recently. You think you successfully dodged her casually telling you that there was just something differet with you. 

You were picking at your food and sipping on your water when Mason and his brother returned to the table, drinks in hands now. Mason sat back down next to you, his hand sneaking around your waist and to your bump, it earned him a playful glare and pinch to his hand before you removed it from your stomach. “You look insane tonight. I love you.” Mason whispered into the skin between your jaw and ear, pressing a gentle kiss there before his hand moved to rest on the underside of your stomach again, just a few seconds after you had removed it. He was hopeless and it was difficult to tell him to move his hand again when you could feel him smile against your skin. Mason was the only one who had seen your now pretty visable bump under your loose dress, he knew it was there unlike everyone else and you knew that it was automatic for him to rest his hand against it. Not a night went by where he wouldn’t sleep with both arms around you as his thumb caressed the skin of your stomach until you both fell asleep.

“Mhhmm, we love you more.” You said, speaking quietly in his ear. “We should just tell them before your wandering hands spoil it for us.” You tease. A soft chuckle leaves his mouth as he shifts to sit up in his chair, his eyes make it around the table before they settle on the little girl sitting on her father’s lap. 

“Summer, do you want to come with uncle Mase a little?” You frowned, not entirely sure what he was up to but you didn’t question him. It felt like ages before he returned with the little girl in his arms and you instantly saw why he had left and couldn’t help but shake your head before your face broke out in a massive grin. 

“Mason, why is she wearing a different shirt? I hope you didn’t give her ice cream.” The print on the front of the shirt went over his sister’s head and you were sitting biting your lip waiting for someone to notice. It looked like Mason was doing the same and when nobody catched on Mason told the little girl to go to her granny. 

“Oh my God!” Mason had made it back to his place next to you by the time his mother had noticed, his arm slung over your shoulder and lips pressed to the top of your head as he was trying to contain a smile. Mason’s mother was looking at you and when you nodded your head her crying got everyone’s attention before all eyes turned towards the little girl who was going around the table showing everyone her shirt, proudly pointing to the print on the front that said ‘best cousin ever’. 

“I knew it, I knew it!” 

“You’re having a baby?”

“Holy shit.” You weren’t sure who was saying what since everyone around the table were speaking at the same time as they all made it around the table. You were just happy you were sitting in a secluded spot away from any prying eyes because suddenly you felt overwhelmed. Mason’s mother was the first one to come up to you and once you hugged her you couldn’t help but cry. “This is the best news ever, congratulations my lovely. You’re going to make such a wonderful mum.” His mother’s words only made you cry harder because they meant a lot coming from her and once she let go of you she hugged Mason as you hugged his father. 

“Another baby to spoil, I’m so bloody excited.” Mason’s brother was beaming from ear to ear as he pulled the both of you into a hug. “Do you know if it’s a boy or girl?” The question came from his dad and it only took Mason a second to tell them that you were having a boy, just like he had said from the very start. 

You then turned to Mason’s sister before squeezing her into a hug. “I knew it, I kept telling mum that you were pregnant!” She laughed in your ear. You already knew that she knew and when you told her you were already four months, going on five her eyes almost bulged out of her eyes. “How have you managed that?” You just shrugged through a laugh because truly you weren’t sure how you had managed to keep it from them for so long. You had just wanted everything to be okay with the baby before telling anyone. You had gone to see Dr Elizabeth five times and she had reassured you that everything looked perfect.

You hadn’t felt happiness like this in a long time, seeing how happy his parents were made your heart almost burst because not only was your son going to have you and Mason but he was also going to be surrounded by people who loved him so much. Once you had all sat down and conversations shifted a little to other topics you leaned towards Mason. “I can’t believe you.” You laughed reffering to the shirt he had kept a secret from you.

“I know you were stressed about how to tell them and I just randomly saw it in a store and thought it would be funny.” He laughed a little and you rubbed his back with your palm, reassuring him that you loved his silly little idea. 

“It was funny and very cute. We love you so much.” Mason sighed a little, happy that you didn’t hate his idea before a smile broke out on his face as he leaned forward and pressed a single kiss to your lips before his hand found it’s way to his new favorite place, your bump and this time you didn’t have to tell him to remove it. “Love you and little lad too.” He said. 

You were laying in bed later that night, hands rubbing up and down your bump as you waited for Mason to come home from a quick late night stop at the store. You had been craving ice cream ever since his sister had mentioned it at the resturant and once you made it home and saw that there wasn’t any in your freezer you didn’t even have to look at Mason before he was out of the door and on his way to the store. Your palm was resting against your lower stomach as you felt a little flutter in your tummy that you knew was your baby saying hello. “Hi there bub. Did you like the food earlier? not enough apparently since you’re making daddy go to the store this late for some ice cream.” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, knowing that your baby was healthy and moving inside of you was all that mattered. You didn’t even notice the front door opening and shutting as Mason locked up the house and after grabbing two spoons he turned the lights off as he made it up the stairs. Once he reached your room he could hear you talking but he assumed you were on the phone to one of your friends until he got closer and could make out your voice as you talked to your baby. 

Talking to the baby was something that the both of you did but it was mostly Mason, it didn’t matter if you were sitting on the sofa or laying in bed or cooking, he would always lean down, pull your shirt up and press soft kisses to your bump before he’d start talking to his son. It would mostly be about football of course and when he’d feel a small kick against his hand he would look up at you and smile, making sure you had felt that and of course you did. 

You hadn’t noticed Mason at the door as you continued to speak. “Your daddy is the most amazing man in the world. He has so much love to share with everyone but I know he’s saved so much of it just for you.” You smiled, “I know he will spoil you rotten. He already has, if only I could show you your closet and all the toys he’s already bought for you.” Mason tried to stiffle a laugh because you had told him so many times to stop buying toys and clothes but he couldn’t help himself, everything he saw was just too cute to not buy. “I hope you look like him, bub. I hope you have your daddy’s smile that I love so much and his pretty eyes but if you look like him then it will mean I’ll have to fight off all the girls off of you like I spend too much time doing with your daddy.” You giggled and Mason had to bite his lip from laughing. “Your daddy loves you so much already, just like I do and we can’t wait to meet you little one. I can’t wait to see your daddy hold you for the first time. He’s so warm and snuggly, you will love being held by him and you won’t ever want to be let go. He also gives the best kisses in the world.” You say with a soft smile as you continue to rub your bump across the skin just under your bellybutton.

“I love you so fucking much.” You jump a little at the sound before your eyes settle on Mason’s figure as he moves closer to you. You could tell his eyes were a little glossy which confused you before you understood that he had probably heard the conversation between you and your baby. 

“Did they not have ice cream? It’s okay, you don’t have to cry handsome.” You laughed a little before you reached for his hands and pulled him towards you and once he was sitting on the bed next to you your arms wrapped around his neck as his went around your waist before one of his hands found your growing bump immediately. “I’m so lucky to have you. You’re going to be the best mum.” You sighed as a large smile took over your face before you squeezed him closer to you, as much as your bump allowed and you told him that you were the lucky one because you had everything you ever needed right there.

[yasminbenoit]

“A Romantic Partner Won’t Complete Me, Because I Was Born Complete”: How Identifying As Asexual & Aromantic Brought Me True Freedom & Happiness | Yasmin Benoit for British Vogue

There is a phase in our lives where everyone seems asexual and almost everyone seems aromantic. It wasn't until puberty kicked in that platonic relationships seemed to take a backseat. My peers stopped wanting to play together and started wanting to 'date' each other. That was when I started to realise that there was something different about me. I didn’t seem to be experiencing the same urges as those I was around. I chose to go to an all girls school in the hopes that – in the absence of boys – everyone would stop caring about sex and dating. It actually had the opposite effect. There was a sense of deprivation in the air and the heightened desire to project their sexuality onto anything and everything.  

Therefore, my lack of interest became even more obvious, and it became a not-so-fun game to work out the source of what should be troubling me, but hadn’t been until that point. Having a sexual orientation isn’t just natural, it’s essential. It’s part of being a fully-functional human being. And to be romantically love and be loved by another is the ultimate goal. It’s part of being normal, which made me both abnormal and puzzling. When your asexual, people think there’s something wrong with your body. When you’re aromantic, they think there’s something wrong with your soul. Even for a teenage girl who internalised all of Disney Channel’s “be yourself” messages, it’s never nice to have people publicly debate your supposed physical and psychological flaws.  

My nickname in school was “hollow and emotionless.” I was a joker with a decent amount of friends, but I was lacking something crucial, the kind of love that really mattered and the kind of lust that made life exciting...so I was practically Lord Voldemort with braids. I sat through the regular DIY sexuality tests, having my peers show me graphic sexual imagery, have very sexual conversations in my presence, and ask me inappropriately intimate questions to gauge how far gone I truly was. These tests lead to the development of theories, most centred around me having some kind of mental problem. After a while, you start to wonder if everyone knows something you don’t.

When they said that I must have been molested as a child and “broken” by the trauma, I wondered if I had somehow forgotten about sexual abuse that actually hadn’t happened. I looked at some of my own relatives with suspicion, the same people who would later ask me if I didn’t experience sexual attraction because I was a pedophile. It was suggested that I was “suffering” from my “issues” because I was socially anxious and insecure. The suggestion that my ‘issue’ was pathological stayed with me for a long time, but not as much as the widely accepted theory that I was mentally slow. Unfortunately, that one stuck. I was referred to as “stupid” and I started to believe that was the case. It would impact my experience in education for the next eight years, long after I realised that there was a word for what I was.

Asexual.

I first heard the word during one of the near-daily sexuality tests that I was subjected to. I was asked if I was gay, to which I said that I wasn’t interested in anybody like that – men or women. At fifteen, I was asked, “Maybe you’re asexual or something?” but it wasn’t quite a lightbulb moment. How could it be when I had never heard the word outside of biology class? After an evening of Google searching, I realised that there were many people with my exact same experience, complete strangers whose stories sounded so strangely similar to mine. I also stumbled across the word ‘aromantic,’ but at the time, I didn’t understand the need for it. "Wouldn't all asexual people be aromantic? A romantic relationship without sex is just friendship with rules,” I thought.

Either way, my discoveries showed me that I wasn’t alone, but that only half helpful. I now had an identity that no one had heard of or understood. Most didn’t believe that being asexual or aromantic was a real thing, and I doubted it to. I had been taught to after years of armchair pathologisation. If asexuality was real, why did no one tell you that being sexually attracted to nobody was an option? What if it was just an internet identity made up to comfort people with all of the issues that had been attributed to me? I didn’t have to go far down the rabbit hole to realise that asexuality, like many non-heteronormative identities, had been medicalised. What I had experienced as just the tip of the iceberg. As someone who hadn’t been prescribed drugs I didn’t need or subjected to unnecessary hormone tests, I was one of the lucky ones.

My activism would be my gateway to the community. Despite being the ugly friend at school, I ended up becoming a model while in university. I decided to use the platform I had gained through my career to raise awareness for asexuality and aromanticism. It gave me the opportunity to encounter a range of asexual and aromantic offline, it was then that I learned the significance of having an aromantic identity. There are many asexual people who still feel romantic attraction, as well as aromantic people who still feel sexual attraction. They have their own range of experiences, their own culture, their own flag, and like the asexual community, I was relieved to see that they are just normal people. These intersecting communities are not stereotypes. They weren’t just thirteen year old, pink haired kids making up identities on Tumblr to feel special. They were parents, lawyers, academics, husbands, girlfriends, artists, black, white, young, old, with differing feelings towards the many complex elements of sexuality and intimacy. Most importantly, they were happy.

I am proud to be part of both, and I know that while being asexual and aromantic, I am a complete person and I can live a perfectly fulfilling life. Since meeting members of my communities, I’ve become more open about my identities in real life, and a reaction I’m often met with is sympathy. “You must feel like you’re missing out,” “I can’t imagine being like that,” “It must be hard for your family,” “Do you worry no one will want you?” “How do you handle being so lonely?” “You’re so brave and strong,” “What will you do with your life now?” Even in 2021, a woman who isn’t romantically loved or sexually desired by their “special someone” is perceived as being afflicted with some kind of life-limiting condition.  

Asexuality doesn't make undesirable or unable to desire others. It is a unique experience of sexuality, not a deprivation from it. Even if it was, there is so much more to life than what turns us on and what we do about it. Romantic love is just one form of love, neither superior nor inferior to any other. Being aromantic doesn't mean that you can't love or be loved, it does not mean you are void of other emotions or capabilities. I am not lonely with my friends, family, co-workers and supporters. I feel confident not when someone wants to date me but when I meet my goals and form worthwhile connections with others. My success isn't determined by whether someone will want to marry me someday. What we want out of life is our decision alone, our sources of happiness should not be defined by our ever-changing, culturally relative social standards. The love of a romantic partner won't complete me because I was born complete. Feeling sexual attraction to others won't liberate me because my liberation is not dependent on other people.

Valentine's Day is on the horizon. It's an occasion that amps up the focus on (and the pressure to achieve) a very specific type of love and sexual expression, one that is actually alienating for people inside and outside of the asexual community. During a pandemic where many relationships have been strained, tested, formed or distanced, it's important to keep the diversity of romantic and sexual feelings in mind. Many expect me to feel annoyed or lonely during this time of year, but I actually feel empowered and excited by the way sex, romance and love are discussed more deeply around this time. These conversations are constantly expanding to become more inclusive for everyone, and that's what we need to see all year round.

https://www.vogue.co.uk/arts-and-lifestyle/article/asexuality-and-aromanticism

[sparklycardigan]

I love what you said in your tags on that Literati post (the "Why did you drop out of Yale?!" one) about Rory being like Amy March, with her "I want to be Great or nothing" attitude. That is SUCH a good parallel and a great way of distilling her mindset in a way I hadn't been able to quite put into words yet! I also loved what you said about her time off from Yale not truly being a "waste" because it was a chance for her to discover what she DOESN'T want her life to be, which is almost as important as figuring out what you DO want out of life. And she'd never had the opportunity to consider other OPTIONS before. Think about the way her mom got so upset to learn that Rory was even considering applying to other colleges besides Harvard (even though applying to several schools is absolutely the norm!) because "Harvard was the dream." Rory dreamed about a certain career path when she was little, and Lorelai- with the best of intentions- wanted her to have it. But most kids have the luxury of changing their minds! But with Rory, it was never so innocent as "changing her mind," but taken as "giving up on her dream." And so I think when Mitchum Huntzberger introduced the idea that maybe she WASN'T cut out for it, it really hit Rory that maybe she needed other options, and she didn't know what those other options were. But she found out in the following months that her grandparents' life wasn't one of them. Anyway, I always love seeing your perspective on things!

Hey! Your asks never fail to put a smile on my face and, as always, you get me! There are a couple of things I want to tackle (thanks for giving me the opportunity to do just that, my mind is a bookstore and I don’t always know what book to read if you know what I mean😅), but let’s stick to this:

1. Rory Gilmore/Amy March (with a bit of Amy/Laurie + Literati)

2. The Importance of Logan Huntzberger

1. I think the obvious thing to do would be to associate Rory Gilmore with Jo March, which I’ve seen a couple of people do (and that debate usually ends with something along the lines of “Jo March, the girl Rory Gilmore can only dream of being” which is disgusting but oh well, almost everyone treats Jo like some sort of saint and trust me, nobody loves that girl more than me, but she’s nowhere near saint status which is exactly what makes her so appealing in my eyes and I’m rambling already, let’s leave that for another time), but I strongly disagree with the statement. Rory is a lot more like Amy (Isn’t it interesting? The way fandom’s been treating both of these girls? Coincidence? I think not. More like: The world is hard on ambitious girls.) Both of them have these patterns they feel the need to follow in order to achieve success (or what they consider success to be, it’s very specific in both cases which is a big part of their respective struggles) and both of them seem to be battling the same question: Do I have what it takes to be great, do I posses, not only the talent, but the necessary genius? It’s not something you can accomplish (and they are each hardworking and dedicated and willing to do whatever it takes to be the best, even if they end up suffering in the process) and I find that particularly interesting. Their biggest fear is built out of something they can’t control (I feel like that’s an important word for both of them, control). That’s why Rory’s world comes crushing down when Mitchum suggests she doesn’t have what it takes to be a journalist. He’s voicing her biggest fear. He’s giving voice to something she has absolutely no control over. And that’s something that inevitably needed to happen to her (more of that in the second paragraph). Mitchum was to Rory what Europe was to Amy. This is where Jess (in Amy’s case Laurie) fits in. Jess never tells Rory to go back to Yale, he never refers to Yale as her one and only option, one and only future (Even when they were dating, he never made a fuss about her choosing Yale over her original dream, which was Harvard, there’s never a “Woah, weren’t you going to Harvard, wasn’t Harvard the dream?”. There’s just him being incredibly proud of her and supporting her in decisions of no one's but her own making). Instead, he’s asking her what nobody actually asked her, which is: Why did you drop out of Yale? Why. He’s asking her if this is what she wants for herself, is this the life she wants to lead or not. To Jess, Rory is Rory, she’s not Lorelai’s daughter or Richard and Emily’s granddaughter. Just Rory. (I absolutely adore the fact that Lorelai doesn't like Jess at all and it has less to do with Lorelai and Jess being similar people and more to do with the fact that Jess is someone Rory chose to spend time with on her own without the approval of her mother, who is such a big part of who Rory is and such a big part of Rory's decision making even when she's not actually present, she is. I'll talk more about this in another post once I get myself to do it 🎇head full🎇). That’s the reason why Jess is the only person she actually hears. Because he’s the only person to actually hear her. I think I should leave the parallels between Amy/Laurie and Literati for another post, this is getting too long. I will probably add in a bit of Lizzie/Darcy to the mix too (the I love you from 2005 version of Pride and Prejudice is so so SO similar to the Literati one in 4x13, look at this!!!!!). I’m just going to say that the best thing about both Amy/Laurie and Literati as relationships is the fact that they both rely on identity and growth.

*I feel like “I want to be great or nothing” is an explanation on its own. There’s a lot of Rory in that (and Paris! I have to mention her at least once, though it’s a lot more explicit with Paris than with Rory).

2. Logan Huntzberger. Regardless of the way I feel about him, I think him to be an extremely important part of Rory’s life (and hey, every single character in GG, Jess and Luke excluded, is more of a character of the "Gilmore orbit", as I call it, rather than a character on their own, the show was written like that on purpose, which is why I tend to think of GG characters as chapters in the lives of our girls, each one of them holds a certain importance). Logan’s been introduced as someone who will change Rory’s perspective on things starting from his very first appearance, he’s someone she would never consider spending time with under her own conditions. He was always supposed to shake up her world, challenge her reality. It’s up to the viewer to decide if what he brought was positive or not. I, above everything else, believe it to be beneficial. Maybe it’s the way I was raised that makes me think that, but I strongly believe that it’s necessary to try a bit of everything in order to evolve and make the decisions that are the best for you. If you stick to a certain path for the eternity of your life, the range of possible choices to be made is rather limiting. That’s why hearing the phrase “The Downfall of Rory Gilmore” makes me so mad. Downfall? Why? Because she was exploring her options, because she went to parties, had a couple of drinks? Exactly like you said, her experiences in season 5/6 helped her figure out what she doesn’t want, who she doesn’t want to be. And man, I love Jess (yeah yeah, I make fun of him, so what? he’s still deeply beloved.), but to say Rory doesn’t deserve him, like he’s a saint or something (development doesn’t exclude mistakes, we don’t exactly see every single bit of his life after season three on screen, I doubt he didn’t have his fair share of downfalls after getting his life back together, yet, I don’t see arguments of “The Downfall of Jess Mariano” circling around, people either hate or love him because he’s a man, no other explanation for that).                                                                      

Anyways, Amy March & Rory Gilmore defense squad forever!

I wrote a sort of reflective piece on Amy's character here, so you can read that if you want, I think parts of it can be applied to Rory too.

For the end, these scenes have the exact same energy, I will die on this hill (I need to write that Literati×period dramas post ASAP):

them <3

[band--psycho]

Harvey Specter x Reader-Pretend Boyfriend (Fake Dating)

My fourth entry for @girl-next-door-writes bingo challenge! I hope you enjoy!

(Credit to the gif owner)

Third Person POV

“Hey, Harves,” Y/n greeted in a chirpy tone, the sound of her heels clicking against the floor as she sauntered into his office with a huge smile on her face, placing an expensive bottle of single malt whiskey on his desk.

“What do you want ?” Harvey asked, his eyes flicking up from the file for a few seconds, before focusing back on what he was reading. 

“Who says I want something?” She said, slightly taken aback by his comment as she sat down in the chair on the other side of his desk. A small chuckle left his lips as he placed the file to the side of the table, examining the bottle that she placed on his desk before his eyes moved to focus properly on her. 

“You only ever call me Harves when you want something, plus you’re being outlandishly nice,” he observed, his eyes glancing back to the whiskey bottle.

“I’m always nice!” she corrected with a sweet smile on her face. Her actions only caused Harvey to raise an eyebrow in confusion. He knew she was hiding something, normally he’d be answered with a much wittier comment than ‘I’m always nice,’. The pair sat in silence for a few moments, their eyes burning into eachothers, as they tried to work out who would cave first and break the silence. Y/n was debating whether to give up the sherrade she was clearly failing at portraying whilst Harvey tried to work out what she was hiding from him. 

“Fine,” she sighed in defeat, running a hand through her long y/h/c locks. 

“My parents are in town and they think I have a boyfriend,” Y/n began, a wave of anxiety washing over her as the words left her lips. She knew this was probably a stupid idea, but it was too late to leave now, she was in the lions den now, trying to leave wasn’t really an option. 

“And do you?” Harvey asked, knowing the answer before it even left your lips. He knew damn well that you wouldn’t be here if you did.  

“Do you think I’d be here if I did?” Y/n bit back, a hint of frustration in her voice. Harvey couldn’t help but let another small chuckle escape his lips as he looked how flustered Y/n was becoming; in all the years they’d known each other this was the only time he’d ever really seen her this nervous.

“So let me get this straight, you want me to be your boyfriend?” He smirked as the words left his mouth, taking pure pleasure in teasing her.

“Pretend boyfriend, you just have to come for dinner at mine, meet them and then we can go back to our normal lives,” Y/n explained simply, a pondering look came across Harveys face as he processed the words she’d just said.  

“Plus you owe me, you all but scared off the last guy I was seeing,” 

“I’m your friend, I merely warned him about what would happen if he hurt you, so what?” He defended; the memories of that particular conversation with her ex playing back in his head. Harvey was good at reading people, it was something that he prided himself on and that’s how he knew that that man wasn’t any good for her but he also knew that it was Y/n decision, so he just warned him what would happen if he hurt her, he knew she didn’t have a particularly good history when it came to dating and that last thing he wanted to see was her get hurt because some asshole didn’t know how to treat her. 

“So, that means you owe me,” Y/n pointed out with an almost pleading look in her eye. Y/n knew that this was such a bizarre thing to ask, to most people it probably wouldn’t even matter, but she knew better than anyone what her parents were like and if she didn’t have a boyfriend to show them, then the whole evening would just be about why she doesn’t and that it was probably to do with her work. Her parents were lovely people most of the time, but they were quite old fashioned in the sense that they didn’t understand why she’d want to work countless hours during the week when she could be a stay at home wife and no matter how much Y/n explained her reason for doing it, the conversation near enough always ended in an argument and right now Y/n just didn’t want to deal with all of that. Harveys features softened slightly as he looked at her, he could see ther desperation evidently in her y/ec eyes and he hated it, he hated seeing her upset. 

“When’s the dinner?” He asked, with a smile on his face, watching as the relief seemed to wash over Y/n.

“Tomorrow at 6,” she answered quickly; hoping that he’d still be able to make it on such short notice.

“It’s a date,” Harvey joked, feeling his heart swell slightly at the sight of her beaming smile. Y/n quickly said her thank yous and left the office, happiness and relief emanating off of her. Harvey eyes followed her out of the room, before meeting Donnas gaze when Y/n vanished from view. Donnas glance said it all, it was a glance she’d given him multiple times in regards to you. A look that screamed, ‘Tell her the goddamn truth.’ Donna like Harvey, could read people very well, she was Donna, there wasn’t a thing she didn’t know. And she knew that they both had feelings for each other.  She knew that they both had their reasons for not wanting to admit them, neither of them had a particularly good track record when it came to relationships and neither of them wanted to hurt each other and ruin the friendship that they had built but she was hoping hoping that now, after this dinner, they might actually admit their feelings to one another, and if they didn’t then she might just lock them in a room until they did.

~~~~~~~~~~

First Person POV

“So how long have you two been dating” My mum asked, sipping her wine.

“Umm..only a few months,” I answered, mentally cursing myself for stuttering on such a simple answer. Harvey obviously sensed how anxious I was about this and  delicately grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers together, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of my hand. I was surprised no one heard my heart beating, that simple action was enough to have it beating like I’d just run a marathon. 

“How did you meet?” She asked in a sickly sweet tone.

“At work, we work in the same law firm together,” 

“I guess that means you’ll be provided for then” my dad instantly said as soon as the words left my mouth.

“Dad,I can look after myself,” I reminded, making sure that my tone didn’t show any of the annoyance I was currently feeling. 

“Nonsense, at your age I’d already had you and your brother,” my mum argued, a flicker of disappointment momentarily clouding her eyes as she looked at me.

“Well I’m focusing on my career, rather than having children,” I answered honestly, only for my dad to scoff at my answer, shaking his head disapprovingly.

“I know you enjoy your job but is it really what you want to spend the rest of your life doing, being a lawyer is a great opportunity but it’s nothing compared to having a family,” he finally said, not meeting my eyes once. I went to say something but before I could he’d already started speaking again, but this time his eyes were on Harvey.

“What do you think on the matter Harvey, surely a respectable man such as yourself would understand that it’s a man's job to provide and a woman's job to stay at home,” as my father said those words I could see the rage flicker in Harveys eyes, as he squeezed my hand harder. 

“Y/n is an amazing lawyer, one of the best I’ve ever known, I’d never ask or expect her to give up the career she’s worked her ass of to build,” Harvey answered bluntly, taking a swig of his whiskey. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Third Person POV

Y/ns parents obviously didn’t like what Harvey had said in regards to Y/n, it was obvious not just in how they looked at him but with how silent they’d grown. Before, it felt like they were playing a game of twenty questions but now, Y/n struggled to get more than a one word answer from them. Harvey felt his heart ache for her, he knew that she loved them that was clear by how hard she was trying to impress them, he could see the sadness in her eyes at their blunt replies. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, to tell her that her parents' view on the world was medieval and outdated but he couldn’t do that with her parents here, so he just squeezed her hand softly, grabbing her attention as his thumb slowly circles onto the back of her hand. A small smile graced her face before she continued to eat the food in front of her. The dinner soon ended and her parents soon left, they couldn’t get out the door fast enough whilst muttering goodbye as they left.  

As soon as they left, Y/n let out a huge sigh as she gathered up the empty plates putting them into the sink, Harvey being the gentleman that he was, gathered up all of the empty glasses and placed them into the sink.

 “Are you okay?” Harvey asked breaking the silence that’d been engulfing them since her parents left. 

“I’m fine, I’m sorry,” Y/n answered, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over her. 

“Why are you apologising?” The confusion was clear in not only his voice but in his demeanor as well. 

“For my parents, I know they’re kind of-

“Medieval,”  Harvey finished with a solemn smile on his face, Y/n just nodded at his words, another long sigh escaping her lips. 

“It’s late, Harvey you should probably go,” Y/n said, making her way towards the front door. Harvey nodded in agreement, grabbing his coat and putting it on. The closer he walked towards the door, towards her, the faster he felt his heart beating almost like it could beat out of his chest. Y/n went to open the door but was stopped by something completely unexpected. Harvey kissing her. Their lips molded perfectly together like they were made for each other, instantly she placed her hands on his face whilst he grabbed her waist, both of them pulling the other closer than ever before. She’d heard that he was a good kisser, but this, this was unlike any kiss she’d ever had before, it was an intoxicating high that she never wanted to end. A small whimper left her lips when they finally pulled away from the kiss, a huge smile beaming on both of their faces. 

“I have been waiting so long to do that,” Harvey muttered against her lips, squeezing her hips lightly as he placed a delicate kiss on the tip of her nose, a small giggle coming from Y/n as he did so. 

“I like you, Harvey,” she whispered to him, their lips inches apart. 

“I like you too, Y/n,” Harvey whispered back before closing the distance between their lips.

Tagging: 

@little-diable​ @rebelwrites​ @xacatapelsyx​

[hockeyboysiguess]

how to cross a hurricane | m. rantanen

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

word count: 40,379 (eeeep!)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god, it’s so good to see you!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, now is a bad time then, huh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

------

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

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

Hey friend :) 

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

Hey friend

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He does?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“H,” Jo sighed. 

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

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

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

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

“Did you have fun?” he asked her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jojo!” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you proud?” 

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

Appreciate might have been the wrong word. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Mik, I need a pong partner.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jojo’s toothbrush :) 

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

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

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

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

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

“M’kay,” Jo sighed contentedly. 

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

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

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

-------

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

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

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

“I’ll teach you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, I really hope you like it-”

“Jo, I love it,” Mikko cut her off.

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

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

“Always, Mik,” Jo smiled softly at him

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

“What are you thinking about?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Turn right at the next street, Mik.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” Jo smiled at her.

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

“You got it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Mikko?” 

“Yeah, Jo?” he replied softly. 

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

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

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

------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I stay with you tonight?” 

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

“Of course, Mik. Anything you need.”

“I need you to come to Finland.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

------

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hi Jojo, 

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

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

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

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

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

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

------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready to go?” 

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

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

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

“Sounds good to me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well then,” Jo mumbled. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let me do it,” he told her softly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thoughts on Midsummer so far?”

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

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

“Anything for you, Jo.” 

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

“Hey, Mikko?” 

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

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

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

“What are you sorry about, Jo?” 

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

“What are you sorry about, Jojo?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything for you.”

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

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

------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you, Jo.”

“I love you too, Mikko.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mikko!” 

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

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

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

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

“I could be convinced.”

------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Mikko?” 

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

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

“I think we should get married here someday.” 

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

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

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

[myhockeyworld87]

Ruined - Jamie Benn - Part 1

Word Count: 3,332

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language, smut, NSFW

Notes: So here we go with this new story that’s been stuck in my head and finally worked it’s way onto here. Please see the Masterlist for the synopsis. The first two parts should really be one, but I broke it into 2 because well sometimes I don’t have time to read long fics and then I lose my place, so I tried to make this a bit easier for anyone else that has this problem. So, Part 2 is coming out tonight as well. As always feedback is greatly appreciated. Happy Reading!

You sat there staring at the piece of paper in your hand, debating back in forth in your mind about what you wanted to do. This was your dream offer, just not in your dream city. In fact, if you were being honest this was the last place you saw yourself moving, but could you or would you turn it down because of him. He’d dictated most of your high school life, and some of college, to give him that kind of power over your career now would be so stupid. Especially, when you literally hadn’t seen him in almost twelve years. He probably wouldn’t even remember you, but there was no way that you could ever forget Jamie Benn.

 It was your freshman year in high school when you’d met him. He was slightly older and had just come to your secondary school to play hockey. Jamie was quiet, which seemed kind of funny for a jock. They were always loud and boisterous, but maybe you were just going by the ones in your family. By default, he was thrown in with all the other hockey players and one so happened to be your older brother, who was also friends with Jamie’s brother Jordie. The three of them ended up being thick as thieves and drove you half insane at times. Well, maybe not Jamie. When he was at your house the two of you always ended up having some random conversation about god only knew what, but it was always entertaining. You easily got a crush on him after about the seventh or eighth time you were around him but kept that to yourself. Oh, it wasn’t like you weren’t pretty or anything. It was the opposite really. Cheerleader, as well as on the track team; you were one of the more popular freshmen in school, but you were also terribly shy and inexperienced when it came to boys. You always felt, well, awkward around them, not knowing if you would say the right thing or do something embarrassing. With Jamie though, it was different. He made you feel so at ease, but then maybe part of that was because he shared the same awkwardness that you did.

 You distinctly remember one night early your sophomore year, when your brother, Justin, and Jordie decided to take both you and Jamie to a party. They practically had the school slut, throwing herself at Jamie, but it was clear the boy had no clue what to do, as his hands awkwardly fumbled her advances. Which was fine with the jealous streak that suddenly went through your entire body. She attempted to kiss him, and with all eyes focused on him, he went to return it, only to completely miss her and end up bonking her on the head. In end, he’d laughed things off saying he was too drunk, but you knew that he’d only had one beer. He somehow slipped out of the cabin you’d been partying at, and back to the woods, after the incident. Of course, you’d followed him. “Hey Jame, you ok?” He simply shrugged as you sat down on the log beside him. “Justin and Jordie can be dickheads sometimes, you know?”

 “Tell me about it.”

 “I’m sure you’re a better kisser.” Oh my god, did those words really leave your mouth? Fuck. “I mean…like…” Jamie just sort of smiled over at you as you stumbled through words that seemed to be regurgitating out of your mouth. 

 “Maybe,” he finally said, staring off into the woods, then very quietly added. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

 You had to strain your ears to catch that last part, but you were definitely sure he said he’d never had a first kiss. “Oh,” you answered softly, with a hint of surprise in your voice, though inside you were giddy. Somehow, you’d just assumed that someone like Jamie, who was athletic and good looking had definitely been kissed before. It was surprising that he admitted it to you, and before you knew what was happening that same word vomit from before was making an appearance. “Me either.”

 “Really?” His question came almost as soon as you spit out the words. Why he found that hard to believe was beyond you.

 “Yes really.”

 “I just thought….well…” This time it was Jamie stumbling through a sentence instead of you. “I know that you and David have been hanging out a lot.” 

 “David?” While it was true, you’d been hanging out with one of the school’s top soccer players, it was for a completely different reason then stolen kisses. “I’m tutoring him in biology. If he fails, he’s off the team.” The words fell from your lips before you had time to fully think them through. “Please don’t say anything. He doesn’t want anyone to know.”

 “I won’t,” Jamie told you and you knew that you could trust him with this or any secret that you had. He turned toward you then, his eyes locking with yours. “I’m glad you’re only tutoring him.”

 “Oh, why? He seems like a nice guy or have you heard different…” you trailed off not quite sure of what or why you were even asking.

 “Oh, he seems nice. I don’t really know him.” Jamie ran his fingers through his hair then. A telltale sign he was searching for the right words. “I mean…I’m glad you’re not dating him, you know…because…well I thought….” He blew out a breath and you held yours. “Maybe you’d want to date me.” Goose pimples rose on your flesh at his words. This was the moment you dreamed about, and now, here it finally was. When you didn’t answer right away Jamie added, “That is…did you want to go on a date?”

 The corners of your lips pulled up into a smile and Jamie’s did as well. “I’d like that.”

 “Me too.” He adjusted himself so that he was sitting closer to you on the log you shared. Now only an inch or two separated the two of you as he hesitantly made a move to hold your hand. It hovered just above yours for a few seconds, both of your eyes shifting down to watch as he finally clasped your hands together, and then you were both shared a stupid grin. “Can I…kiss you?”

 You were speechless at all that had transpired in the last couple of moments, and so you just nodded, both excited and afraid to share your first kiss with Jamie. You moved in closer, while Jamie did the same. Your eyes slowly going shut as your lips drew near. Jamie’s lips ghosted over yours, just barely a brush against your skin as first, but then he added a bit more pressure and it was both awkward and wonderful at the same time. You both stayed that way for several heartbeats neither of you moving, both unsure what the next move was. His free hand, the one that wasn’t tightly laced with yours, came up to caress your cheeks, and then your lips were moving together and it was one kiss simply melting into a million more. Unconsciously, you sighed. Your lips parting open for him and his tongue darted into your mouth. Eyes flying open at the contact, you weren’t sure how to react. Of course, you knew what a French kiss was, had seen it on television a million times, but to experience it was quite different. You realized you could taste the beer he’d drunk earlier and something else, though you couldn’t put your finger on it. Tentatively, you let your tongue mingle with his, letting your eyes flutter shut once again so you could savor the feel of this kiss; your first kiss with Jamie Benn. 

 It was one of many that you shared with Jamie over the next few months. He took you out on several dates, mostly to the movies or to the little pizza shop you both loved, but most nights were either spent on your couch or his, where you’d watch hockey and then makeout until it was time for curfew. Your relationship progressed about as much as any fifteen going on sixteen-year-olds did; there was a lot of holding hands and quiet kisses. On night’s that one of your parents would go out and leave you both alone, it definitely went from first to second base rather quickly, and you learned that Jamie was definitely a boob man. He became an expert at unclasp your bra in record time, of course, there was a learning curve that involved a lot of fumbling around. 

 It was Jamie’s birthday, that you decided to give him a present he’d never forget. For the life of you at the age of fifteen, you couldn’t figure out why it was called a blowjob when you were definitely supposed to suck on his cock. Thankfully, you’d seen enough of your brother’s porn stash to know how to give a proper one and not look completely stupid. Though you didn’t expect to gag when Jamie thrust his hips into your face uncontrollably. At least you recovered quickly and were able to swallow most of his cum when it shot down the back of your throat. It was two weeks later that he finally reciprocated, by going down on you in the backseat of his car. While not the most romantic place in the world, his tongue flicking across your clit made up for the cliché atmosphere. 

 By the end of summer, you’d rounded all the bases but hadn’t hit a home run yet. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to sleep with Jamie; it was the exact opposite. However, there just wasn’t a time or place for the deed to get done. The two of you had discussed and decided that you wanted to make it special and not just make it some little box that you could check off in your relationship. This would be the first time for both of you, so while it was going to be memorable, you also wanted to savor it. As neither of you were eighteen yet, it wasn’t like you could go and get a hotel, for you’d thought about that option, and you’d already ruled at the car. With limited options in Victoria, you had no choice but to travel to your parents' second house on the outskirts of Vancouver. It was rarely used, as your dad only stayed there on business trips which had become less frequent over the last couple of years. Even though the house was rarely occupied, you came up with an elaborate plan for your parents to let you not only stay there overnight but travel there by yourself. Well, technically it wasn’t by yourself as you said you were going with your best friend Emma. Who covered for you, god love her.

 You weren’t sure what excuse Jamie had told his parents, but he picked you up at Emma’s house one Saturday morning and the two of you made the trip in less than three hours. It was a nerve-wracking drive, though Jamie held your hand most of the time. It wasn’t really the thought of having sex with Jamie that made you uneasy. It was the thought of having sex period. You were afraid it was going to hurt, but you kept trying to push past that thought, knowing that you wanted to do this, more so that you wanted to do this with Jamie. 

 It was awkward, just like all your firsts with Jamie were, but eventually, you two were able to move past that, and in the end, it was actually kind of amazing. Though the most wonderful part had to be falling asleep in Jamie’s arms. He’d made you felt so loved and cherished, and you’d known right then and there that you’d made the right decision to give you virginity away to this man. It felt like the two of you would be together forever.

 That was until the following Tuesday at school came around. There were stares and whispers everywhere you looked, or so it seemed. It wasn’t until lunchtime, that you finally found out what was going on, and then it was only from Emma. “Em, what is going on with everyone? I feel like half these guys are staring at me.”

 She closed her eyes as if mustering up the courage to tell you something she didn’t want to. “Jamie told everyone that you two slept together.” You gasped, then quickly covered up both your mouth and the hurt that came along with it. “That’s not the worst of it,” Emma said and it felt like your heart just sank into your stomach. “I also heard that he told people you two have been fucking for months.” There were so many ‘whys’ and ‘how could he’ running around in your head you couldn’t make heads or tails of them. Jamie wouldn’t do this, there had to be some explanation. Your eyes scanned the cafeteria looking for him, but he was nowhere to be found. You were just about to get up and look for him when Emma’s hand came down on yours. “There’s more. He said the only reason he was dating you was because you were easy.” Bile rose in the back of your throat and you wanted to just run to the girls' bathroom and cry, but Emma stopped you. “Don’t,” she said simply. “If you go, it will just feed more gossip. Act like nothing is wrong and that nothing happened. Like you don’t care.” Easy for her to say when it felt like your heart was being ripped out of your chest along with your reputation. “Breathe.” You hadn’t realized you’d stopped until she said the word. 

 The rest of the day was a complete blur. You couldn’t find Jamie anywhere. As soon as you could make it home after practice, you were dialing his number. His mom answered, “I’m sorry (Y/N), Jamie’s not feeling well. I’ll have him call you when he’s feeling better.” The next day passed and still the lingering stares, mostly from the guys, continued. You’d even had a few ask you out, to which you simply rolled your eyes and told them it would only happen in their dreams. Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say and just added fuel to the fire, making it seem like everything that Jamie had said true. He avoided you yet another day and you were beginning to wonder if he was going to pretend to be sick the entire school year just so he didn’t have to face you. By the third day that you hadn’t heard from him, you knew it was done. No matter what excuse he could give you, it would never make up for not only what he said but the way he’d treated you afterward. You simply needed to move on. So, when you saw him at school the following day, you completely ignored him. He attempted to talk to you several times, but you weren’t having it. “Come on (Y/N), please just talk to me.”

 “I think you’ve done enough talking for the both of us Jamie. We’re through.” There was hurt in his eyes and you wanted to break down and cry right then and there, but you held your head up high and continued down the hall to your next class. It was two periods later that Emma was handing you a note. You unfolded it, seeing Jamie’s writing on the top.

 (Y/N),

I’m sorry. Please let me explain….

 That’s all you read before tearing the letter up and tossing it in the garbage can in front of Jamie, hoping he would get the point and leave you alone. He didn’t. As soon as you walked in the door of your house, your mom told you he’d called three times already. After explaining that the two of you broke up, and crying on your mom’s shoulder for a half-hour, though not mentioning the details of your breakup; she told Jamie not to call back when the phone rang again. Ever persistent, Jamie came banging on the door after dinner. This time it was your dad that told him he wasn’t wanted in your home, even though Jamie was practically begging him to let you in, while you sobbed in the background. He kept up the same routine over the next week, all with the same result until eventually, he gave up.

 Over the next two weeks, you could hear the whispers as you walked down the hall. Girls muttering that you were slut, while the boys were trying to figure out which one of them would get to sample you next; now that it was clear you were no longer with Jamie. The icing on the cake was when David, the soccer player you’d been tutoring told everyone that you hadn’t been studying at all; that he’d been sleeping with you for the last month. No matter how many times you said it was a lie, no one believed you. Your reputation was simply shredded apart all by a few words Jamie had uttered. So, after a couple months of being talked about, there was only one thing left to do, and that was to become that girl that they whispered about. If they were going to condemn you, you might as well earn it.

 Your junior and senior year, you became the girl that gave the star point guard a blow job behind the bleachers after the game, as well as giving one to the goalie, the wide receiver, and the captain of the debate team, and a few more as well. Jamie seemed to take out his aggression on the ice, dropping the gloves with opponents left and right, but you tried to pay him no mind. Until he finally went to play for the Grizzlies and you didn’t have to see him all the time. By then end of high school, you truly had earned the reputation that he’d given you, but you were sick of it. Tired of being looked at for only sex, you applied to schools in the US. Thankfully, while you’d jumping from penis to penis, you’d still kept up your studies and were accepted at every school you’d applied to. 

 When you received your acceptance letter from Georgetown, along with a scholarship, you jumped at the chance to put yourself all the way across the continent from not only Jamie but what you’d become. At University, you put your head to the books instead of on some unknown guy’s cock, studying constantly which earned you a 4.0 in undergrad, and basically allowed you have your pick at the top medical schools in both Canada and the United States. It was a no brainer when John Hopkins wanted you and during your time there, you were able to work with not only the Baltimore Ravens but the Orioles as well, all within your first year. Which had you taking up orthopedics and sports medicine as your specialty. 

 All of this led you to today and the offer you were currently mulling over. It was literally everything you’d ever wanted and allowed you to work with not only the NFL but the NBA and the NHL as well. It was the last one that had you rethinking it though. The pros well outweighed the only one con that you could think of and that was Jamie Benn. Who’s to say if he’d even remember you though? It wasn’t like you could forget him after what he’d done, but you let him dictate enough of your life; you weren’t about to let him continue. So, you typed up your written acceptance, then called Dr. Ellis to let him know you were taking the job. You’d made a new reputation for yourself this time around and you weren’t about to let Jamie Benn ruin this one. 

[itsclydebitches]

A weird defence I've seen of RWBY's conflicts has been that it's good writing simply by the virtue that people can disagree on what's the right thing to do in said conflict. Which doesn't work when one decision is being presented as the only valid choice while every other option is either not addressed or demonized. This isn't a story leaving a nuanced set of stances to explore, it's a guy on stage signalling the crowd to boo whenever someone goes against the Protag's decision.

Real quick, I want to talk about RWBY by not talking about RWBY. I’ve seen this argument a lot too and the tl;dr is that just because your audience debates the right action in a conflict  — something that is inevitable given how subjective media is  — doesn’t mean the story encouraged that reflection in any way. As you say, RWBY pretends that those disagreements don’t exist and that This Is The One (1) Right Answer... which entirely defeats the purpose of a morally nuanced situation in the first place. That lack is bad writing because it demonstrates the author’s inability to provide an accurate picture of the conflict while still ensuring we come out of it liking the parties involved. The conflict was too complex for them to manage alongside equally complex characterization, so they just pretended it was far simpler than it actually was. That’s not something to praise. 

But to get to the not RWBY part. I’ve mentioned this a couple times before, but one of the scenes that I think manages these sorts of conflicts really well is the funeral fight in The Haunting of Hill House, episodes 6, “Two Storms.” So warning from here on out for spoilers. Sometimes, the best way to see what’s not working well in one show is to look at another show that does (basically) the same thing successfully and compare the two. 

Normally I’d include screenshots, but Netflix doesn’t allow that :/ So I’m forced to rely on bullet points. 

The basic premise is that the Crain family has assembled in daughter Shirley’s funeral home, the night before they bury their sister, Nell. A lot of secrets are about to come to light. 

The scene kicks off when their father, Hugh, relays the call he got from the housekeeper the night of Nell’s death. She had committed suicide in the family’s childhood home. 

Though everyone knew how she’d died, son Steven is distraught at hearing the details and reveals that a few weeks prior Nell crashed a book signing of his. This shocks the others given that this was very unusual behavior for Nell. 

Shirley likewise reveals that she got a call from Nell who’d been worried about their brother, Luke, but hadn’t spoken to her the night of her death. The implication is that no one did. They’ll never know what was going through her head the night she died. 

Hugh reveals that she did call him. “I talked to her.” 

Stunned by this news, his children demand to know what was discussed and Hugh is clearly reluctant to continue. However, he eventually says that Nell wasn’t just worried about Luke, but also the “Bent Neck Lady,” a specter from her childhood.

The viewer knows that ghosts are real in this show. The kids don’t. Or rather, they all experienced supernatural occurrences in their childhood, are still experiencing them now, but only some of them are willing to admit they’re real. Steven is the diehard skeptic of the bunch and starts yelling at his father, accusing him of aiding Nell’s delusions and ignoring a family history of mental illness. In particular, he declares that this “makes you culpable [in her death].” 

Steven continues to accuse Hugh of “holding back information” about Nell and Hugh shoots back that “If I held back anything it was to protect you kids.” The viewer understands Hugh’s dilemma: the only reason he keeps things to himself is because Steven and the others refuse to believe the truth, with an added dose of this supernatural stuff being very dangerous. Steven asks, “Why do I need protection from the truth?” 

Before their fight can go any further, Shirley tells Steven, “You might want to check yourself before you start talking about the truth.” He published an autobiographical book about their childhood trauma and notably capitalized on a supernatural angle he doesn’t believe in. Shirley calls it “blood money.” 

As the argument about the ethics of his book rages, Shirley defends herself primarily with how everyone else thinks this is “blood money” too. No one took a cut when Steven offered one, proving how despicable they all think it is. 

Meanwhile, sister Theo has been getting heat for being drunk (a coping mechanism for her own supernatural troubles) and Shirley eventually pushes her far enough that she admits she did take Steven’s money and used it to get her degree. “It’s good, fucking money.” Suddenly, Steven has someone in his corner and Shirley’s main defense has crumbled. 

Shirley is furious that Theo had this secret income but was still living with her and her husband. Theo reminds her that she offered to pay rent, but Shirley isn’t interested in hearing that. She demands that Theo move out immediately and uses this betrayal as the new way to protect herself. She’s the victim here. 

Steven, sensing another secret in the works, cautions Shirley to “get off your high horse before you fall off.” 

Shirley maintains her position until her husband blurts that they also took Steven’s money. Shirley hasn’t been running the funeral home well and they would have sunk without it. 

Despite being the punching bag for the second half of this fight, Shirley is offered both reassurance and dignity. Her husband emphasizes that the only reason they’re struggling is because Shirley is a good person. She does too much work pro bono. Shirley also delivers the line, “Do you have any idea how much you’ve humiliated me?” calling into question the husband’s choice to admit this now, purely as a way to prove her wrong. 

Shirley leaves to get some distance and discovers that someone — something — has put buttons over Nell’s eyes. The shock of this keeps the fight from continuing and, as plot intervenes, gives the characters the space needed to eventually start healing and forgiving one another, notably by sitting with the various truths they all now have to grapple with. 

Phew! A long summary, but I’ve put this much detail in to highlight the nuance of the scene. Obviously RWBY would differ in many ways  — less cursing, for one  — but the core elements of any morally complex scene should be the same. The important takeaways here are that no one in the Crain family are “pure” or “evil” and everyone gets their chance to be both right and wrong. Hugh is right that Steven won’t listen to him and wrong in that he didn’t do enough to help his kids. We get Steven and Hugh’s frustration, their understanding of the world at odds with one another. Steven is wrong to put everything on his father and justified in starting his writing career with their story. We watch the scene move from “Steven is Wrong and everyone agrees” to “Oh shit nm, more and more of the family are revealing that they benefited from his money, complicating how “wrong” he actually is.” Shirley is right to point out that Theo is getting drunk during their sister’s funeral and Theo is right to point out that being drunk doesn’t erase having a good point. Theo is allowed to scream at the group and then immediately be offered help when she falls. Shirley pretends she’s better than all of them and is slowly, horrifyingly proven wrong, but is then still extended compassion and is allowed to point out how horribly they’ve just treated her. The husband is right about the money, wrong about keeping it a secret/revealing it the way he did, right in how he tries to diffuse the other fights, and VERY wrong by getting caught kissing Theo down in the storeroom! 

The scene twists and turns in a way that highlights everyone’s points and their flaws, the moments when their perspective should be upheld and questioned. The end result is a scene that has space for the audience to debate everyone’s choices without imposing the single view of This Person Is Obviously Wrong/Right and If You Think Otherwise You’re Not Watching The Show Correctly. The show itself acknowledges the complexity and nuance of these problems. It asks, “Hugh should have tried harder, but what more can he do when his kids literally don’t believe this stuff exists? Was Steven really justified in writing a book about their collective experiences? What does it mean that something his family sees as capitalizing on their trauma also helped them keep businesses and schooling afloat? Was it okay for Shirley’s husband to keep that money a secret, even if it helped them? How might he have told her in a less cruel manner? What about Shirley’s life has led to her intense need to be on that ‘high horse’?” 

And of course: “Who is really responsible for Nell’s death?” By this point the viewer already knows that there is no “really” here. This is too complicated a tragedy to lay the blame at any one person’s feet. Everyone in this room has moments of justified accusations and moments of chastisement because they’re well written, well rounded characters who are neither saints nor devils. The length of the scene (done in a single shot!) emphasizes that if you just wait long enough, even the most perfect looking person will eventually have a skeleton pulled from their closet. No one is above mistakes. 

RWBY has NONE of that. Zip. Nada. Nothing. RWBY gave us a scenario with many of the same, core themes  — secret keeping, secrets unwillingly revealed, blaming others for your mistakes, hurtful actions with helpful consequences, questioning who is responsible for a tragic death  — and instead of even attempting to give us some of the above nuance, RWBY said only that Ruby was right, Ozpin was wrong, and demanding that the audience ignore the nuance they could already see in order to accept the canon. 

RWBY’s scene asks the audience to play dumb and look at the world as a Black and White place, despite the show simultaneously insisting that “the world isn’t a fairy tale” and is, in fact, filled with shades of gray. 

Just not any shades of gray that mess with that dichotomy that now drives the story.  

That’s not good writing. It’s oblivious and contradictory writing that makes the audience frustrated. Not satisfied, surprised, contemplative, or curious. Just frustrated. 

[noona-clock]

The Engineer - Part 4

Genre: Engineer!AU

Pairing: Chanwoo x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 | Words: 2,294

This was bad.

Just after you’d closed your eyes to go to sleep last night, you had realized something. Something that would probably keep you awake for at least another hour.

Chanwoo had asked you to... hang out.

Those had been his exact words. Hang out. He hadn’t asked you to go out, and he certainly hadn’t asked you to go on a date with him.

He’d said “I was wondering if... you’d wanna, like... hang out?”

And you really couldn’t be sure that he’d asked you out on a date. I mean, people typically used the term ‘hang out’ when they were spending time with friends.

So... what if Chanwoo was only interested in you as a friend? What if he already had a girlfriend? ...Or a boyfriend? Or was single but wanted a boyfriend?

I mean, you’d been around Miles and his 99.9% accurate Gaydar for so many years, you were pretty confident in your own skills of figuring out who wasn’t straight. And you hadn’t gotten any vibes from Chanwoo other than flirting ones! You’d thought he’d been flirting with you!

But... maybe not?

Maybe he had been so shy and awkward because... he was just shy and awkward around people he didn’t know, not because he was interested in you.

To be honest, you’d thought about it and over-analyzed it far too much. Sometimes -- mainly when you were doing your job -- you were glad to have such an active brain.

At times like these, you were not glad in the slightest.

You’d been able to manage four or five hours of restless sleep last night, so you were currently on your third cup of coffee -- and it wasn’t even 11 AM. This was a new personal record!

You had just taken a sip of the only thing keeping you awake when the sound of a text message arriving chirped through the air. You jumped a little, your heart starting to race even more than it already had been from all the caffeine you’d consumed.

When you reached for your phone, you saw the message you’d just received was from Chanwoo.

You took a deep breath and you clicked on the notification and opened it.

Do you like sushi?

You quickly replied back that you did, indeed, like sushi.

A few moments later, he responded with a location -- a new sushi restaurant you recognized but hadn’t gotten around to trying yet, and underneath that, he simply said Noon?

So... did he want to come pick you up at noon? Or did he want you to meet him there at noon?

For some reason you weren’t quite sure of, you didn’t want to ask. Even though it would make things so much easier, and it would make your anxiety a lot less... well... anxious.

But you still replied with Sounds good!

Chanwoo read your message immediately and began typing.

Cool. See you there!

You couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a very loud sigh of relief. You gave his message a thumbs up, put your phone back down on the coffee table, and picked your mug back up.

To be honest, you were relieved in more ways than one. You were relieved that he had settled your inner debate about whether he would pick up or if you would meet him there -- and he had also settled your inner debate about whether or not he was romantically interested in you.

He knew where you lived (though, not in a creepy way -- hopefully), and if he was taking you out on a real date, he definitely would’ve offered to come pick you up.

So. A casual friendly hangout it is!

When you pulled into the parking lot of the sushi restaurant at two minutes after noon, you weren’t too worried even though you usually liked being right on time -- or even a little bit early.

Most of the guys you’d dated in the past had never been right on time -- or even a little bit early -- to anything in their lives, including your dates. It had never really bothered you if they were just a few minutes late, and you’d gotten so used to it that you just kind of assumed that Chanwoo wouldn’t be there right at noon.

Not that you were dating him, of course. Or even that this was a date! Because it sure wasn’t!

Anyway, the point is, you were more than a little surprised when you walked into the restaurant and saw Chanwoo waiting for you in the front seating area.

He stood up quickly, wringing his hands in front of him nervously and shooting you an adorably awkward smile.

“Hey,” he greeted as you approached him. “You look great.”

“Hey, thanks,” you replied, smiling back at him. And then you reached out and briefly patted his upper arm and said, “You do, too.”

...You immediately regretted doing that. You might as well have just playfully punched his arm and called him ‘Pal.’

Just exactly how lame were you?!

Apparently, Chanwoo also thought you were lame because his cheeks tinged with pink, and he murmured his thanks almost under his breath.

...Off to a great start!

You mentally kicked yourself as the hostess showed you both to the sushi bar, silently hoping the very beginning of this non-date wasn’t an omen about how the rest of it would go.

As soon as you slid onto a stool, hanging your bag up on a hook underneath the counter, Chanwoo asked you about your job. He was probably curious since you’d been home in the early afternoon, a time most working adults would be... well, at work.

You explained that you were a freelancer and got all of your work done at home -- or in a coffee shop if you needed a change of scenery.

He seemed to be more interested in your answer than most people, asking how you’d found the job, if you liked working at home, if you’d always envisioned this career path for yourself, if it had to do with what you’d gotten your degree in.

The server had come to take your drink and sushi orders as you talked, and by the time he laid your platter of food down in front of you, you felt like you’d relayed almost your whole life story to Chanwoo.

I mean, at least, your whole career story.

“What about you?” you asked in return as you broke apart your wooden chopsticks. “How did you become a --”

What was it he’d said the other day?

“A mechanical engineer,” Chanwoo supplied with a half grin.

“Right, that,” you chuckled. “What’s the story behind it?”

Chanwoo let out a soft, ponderous sigh, picking up a roll from his plate and popping it into his mouth. 

“Well,” he replied as soon as he’d finished chewing. “I’ve always liked figuring out how things work. I’m actually not very good at it -- not naturally, I mean. But I like the challenge. And I’ve always been pretty good with my hands.”

“Which is why you almost you hit me with a baseball,” you interrupted with an amused grin.

“Yes,” Chanwoo chuckled, his cheeks once again tinging with pink. “My dream growing up was to be a professional ball player, but once I figured out how slim those odds really are, I decided to go for a job that’s a little more guaranteed and steady.”

“So, what did you study at university?” you asked in-between bites of your avocado roll.

An almost invisible smile tugged at Chanwoo’s lips, and you wondered why he would find your question so amusing... but then he replied with, “Mechanical Engineering.”

“Oh,” you chuckled. “I had no idea that was a -- of course. That makes a lot of sense.”

“Yeah, my friend’s uncle owns YG -- the company I work for now -- and we used to help him out during the summer in high school. Once I graduated, I knew exactly what I wanted to major in.”

The fact that he brought up high school and graduating only reminded you of when he graduated -- and how many years after you it had been. But you stuffed another sushi roll into your mouth to try and rid those thoughts from your brain.

“You like your job, then?” you asked, somewhat avoiding his gaze for now.

“I do,” he confirmed. “It keeps me busy enough, but I still have time to play baseball and video games. That’s... really all I need.”

See, hearing him say that, you knew this was destined to be just a friendship. You really weren’t into baseball or video games all that much, and you couldn’t imagine he would want a girlfriend who didn’t care about his main hobbies.

That actually made you feel a little bit better. A little more relaxed.

“Do you actually play? Like on a team or anything?”

“I have before, but there’s usually always a game, or at least a practice, on Saturdays, and I didn’t like not being able to show up sometimes,” he shrugged. “But I play with my friends a lot, and I like just going to the batting cages and hitting by myself.”

“You’re an introvert?” you asked with a small grin.

Chanwoo nodded, letting out a breathless chuckle as he started on his second row of sushi. “Yeah.”

“Me, too,” you told him. “I mean, I work at home by myself all day. I’d better be an introvert.”

Chanwoo chuckled again, though this time it was a bit louder and contained more amusement.

“I have my best friend, Miles, and his husband, Tristan, and my family, of course -- but that’s about it.”

To be honest... you hadn’t realized just how small your social circle was. Yes, you were acquaintances and casual friends with quite a few people -- your neighbors included -- but you didn’t spend actual, real quality time with anyone but who you’d just named.

So, it was actually a good thing Chanwoo was trying to be friends with you. The two of you may not have a whole lot in common, but so far, he was easy to talk to.

...Except when you saw his dimples. They’d appeared a few times during your meal already, and your heart had yet to beat normally when they did.

But other than that, you didn’t feel too awkward or nervous around him, and it seemed like he was getting more comfortable around you, too.

Everything seemed to be going swimmingly, actually.

Until... the check.

When your server brought your check, you frowned when you realized he hadn’t asked if you wanted it together or separate. Obviously, since this wasn’t a date, you’d been prepared to pay for your own meal. But since he hadn’t given you an option, you simply reached down to get your wallet out of your bag so you could at least pay for your half.

“Oh, no,” Chanwoo interrupted, already having slid his wallet out of his pocket. “I got it.”

“That’s okay, I can pay for mine.”

“No,” he repeated. “I got it.”

He got out his credit card, placing it on top of the receipt and waving down the server to come and take it before you had a chance to even open your bag.

“Oh --” you murmured as the server appeared to take the check away. “Thank you. You didn’t need to, I could’ve paid for mine.”

“I wanted to,” Chanwoo answered as he put his wallet back into his pocket -- probably a nervous gesture because he would have to get it right back out again when the server came back.

“I’ll get it next time!” you offered with a grin.

Chanwoo’s eyebrows flew up his forehead, and a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Yeah? You... want to go out again?”

...Oh, no.

When he’d asked you on the phone last night, he’d said ‘hang out.’

Now, he was saying ‘go out.’ And he hadn’t let you pay.

You’d spent this whole time thinking it wasn’t a date... but now you were severely questioning that thought.

So, when you answered him, you kept your tone as friendly and casual as possible. “Yeah, sure! Why not?” you chuckled. “I had a good time.”

Chanwoo pressed his lips together to suppress his smile, and he replied, “Me, too.”

You were too confused now. He was certainly acting like this had been a date... so, why had he asked you to hang out?!

But another good question was, why had you been so fixated on the fact that he’d asked you to hang out? Why were you over-analyzing every little thing about this situation? Why couldn’t you just be cool and nonchalant and see where this whole thing took the two of you?!

...This was probably why you barely had any friends.

As soon as the server brought the check back, you grabbed your purse from the hook under the counter and began to make your way to the front of the restaurant.

Now that you thought maybe Chanwoo did maybe think this was maybe a date, you were starting to get anxious about the ‘saying good-bye’ part.

What if he tried to kiss you?

Honestly, you wouldn’t hate that. But you’d been thinking this whole time that this was a friendly, casual hangout lunch! Not a date! You couldn’t just flip the switch that easily!

“Well,” you said once the two of you got outside. “Just -- just let me know when you want to hang out again.”

And then you waved and said good-bye and got your keys out and went to your car and left.

...So. Yeah.

That... ended smoothly.

Part 5

[ripmybnhadays]

moral dilemmas and greater good mentality: so…what now? (aka me yelling about one specific panel in bnha 292 and definitely jumping the gun on aftermath talks)

so 292 happened.

and a lot happened. one miraculous return to another. injuries. and some battlefield conversations. and there’s a lot we could talk about in regards to what might happen in 293 or 294 or anything coming up next since this battle is still very much up in the air.

but one panel had me screaming and i want to talk about it. and since none of my irl fans are able to yell about it with me: tumblr void here i come!

so reading through bnha 292 i had a lot of thoughts. “where’s endeavour?”, “POWER!”, “NOT HADO”, “way to go midoriya for acknowledging todoroki’s current suffering on this terrible no good day that just won’t end”, and more! but there’s one panel that kind of brought up something that i have been thinking about in vague terms since 290 with the reveal. so i’m using this as an excuse to think about it in less vague terms.

the panel in question?

and why do i like this panel so much that i’m writing a tumblr essay about it?

it’s kind of the first glimpse we get at what could be very prominent in the fallout of this reveal. with best jeanist not dead, and as we know - hawk’s having a recording of the twice fight - dabi’s narrative is falling apart a bit. and if the public finds out that the stuff about hawks wasn’t necessarily completely true — they may be willing, and want, to question if the situation with endeavour is true. after all, why should they believe a villain?

but as best jeanist arrival begins to point out that fact, dabi isn’t concerned. after all, his story about endeavour is true - right shouto?

and here’s the thing, this very well could come down largely to what shouto has to say - what all the todoroki’s have to say post-war. the public is going to turn to the todoroki family to tell them it’s not true. and the todorokis — all of them — are going to have to decide how they will answer that question.

now my forewarning here, is this is pretty much baseless theorizing. it’s just something i find interesting and i’d love if the story explored it. nonetheless: whether the story will or not, i’m going to explore it.

say this fight ends as it is, with no more major casualties or reveals happening. the public is left with dabi’s reveals, destruction and wavering faith in heroes — but turns out best jeanist is alive, and i’m going to assuming hawks’ recording is released.

maybe the villain was lying. maybe hero society isn’t as corrupt as it seemed to be from the villain’s video. so what’s the next step?

statements from the todoroki’s.

first and foremost enji, the number one himself. so does enji deny everything? admit to some of it, but claim dabi was over exaggerating? or admit that the villain was telling the truth? and right off the bat, narratively speaking this puts us in a major moral conundrum.

because as a father — enji todoroki, who is seeking atonement for his actions, has an obligation to do what’s best by his family. by as the number one hero — endeavour, who just recently earned this position in the eyes of the public, has an obligation to the public and hero society to protect them. the pro-hero arc went out of its way to show us exactly what the stakes are on both sides.

and throughout this entire story enji has demonstrated extreme difficulty being able to separate being a father with his aspirations of being the number one hero. and while he has been trying to atone, this will be his first major decision to see if he has really changed.

but it’s more complicated than that. because layered into this: choosing his family would, in a lot of ways, mean choosing against the general public — who desperately needs stability and to be told it’s not true, lie or not.

if endeavour goes down for this, it means that arguably at this point in the story: the villains have won. the public lacks the stability all might built with no one really to replace him (which is a whole other conversation about how that might go down and what the hero commission and agencies might try to prevent that). the public doesn’t trust their heroes. hero society as we know it, is falling apart (whether that’s necessarily a bad thing in the long run is debatable but in the short term it is very bad if it goes down this way)

but it isn’t only enji’s choice: there’s four other members of the todoroki family to consider — and what they want should be a big factor in his decision.

but what would they want?

the family, while not necessarily functional, was steadily improving. fuyumi, natsuo and shouto all spending more time together. rei making colossal improvements. and while sure, that does not in no way erase the suffering they went through, at large the family was choosing to deal with it privately. even natsuo, who was the most against enji out of the bunch.

but now that choice has been taken from them, which say what you want about dabi, is probably one of the worst parts about this reveal.

so will fuyumi want to try and bury the damage, deny these claims and try and move on as normal, or will she want to try to minimize it? will she want to leave the choice up to other members of her family and do what’s best for them?

what will natsuo want to do? rei?

shouto?

and let’s talk about shouto for a minute here. because if anything, this puts shouto in an even greater massively difficult position.

not only is he the “main” one of the bunch, he has stakes in both worlds — his family and hero society. he also has very clearly acknowledged the fact that he hasn’t decided how he feels about endeavour seeking atonement yet and if he wants to forgive his father. in addition, shouto has said that as a hero he wants to be able to put people at ease.

does shouto distance himself from his father or stand by him as a hero? does he come out with his side of the story? what does he personally choose to do? because it affects his mental and emotional wellbeing, but it also affects his prospects as a hero. already he’s dealing with so much, and if the world looks to him to confirm or deny his brother’s claims, as dabi just did (albeit in that case probably tauntingly) — what will he choose to do?

and if this is the direction things take, this is a huge deal that i think shouto will play a critical part in deciding the outcome of. and it’s an awful heart-breaking decision but on a narrative level brings up some of my favourite character moments.

where characters are forced to choose between their morals, and ideals, choose what they feel like is right — but ultimately there are no good options. no way to get out without compromising something important regardless.

it’s those moments that we really get to see what is most important to a character. right now, it’s the choice of the family or the public. the choice of do we lie and hide our suffering, to put the general public at ease — to make them feel better. and by their professions endeavour and shouto both have obligations to the public. but natsuo, fuyumi and rei don’t.

is it fair to ask them to lie or downplay the truth “for the greater good”?

and i have no idea how everything would play out if this happened. if all the todorokis spoke out and denied dabi’s accusations would it be enough to convince the public to still place their trust in endeavour? if they acknowledge the accusations as true — where does it put them, where does it put shouto’s future hero career? can they find a middle ground and try to minimize damage on all sides?

and arguably, is preserving hero society the right choice? is it better to bring it down and try and build it back up? or is it too much to fast?

nothing is clear cut here.

and more than anything else i love when stories force it’s characters to pick between their own needs and the good of the public. if i may take from another franchise: it’s the age-old question, do “the needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few”?

should they tear endeavour down — an action that despite at long last revealing the truth, will probably cause tension within the family because that isn’t universally what the whole family wants?

because that’s the component on the smaller scale: the needs and wants within the todoroki family itself. no matter what — someone in the family is probably going to have to give up their ideals. because the key right now is that the remaining todorokis (meaning fuyumi, natsuo, rei and shouto) kind of have to present a united front. an agreement on what happened to present to the public. or else not only would tensions continue to grow between the family itself (although unfortunately this may happen regardless) but also probably confuse and sow chaos into the public because it would become apparent that someone is lying — not necessarily just the villain.

it’s a really complicated moral situation. and i’d be beyond excited (read prepared to get my heartbroken) to find out. as a writer myself, these are the moments that really determine who a character is. and i’m very excited to find out how the todorokis will respond to all eyes suddenly being on them and their private lives.

anyway that’s all i’ve got. these is really less of a theory and more of just yelling about what if’s and moral dilemmas because these are my favourite moments in narrative.

(small disclaimer as well: obviously this is a very serious situation and its absolutely heart-breaking that the kids + rei are being put in these types of potential situations. it should be simple — endeavour was awful. he was abusive. dabi wasn’t lying about that. but it’s not. because of society, because unfortunately in this story, it’s a lot bigger than just them and their family. endeavour is getting what was coming to him but in light of seeing his character move and change and the different depths, and the work the whole family has put in to try and be a family, the fact that this is how things are coming out, and the fact that this is so much farther reaching that simply did endeavour do it or not, is heart-wrenching. they don’t have a “right” choice at this point in time. no matter what it will either cost them, or the world something. and that’s awful. but its these moments that make this arc and the todoroki family so good and well executed. because it doesn’t shy away from touching on the fact that sometimes there aren’t right choices. that sometimes, especially in a world like bnha, you have to sacrifice something and its those devastating moments that make the story all the richer. when i say “im excited”, i’m excited to see the narrative consequence + feel the pain of what the characters are going through. narratives are powerful because they can make us feel things, so the fallout of this is exciting to me because i’m expecting to absolutely feel uncomfortable and upset and as distraught as the characters because that's what good stories do.)

[reyna0w0]

You’re Here Again 14

✏ todoroki shoto © kohei horikoshi

✏ todoroki shoto x fem!reader

✏✏ Chapter 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 5 + 6 + 7 + 8 + 9 + 10 + 11 + 12 + 13 + 14 + 15

»»—————————————♡ —————————————««

Wandering back and forth on the path leading to the winged bridge, (Y/N) debated whether to go with what she planned or not. Pacing back and forth, thoughts rushing through her mind, she was going crazy thinking about it. 

‘Deep breaths! I'm going to do it! I made up my mind yesterday. I will do it!’ 

‘I’m hoping he’s not there, ugh.’

(Y/N) fixed her hair and smoothed out her clothes. Taking the leap of faith, she walked to the bridge. 

Of course, Shoto was there. Immersing himself in his photography. (Y/N) took a deep breath and said with her most stable voice that she could muster:

"You're here again..."

"Just as I expected."

"I have something to tell you."

"Will you listen?" 

Shoto shifted his attention to her and replied, “Yeah, of course. Come sit.”

(Y/N) nodded and sat beside Shoto, holding her knees. 

“I-”

“I-I like you!” 

(Y/N) blurted it out as Shoto looked at her surprised. 

What led to this confession was a short breakdown the night before this very day. 

Ironically what led to this was just an anime that (Y/N) was watching. The situation in the series was quite similar between her and Shoto. Being the angst-loving girl, this series ends with regret because the main character didn’t confess their feelings. The heart wrenching pain from the angst end.

She spiraled into a black hole of thoughts. Thinking about the show and relating to her own situation got her all anxious. She wanted more but still afraid to lose what they had. Besides, she had no idea what Shoto thought of her. For once, she cursed that expressionless face of his though it was so weirdly attractive and more on the cute side. Regardless, she couldn’t get enough of that face even with the lack of emotions most of the time. Hence why when Shoto did smile, (Y/N)’s heart melted. She loved the boy with heterochromia and half white and half crimson red hair. 

Tossing and turning on her bed, thoughts going haywire. She didn’t know what to do but the anime made her anxious. After all, they only met on the bridge and occasionally he visited their bakery. They went to different schools and didn’t have any common places to hang out beside the bridge. 

Sighing, (Y/N) flopped off her bed and went downstairs. She needed clarity and a stop to her racing thoughts. 

(Y/N)’s parents were in the living room watching a drama and she decided to join them. Ironically, the drama was monologuing about the character’s regret for not confessing his feelings. 

‘Is the world trying to tell me something?!’ 

‘What’s with this?!’

(Y/N) sighed and ran back to her room. Her parents looked at each other wondering what was up with her. She didn’t have anyone to discuss it with except the person in question and that wasn’t an option. 

‘Okay if it wasn’t about me and someone else. What would I say to them?’

‘Uh...I think I’d cheer them on? Maybe tell them to confess?’

‘Should I do that? But what if it goes all wrong! I don’t want to ruin what we have…’

Squishing the life out her pillow, (Y/N) remembered something her uncle told her before.

He always encouraged her to do everything head on without overthinking about the consequences. He was an advocate for chasing for what you truly wanted. After all, his passion for photography was never supported by (Y/N)’s grandparents from the get-go but he managed to make it into a career despite the opposition and obstacles. 

The advice was more for career and passion wise but (Y/N) had adopted it into many parts of her life. Maybe even for this aspect of her life.

‘Maybe I should just confess? What is the worst that can happen?’

‘Am I crazy? Everything can go wrong!’

‘But I don’t want to regret anything. Mom and dad always tell me their stories about how dad came back, again and again, to ask my grandparents for her hand in marriage till they finally agreed.’  

‘It’s not going to hurt to try, right? I think even if we don’t feel the same way, we can still be friends. Well, I hope so.’

‘Guess that’s settled Leave the actual confession to tomorrow’s me. I’ll get some sleep.’

That evening led to what happened on this lovely autumn afternoon. 

‘Oh my God! I actually said it!’

‘Ugh! I can’t bear to stay another minute. I want to bury myself!’

(Y/N) stood up quickly, ready to run out. Before she could actually bolt, she was grabbed by the wrist. 

“Wait…”

(Y/N) turned to look at Shoto. His face was bright red even with one hand covering half of it. He looked absolutely adorable. 

“I-I like you too.”

Shoto stuttered out those words and (Y/N) just stared at him. Her own face was crimson. She couldn’t believe what he said and just stared at him, his hand still grabbing her wrist. 

The next moment she registered what happened and lost the strength in her legs and collapsed, tears falling down.

Shoto was surprised by her crying and said nervously, “I-I’m sorry. Don’t cry.”

More tears rolled down (Y/N)’s face as she stuttered out, “N-no. I’m c-can’t believe y-you feel the s-same way...I-I’m so h-happy and I d-don’t know w-why I’m c-crying.”

Shoto sighed in relief. He was scared that he had made her cry, well he did but not like he hurt her.

Shoto held (Y/N)’s head and placed it on his chest, gently patting her back in an attempt to calm her. The two were in an odd position, both their faces flushed red. 

Shock stopped (Y/N)’s tears. She could hear Shoto’s heartbeat racing or was it her own? She couldn’t tell. They stayed like that for a good moment until (Y/N) broke into a laugh.

Shoto let her go and (Y/N) chuckled as she wiped her tears. “How silly of me. Crying when my crush likes me back.”

Shoto let out a small laugh, “It’s adorable, (Y/N).”

Hearing Shoto call her by her first name was like music to her ears. His comment made her all embarrassed all over again, she could feel her cheeks burning up. Though, she was so very happy. 

“I’m so happy that I don’t quite believe it,”  (Y/N) said.

“Well, I’m the one who couldn’t believe my ears. I’ve liked you for a while now,” Shoto replied.

“Me too. I don’t even know when it started,” (Y/N) said, chuckling a little.  

“I was so worried about your reaction. I’m so glad it turned out so well.”

“Thank you for finding the courage. I hesitated for too long that you had to do it,” Shoto said. 

“But I’m glad you did. I’ve never been happier.”

A genuine smile plastered on his face. Bigger than any of the ones she’d seen before. She was blown away by his cuteness.

The two - now a couple - spent the rest of the afternoon making each other blush but also talking like usual. It was like nothing changed but also everything changed. They adored each other’s company even more after everything that happened.

Truly, the two were in bliss. 

Healing was still an on-going process for (Y/N) but with Shoto’s support, she could handle it better than by herself. Reconciling with his family and getting things to be alright again required patience and forgiveness which Shoto was working on but with (Y/N), he felt he could make it a reality.

The pair were perfect for one another. After all, they managed to thaw out each other’s frozen hearts.

Frozen hearts that met in spring and hearts that thawed out in autumn. Time began moving again ever since the two lost souls found one another. 

[recentanimenews]

INTERVIEW: Rajorshi Basu on Creating Studio Durga and the State of Anime in India

All images via Studio Durga

  What constitutes “anime” is a topic of much debate. The general public associates the word “anime” with a particular visual style. Purists, on the other hand, believe that only animation made in Japan can be considered anime, regardless of whether the visuals are on the K-On! end of the spectrum or the Panty and Stocking with Garterbelt end of the spectrum. This is, to an extent, understandable. But can such a strict definition continue to hold weight in an era where anime is becoming increasingly global? Can a production from outside Japan that possesses all the traits we have come to associate with anime be called anime?

  The members of Studio Durga — an independent animation studio based in New Delhi, India — certainly seem to think so. They proudly claim to be India’s first anime studio. While India has worked on anime in the past — in the form of co-productions with Japan (such as Ramayana: the Legend of Prince Rama) — what sets Studio Durga apart is the fact that they work without any foreign assistance, be it from Japan or elsewhere. Their debut work Karmachakra — an 80-minute Bengali-language film, the first in a series of films — is an entirely independent film, made by a core team of only seven members for animation production. Karmachakra is pending release, but the first 20 minutes of the film have been uploaded on YouTube as a “pilot episode” — which won awards at the Independent Shorts Awards 2020: the Platinum Award for Best Animation Short, and Honorable Mentions for Best Web Series/TV Pilot and Best Original Score. Karmachakra is a supernatural mystery-drama, aimed at an older audience — something that is rare in India, where animation has long been seen as a medium for younger audiences only. The Indian anime community has reacted very favorably to Karmachakra, with many heralding it as a step forward for animation in India.

    I reached out to Studio Durga founder and CEO Rajorshi Basu, who was kind enough to answer my questions. We had a great discussion, not only about Karmachakra, but about anime and 2D animation in general. Here’s what he had to say:

(The following questions and answers are lightly edited for clarity and content.)

How did you get into anime and manga?

  Rajorshi: The first anime I recall watching was Ninja Robots on Cartoon Network — way back when I was three or four years old and didn’t really know it was called anime. There was Heidi, Girl of the Alps, also on Cartoon Network, a title from the World Masterpiece Theater collection of anime. It was my first exposure to the work of many old masters, including Hayao Miyazaki. Then they started showing anime on the Toonami programming block, with Cardcaptors and Dragon Ball and all that stuff.

  Animax was also a huge factor. I used to check out a lot of stuff on Animax before it finally went away. And then of course streaming services happened. But yeah, it was tough to get your hands on anime and manga back then. I remember that you would just chance upon secondhand manga in shops. That was procurement back in the day. But now it’s a different ballgame; one can just open up Netflix and find all kinds of different shows. Throughout the years there have been a lot of different shows that have influenced me, and all of that comes into the stuff that we are doing. I think this idea of doing an Indian anime was something I’ve had since my early teens to late teens.

So you decided pretty early on that you wanted to make an Indian anime, is that right?

  Rajorshi: Yeah, this idea has been with me for roughly half my life. It's just that I actually knew how to do it after a whole lot of experiences. Especially after visiting Japan in 2013. I went there for a pop culture research program where we were actually given access to facilities that make Japanese entertainment, including animation.

  So did you face any opposition in pursuing this path?

  Rajorshi: We faced nothing but opposition, actually. In 2017 we’d put out a trailer on YouTube and, you know, it was just a sort of demo. It's not there anymore; we took it off. This was way before we brought out the actual trailer that you see right now. It was only after we took it to the quality that we wanted that people started thinking about the possibility of, you know, Indian anime. Especially after 2019, when the two movies (Weathering With You and Dragon Ball Super: Broly) were released in India. The community started considering the possibility that Indian anime can happen. 

  I think there are two main challenges. One challenge (which we’ve kind of got past) was finding the right people for the production because hand-drawn animation is a lost art and it's very tough to find people who pursue that. It was tough finding people, which is also why we are a very small team. We somehow managed, over a number of years, to finish the movie production. 

  The other challenge (one we are facing right now) is distribution. I think that’s because India does not have a proper distributor for anime. Of course, we see some anime on Netflix, Amazon Prime Video, and Crunchyroll. Disney+ Hotstar, which actually has the biggest reach in India, don't showcase any anime. There is a solid market and demand for anime in India but there's hardly any supply, which is why we thought we’d fill that gap in the market. It depends on what kind of channels you go through when it comes to distribution. I mean, we are in talks with Netflix and Amazon Prime Video, and we want to be in talks with Crunchyroll. But it's very hard to find people, to find the correct approach or routes through which you take this product. I think that's what matters. In terms of distribution, routes matter more than the product itself because if you are talking about Netflix or Amazon Prime, they are going to look at it as an independent movie and they are also going to want to see examples of such production that has made it in the market and things like that.

  Obviously, there's a huge demand but there needs to be a distributor that recognizes the demand and what it means when something like our product (or anyone who is doing an animated film that is not for kids) gets licensed. Distribution is the final roadblock we are facing right now because when it comes to quality and production values, all of the people that we have talked to have appreciated our work. But when it comes to actually slating on an acquisition session, there's always some kind of discrepancy there. There's no one to handle animated movies when it comes to India, unless you’re talking about the kids’ market. That's a totally different topic.

  You raise an important point about 2D animation being something of a lost art. In particular, the whole Japanese anime workflow is totally different from what most people are used to doing. So, how did you learn it, and how did you find people with this skill?

  Rajorshi: So the current core team is a team of four people, including myself. I personally handle everything other than the actual drawing, because although I’ve studied design and art and all of those things, music and film production is what I have primarily been trained in and what I have experience in (the former of which I'd been recognized with a scholarship for from Berklee College of Music). Compositing — the final “look” of anime — is something that I learnt entirely on my own through observation and software/workflow research. So I know the process of anime production. There is hardly anyone who makes animation through this process in India. So I would say it is something very unique to our studio. 

  The people that I have, they were actually making the transition to college back when I hired them. They had considerable skill when it came to illustration and making animation, but it was this project that got everybody up to a certain level. The core team that I started with are still working together — basically the four of us, but we extend sometimes to 10 people. And if you’re talking about the total number of people involved in this project, it’s over 30. But finding the core team took a long time. I’d actually thought of starting a business with this around four or five years back, and since then it’s been about finding people to execute and help out in the process. 

  When it comes to hand-drawn animation, there is talent out there. There just needs to be a product that makes use of those talents. I wanted to create a forum where talented artists could join in and showcase their capabilities. It’s not that 2D animation is completely not there, it’s just that it’s not focused on by people as a career option because there are no outlets for it that are monetizable. I think that’s more of the problem. When you look at some talented students from NIDs [National Institutes of Design, India], you will find that they are very much capable of doing everything that we do. It’s just that there’s no forum or platform to create a product like this which makes use of both the anime production process as well as the hand-drawn aspect of it. 

So if you look at, say, Chinese animation studios, the way they started off was by doing subcontract work for Japanese anime studios. They slowly built up their own base, their own talent pool, and then started to make originals of their own. So, why did you decide to start off with an original rather than go through this process?

  Rajorshi: Chinese animation actually has a much richer history. They’ve been doing their own intellectual properties for longer than they’ve been outsourcing. But with India that is actually not the case. When it comes to 2D animation we’ve had collaborations with Japan in the past, whether it’s Ramayana or Batu Gaiden. But our main aim was to do something that was completely Indian-produced. I think that’s the main draw, so that we could call it India’s first anime. 

    Let’s talk a bit about outsourcing outside our realm of animation: when it comes to 3D animation and VFX. India is actually a world player in the market when it comes to 3D assets and VFX being outsourced to us. But when it comes to intellectual properties, there’s pockets of brilliance that surface from time to time, especially in the non-3D space, because the 3D space is a framework in itself, a framework that I personally have also been very connected with in the past, in all the projects that I’ve freelanced for (when it comes to music, editing, and the post-production side of things). When it comes to hand-drawn animation, I would say that there are these pockets of independent production which do not find the correct outlet or distribution platform. But they’re there; they’ve been there for a very long time. They’re not necessarily practicing the anime art style like we’re doing, but they’re doing hand-drawn animation nonetheless. And the quality and execution is something that’s worth showing to the world, it’s just that there’s no proper distribution channel as I was saying. Why anime? That’s because there’s huge demand for this particular art style. Since there was already a demand for it, as well as respect in the community for something that is a product made by India for India, that is where we came in and thought “this is a niche we want to fill.” 

  And look, most of the artists who worked on this project have already worked on commissions for foreign clients all of their lives. We don’t look at outsourcing as a route that we necessarily have to do first before we make our own intellectual property. Because we do that anyway: when it comes to making small animations for brands, or working for clients that are primarily non-Indian. The whole idea about this project is that it’s by India and for India. I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a statement, but it is a specific niche that’s appealing to a lot of people, thankfully.

So let’s talk a bit more about Karmachakra itself. When I saw the trailer on YouTube, the art style stood out to me, and it reminded me of a couple of things. One was the works of Mamoru Hosoda, with his distinctive style of flat shading. The other was Shin Sekai Yori, which has sticker-like 2-dimensional character designs but with mood lighting and effects and appropriate color palettes to create an atmosphere. Were any of these your inspirations, or were there other influences?

    Rajorshi: I mean, Mamoru Hosoda is an inspiration for any animation filmmaker. My personal inspiration, in terms of direction and in terms of storytelling, is Satoshi Kon. You know, works like Perfect Blue, Millennium Actress, Paranoia Agent: all these films and shows that are very loved, conceptually and thematically. My second influence would be the directorial signature of Tetsuro Araki (Death Note, Attack on Titan); I think that directorial signature is very alluring. In terms of how to tell a story through many characters, I’d say Durarara is an influence. I mainly chose to go with urban fantasy, inspired by the unique approach that light novels like Boogiepop or Nisio Isin's works take. Other than that, I think my all-time favorite director is Shinichiro Watanabe (Cowboy Bebop). 

  Some more important key influences that left a huge mark on my imagination of what the medium can be are:

Wolf's Rain, Black Lagoon, the Steins;Gate franchise, Terror in Resonance, Michiko and Hatchin, Barakamon, Mushi-Shi, Great Pretender

Spirit-world action-comedies like The Devil is a Part-Timer, Blood Lad, Hoozuki’s Coolheadedness, and Noragami

Mind Game from director Masaaki Yuasa

Any project involving character designer Yoshitoshi Abe, like Texhnolyze, Serial Experiments Lain, etc

There's also the noitaminA block stuff; short, offbeat 11-episode per cour series with a broader audience in mind. Brings to mind the makers of the noitaminA logo animation, Studio Rikka and their charming sci-fi works such as Time of Eve and the like.

  In terms of manga:

The superlative, mind-game ridden works of Shinobu Kaitani

The out-of-this-world panelling in works by Keiichi Koike

The poignant interpersonal/social drama from folks like Shuzo Oshimi and Inio Asano

The artful, satirical guro manga from people like Shintaro Kago

The sprawling, epic series from the legendary Naoki Urasawa, such as Monster and the like

Brilliant food/drink manga such as Bartender and Sommeliere by Araki Joh, or even Oishinbo.

  These are just names I can think of right now, but there’s actually plenty of influences for all of us here at Studio Durga.

  Let’s talk about the OP. From Episode 0 of Karmachakra, what strikes me as its most "anime" element is its OP. From the song itself, with its “anime theme song” vibes, to the color palette reminiscent of the Psycho-Pass OP, to the character-focused cuts reminiscent of the Baccano and Durarara OPs, to the text on screen reminiscent of the Cowboy Bebop OP: this OP screams "anime." OPs usually are a studio's way of enticing viewers to watch an anime, so clearly, a lot of effort went into this OP. And it's a really attractive and alluring OP. What went into the making of this OP? How did you storyboard it, and how did you compose the opening song? How much more effort was it to animate, comparatively?

    Rajorshi: The OP song was composed, arranged, produced, and played by me more than six years ago. At the time, I was inspired to make a melody and instrumentation that sounds “classic anime.” It was a personal project back then, and I had no idea I was going to be using it for an anime production of my own in the future. So when it was time, my mom helped with the lyrics and I asked Tanisha (the singer who I've collaborated with on the ED as well) to sing out the lyrics composed for the song. It was a blast to make. Unlike the ED, which I composed much more recently, the OP arrangement is more busy than minimal, which was my style back then and which probably works better for the usual high-energy anime OP.

  Unlike background scoring, which is set to edited bits of animation, the animation for the OP was set to the music instead. We were using a scratch track and timing every cut to whichever hit we wanted it to fall on. The choreography and transitions took more time than standard animation, as the entire thing was meant to seamlessly flow with non-stop fluid animation. The effort varies in anime production from shot to shot, but in the case of the OP, it was about tying together an entire string of money-shots. Apart from the animation, we had a lot of fun with the compositing as well. Doing MVs is the most enjoyable activity for us.

Let’s talk about the world of Karmachakra. What inspired it? Personal, lived experience or literature and other media?

  Rajorshi: Karmachakra is a series of movies. The second and third are what we’re working on right now. The second is more of the action-thriller kind, and the third/finale is along the lines of philosophical sci-fi. But the first one is more of a mystery-drama. I’m a huge mystery buff; that’s a sort of personal favorite genre of mine. So thematically I think the first movie of Karmachakra is mostly a mystery-drama with certain supernatural elements and certain cultural elements to those supernatural elements. So there’s many different layers. I usually like to do something that is layered, something that is character-driven but layered not only in the histories of the characters but in the lore that ties it all together with a supernatural theme, and also the third layer that puts them in a cultural context. These are basically the three levels that we’re working on when it comes to Karmachakra. 

    When it comes to cultural influences, there’s me being a Bengali and hence making this in Bengali. That is something I had in mind from the beginning. Having connections to the Bengali film industry, getting some of the best names from there to do voice acting on this: that was definitely part of the plan. 

  For the script, I’ve had many, many different influences. My background is quite varied. Since I was a kid I’ve always been a music buff. I was very much into classic/prog rock and concept albums from the '70s and '80s, apart from my production and performance background in jazz, jazz fusion, RnB, soul, and funk. So storytelling is a huge part of music for me, whether it’s through film scoring or whether it’s through a concept album where you tell stories through music itself. Other than that, I graduated in English literature, which is a huge part of the general approach I take to things when it comes to layering and writing for film. For this production, between film, literary works, musical works, and anime, there’s a LOT of influences. I wanted to take all those influences and make something that was cohesive enough for someone who was watching, but at the same time wasn’t predictable or cookie-cutter like.

Are there any talented Indian animators you’d like to spotlight?

  Rajorshi: I would like to talk about Ghost Animation. They’ve been working on little animated clips for Bollywood movies for a very long time, but recently they made a short film, Wade, set during a flood that happened in Bengal. They put it up on Kickstarter, promoted it, and successfully got it funded. I think it won an award at Annecy or something. And it’s all hand-drawn.

  Apart from that, there’s a couple of guys who’ve been in the Indian anime community and illustrator community for a very long time. Their names are Krishna and Balram Bannerjee, but they’re informally called the Xong Bros. They’re primarily comic artists, so they don’t do a lot of animation, but they also work on animation for indie games made by foreign studios: they make some trailers and the like for them.

  There was also this short film that was commissioned by Royal Stag Short Films, called Death of a Father. Entirely hand-drawn. Not the anime artstyle, but entirely hand-drawn.

  Lastly, there’s Jazyl Homavazir. A long-time animator, illustrator, and coach in the Indian comics/animation scene in the art style of manga. Both him and the Xongs are dear friends of ours who support and appreciate our initiative.

Do you have any parting thoughts for our readers?

  Rajorshi: I would say don’t make any compromises. If you know you’re capable of doing something, whether it is independently or whether you have backing or whatever it is, don’t make any compromises and do something that is only an approximation of what you actually want to do. If you have a vision, just go ahead and do it, and then see what happens. You might succeed, or you might fail, but that will be a learning experience. Just because something is tangentially related to whatever vision you might have, don’t settle for less.  

  Are you excited for Karmachakra? Let us know in the comments!

    Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

  By: Manas B. Sharma