#please imagine gav

[aeniqmata]

look at me. you're going to be fine. || patching up wounds || @cidolfvs

The whole mission did not go according to plan. There were not supposed to be that many guards there, nor were there supposed to be wyverns or drakes of any kind here. It was a lodging for Bearers, sold and just awaiting their new masters' arrival before they head to the next hell that awaited them. But when he and Gav arrived at the stronghold... to say that hell broke loose would be an understatement.

Most of every guard was dead, Clive had seen to as much, and had left Gav to find the Bearers. Or so he'd thought, until he heard the other man's cry for assistance. No time was wasted sprinting through corridors following the sound of ringing steel, arriving just in time to interfere with what would have been a death stroke for their scout.

It was however a death toll for his armor, the strength behind the blow cutting clean through his pauldron and digging far enough into his arm to earn a hiss and a retaliatory blast of fire. It hurt, and he could hear Gav fussing over him now that there was no immediate danger.

" 's fine, Gav. " They had more immediate problems. Such as why there were so many Imperial soldiers here. That wasn't to mention the fact that... " There are no Bearers here. Were they already moved, or were we fed bad information? " Clive was more speaking to himself than he was to Gav. He knew the fair-haired man would double check all the information he got. Which meant that all of it was sound. There had been Bearers, and there hadn't been many guards.

It was only when they had emerged from the depths of the would-be-prison that he realized what it was that had happened. Though he didn't get the chance to voice it to Gav before he shouted in agony, unaware of the drake that had been waiting for them to leave. Gav's shout accompanied a roar but no matter how fast he shifted, physically or magically, he wouldn't escape the blow from the lizard that would throw him several feet, knocking him senseless enough that fighting off the thing without taking no small amount of hits.

And then... nothing. At least nothing that made sense. Feelings, smells, sounds, but nothing he could piece together. Too warm and too cold, but a warm presence under his arm and pressed to his side, another wrapped around his waist. Grumbling, about how heavy something was, how someone could help by at least moving their feet.

Copper, a smell he recognized as blood, and he was well aware that it meant very poor things. And while he didn't have much of any ability to think, he understood well enough what all of these meant, and he couldn't help but think about just how entertaining it was that he might actually die before helping Cid with their plans.

The next he knew, it was more pain. His face stung, and it hadn't hurt before hand. His ears were ringing too, but it was more... rhythmic. Repeated? Oh, a name. His name...

"...live. clive... ...ost, look at me. you're going to be fine, but i need ya to stay awake."

He knew that voice, impossibly deep and connected to a hand who knew better than to slap an injured man. But it was a command, and he would do his best to follow it. It didn't matter that the man was asking the impossible, he stayed awake as long as he could. Admittedly it wasn't long, and he could hear the long suffering sigh Cid let out before he was being moved again.

Would that he had the strength in his arms, he would have waved off the hands and slept on the floor. And when he woke, he was more than entertained when Tarja told him that was exactly what he'd mumbled before he passed out again, right before rambling off the terrifying list of injuries that she'd spent the better part of a few days trying to fix.

She claimed that it was the Phoenix's blessing from his brother that was the reason he made it back from wherever the hells they'd been to the hideaway. Clive made a mental note to buy Gav anything he wanted for a good while as thanks for hauling his dying, unconscious carcass across Storm to save what Cid had deemed a useful body.

Speaking of Cid, sitting in an infirmary bed ( strapped to it more like, he'd nearly escaped once and Tarja had all but dragged him back and threatened to break something ) and having a staring contest with the man was not really how he wanted to spend his time. But try as he might, he wasn't sure what it was he should say to the man. Never mind that the Dominant himself refused to say so much as a word in lieu of trying to summon lightning with his eyes instead of with magic.

Clive would be dead where he sat if Cid had any more control over his element.

" ... using your magic would be more effective in killing me, I hope you realize. When you've finished trying to light me aflame, could you at least tell me what you are thinking? " Humor. That should fix it right? Cid always used humor and misdirection to lighten a mood, he could appreciate Clive's attempt.

Right?

He could only sigh, hanging his head after another score of moments of silent staring. He'd be dead within a fortnight, he was sure of it. If not by Cid's hand, then perhaps Otto, or even Charon.

[bucksdoll]

watching porn with sarah and eventually scissoring!!!! nsfw pls!! 💗💗💕💓💓💕💖💖💓💖💕

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐱

sarah cameron x fem! reader imagine

trigger warnings : NSFW (minors dni), friends to lovers, sarah is inexperienced with women, scissoring, implied reader is a top but they’re holding back quite a bit, dirty talk, pre existing/hidden feelings, watching porn, reader using the nickname ‘sare’ for sarah

summary : after a particularly hot day outside, you and sarah are buzzing from the heat. you seek shelter in sarah’s room, cooling down in the air conditioning. you head to grab her laptop when she expresses her boredom, and you’re beyond suprised when you see what it’s open to.

authors note : heyy, thank you for being my first ever post rq, it means a lot. i wasn’t sure what trope you wanted, so i went with bsf to lovers bc i felt like it fit. i hope that’s okay :). this was supposed to just be an imagine, but it kinda ended up being a little longer than i anticipated. please feel free to leave more rqs ppl ! i love doing them. this was BRIEFLY read over. might be a lot of mistakes, and this is also my first time writing a fic. pls b patient w me.

english is not my first language, forgive me.

bow dividers by gigittamic.

it was so hot in obx today, that it almost felt like your body was quite literally set on fire. it was the weekend, and you of course went to tanneyhill to hang out with sarah. you and sarah were inseparable. you practically lived with her at tanneyhill. you hung out around the cameron’s so often that you’d become quite close with just about every member of the family. youd help wheezy with homework, you’d playfully chastise rafe and his friends when they came over, you’d helped rose with little things here and there, hell even ward had begun to see you as a daughter. you were always welcomed in the house, whether sarah was there or not. you would be invited to family events, kook centered parties, on family vacations, everything.

if somebody asked, you’d call sarah your best friend. she’s probably call you that too. but deep down, you didn’t know what you two were. the circumstances in which you met weren’t completely platonic. you’d spotted her while at a random kook party, dressed in a bikini top and light blue ripped shorts. she was dancing with some of what you assumed to be her other friends. the music was loud and booming, and she swayed her hips, her eyes glossed over, seemingly having had a few drinks. you too, having had a few drinks, had the confidence to saunter over to her. you were dressed in a simple bikini and a backwards hat, your hair still a little damp from the dip you’d taken earlier.

you bumped a few shoulders to get through the dancing crowd of people, finally reaching her, laying a manicured hand on her shoulder. she continued moving just as she was before, hips swaying silkily, just simply turning her body to face yours. she bit her lip, smiling brightly at you, still blissfully lost in the music.

“hey pretty.” you say over the music, resting both your hands on her shoulders. you decided on a neutral move, so you could read if she was into you or not.

“hi beautiful.” she replied, finally meeting your eyes, slipping one of her hands to rest lazily on your waist, still swaying.

you started to move along with her, using your left arm around her shoulder to scoot her a little closer to you. she happily obliged, now gently fidgeting with the string of your bikini. you bit your lip, eyes never leaving hers. the way she was swaying her hips was driving you insane, and you subconsciously pulled her even closer.

she still went along with it, taking it upon herself to get as close as she could. she leaned her head on your shoulder, her hot breath on your kneck. you bit your lip so hard you’re suprised it didn’t start to bleed, and you trailed your arm from her shoulder to her ass, which you could now see swaying as she leaned against you. you gave it a light squeeze, as much as her tight denim would allow. you two continued dancing, for what felt like forever. but much to your dismay, despite a few risky touches and a few kneck kisses, nothing lead anywhere that night. she eventually had to leave the party, and she batted her eyelashes at you as you exchanged contacts.

and that’s how it always has been with sarah. you two flirt pretty frequently, and occasionally get a little handsy, but you’ve never done anything about it. she’s gone through boyfriend after boyfriend, and you’ve gone through a few relationships yourself, but after a year or so of trying, you never found relief, and ultimately stopped dating a while ago. you never tried anything with sarah, relishing in the teasing touches too much to want to risk ruining the friendship by asking her out. she was currently with her boyfriend topper, and had been for about 6 months now. she seemed happy, and seeing her happy in a relationship made you all the more sure you didn’t want to ruin it.

“hey y/n, can we pleaseee go inside. i know i begged you to come out here with me to tan but this heat is sooo much worse than i thought it was.” she whined, looking over her shoulder to face you, a big pout on her lips.

“i told you it was too hot out here sare.” you look at her sympathetically, her pout always being your weakness.

“i knowww, but i thought you were just making excuses so we could stay in bed all day.” she rolled her eyes a little, her pout still evident minus the little smile that creeped at the corner of her mouth. you rolled your eyes back, having already given in and started grabbing your few items you brought outside.

“alrighttt, go on. i’ll grab your stuff for you and meet you inside.” you smiled at her, heading her direction. she sprung up at your response, rushing over to you and wrapping her arms around your neck.

“thanks babes. you’re the best.” she left a kiss on your cheek before running towards the doors of tanneyhill.

that’s how it always was with sarah. she’d do things that would be seemingly innocent, calling you babes, giving you cheek kisses, playfully swatting your ass.. things that if you two were just girl best friends, it would seem normal. but it always felt so different with her. but as always, you brushed the thoughts away, grabbing her things and following her inside.

when you made it in, she was no where to be found. you assumed she’d grabbed a drink and rushed up to relax in her room, which was thankfully air conditioned. you set your things down on the kitchen counter, and padded your way up the stairs to find her.

you found her just where you expected, lazily sprawled out on her bed, still in her strapless bikini set from when she was tanning.

“i’m so bored.” she groaned, lazily turning her head to face you when she heard you come in, not having enough energy to move the rest of her body.

“what should we do? come up with something.” she added, her attitude leaking through her words a little, seemingly crabby from the heat.

“i dunno. what do you normally do when youre bored?” you replied, your brain seemingly empty. normally you two always had something fun planned, or little random things to do. but both of you seemed to be spacing for once. she shrugged, and you sat on the edge of her bed.

you saw her laptop open on her desk, so you wandered over to grab it, thinking of putting on a movie or something until you came up with something better to do. but when you touched the mousepad to wake up the laptop, you were suprised to see what it was opened up to.

“jesus christ sare-“

“what?” she groaned, seemingly unalarmed until her eyes met the screen. her eyes widened, and she sprung up off the bed with a sudden burst of new found energy. but hearing her pounding feet, you swiftly picked up the laptop and held it high above your head.

“y/n put that down right now i’m serious!” she whined frustratingly, grappling at your arms and shoulders, trying to get you to put it down. you wanted to tease her though, even if it was just a little. you assumed it wouldn’t lead anywhere. nothing ever did between you two.

“you’re watching lesbian porn?? god if i had known i could’ve set you up with some links, you know im good for that stuff-“

“y/n put it down, okay? i was just-“ she continued to hop on her feet, standing her her toes, desperate to reach the laptop. “-curious!” she groaned, not giving up in her pursuit to steal the device from your grasp.

“curious, huh? that’s cute.” you grinned teasingly at her, and her eyes flickered to yours a few times as she persisted, her little hops and outstretched arms making you bite your lip to hold back a laugh.

after a few more minutes of struggle, the heat exhaustion seemingly flooded over her again and she let up, now standing flat on her feet infront of you. her arms were crossed, a heavy blush tinted not only her cheeks but most of her face. her eye brows were taught tight together in frustration.

“i just wanted to look at it. maybe learn a little- i-i don’t know, okay?? i don’t know why i was watching it.” she babbled, seemingly genuinely a little hurt and embarrassed, her eyes welling slightly. your heart stung a little.

“hey, hey, eeeasy. i was just messing with you sare. you’re okay.” you lowered the laptop, closing it and holding it against your side, using your free hand to cradle her cheek. ready to catch any tears that threatened to fall.

“you know if you ever had any questions you could come to me, right? i don’t know what kind of experience you have, but i’m and open book. i can help you, if you want.” you leaned down a little, forcing her to meet your eyes after hers had drifted away.

“you’d do that?” she mumbled, leaning into your hand a little.

“of course i would. only if you want to-“

“i want to.” she cut you off, meeting your eyes with a reassuring nod of her head. you felt your composure that you’d kept for so long start to slip, and you were beyond greatful nobody else was in tanneyhill that day.

she grabbed your hand and tugged you back over to her bed. you set her laptop down, opening it back up to the tab she had open. you two sat next to eachother, the silence not uncomfortable but terribly thick with tension.

“can-can we just watch some first? i don’t know really what i want to learn yet off the top of my head i just was watching-“

“yes. yes, of course sarah. whatever you want.” you cut her off this time, reassuring her, then pushing play on the porn. it was some random short clip. probably 2 minutes long, seemingly off of twitter or something. it was two girls, evidently scissoring. you let the video play for a couple seconds before reaching to scrub through it, seeing it was literally just a clip of two girls scissoring for multiple minutes straight.

“do you have any other clips of what you want to learn..? because this is just scissoring, sarah.” you couldn’t help but crack a smile, finding a little funny how blissfully innocent about this stuff.

you turned to look at her to see her eyes already boaring into yours, pupils blown wide. her head was tucked down a little, and her hands fidgeted in her lap, clearly trying to get a message acrossed without saying it.

“you just wanna learn how to do that, hm?” you cocked a brow at her, and smiled a little more when she nodded her head.

“you sure this is okay?” you said, resting your hand on her folded legs, slowly creeping it upwards. she gave you a small nod again.

“words, sare.” you creeped a little higher.

“yes, fuck- please, y/n.”

with that you felt your last bit of composure slip. you gently pushed her back against the bed, her head resting against the pillows. you tugged at the button on her shorts, looking up at her to see her give you another nod, quickly adding a muffled ‘yes’ after it. you tugged her shorts down, throwing them off to the side somewhere. you watched her face closely as you gently rubbed over her clothed clit. you knew sarah had been touched before, she’d talked about her experiences with exes, but you still wanted to be as gentle and slow with her as possible, as it was her first time with a woman.

“can i kiss you? please?” she said while wrapping her arms around your kneck. it broke you out of the trance you didn’t realize you had fallen under, staring at her clothed pussy. you looked back up to her, your own eyebrows furrowing with a smile.

“of course baby.” she was the one to lean up to meet your lips, her kisses quickly going from gentle to rushed and sloppy. she was clearly getting ancy as she ground her hips up into your hand, and you pulled aside her bikini to slip your fingers through her folds. she was completely soaked, a wet patch having already soaked through her bikini bottoms prior to you actually touching her.

she moaned at the relief of you finally touching her, breaking away from the kiss for a second. her mouth hung open, and she looked to where your hand met her.

“please, oh god- please- more, something- please” she ranted, still grinding up into you.

“easssy sweetheart, i want you to feel my fingers first-“

“no- please just fucking do the thing already.” she said, clearly still a little shy about the subject. she avoided your gaze, still relishing on your finger tips which circled heavenly around her clit.

“are you sure?” you clarified, slowing your hand to make sure you got a straight answer. frankly she was already soaked, you could scissor, but you figured she’d want to be warmed up first. you really wanted to take things slow with her, but you couldn’t deny the way her eagerness made you all the more aware of how soaked you were in your own panties.

“yes. yes, yes, yes, please y/n.” she begged, literally whining and begging at your disposal. her brows were taught with frustration, and her hips continued to eagerly sway against your hand.

“okay, okay.” you laughed a little, finally tugging off your own garments. a shiver ran down your spine when you unclasped your braw, you were unable to tell if it was the breeze from the air conditioner or the way she instantly reached for your chest. she massaged them in her hands, slightly more out of pure admiration at first, but then switching to teasing your nipples.

“fuck sarah-“ you groaned as you finally pulled your final piece of clothing off, your panties.

“i know it’s going to sound pretty fucking stupid but.. i’ve always wanted to touch your tits.” she grimaced a little as the words came out her mouth, sounding like a teenager. the two of you giggled for a second before she looked at you expectantly.

“are you-“

“yes, im positive. ive never been more sure.” she smiled up at you, her classic sarah glow finally peaking through, most if not all of her embarrassment having washed away.

you pulled away, settling yourself between her legs, getting into position. she reluctantly let go of your chest, and let you move her as you needed to. when you finally had situated yourself, you propped her left leg over your shoulder, giving her thigh a reassuring squeeze.

before you could instruct her, she ground up against you. what was supposed to be, on her part, just a grind of being impatient, she felt her clit rock perfectly up against yours.

“h-holy shit was that it?”

“mhm, you got it baby. keep goin, you got it.” you barely got the words out, clenching your jaw extremely hard at the sudden touch. she continued, easily setting a pace, you let her figure it out for a moment before finally grinding back into her, the two of you in unison. she let out a gasp which quickly turned into a moan.

“oh fu-fuuuck..” she tensed her eyebrows together.

“y/n?” she glanced back and forth from your face and where the two of you met, and her fists reached up to firmly grab the pillow behind her. you met her eyes, ready to stop, instantly assuming she was having second thoughts.

“yea sare? we can stop-“

“i swear to fucking god y/n do not stop.” she groaned the words out inbetween moans.

“i was just going to say-“ she stopped in between words, clearly struggling “im really really not going to last much longer.” she shot you an apologetic smile, before blabbering a few ‘it’s so good’ s, ‘don’t stop’ s, and ‘holy shit’ s under her breath.

“oh yea? s’it feel good baby? god you don’t know how long i’ve wanted to do this.” you ranted too, letting out a few groans of your own.

“oh fuckfuckfuck y/n- babe im-“

“let go sarah, i’ve got you baby. you’re doing so good.” she grinded desperately, her hips getting sloppy, the two of you now at totally different paces, yours being a steady fast rhythm and her being ragged and sharp. you could see your collective juices start to leak onto your stomach and your thighs with how random and miscalculated her thrusts were becoming, practically grinding against any part of you she could. her many short and high pitched whimpers, only egged you on further.

you watched as her orgasm finally hit her, her moans and whines coming to a climax, loud and overwhelming. her whole body shook, her stomach tensing and her arms loosing their grip on her pillow as she threw her head back. you could see her juices seeping out of her as you continued to grind on her, riding out her high and still chasing your own. it was when her sighs of relief turned into overstimulated whimpers that you too were finally thrown over the edge, your orgasm practically blinding you.

you fell back onto your elbows, collecting yourself for a moment before untangling your limbs and crawling up against her pillows, right next to her. she still breathed heavily, turning over to tuck herself into your armpit and throw an arm lazily over your mid drift. her hair was a mess, and you could see some of her mascara had smudged under her eyes. she looked so blissfully stunning.

“that was fucking awesome.” she said, cracking her classic sarah smile and letting out a little laugh, leaning on your chest to look up at you.

“yea, it was.” you smiled back at her, letting out a little laugh of your own to cover up the thoughts that were racing through your mind.

you had so many questions. where did we go from here? what about topper? will we ever be able to come back from this?

but as she tucked herself back into your armpit, seemingly overthrown by exhaustion, you didn’t dare ask. you were fine, and happy, in this moment.

[improper-use-of-germx]

i love feline like aliens! just imagine a alien crewmate absentmindedly wrapping their tail around your leg because they feel safe but then you stand up and trip bc of said tail

Omg anon please that's so cute. Idk if anyone here has listened to Starline series by asmr gav on Youtube (Which I highly recommend, it's what first got me into alien romance) but the main love interest at one point absentmindedly wraps his tail around the MC and then has to explain that it's a gesture of compassion and intimacy, which leads to them experimenting with other forms of intimacy.

Most of my alien characters have tails of some kind. They can be prehensile, used interchangeably with other limbs to grab things or balance themselves after a tumble, with the added benefit of having something to hold you with while still being able to work. (Or hold you in a way out of sight, literally under the table if the relationship is looked down upon, but they still want you to know how much they care)

Maybe they were evolved for some social reason, an extra method of emoting that remains even when they interact with members of another species. Tails that twitch or lash out in annoyance, tails that swish back and forth with adorably obvious glee when you get closer than they were expecting.

And my favorite, tails that usually hang low but perk up when they spot someone they like. Crewmates have to be aware of how close they are at any given time, no one wants to be smacked because you walked into the room and accidentally triggered their "happy tail".

[strangeaddictiongk]

Don't Move Another Inch

*Note: This isn't exactly following real life structure within the military dynamic, I know that and I honestly don't care. This is fiction, either read it or don't.

It is a rough draft and will likely be edited later. I tried to stay true to Ghost, but I'm not exactly sure it is fully him. I'm still trying to understand him as a character so bear with me please.

----

Unedited. ~2.4k words. *Suggestive themed - MDNI*

You exhale, hands tightening on the bar as you try to figure out how to do this. The chopper is full of 141, and your previous seat is now occupied by Soap. “Find a seat!” Price commands from the co-pilot seat up front. “We have to go! Now!”

You nod, trying to hype yourself up, but you are unsure. You are a medic, a base medic. Not a field medic. The field medic is sick with the flu, so you are the fill-in. You did not ask to be here, covered in Gaz’s blood with him barely clinging on. The only other available medic is a rookie, and they are not ready for fieldwork.

The heat of the flames engulfing the building behind you warms your back, and the seconds are ticking by. You board the crowded chopper. Your hands brush against Gav, securing the kemp blanket over him tighter before you move deeper into the hull. You intend to sit on Soap’s lap, a middle seat away from the open door. It will be a tight fit, but the only other option closer to you is Ghost. And you do not want to push Ghost into being uncomfortable. Normally, Gaz would be the one offering you a seat. Teasing you about how perfect you would be together despite you consistently turning him down. Your heart clenches in your chest, and your gaze shifts to him, waiting for the joke, but it does not come. He lays still, silent.

Soap catches your gaze next and sees the question in your eyes. He gives a short nod; you could sit with him. But before you can fully pass Ghost, his hands are on your hips, guiding you down onto his lap as the chopper whirs louder, signaling you are about to be airborne. You gasp and reach to grip the strap that he is already holding as the chopper lifts off the ground. Your fingers grip his forearm in desperation to not fall out of the open door. The muscles flex under your touch, and he shifts beneath you slightly.

Gav’s body on a stretcher takes up most of the floor space as you tuck your legs and feet between Ghost’s and the paneled wall that juts out only a fraction as best you can. You are straddling one of Ghost’s thighs, and if the matter had not been so serious you could only imagine the jokes and crude commentary the others would be throwing your way, but everyone is somber and silent as they worry over Gav. You had bandaged him and prepped him as best you could for the flight back to safety. Losing him once already had everyone on edge.

You do not make eye contact with anyone else, aware of the heat Ghost is giving off underneath you. His body is solid beneath you. Your eyes close temporarily, a shiver running down your spine at the unexpected proximity.

“Hold onto me,” Ghost rumbles over the sound of the blades whirring, and it lifts off the ground.

You nod again, unable to think straight as you panic over Gav and try to calm your racing heart over your position. After his other arm winds around your waist, you shift, and he tightens his hold. You grip his arm, nails biting into the heavy fabric of his uniform. Your other hand braces on his vacant thigh to keep yourself stable. His thigh is warm and tense under your palm as you sway with the chopper. There are not enough headsets to go around. An emergency evac had never been a top plan for today’s mission. You are deaf to whatever orders Price is likely issuing and relying on Ghost to tell you if they are important enough.

So, now you have to rely on Ghost’s touch or his voice near your head for anything that is not related to Gav. You shift again, trying to watch for Gav’s rising and falling chest now that you are positioned by his feet. It is there still, steady, but not as strong as you would like. Ghost’s fingers dig into your waist when you shift a third time.

“Stop moving… please.”

“I’m sorry, I’m worried.”

He shifts underneath you, hauling you back against his chest. Your body is squarely on his lap now and not his thigh. Your lips fall open in surprise at what you feel. He huffs when you stiffen in his grasp.

Tucking his head down, his mouth is near your ear, even with the mask being a protective layer between you. “We are all worried, but no one else is fidgeting like you are.”

His hand is under the vest they insisted you wear before the flight and your t-shirt. You are not dressed properly, in jeans and a t-shirt, not fit for the med bay much less the field. The soft press of his gloved hand is warm against your skin. You take a strangled breath in, and his chest rumbles with a chuckle.

You shiver, feeling the hard press of him against you. And his teasing does not help ease your mind. Ghost has never flirted with you, not like the others. He has never given you an indication that he is attracted to you at all. But right now, the attraction screams from underneath you. You swallow and try not to think about the size of the man beneath you.

“I could have sat with someone else,” you mutter before he lifts his head to look at the others. Your gaze stays solely on Gav, but you can feel Ghost's fingertips moving gently in an up-and-down pattern on your waist.

“I don’t fucking think so.”

You shift to look at him in surprise when you notice the growing stain on his collar. “Ghost?”

“What?”

“Are you bleeding?!”

He shifts, looking down at the blood staining his front. “I’ll be fine. It’s just a scratch.”

Your eyes widen as you try to find the source of the bleed. He stares at you, but you ignore the burning of those eyes and shift once more to tip his chin up before slowly easing the mask above his collarbone to reveal his neck. That is when you notice the deep gash on his neck that disappears into his shirt. Blood soaks his mask and the collar of his uniform.

“It looks like more than a scratch!”

“Focus on Gav, Darlin’. I’ll be fine.”

You huff, not liking the answer. Gav is the one who is knocking on death’s door, but you can’t exactly let Ghost bleed out underneath you. You lean forward, and immediately his hand grips your waist as you grasp the medic bag that is stationed between Gav’s legs.

“Fuck!” Ghost breathes before you sit up straight and dig around for something to patch him up with temporarily. “Warn a guy next time, Smoke.”

The use of your code name makes your cheeks burn. The name had been a joke because you were elusive with everyone around you. Never trusting anyone to linger longer than necessary at first. You bite your lip, cheeks heating as he shifts underneath, uncomfortable with the growing matter between his legs. It is wrong for him to have a hard-on right now, but he had put himself in this predicament. He should have let you squeeze in on Soap's lap, but the thought of someone else holding you had him seeing red.

“Hold this,” you instruct Soap, who holds the medical bag with ease on his lap as he watches you work before glancing at Ghost, who has gone ridged when you shift even more in his lap.

They exchange a look, and Ghost internally groans, knowing he will pay for this later. You face him now. Practically straddling his lap, chest nearly touching as you inspect the cut on his neck and down into the collar of his shirt. “Can I look at you?”

His eyes squeeze shut, but a forced yes reaches your ears, and you are quick to undo the straps on the left side of his vest before moving to the shoulder one.

“Soap!” You yell, and he leans closer to better listen to you. “Keep a count of breaths Gav takes per minute. If it drops any, let me know!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

You turn your attention back to Ghost. “Relax, Lieutenant.”

He shakes his head, smirking at you despite the mask covering it. You unbutton his uniform and push it open to see his shirt underneath stained crimson. You frown, looking up at him briefly, but his gaze is fixated on the roof.

“I’m sorry,” you rush out, pressing a bandage over the wound to slow some of the bleeding. He does not flinch from the pressure like you expect. “I could’ve sat with anyone else; I should have.”

“No.”

You lift your gaze again, and he is watching you. That dark look burns right through you. You clear your throat and resume blotting the wound down to the collar of his shirt. “How fond of this shirt are you?”

He shrugs, it is a standard issue black shirt, and you take the scissors to cut down it and reveal most of his torso. His eyes widen, and his hands on your hips tighten, the strap long forgotten. Your cheeks flame, and you bite your lip, ignoring how this would look if the situation was not as real as it is.

“You’ll need stitches when we get back.”

He is silent, his thumb rubs up and down the line of your waist. Ghost’s chin brushes your head as you duck to clean the cut and wipe away the dried blood. Your fingers cool against his skin. He muffles a groan, his eyes closing briefly as you brush over his abs. Another set of antiseptic wipes is gone as you tear open a new pack with your teeth.

“Christ, Smoke.”

You meet his gaze again, and you blush hotter. “Careful, Ghost.”

“You need to be fucking careful,” he mutters, his voice strained as he shifts underneath you. “Fucking hell.”

“Then stop moving.” You argue, and he glares at you. You laugh under your breath before you drag another wipe down his torso. Scars litter his body, and you try not to touch them. His trauma is no secret, and you want to respect him as much as possible. The glassy sheen of wounds healed is making you wonder what all he has been through.

The chopper jerks and everyone is jostled abruptly. Your body slides further into Ghosts. You inhale sharply, hands pressing to his exposed chest. Your head dips down, panicked breaths escaping you.

“I’m sorry,” you rush out for only him to hear. “I’m so sorry.”

His chest heaves against your hands, and you turn your face to look at him. His eyes blazing, breath fanning out even through the mask. You bite your lip, and he closes his eyes, shifting underneath you.

Your breath hitches, and a soft keen escapes you as he practically rolls his hips beneath you. This is so unprofessional, but it has been so long since you have been touched or wanted. The lower half of his clothed face brushes against your jaw, his chest rising and falling as the chopper jerks again.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice strained, his fingertips pressing into your hips harshly. You shift, unable to help yourself with the press of him between your legs, and he grunts, nose moving up to the shell of your ear. “Fuck, Sweetheart’.”

The chopper seems to settle after a few more minutes, and you slowly ease back from him. His gaze burns as he stares at you. You press your hands to your cheeks, praying you are not as red-hot as you feel.

He smirks, enjoying your frazzled state. “Still bleeding here.”

Snapping out of it, you set back to work on bandaging what you can before moving to do his buttons back up. Ghost knows he can do it himself, but he is not going to. He groans, tucking his head down on your shoulder when your fingertips graze the bottom of his abs. Too close to the line of his pants.

You have no idea just how close he is to coming right there. Blowing his load in his uniform pants because you are on him and touching him. Even with Gaz on the stretcher at his feet, he would blow his load if you touched his skin again or offered another little sigh.

“Ghost,” you murmur, hand moving to his shoulder to squeeze. He snaps out of his daze, turning his head to watch you. “I’m sorry for… the problem.”

You hurry up the last few buttons and strap the vest back on before starting to shift back around, but he stops you.

“Don’t move,” he murmurs in your ear. “Don’t move another inch, Sweetheart.”

He is close to losing it, you both stay frozen where you are. You nod at Ghost’s command, closing your eyes briefly. You tuck your head down as you try to focus on wiping his blood from your hands.

“Ghost…”

“Don’t apologize again.”

You snap your mouth shut, and he grunts, disappointed that you close off so easily still. His hand moves between you to tug at your vest until you meet his gaze. His eyes soften, and you try to muster a small smile for him, you are fine. Worried and unsure, but fine.

“We’re almost there, Boys!” Price yells over the sounds of the chopper. You glance out the window, hands gripping Ghost’s upper arms while he keeps you firmly on his lap. Heights terrify you, and the ground looks so far away. Your vision is tunneling.

“Heights?”

You nod, closing your eyes and turning your face back to his chest.

“You aren’t going anywhere. I’ve got you.”

The chopper lands minutes later, and they unload Gav before hopping out. Soap reaches back to help you down, and you smile at him gratefully. The heat from Ghost had stirred an empty feeling inside of you. But now it is gone, and your chest aches slightly. You blink in surprise as you register your body's reaction to him. But then it is there again as Ghost follows behind you. You can feel how close he walks behind you as you rush with the medical team into the bay. You spew out what you could do in the field before hurrying in to remove your vest and sterilize yourself so you can help Gav the rest of the way. You explain to the rookie that Ghost needs stitches, barely glancing at him as you leave him to the rookie’s capable hands. Your body is trembling from your unexpected ride back.

[drabblesandimagines]

Snippets

So, I have a fair few half-finished Clive Rosfield x female reader fics that I thought I'd share some snippets of. The brainrot is back after playing the DLC, so let's put a vote up to see if there's a certain one people are keen to see finished... (and give me the motivation/fear to finish it/them all?)

---- Winter Mead Your head is pounding as you come round, blinking in the harsh sunlight through the small window. You’re fully dressed and seem to be at the wrong end of your bed – your boots resting on your pillow.

What had you done last night? You blink up at the ceiling a few times, slowly becoming more conscious and aware of how dry your mouth is. Water. You need water.

Cautiously, you slide to sit up, putting one foot down on the ground to hear a soft yelp and you jump back, staring at disbelief as you realise Gav is on your floor.

“I’m up,” he grumbles into the boards. “You don’t have to step on me, like.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“I imagine I passed out after that,” he gestures to the quarter-drank Winter Mead on the side. It was potent, all right.

“Oh, Founder…” You rubbed your temples. There’s a pitcher of water on your desk and a goblet, thankfully. You get up from bed again, careful not to step on Gav, and take the two short steps over, pouring yourself a drink. As the lukewarm water quenches your thirst, you realise the paper all over your desk has half written letters all over them.

Clive,

Please can you kiss me? I promise I don’t bite.

Love, your admirer.

PS: Well, I don’t unless you want me to.

Gav gets to his feet besides you, “Can I have some of that?” When you don't reply, goblet still held up at your lips, his eyes follow your gaze to the discarded letters on the desk. “Fuck me.” “We didn’t. I didn’t.”

----- Lemon Tarts

“Come on now, I know I have a scarred mug but I’m a nice fella under all that.” Gav – after all, he’s introduced himself several times now – says, softly. He’s crouched down in front of the crevice you’ve squeezed yourself in, huddling your knees. He’s broader than you and his shoulders won’t permit him entry, despite his best efforts.

Your master was harsh in his demands. Sometimes it felt that breathing the wrong way was worthy of a lash from his whip, so however many years ago you’d decided it was better off not talking back and then, eventually, not worth talking at all. It wasn’t like he cared for your opinion either way. Couldn’t get whipped for saying the wrong thing at least.

Then these people had shown up, announcing they were Cursebreakers – whatever they were - that they were here to take you and your fellow three Bearers somewhere safe, bundling you up in a cart and then onto a boat and up a dock, being told you’re going to  escorted to their infirmary to be checked over and it was too much.

You’d ran, ducking from outstretched arms trying to halt you. Being in the middle of a lake, you couldn’t really go anywhere and now as you’d ran, you knew you were going to make whatever punishment awaiting you far worse – at least with your master you knew what to expect, what to brace for…

You’d sequestered yourself in a narrow gap, out of reach.  Numerous people were trying to coerce you out but you ignore them, cuddling your knees in fright.

“You can’t stay in there forever. That’s not a threat, like! I mean, it’s not practical, and not when we’ve a warm bed waiting for you, eh?”

Warm bed…? It’s a trick. Don’t be an idiot.

“Gav, what’s going on?” A gravelly voice draws his attention elsewhere and he ducks back from the opening to talk to someone behind.

You’re trapped, you know you are, and they’ll drag you out of here one way or another eventually but you’re too terrified to move.

“Hello.” The same gravelly voice from before sounds cautious now. You look between your knees to see another broad-shouldered man with shaggy dark hair framing stormy blue eyes, clad in red and black armour, crouched down on a knee to peer into your hiding spot. “My name’s Clive. What’s yours?”

“She doesn’t talk much.” Gav’s voice comes from over his shoulder and Clive turns to face him. “Or ever. That’s what the other Bearers said anyway. They’re all pretty new to the bastard’s service, though. Not sure how long she’s been there – they didn’t know her name either.”

“That’s all right,” Clive turns back, smiling as he catches sight of you peeking at him between your knees. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. We just want to help – I promise.”

He waits, patiently, for a response that you won’t give.

“Please?” He presses on, tenderly. “We have a healer who can treat whatever ails you, and I’ve heard there’s a delicious stew on the menu tonight. Plus Molly, our cook, made some exquisite lemon tarts for afterwards. You can have mine too, if you like.”

---

Trust

“Bearer ran off – she looked terrified. We tried to stop her but I think we frightened her more than anything,” Cole sighed, cursing himself internally. “Her hands were bound too - I’m worried about her being out there alone. If Imperials or a fiend were to find her…”

“Which way did she go?”

“Into the thicket. I was going to go and look for her after we’d got the Bearers to the skiff.”

“You go." Clive folds his arms, forming a plan. "I’ll go look for her. Torgal will help me – won’t you, boy? He has a fine nose.”

Torgal barks, wagging his tail.

--

Your heart is still pounding from the climb where there is bark from below. Between your dangling legs, you see a giant wolf looking up at you.

“Good boy, Torgal.” The dark-haired man rubs the wolf’s head affectionately – is he going to allow him to maul you as a reward? You try and scramble further up the tree but it’s no use, the way your hands are bound prevents you from getting a grip and progressing further.  

“Please, be careful. I do not wish for you to fall, my lady.” The stranger pleads, holding his hands up in surrender.

The concerned tone in his voice would’ve been a clever trick if it wasn’t for the hulking blade strapped to his back, the leathers he’s dressed in, the wolf sat at his heels, panting with hunger.

“Allow me to introduce myself - my name is Clive.” You wish you could scoot back more, hide yourself from his view, but there’s only so much room. “My lady, I know you are frightened, but I swear I’m not here to hurt you. Quite the opposite, in fact - I want to help you. We want to help you. The Bearers you were with, they are safe with my allies back at what we call the Hideaway.”

Hideaway? A cosy name for a prison.

“You’ll be looked after there, your ills seen to. A warm bed, a hot meal every night...”

There’s no such place in this world that would treat a Branded like that. Does he think you’re stupid?

“I would rid myself of this blade if it were to reassure you, but we are in dangerous territory – fiends and Imperial soldiers – so I require it to defend myself, and you, my lady."

-----

The vote will be up for a week, but please let me know what you think in the comments too!

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

[svtminghaolove]

The proposal - Hip hop unit (SVT)

Hello ~ I’m writing. And now I’m going to go and buy ice cream. Woop woop.

Triggers: Nope

S.Coups: It was like any other morning. Seungcheol had been working late last night, but had told you to sleep at the dorms tonight, so of course you did. He had arrived around three in the morning, sneaking into bed with you and softly apologized for being late. You had sleepily given a response that you right now in the morning couldn't remember.

You, of course, woke up much earlier than the boys in the house and decided to make a grand breakfast, since you knew the boys would be way to lazy to cook after they had such a long day yesterday.

So you started cooking up whatever you had on hand, which collected up to four different dishes and a few already made sides.

"Good morning", you turned your head to see Seungcheol walk up behind you, only wearing a white tea and sweatpants.

"Morning", you hummed as he wrapped his arms around you.

"It's nice to wake up and find you cooking, thank you", he said, placing his chin on your shoulder.

"Yeah, and imagine that you could have this everyday", you teased and flipped the kimchijeon. He let go of my waist with one arm and went quiet for a moment.

"Maybe we should get married.", you laughed and nodded.

"Yeah, maybe we should", you smiled and petted the hand that was resting on your waist. "Is there anything you feel is missing?", you looked at the dishes you had lined up.

"No, y/n.", he held up a simple golden ring in front of you and you gasped. "Maybe we should get married.", you blinked a few times before you turned off the stove and turned to face him.

"Are you serious?", you whispered, afraid that your voice couldn't hold the tears building in your throat.

"Yeah. I think we're ready for this step.", he smiled and held up the ring in between the two of you. "So what do you say, want to get hitched?", you laughed at his statement and nodded.

"Yes. Lets do it!", you smiled through your tears as he put the ring on your finger.

"This ring means that you're mine, just so you know", he said as you pulled him into a hug.

"Yeah, and I'm happy to stay yours", you sniffled and closed your eyes.

"Hey, I smell food", DK stopped in his steps when he saw the two of you. "What's going on?", you looked at Seungcheol and he smiled back at you, before both of you busted out in laugher, hugging each other in front of poor confused DK.

Wonwoo: The two of you had been out all day, running errands and fixing in the apartment. You were both very tired and was getting ready to go to bed.

"You can wash up first", you said and he nodded as you walked to the kitchen to search for the phone you had misplaced. You searched for the phone for about five minutes, before concluding that it wasn't in the kitchen.

"Wonwoo!", you went to the couch to look if you had thrown it there when you came home.

"Yeah?"

"Have you seen my phone? I can't find it", you sighed and moved the pillows out of the way.

"Yeah, it's in the bathroom", the bathroom? You didn't remember going in the bathroom after coming home, but you were tired and a bit out of it so you didn't really think that much about it.

You walked back to the bedroom and into the connected bathroom and found your phone on the sink, but on top of the phone was a small dark blue box. You blinked and lifted the box. It felt light and heavy at the same time, and you just stared at it for a moment before opening it. A little light turned on at the lid of the box, shining down on a beautiful ring. You took a shaking breath and took a step back, just to steady your stance and make sure that you wouldn't fall. You stared at the ring for a few moments before moving out into the bedroom. Wonwoo was sitting at the end of the bed, giving you a soft smile.

"I love you. I know that I don't say that nearly enough, but I really do love you.", he stood up and reached out his hand. "You are the one, and I refuse you let you be the one who got away. Will you please be my wife?", he said as you gave him your hand, the one holding the box.

"What- when did you-", you were kind of in shock to be honest. This had come kind of out of nowhere, but you did love Wonwoo and he was the only person you could imagine spending forever with.

"Yes!", you suddenly said, you weren't even prepared for the shout leaving your lips. He blinked and let out a little laugh as he plucked the box from your hand and proceeded to put the ring on your finger. He pressed a soft kiss to your ring finger and the two of you remained quiet for a little while.

"So, should we go to sleep?", he said and you hit him on the shoulder.

"Are you crazy? Do you think I can fall asleep after this?", you laughed and Wonwoo joined in on it as he lifted you up and threw you on the bed.

Mingyu: You were coming home from a work trip. You had been away for about a week and were so tired. At first your plane had been cancelled so you would take a plane the day after. But then you had been lucky to be put on an earlier plane than planned and was about two hours early back, and you were so ready to just fall asleep in your boyfriends arm tonight. You knew that Mingyu was going to be working late tonight so you didn't really want to bother him to tell him that you would be home earlier than planned. That was the reason that you were stepping out of a taxi right now instead of a friends car.

You unlocked the door and stepped inside.

"I'm home", you said out of habit as you lifted your bag inside but froze at the picture you were seeing. Hoshi and DK were standing on ladders, hanging up fairy lights among the balloons that were floating in the ceiling.

"What are you doing?", you laughed as you looked around the house. White flower petals were scattered on the floor, leading you upstairs to where Mingyu now were peaking down at you.

"You weren't suppose to be home for another two hours!", he accused and at the same time sounded a bit whiny and disappointed.

"My flight time got changed", you smiled as your brain slowly started to put together the puzzle pieces. Mingyu came down the stairs, looking a bit overwhelmed and you noticed how Hoshi and DK slowly walked away to the guest bedroom. And that was when it clicked and you let go of your suitcase.

"Mingyu-"

"It wasn't suppose to be like this. It was suppose to be a surprise and perfect and you would-"

"Mingyu", you interrupted him. "Are you…?", he didn't seem to listen to you.

"I had a whole speech, which I now of course have forgotten and I'm not even done upstairs and-"

"Mingyu!", you laughed and took his face in your hand. "Breathe!", he looked into your eyes and did as you said, visibly collecting himself. He nodded and took one of your hands.

"Well, it isn't perfect or honestly right now, not going according to the plan. But to be honest, it doesn't really matter", he smiled and kissed your palm. "You matter. We matter, and that's all I need.", he slowly went down on one knee, the white petals under him making a soft crushing sound.

"I love you. I want to come home to you every day. I want build a family with you. ", he smiled and picked out a red ring box from his pocket. "I really want to be able to call you my wife.", he opened the box and you laughed through the tears that had begun falling down your cheeks. "Will you? Be my wife?"

"Yes! Yes, of course!", you laughed and let him put the ring on your finger before basically tackling him to the floor with a hug, and kisses pressed all over his face, leaving kiss marks from your lipstick. He laughed and hugged you close, pressing his lips to yours.

Vernon: It was a fall day, the leaves had started to fall from the trees, leaving the ground colored in red, orange and yellow. The two of you had gone out for a walk, bought some coffee and was now sitting in a park, just watching the people that was walking by. There wasn't a lot of people out, it was a work day and right after the lunch break, so most people had already gone back to work.

"I've been thinking much lately", Vernon suddenly said, out of nowhere. The phrasing of the words made you smile a bit, and you turned your gaze to him.

"Yeah, what have you been thinking about?", you said softly, hiding your nose in your scarf in a try to get it to warm up.

"I was talking to mom the other day", he looked at you and smiled. "And she said she wished she had a daughter like you", you blinked and tilted her head. "Of course she has Sofia, but she said that another one wouldn't hurt.", he reached out and took your free hand.

"I though about how much joy and love you've brought to my life, to my family's life. About how much you mean to me, and what I would do if you weren't in my life", you took a short breath, was he going to-. "And I realized that I don't want to live a life where you aren't in it.", he reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a ring. A very obvious engagement ring. "So, will you be in my life forever?", you smiled at him and softly squeezed his hand.

"Are you sure? I'm quite a lot to handle", he laughed at you comment and nodded.

"Yeah. I'm very sure, please give me the honor to call you Mrs. Chwe", he smiled, teeth showing and love sparkling in his eyes.

"Then yes. I would love to be Mrs. Chwe.", you said and he took out the ring and slid it on your finger.

"That kind of came out of nowhere", you laughed and he intertwined his fingers with yours.

"Yeah, I've been carrying around that ring for a month waiting for the perfect moment and this just felt right", you leaned against him and let your head fall on his shoulder.

"It was right. It's perfect", you sighed and closed your eyes with the biggest smile on your face.

-----

Masterlist

-----

Taglist: @foxdaisy @pearlygraysky @cixrosie @thmrdrs

[ethereousdelirious]

Would you consider writing Klapollo? 👀 While I love some Apollo whump I'm a big fan of bullying Klavier, maybe he's allergic to flowers his adoring fans have sent him, or he's so burnt out from a recent tour his voice is all wrecked, and a blossoming cold isn't helping matters, both of which Apollo (somewhat begrudgingly) would help him with 💖 Klav is such a show off but his usually perfect appearance being ruined by circumstances outside of his control, maybe his hair is down, or in a ponytail or messy bun instead of its usual drill, avoiding Apollo when he usually /loves/ to tease him. Anyway. I'm rambling sorry 💀

🙇 bully klav gav pls

Wow wow my first time ever writing Kl.apollo :0 Thank you for being my guinea pig!

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings: A lil touch of mess? Not very messy, but like. It's not NOT there. (Kl.av sneezes into Ap.ollo's [clothed] chest lmao)

Notes: This is post AJ, presumably before DD. I didn't clarify bc it distracted from the snz, but I imagine this taking place at like. a community cente theater thing, like for a charity fundraiser or smth. Hence why Kl.av is performing solo.

Pre-slash, a lil heavy on the UST. Apollo may be on the cusp of learning something new about himself (👃🏼)

N-E-way, I hope you like it! My first time writing for a pairing is always a challenge, so I'd definitely like to revisit these 2 in the future (maybe even this same concept bc. there's so much K.lavier-wrecking that can be done 👀)

Klavier's sneeze announced his presence before anything else. The sudden "hk'TCHEH!" punched the air, scaring Apollo's disordered thoughts back to darker corners of his brain.

Right.

He was being silly.

He looked around the dressing room, straightening his shirt despite himself. Klavier had arranged his belongings into orderly piles, though the room still felt cramped. There was no glamor, no mystique in the white walls and humming yellow fluorescents.

He'd waited in Klavier's dressing rooms before. It wasn't that strange.

The door creaked open a crack, then a little more. Klavier's blond head peered in, and the smile on his face looked strained, somehow. "Herr Forehea— Hhheehh—" He wrinkled tje bridge of his nose and something about it made Apollo relax all at once. "I— Ach…" He wiggled his nose like a rabbit, tears sparkling in his lashes, then stopped abruptly. "Could you help me with the door, please?"

"Right!" Apollo leapt up and grabbed it, swinging it open so Klavier could come in. "Are you okay?"

The answer was obvious now. Klavier held a crystal vase in both his hands. Flowers exploded from the top of it, out to the sides, in all variety of colors and shapes. Yellow pollen floated in the water and dusted Klavier's face where the stamens had rubbed against his skin.

Klavier's nose wrinkled again, the delicate skin creasing up in straight little lines. Like a maze only Apollo could solve. His gleaming lips parted, wafting the smell of cherry lip gloss over the fragrance of flower's for a fleeting moment. "Ahh… hhk'kTSCH!" His body rocked forward, sloshing water up toward the edge of the vase.

The force of his exhalation sent a great plume of pollen into the air and Apollo winced. "Uh, Gesundheit?"

"Vielen Dank," Klavier said drily, and Apollo tried not to shudder. "What, ah…" He smiled at Apollo, blinking tears out of his eyes. This dulled some of the resplendent dazzle of him, but none of the charm, and Apollo bit his lip. Klavier sniffled. "What did you think of the show?"

"Too loud," Apollo said bluntly. He held out his hands for the vase. "Here, let me take that."

"'Too loud,'" Klavier repeated. "You're one to t-tal—" He froze for a split second too long, mouth hanging open. "KkH'TSCH! Ugh…"

Apollo hefted the vase and forced himself not to stare at Klavier. "Maybe I should throw these out…" He stared at the pristine flowers and the pollen dusting the leaves. It was all over his hands now.

Klavier shook his head and motioned for Apollo to set them down. "They, hhh— They were a gift," he explained breathlessly, artfully arranging himself in a chair. "From the event organizers." He scrunched up his nose between words like it itched.

Apollo couldn't help but stare. "Well, yeah, but—"

Klavier smiled again, that spotlight grin that made Apollo feel like the center of the universe. How he could help but cringe away from it? How could he help but lower his eyes? "They're lovely flowers, Herr Justice. I'm keeping th— ahK'TSCHEH!" 

"Gesundheit."

"Mm." Klavier was still for a moment, perfectly still. The lights made his lips glimmer, and his eyes, and his nose. His cheeks had broken out in a flush.

Apollo licked his lips.

The sight before him was unreal, a weeping Madonna in gold, in purple, in delicate pink and gorgeous brown. Here was Klavier Gavin as few had seen him.

This last sneeze had caused his hair to come loose and fall around his shoulders in ringlets and smears of pollen made lines upon his cheeks.

And.

He was still perfect.

Klavier blinked hard and touched his fingertips beneath one eye. They came away black with eyeliner. He closed off all at once, his posture stiffening. When he laughed, the sound was stiff and humorless. "I must look frightening right now," he said.

The gentle self-deprecation rang too true. Apollo swallowed hard. And even worse than that, Klavier's shoulders now shook.

"Hhk'TSCHF! Ahk'TSHEH!" He bent double in the chair, aiming his desperate, breathy sneezes at the floor between his legs. "Kk'KSTSXH! EkH'TSCH!"

A moment stretched out between them.

Klavier hid his eyes behind his hand, his breathing wet and unsteady.

"...you done?" Apollo asked feebly. When Klavier didn't move, he half-rose. "Hey, Kl‐ Gavin?

Klavier gestured vaguely with his free hand, shooing Apollo away. "Don't look at me."

In any other situation, it might have been a joke. Vain Prosecutor Gavin, rockstar, unable to stomach the idea of being seen in any state of dishevelment. As it was, his voice trembled and fell flat.

"Hey, it's just me." Spying a box of tissues on the vanity, Apollo grabbed a handful and nudged Klavier's knee. "Here, blow your nose."

Klavier took the tissues and scrubbed at his face with them and blew his nose with an airy hiss that didn't sound at all satisfying.

"D'you really want me to leave?" Apollo asked, trying hard not to sound half as crushed as he felt.

"I just..." Klavier sounded very young when he spoke. "I can't imagine I'm very pleasant company right— heh…" He sniffled hard behind the tissues. "Right now."

"I'm still here, aren't I?"

Klavier peered at him over the tissues. His eyeliner had run and smudged, drawing black moons beneath the pink rims of his irritated eyes. He blinked and a few more tears streamed past, landing in the tissues. "Don't I look like a mess?" he asked, searching Apollo's face.

"I mean." Apollo considered him again. Watery pink eyes, messy makeup, hair falling around his shoulders like some kind of Norse god. "A little I guess? So what?"

A hint of pink surged up Klavier's cheeks, bypassing the tissues. It didn't stand out much against the gentle brown of his skin, but Apollo's sharp eyes picked it up anyway. "Doesn't it bother y— hhHK'TSHEH!"

Apollo sighed and stood up. "Not as much as those sneezes do."

They were big, roaring things that bent Klavier double every time. As befitting a rockstar, but they sounded painful.

Klavier answered with another gasp behind the tissues. "Heh—! Hehk'schCH!"

"C'mon, sit up." Apollo snatched up and handful of tissues and tilted Klavier's chin upward. Startled, watering eyes blinked at him, the fluorescents making bright rectangles across deep blue irises. Apollo dabbed at Klavier's eyes and cheeks, bringing up black eyeliner and yellow pollen in irregular splotches. Folding the tissues, he moved downward to Klavier's nose, careful not to irritate the delicate skin.

Still, Klavier twitched and scrunched up his nose. "Careful, A-Apoll—" His chest hitched with stuttering gasps, the skin beneath either nostril gleaming. His breath left his mouth in one brief exhale. "Gah—"

Apollo bit his lip. His fist had clenched around the tissues, ripping them beneath the blunt ends of his nails. "Sorry," he breathed.

Klavier tucked his hair behind his ears and looked around.

"What do you need?" Apollo asked. Seeing Klavier like this— sheepish, exposed— had stirred something in him. He couldn't let Klavier feel so ashamed of something he couldn't help.

"A hair tie, if you can find one." Still, Klavier kept his face turned away, eyes down.

Apollo found one on the vanity and brought it over. At the kast second, he also grabbed a package of makeup wipes. "Here, Ga— Uh." His face warmed. "Klavier."

He watched Klavier tie his hair back in a messy bun, golden locks framing his face. But when Klavier looked inquiringly at the makeup wipes, Apollo shook his head. "Let me help."

Klavier's mouth twitched. "Herr Forehead thinks he's a pro at taking off makeup?"

"Wh— N-no, of course not!" Apollo stammered. The sudden reappearance of Klavier's easy smile calmed him for once instead of riling him up further and he exhaled. "I just want to help."

"Oh?" Klavier spread his legs, sinking down a little in the chair, and all the smudged makeup blurring his features could not censor the brief, lascivious look that flashed across his face. "Then come help."

There was the confidence that Apollo loathed and loved in equal measure. But was it real? Or was Klavier merely posturing because he felt ashamed?

Apollo's cheeks burned regardless and he had to make a conscious effort to unclench the muscles in his thighs before he could take his position in front of Klavier.

He took Klavier's chin in his hand. "Hold still."

As with the tissues, he started with the eyes. Stubborn lines of black still clung to Klavier's lash lines, intensifying his gaze. His eyes were deep blue, mottled with lighter and darker shades closer to his pupils.

Apollo swallowed and moved on to the cheeks, but found no salvation there. The light layer of foundation rubbed away to reveal gentle lines where Klavier smiled, where he wrinkled his nose, and little brown freckles scattered down the bridge of his nose.

Apollo swiped the makeup wipe down Klavier's nose like he could mop them up and Klavier gasped a little. "Careful there—!"

Ah, yes. Prosecutor Gavin and his sensitive nose.

"Sorry," Apollo said, swiping away one last smear of pollen that had clung to the outer edge of Klavier's nostril.

"Apollo!" was all he managed before a sneeze rammed his head solidly into Apollo's chest. "Hhk'KSCH! " The sudden expulsion of breath warmed the skin of Apollo's chest, though not as much as the delayed realization that Klavier was shaking his head a little, rubbing his nose against Apollo's dress shirt. "Kk'tsXch!" Another burst of warmth.

Of their own accord, Apollo's hands found the back of Klavier's head. He rested them there gently, tracing things line of soft hair leading up toward Klavier's bun.

"Get me out of here," Klavier mumbled into Apollo's dress shirt. A moment later, he stiffened and pulled back, staring at Apollo's chest with wide eyes. "I— Your shirt—"

"It's okay." Apollo didn't bother to look down and assess the damage. "Let's get you home."

How could be even a little upset when Klavier was staring at him with those wide, wide eyes? When the strands of hair that had freed themselves from his bun sparkled in the lights? When cheeks burned pink with exertion and embarrassment? How could Apollo ever, ever hold a grudge?

Even if his shirt felt a little clammy now, well… He'd deal with it later.

For now, he had a Prosecutor to look after.

[spacesquidlings]

Painting Night 101

Description: Despite the downward spiral of her mental health, Gavin has been devoted to finding ways to help Rowan heal, and to find things that will bring her joy. Tonight is no different, and his determination knows no bounds as he tries to convince her to attend a beginner's painting class. Whether their paintings are good won't matter, so long as they find a little shred of happiness together.

Pairing: Gavin Bai x OC (Rowan)

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol use, implied depression, slight suggestive content

Notes: Another self indulgent fic!!! Gav really is my ultimate comfort character and imagining spending a night with him is really cathartic. I also really think he'd actually be VERY into arts and crafts and would be very well known by the local arts and crafts community. He just has the vibes, I can't explain it.

***********************************************

“It will be fun, I promise.”

“I don’t know, babey. I want to stay home.”

“Please? For me?”

It was difficult for Rowan to ever say no to Gavin, especially when he was giving such a spectacular pout. She knew he was trying to help her, trying to make things better after she’d had such an extraordinarily horrible slump. Things had been fine until they hadn’t been fine, and although she wouldn’t have blamed him for leaving her alone in the downward spiral she felt herself slipping towards, he hadn’t. He’d gone day-by-day trying to make things a little better for her.

She knew tonight was the same, that he was only trying to get her to go out, to find something to do that would be fun. But she felt so resistant; she just wanted to lie in bed and imagine she was better, happier. Imagine she was the kind of wife he deserved, not the grim raincloud of a wife he’d gotten stuck with.

“I don’t know.” She sighed, feeling as though she were being slowly swallowed by the bed as she sunk deeper, pressing her face against her pillow.

“Please, Rowan?” His fingertips ghosted against the side of her face, around the curve of her ear. She felt as the bed shifted beneath his weight, as he stroked her hair. “I think this will be fun.”

He’d found an evening painting class that he’d signed them both up for. The kind of classes where they went over the most basic of basics when it came to painting, and then let everyone go off on their own. The kind of class where they featured a new array of wines every week, making it half wine-tasting and half creative space.

How he had stumbled on such a class was beyond her. Why he had signed them both up for it was also beyond her. She’d anticipated him signing them up for couples yoga, or maybe a swimming class together. He’d done similar things in the past, but a painting-and-wine-drinking class was entirely new.

Although perhaps not that odd. She felt like he was always picking up a new craft, and painting was just another extension of that, wasn’t it?

“But I’m not very good at drawing or painting,” she whined.

“That’s okay, love.” His voice was soft as featherdown, gentle as a caress. “Neither am I. But it’ll be fun, won’t it? Like when we tried that paint-by-numbers we bought from the craft store.”

She racked her brain trying to come up with a good excuse for why she couldn’t go. “But I won’t know anyone.”

“You’ll know me.” He was persistent, and she could feel herself being worn down like a pebble beneath constant ocean waves. Gavin was far too good at getting his way. “And Laura says the instructor is really nice.”

She furrowed her brow. “Laura from pilates?”

“Laura from the knitting group.”

Rowan sat up, confused. “Since when did you knit?”

He quirked a brow, a smile playing on his lips. “Since last week. There weren’t enough sign-ups for the crochet class so they transferred anyone who signed up to the knitting group.”

She blinked, baffled. “And you trust Laura-from-knitting-group who you’ve only met for one week?”

“Well she was in that beginners pottery class we took together, remember?”

Rowan furrowed her brow, remembering a woman with auburn hair and blue-rimmed glasses. “The one with the freckles?”

“Yeah. She said it’s a fun class, and it’s only for six weeks, so it’s not a huge commitment.”

“How is Laura, by the way? Doesn’t she have a daughter at the preschool just down the street?”

His eyes narrowed, and he pinched her side, eliciting a small squeak as Rowan smacked his hand.

“What was that for?!”

He huffed. “Don’t try to distract me.”

Her shoulders slumped and she looked away, disappointed her plan hadn’t worked in the slightest. “It was worth a try.”

“Rowan, you know I’m trying to help, right?”

She picked at the blankets, unable to meet his gaze. “I know. I just…”

“What is it, love?”

She felt his hands gently pressing against her cheeks, slowly turning her head to face him. There was no way she could avoid his gaze now, not unless she squeezed her eyes shut.

Gavin chuckled, and she felt the pad of his finger brush against her eyelid. “Open your eyes, Rowan. Look at me.”

She ground her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut tighter.

“Rowan.”

His voice had an edge to it now, so masked by the gentleness it still carried she would have missed it had she not known him so well. But she’d known Gavin for so many years now that she always knew when there was a blade concealed in his words.

“Rowan, please.”

Softer now, quieter. Little more than a whisper and yet still she couldn’t open her eyes. She knew she would give in if she did. She knew that meeting his gaze would lead to her resolve crumbling, and she would let him take her away to this painting class she wasn’t really sure she wanted to go to.

“I don’t see how it’s going to help,” she whined instead, refusing still to open her eyes. “It will just make me feel lonely and useless.”

He sighed, followed by the sound of clothing rustling. And then his teeth were sinking into her ear, his hot breath caressing her skin.

Her eyes snapped open as she gasped, his tongue swiping over the aching spot he’d just bitten.

“Gavin! What are you-” But her words were cut off as he drew the curve of her ear into his mouth, tongue running along the edge. Suddenly she couldn’t think, her mind short-circuiting. All she could think of was the heat of his mouth against her ear, of the gentle pressure of his hands still holding her head in place.

“There you are.” His voice was a low murmur, intoxicating as wine. Her head spun as she found herself trapped, his golden eyes holding her fast.

“Please at least try.” He was pleading with her now, although his tone suggested he was doing something very different; trying to convince her to let him slowly peel her clothes away.

“I just…” She didn’t have the right words, and struggled against the fog filling her mind as he nipped at her ear again, as he licked and bit his way down her jaw and back up again.

“Just say yes.”

“Gavin.”

His chuckle was low, warm as a mug of mulled wine clasped between her hands. “At least try. For me?”

She whined, squeezing her eyes shut again. She didn’t know how to explain how much she thought it would not help. She felt like she was drowning, felt like she could sink into the earth and never be found again. And going to a painting class where she would see all these people with friends and bright, brilliant lives, and what even was she? The muddy sludge at the edge of a puddle. The stain of an unwanted shadow marring what could have been a perfect picture.

A part of her screamed from some claustrophobic corner at the very edge of her mind. Screamed that she needed to get up, that this would not pass unless she tried. And Gavin was so gentle and kind, and he was always so patient with her. How cruel was it to throw his attempts to help in his face? To refuse to let him help in the least?

“Do I have to?” She ended up nearly whimpering the words as his teeth sank into the skin above where her pulse was thrumming.

He sighed, drawing away slowly, his expression shockingly serious for having bitten and licked and kissed her skin just seconds prior.

“I want you to feel better,” he murmured, stroking her cheek. “But I can’t help if you won’t let me.”

She couldn’t help huffing, even though it made her feel a little like a petulant child. So much of her wanted to just lie here, where she was safe. Even if it was dark and lonely and didn’t make her feel any better. It was hard to resist the siren song of the safety of home, of the promise that she wouldn’t feel worse seeing all the bright, happy people with their bright, happy lives.

Gavin sighed again, seeming to concede in the face of her stubbornness. “We don’t have to go if you’re really that against it. But it would make me happy if you did at least try the first class.”

Worrying her bottom lip, Rowan turned her head away, glaring at the wall. How could she keep putting up a fight against him now? He was trying to help, and he would be happy if she went. And she wanted him to be happy. She loved when he was happy.

She wrinkled her nose, even as she felt herself accepting her defeat. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Gavin chuckled, leaning forward to press a warm, chaste kiss to her lips.

“You’ll love it.” He beamed, standing and offering her his hand. “I promise you will.”

***

An hour later, Rowan was clutching Gavin’s hand so tightly she feared she was going to crush it.

For his part, Gavin seemed entirely unbothered by the death-grip she had on him, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb as he made his way through the art centre the class was being held in.

It was clear he was very familiar with the building, weaving through the halls with the precision of someone who could navigate it with his eyes closed. They passed by a few people, some middle-aged women and young couples and a handful of middle schoolers with heavy backpacks curving their spines. All of them nodded at Gavin, all of them smiling or stopping for quick pleasantries.

Rowan couldn’t help the wrinkle in her brow as Gavin made small talk with a flaxen-haired woman named Carol. She had what looked like dried clay smeared on her arms and shirt, and she was beaming as she chattered about her latest project.

“You’re such an enigma,” Rowan said once they had turned a corner, far out of Carol’s earshot.

He arched a brow, chuckling. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You act so casual about your little classes and clubs and yet you’ve spoken to almost everyone here!” She spread her arms wide, smiling a little despite herself.

His brow furrowed, his mouth quirking to the side. “Is that a bad thing?”

She shook her head furiously, pressing close to his side as they continued to walk. “No, of course not. I adore it.”

He snorted, releasing her hand to wrap his arm around her waist.

“I just think it’s cute, and something about it makes me happy.” She didn’t have the right words to explain it, but there was something that delighted her about Gavin’s fondness for crafts. 

It had started with him admitting to having made her bracelet on his own. And then he’d bashfully admitted he enjoyed building legos. And sometimes she would catch him putting together little crafts on his own. Bracelets and necklaces, little clay figures that were supposed to be them. Tissue paper flowers so delicate she couldn’t believe they were handcrafted. Felt needling packs transformed into little foxes and wolves and bunnies and cats.

And then it had turned into him mentioning he was thinking of taking just one little class with some extra time-off he’d started taking after they’d gotten married. Just to pass the time when she was working. One class had turned to many, and then suddenly he was always doing something new, bringing some new craft home, or showing her a new skill he had learned.

It had certainly vexed her at times, because he’d taken to most things like he was born to do them, and she simply had not. He’d been able to master crochet in mere weeks, while she’d still struggled trying to make a single blanket until he’d helped her. And he’d been able to twist and prod pieces of felt and fluff into marvellous little creatures while she had been left with strange lumps that looked vaguely animal shaped if you squinted incredibly hard.

But it had all made him so happy, and that made her happy too.

It was still a bit strange though, dissonant from the persona he usually drew over himself like a cloak when he went out into the world. Yet she loved this side of him, the part of him that he’d kept quiet and guarded for so long she’d used to worry even he would never be able to reach it again. The gentle, silly side of him that always seemed bright and excited whenever he started a new project.

He held her gaze for a few long moments, his brow furrowed, his mouth quirked up in a smirk. He seemed to be searching, his eyes brightening like twin stars as they snagged on whatever he was looking for.

“I love you,” was his only reply as he leaned close to brush a kiss to her brow.

She squeaked, face warming. “What was that for?”

He chuckled, the sound reverberating through her. “I can’t just say that I love you?”

“Of course you can.”

“Well maybe I just wanted to tell you that I love you.”

Rowan squeezed her eyes shut, her face burning now, as though her bones were made of kindling and they had been set alight. “Gavin, what if there are people around?”

“Then they’ll know that I love you very much.”

He was beaming the rest of the walk through the art centre, seeming far too pleased with himself. Blessedly, they didn’t run into anyone else until they arrived at the room where the class was taking place, a number of women milling around, chattering amongst themselves.

Rowan had figured they would be able to slip into the room quietly, find some seats in the back perhaps. Somewhere with a window maybe, so she could feel a soft breeze on her face while she tried not to descend into a panic at being in a room full of strangers. A room full of strangers who seemed to know each other so well, who seemed so happy and bright.

But they hadn’t taken more than a few steps when some of the women whipped their heads around, all but squealing as their attention fell on Gavin.

In seconds they were surrounded, and Rowan was pressing up against Gavin’s side, legs weaker than unset jell-o as the women chattered frantically, all vying for their attention.

It seemed nearly every single one of them was acquainted with Gavin. Some of the women were wives of coworkers, some had been in his other art classes, some were just excited to meet the elusive Gavin who they’d heard a number of rumours about.

What was even stranger was they were all also very excited to meet her.

Rowan pressed up so close to Gavin she could imagine herself burying inside of him, where she would be safe and warm and not feeling very overwhelmed.

They chattered at her brightly, asking how she was, introducing themselves.

“We’ve heard so much about you!” One woman gushed. She had green, thick rimmed glasses that she kept having to push up her freckled nose, and she looked like the kind of woman who would delight a group of kindergarteners.

“He just never stops talking about you!” Another woman with braids coiled on top of her head said, her smile so bright Rowan was sure it would outshine the sun. She was tall, dressed in such a beautiful green that Rowan thought she might be a forest faerie.

“And he always tries to make things in your favourite colours,” sang a woman with wavy, waist long hair the colour of fire. She looked like a princess from a fantasy novel, with flowers braided into her hair and butterfly clips holding back her bangs. “Have you noticed? He told us once in the beginners crochet class that you love pinks and reds and purples and those are the only colours he uses!”

Rowan shot a look at Gavin, his cheeks stained crimson as the sky at dusk. When he met her gaze he smiled, squeezing her hand tight as if to say ‘I love you dearly. I want everyone to know.’

And clearly everyone did know.

What felt like hundreds of different conversations surged over her like ocean waves, and her attention was divided between the colourfully clad women and their technicolour words, turning to a cacophony of noise that drowned out the frantic beating of her heart.

They were all very kind and very bright, but it all felt a little too surreal for her; it felt like it couldn’t possibly be real. And it was also a little overwhelming, especially after just peeling away from her cocoon of safety back home.

Before she knew it, a glass of something pink and fizzing had been set in her hand and she and Gavin were seated between a woman with viridescent green hair and another with a striped shirt and paint-splattered overalls.

Her hands were shaking a little at such an exuberant welcome, and she leaned against Gavin’s side as conversations slowly drifted away. Talks about PTA meetings and bake sales and dinner parties and blind dates.

“Are you okay?” She looked up to find him watching her, his eyes soft, a line forming between his brows.

She shrugged. “I’m alright, but that was more than I was expecting.”

He nodded, rubbing circles against her back. “They all mean well, though. And they were excited to see you.”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek, staring down into the fizzing wine she had yet to sip. “Is this why you wanted me to come? So I could interact with new people?”

“Well yes and no.” He scratched at the back of his neck, although his eyes never moved from her face. “I wanted you to come because I thought it would be something fun we could do together that would get you out of the house.”

He reached up to stroke her cheek. “But I did think meeting some new people would be nice. And they’ve all told me how much they’d like to meet you.”

Rowan was the one who looked away first, heat creeping back into her face. She didn’t know how this all made her feel, not when she felt like a grim raincloud heralding misery compared to all these bright, sunny people. She felt out of place, a lost puzzle piece unable to fit into the place it should have.

She just felt sad, and a little alone despite all the people around her, and it was difficult to claw her way into a better brainspace.

She did love doing things with Gavin. They’d taken cooking classes and dance lessons and scuba diving lessons together; she supposed she could try and treat this the same way. Although there was something different about this, about all these people who knew Gavin and who were strangers to her.

She felt as though she didn’t even belong with him right now, utterly disconnected from everything. She was starting to regret this decision deeply, dreaming of her soft blankets and plushies to pile around herself while watching movies until she was too tired to keep her eyes open.

“Hey, where did you go?” Her attention was drawn back to Gavin as he gave her cheek a light pat. A line formed between his brows, the hand at her face dropping away to twine with her own.

“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. He’d wanted her to come so badly, and she felt awful that she was already regretting her decision.

“Hey. Rowan, my love.”

He wasn’t going to leave her be, was he?

“Give it a chance,” he murmured, leaning close, his words twining with her breath. “I know you’re feeling overwhelmed. But just give it a chance.”

She let out a slow breath, relieved it did not catch. “I feel like I don’t belong.”

“That isn’t true.” He squeezed her hand tighter. “I stay by your side, you stay by mine, right?”

She nodded.

“Then you do belong.” His voice was soft as silk, as spun sugar clouds on a summer’s dawn. “You belong, Rowan. You belong here, with me.”

She nodded again, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “You know that sounds an awful lot like a Taylor Swift song.”

He pulled away, rolling his eyes. But he couldn’t completely smother the smirk on his lips, nor the colour in his cheeks. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh please like you weren’t just blasting ‘Speak Now’ on the way over.”

He scoffed, rubbing the side of his neck. “I just know you’re a really big fan-”

“What about Taylor Swift?” The woman to Rowan’s right leaned towards them, whose vibrant green hair reminded her of a magical fairy forest with its bejeweled butterfly clips and sparkling pins in the shapes of flowers and leaves stuck into her bun.

Rowan felt taken aback, struggling to remember her name. There had been so many women who had all introduced themselves at once, and it took her a few moments rooting around in her memory to find her name, Fern.

But her surprise quickly melted away as she realized this was a conversation she truly could engage in. That perhaps she didn’t need to be mired in her own shadows, especially when someone else was engaging with her interests.

Fern scooted her stool closer, hands clasped in her lap as she fixed an excited smile on Rowan and Gavin. “You know I heard a rumour that she’s going to announce some new international dates soon.”

“Really?” Rowan hadn’t heard anything about that; had nearly given up hope she’d get the chance to even try and buy tickets for a show.

“I hope so.” Fern beamed, clearly delighted. “I know a few people who work for the big stadium and apparently there’s been talks about permits and checking space capacities so it sounds like she’s gearing up to tour here.”

“Oh my gosh, I hope so! I’ve wanted to see her for yers.” Rowan couldn’t help gushing, a spark of light blooming deep in her heart. Its warmth seeped out from between her ribs, reaching towards the edges of her nerves, trying to burrow into her marrow.

Fern jabbed a finger at Gavin, his eyes widening, freezing with his glass an inch from his lips. “What?”

“You’d better take her.”

He chuckled, squeezing the hand he had not yet let go of. “That was never a question.”

“Good, because it sounds like a once in a lifetime opportunity. Who knows the next time she’s going to tour.” Then Fern was turning her attention back to Rowan, capturing her focus as she chattered about her favourite albums, favourite outfits. As she asked about Rowan’s favourite albums and outfits and songs and lyrics. As she joked about the memes that had been floating around the web.

But it wasn’t just music that they talked about, because a few others joined in, and suddenly it was about favourite foods, favourite books. About whether anyone was planning on dressing up for the Barbie movie because Laura, a younger woman with blunt bangs in a sunflower dress, was going to, and shouldn’t they all? Wouldn’t it be fun? Did Rowan want to come with them, they were already planning a date that worked for everyone?

She didn’t even remember tasting the wine, but she must have drank it, because her glass was empty when she next looked down. But it wasn’t empty for very long, someone tipping a wine bottle over the edge, frothing golden wine refilling it to the rim.

“Sorry,” she giggled, and Rowan realized it was Fern once again. “We’re out of the other one. But we have more rosés for later!”

Rowan’s mind felt fuzzy, like her veins were filled with bubbling pink champagne. She still felt odd, and a little out of place. These people knew each other so well and she didn’t know them at all. And yet they welcomed her so openly, and it made her feel a little less alone.

Maybe it was just the wine, but she felt some of the melancholy burrowed deep in her bones slowly begin to unravel.

A hand around her waist drew her from a conversation about reruns of 2010s drama that some of the women were watching every Thursday evening. Rowan leaned back, her head falling back against Gavin’s chest.

His lips were curved up in a smile, his eyes warm. “Feeling better?”

“Certainly not feeling worse.” She tried and failed to smother her smile. “But that might be the wine talking.”

He nodded, the corners of his eyes crinkling as they narrowed ever-so-slightly. Like he didn’t fully believe her, like he could see through her falsehood to see that some of her misery really was slipping away.

“Don’t drink too much,” he chided, smoothing back her hair. “And don’t forget to have some water, too.”

“I know, I know.”

He pressed a kiss to her brow, sighing. “I’m just trying to take care of my wife.”

“I thought bringing me here to drink wine was taking care of me.”

He snorted, eyes rolling skyward as he took a sip from his own glass. “And paint. Don’t forget about the painting.”

He passed her a glass of water, and she dutifully drank it, if only because she knew Gavin would not stop pestering her until she had.

A few moments later the instructor arrived, clapping her hands like they were a room of kindergarteners before introducing herself.

“It looks like you’ve already gotten into the wine,” she laughed, plucking an empty bottle from the desk at the front. “Hopefully that means we’re all excited for the lesson?”

Gavin gently pried the empty water glass from Rowan’s hand, balancing it on a little stool between their seats. Before Rowan could really respond he replaced the glass with his own hand, squeezing hers gently, a teasing smile on his lips.

“I couldn’t help it,” he murmured, so low no one else could hear.

She squeezed his hand in return, the kernel of warmth in her chest growing just a little bit brighter.

***

There had been many different arts that Rowan had tried her hand at over the years. She’d played music since she was a child, and even now kept up with it well enough to learn a new piece on the piano every few weeks. It always made Gavin smile when she played, and he’d sometimes sit with her on the piano bench and they would play a few songs together, arms and legs and shoulders pressed so close she could feel the thrum of his heartbeat in her bones.

She’d tried writing, too, and it had been such a fun pursuit. Sometimes she would take it more seriously than she’d even taken the research papers she’d done in university, and other times she would write something silly just to make herself smile.

Then she’d tried her hand at dancing. She’d loved it once as a child, although she found she wasn’t particularly good at it. But sometimes it was fun, especially when she had Gavin with her.

There had been the assortment of crafts she had tried. Crochet and knitting, thinking she could style some comfortable cardigans for both her and Gavin. There had been sewing, although she’d never managed to make more than a few skirts with uneven stitching. There had even been that time she’d attempted sculpting, trying to make little figures of characters from her favourite book series.

But out of everything she had tried, alone and alongside Gavin, Rowan had never ventured into the world of painting. She’d done some paint-by-numbers with Gavin once for a date night, but other than that she’d never actually endeavoured to try painting.

Which quickly became very apparent when she’d tried following along with the instructor’s tutorial. Her sketch had been subpar, although not that bad. And it wasn’t like she’d been trying to paint the Mona Lisa, just a simple landscape like the example the instructor had shown them.

And yet the moment she’d touched her paintbrush to the canvas things had utterly fallen apart.

Huffing, Rowan flung her paintbrush into the water glass balanced on her easel. She spied someone in front of her, their painting already nearly complete. It looked so real she felt as though if she reached out she would find herself in the midst of a forest, staring out at the horizon as the sun sank below the mountains in the distance.

Gavin nudged her, offering an encouraging smile. “Don’t give up just yet. This is only the warm-up to learn the techniques.”

“The warm-up?!” She felt tears burning her eyes. “Gavin, this is hopeless.”

He took a sip from his glass, the wine no longer fizzing pink but a frothing gold to match hers. When had he gotten more wine? Since when did he drink more than a glass? “Don’t give up yet, pumpkin. You just need practice.”

She wilted, exhaustion creeping in at the corners of her mind. Her emotions kept fluctuating, switching from delight to despair at a moment's notice. She’d been scared at first of all of the other women in the class, and then she had started talking with many of them before the class began and she had found herself feeling warmer, feeling happier. She’d been almost excited when the class had begun, although that was not something she was going to divulge to Gavin. Especially not after how hard she’d fought against coming here.

“He’s right, you know.”

Rowan startled at the voice behind her. She spun around in her seat to find the instructor, Mallory, peering over her shoulder.

“This class is for intermediate and beginners alike,” Mallory continued, readjusting her glasses as she scanned Rowan’s sorry excuse for a painting. “And art takes practice. But it won’t get better without any practice at all.”

Rowan bit back the long, exhausted sigh she was desperate to heave. Her head felt fuzzy, and she wanted to lie down.

“Your choice of colours is quite nice,” Mallory added. She gestured to the sky that Rowan had finished painting. “Your blending could use some work, but this is very nice. I feel like I really am looking at the sunset.”

Rowan blinked as Mallory rattled off some more suggestions before heading to the next student to observe their painting. There had been something good about her painting?

Gavin’s hand at her thigh startled her from her thoughts as she studied her unfinished painting yet again, trying to find what Mallory had thought worthy of praise.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect.” His smile was soft as he moved his hand to slide it around her waist. “It will be beautiful if it’s something you’ve made.”

Her knee-jerk reaction was to make a sharp retort, that it was like a child’s crayon doodle compared to some of the others she spied around the classroom. But something in Gavin’s gaze made the words dissolve before they could fall from her tongue. He was looking at her so gently, and the warmth from his hand was spreading through her. She didn’t want to be mean when he was trying to be so kind.

“Are you having fun?” He asked, his brows pressing together. “Because that’s what matters right now.”

She opened her mouth, closed it again. Turned back to the messy painting. “I don’t really know. I just feel frustrated.”

Beside her, Fern giggled. “The wine will help with that.”

Gavin arched a brow, but didn’t comment as Rowan took a sip from her glass.

“It’ll help relax you.” Fern clicked her glass against Rowan’s. “I’m not much at painting either, but my friends drag me out to classes like these all the time to help me relax and cheer me up.”

Now that was intriguing. So she wasn’t the only one who felt frustrated, whose steps were dogged by shadows and stormclouds. “Does it help?”

Fern hummed, tapping her cheek, seemingly unaware that there was baby blue paint smeared across her hand. “It doesn’t make it worse. And it gets me out of my own head sometimes.”

She shrugged, returning to her own painting, leaving Rowan to consider her words.

Gavin sighed, lines of worry wrinkling his brow. “You put too much pressure on yourself.”

All she could do was shrug helplessly, struggling to find the proper words to describe her feelings, to explain why she was struggling.

“Do you want to have fun?”

Rowan pondered his question for a long, long moment, idly swirling her paintbrush in a puddle of sunshine yellow. She felt helpless. Even worse, she felt hopeless.

He nudged her, drawing her gaze back to his. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and something in his expression gave her pause. As if to say that he understood, that she didn’t have to try to piece together the proper words to explain the knotted feelings in her chest.

“Why don’t I help?” He stood, lifting his stool until it was so close their thighs were pressed together.

“How?” She faltered, releasing her paintbrush and clasping her hands in her lap.

He chuckled, leaning close, his brow bumping against the side of her head. She felt the featherlight brush of his lips against her cheek, warmth spreading from where his lips touched and down her neck.

“I can’t promise I’ll make the painting any better,” was his response as he reached for her hand. “But I think I can make you a little happier.”

She couldn’t help snorting as he took her hand, guiding it back to the paintbrush. “What are you planning?”

She felt his smile against her cheek, and she giggled as his bangs tickled her forehead. “It’s a surprise.”

Giggles continued bubbling from her lips, unbidden, as he lifted their joined hands and began painting in a garishly bright sun.

“What do you think?” He teased, painting it in rough swirls, flicking dandelion yellow streaks out from around the rough circle that she thought were supposed to be the rays often emanating out from the sun.

She snorted, shaking her head, unable to wrest her hand from his grip. “Gavin, that doesn’t even look like the sun.”

“What? Sure it does!” He dipped the paintbrush into the water glass, then flicked it wildly, slate grey water splattering against her face and her shirt. “It’s just stylized.”

Rowan tried to wiggle her hand free, but it was of no use. Gavin only gripped her hand tighter with both hands now, painting pallid butter yellow swirls overtop the garish yellow he’d first painted the sun in.

“All it needs now is a pair of sunglasses and a smile.” She couldn’t help laughing, the sun resembling something she would have made as a child, or perhaps something in a cartoon.

Gavin didn’t hesitate before guiding their hands up, painting on a smiling face and big black sunglasses.

“There, now it’s perfect.” He pressed a kiss to her cheek, although he seemed far from done. He didn’t release her hand, instead dipping the paintbrush back into the water glass.

“It seems far from perfect to me.” She nudged his side, surveying the unfinished work. It was made up of contrasts, of a field of messy trees and wildflowers that looked like too much effort had been put into making them realistic. Their colours lacked vibrancy, instead dull blues and greens and reds that seemed to be smothered beneath a haze. Then there was the sky, unfinished but for the few swaths of blue she’d started painting before Gavin had commandeered her paintbrush and her hand.

And then of course there was the sun, so vibrant it made everything else look dreary in comparison. It smiled so widely, a messy cacophony of bright and pallid yellows and specks of orange, the wet paint glistening beneath the fluorescent lights of the classroom.

It was hard to be mired in the weight of her melancholy when such a goofy sun had been painted so brightly against the washed-out background of her painting. It made her feel like hands made of sunshine were hooked around her, slowly dragging her away from the shadows that had pulled her down; that had turned her bones to lead.

“I feel like it’s still missing something,” Gavin mused, tilting his head so it rested on her shoulder. “What do you think, pumpkin?”

She giggled; it was hard not to. Everything on the canvas was so at odds, and there was a part of her that wanted to repaint it all so it was in vibrant technicolour to match the smiling sun.

“Maybe the flowers need to be changed.” Her voice was softer than she intended, the desolation she had been mired in making her feel weak even as the bright colours Gavin had already started mixing up shone like light at the end of a suffocating, dark tunnel.

“They should be in our favourite colours,” he said, his smile sly as he made her eyes. “What about pink and blue?”

“Can you do purple too?”

He pressed another kiss to her cheek. “Anything for you, my love.”

She couldn’t help giggling more, feeling silly as Gavin held her hand tightly, painting over the flowers she had tried creating earlier. Their shapes grew more misshapen, the still-wet paint underneath the brighter colours smearing as Gavin tried painting over them.

“Hmmm.” He hummed, releasing her hand to cup his chin. “The sky isn’t finished yet.”

She felt an idea alight in her mind like a match being struck as Gavin continued studying the painting. “Shouldn’t we try to handle one thing at a time?”

“Well I think the sky should be finished first and then we can match the colours later on.”

She reached forward, her movements unnoticed as Gavin plucked up a water bottle, taking a sip. He didn’t notice as she dipped her fingers into the powder blue paint that had sat untouched. It had been so pretty she’d wanted to use it, but she hadn’t had the chance yet, and Gavin had interrupted her in the midst of painting the sky to add in his own creative stylings.

“What about-” He didn’t get a chance to finish as she reached up to streak her fingers across his cheek.

“I think we should use this colour.” She beamed, although her smile wobbled as he fixed her with a fiery look that promised she would regret that later.

Quick as lightning he had dipped his own fingers into the paint, the same buttery yellow that he had added to the sun. He swiped it across her chin, chuckling as she gaped.

“Maybe we should put that yellow underneath,” he suggested, snorting as he lifted the hand still clutching the paintbrush. “Or…”

“Gavin? What are you planning?” Her voice cracked, although for once it was not from nerves, or tears, or misuse.

He didn’t respond, instead flicking the tip of the brush across her cheek. “Maybe it looks better on you.”

She bit back a squeal, the paint cold and tacky against her skin.

“Or maybe you’d look better with blue?” He didn’t give her a chance to respond as he quickly swirled the brush against her other cheek, staining the side of her face blue.

Unable to control one hand, all Rowan could do was scoop up more paint in the fingers of her free hand. She didn’t even look, just dunked her fingers in, bright red splattering against the edge of the stool and her pants as it dripped from her hand. She didn’t pause before smacking her hand against Gavin’s face, smearing the red across his chin and cheeks and the tips of a few wayward locks of hair.

“You know red really suits you.” Her hand fell away and she snorted as he gaped, trying and failing to wipe his face with his shoulder.

“Let’s focus on the canvas, shall we?” Called the instructor, followed by a few errant snickers from the other women in the class.

It snapped Rowan back to reality, reminding her that they were, in fact, right in the middle of a painting class and they were still surrounded by a number of other people.

“Oops.” She ducked her head, heat flooding her cheeks. “Sorry, I got a bit carried away there.”

“Hey.” Gavin’s hand fell away from hers, and she felt his fingertips at her cheeks, sliding along her jawline, tipping her head back. “Love, look at me.”

She did, it was hard not to. Even when he wasn’t covered in paint it was hard not to look at him. His bright eyes, his lips always on the verge of curling into a smile, the fall of his bangs coaxing her to reach up and brush them back from his face, the flush of pink that seemed to forever stain his cheeks.

But it was even harder not to look today, especially with the firetruck red she had smeared across his face. It was so much brighter than she had thought it would be, and he looked like he’d messed up an attempt at doing clown face paint.

“We should dress up as clowns for halloween next,” she said, not even thinking. The idea sprung into her mind unbidden, but now that it was there she had no choice but to give it her voice. “We could decorate the house like a circus.”

A line formed between his brows, even as his lips quirked up. “How much have you had to drink?”

“How much have you had?”

She nearly leapt out of her skin when Fern appeared at her side, grinning from ear-to-ear. “Sounds like you haven’t had enough then.”

She snorted, lifting her near-empty glass towards the bottle Fern was holding, letting the woman fill it to the brim. “I feel like you’re trying to encourage me to develop a drinking problem.”

“Not for every day,” Fern said, laughing as she handed the bottle off to someone else. “Just painting class.”

“Well if you’re going to pour me more then Gavin needs some, too,” Rowan said, poking his side as he rolled his eyes. “He has to put up with me all night.”

Gavin scoffed. “I’m never putting up with you.”

“Even better,” Fern said, lifting her glass as someone came around Gavin’s side and refilled his glass. “Then you can have even more fun.”

Gavin sighed, although he didn’t turn down the drink, although he did get up to wipe his face so he didn’t accidentally swallow any paint.

When he returned, Gavin retook his seat, although this time he plucked his own paintbrush from where it had been abandoned by his unfinished painting.

“What are you doing?” Rowan asked, confused as he dabbed his paintbrush into a puddle of soil brown.

His brow arched. “What do you think? I’m going to help you with your painting.”

He was smiling, clearly pleased with himself as he began painting over the drab smattering of foliage she had initially painted in. But Rowan couldn’t find it within herself to make a snide remark or push him away.

No, she felt the exact opposite. It was like she’d sprouted great, feathery wings. Like she was caught in the wind and being thrown up, up and far away from the rain-clouds she had tracked into the class with her. She felt like she’d eaten too many sweets, like she was at the precipice of becoming giddy. Something about Gavin leaning towards her canvas, flecks of red paint still staining the tips of his hair and parts of his face. Of Gavin furrowing his brow as he painted in more vibrancy, more life.

He was always doing that, always filling in the dreary shades of her world with vibrancy, with brilliant colours that tasted like sugar and shone brighter than the finest jewels. He made the world brighter, made everything better.

Her eyes were burning, tears blurring the edges of the classroom until all she could make out was the pleased grin that had plastered itself to his lips and the arch of his brow as he considered the next colour to choose.

But his brow wrinkled, concern dampening his smile as he turned to her. “Pumpkin? What’s wrong?”

She sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hands. “Nothing, it’s nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

She huffed a laugh, reaching for her glass and downing half of it in an instant, thinking maybe it would give her a moment to reorganize her thoughts. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m a mess.”

He cupped her cheek. “You’re not a mess.” His thumb stroked the edge of her jaw, his frown deepening. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

“Really, there’s nothing wrong. I was just thinking…” She took another sip, smaller this time. “I was just thinking how much you mean to me. How thankful I am that you’re in my life. How you make everything better.”

His expression softened. “You know I’m glad to hear it wasn’t my painting skills that made you cry. It’s not great, but I didn’t think I was that bad.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “It’s not bad at all.”

“Well that’s good to hear.” He continued to trace the edge of her jaw for a moment with his thumb, eyes searching hers. “You know you make my life better, too.”

She couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “I’m crying in the middle of a painting class you signed us up for with all your friends.”

“Well not all my friends.” He cracked a grin, eyes glittering with mischief. “But you do. You make me happier. You’re the reason I felt comfortable enough going out of my way to try all these different hobbies, you know.”

She hiccuped, unsure if it was meant to be a sob or a laugh. “Really?”

“Really.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips. “You fill my world with colour.”

Now she really did laugh, a small, soft ghost of bubbling laughter. It was in joy, in relief. She loved him so much, and his closeness comforted her.

He brushed another kiss to her cheek before pulling away, setting his paintbrush aside to wipe the tears from her eyes.

“Should we continue?” He asked, smoothing back her hair to cup her face.

She smiled, feeling weightless once more, as though she were soaring through spun sugar clouds. The world was full of blinding colours, everything painted in sugary pinks and bleeding crimsons and crystalline ceruleans and verdant evergreens. “We should.”

***

An hour came and went, Gavin and Rowan finishing up with her canvas and moving on to complete his.

She would be lying if she said that ether painting was objectively good, but she found she had a fondness for them both. They were far from perfect, but she found herself overjoyed by the messy bushes and flowers painted in varying shades of pink and green and ivory and a deep, burning orange that reminded her of wildfires.

They were all instructed to set their canvases to the back, where they would need to dry before being varnished to seal them.

The instructor then went through some more techniques, letting them all know that now they would be working on something a little different. Still a landscape, but they could have more free reign over what it is, rather than the previous exercise when they’d all had to use the same reference for their paintings. But now they also had to add an additional object. A person or an animal or a thing. It had something to do with perspective and making it look like the object belonged in the painting.

To be honest Rowan only heard about half of what the instructor said. The drinks had turned from bubbling gold to a pink so deep it was nearly magenta, but she couldn’t even remember when. Only that suddenly her glass was full of pink wine, and it didn’t fizz as she lifted it to her lips. Someone had also opened a window, and evening air was spilling into the classroom, making her shiver, distracting her further as she pulled her sleeves over her hands.

“Here.” Gavin shrugged out of his sweater, wrapping it around Rowan’s shoulders. “This should keep you warm.”

“What about you?” She was far too cold to decline the sweater, and yet she still felt a surge of shame. What if he got cold too? What if he was uncomfortable?

But Gavin only pressed a kiss to her cheek, warmth seeming to radiate around him like he was his very own star. “I’m more than okay. I was getting a bit too hot with that on, anyways.”

Laughter bubbled in her throat unbidden, and she nearly said aloud that he was always hot.

Or maybe she had said it, because suddenly Gavin’s grin was wide, wider than it had been all night. And he looked ridiculously smug, his cheeks stained the deep red of sweet, cherry wine. His eyes seemed to burn, so bright the fluorescents seemed dull in comparison.

“What?!” Her face was aflame, no doubt a match to his. Perhaps she was burning an even more fiery red, like a wildfire choking out the sky.

He didn’t respond, only giving her a secretive smirk that added a new layer of heat to her already flushed face. He took a long sip from his glass, his eyes like twin stars that she was sure would turn her to cinders. And then he turned back to his painting, chuckling to himself.

“What’s so funny?” She scooted closer, pinching his side. “You can’t keep secrets from me!”

He arched a brow, his grin widening. “Can’t I?”

“No!”

Snorting, he turned to face her, the smell of peaches and strawberries on his breath. Had they opened a new bottle already? She was sure her drink didn’t taste like peaches. Or maybe someone was passing snacks around.

“It’s clear you can’t keep secrets from me,” he teased, drawing her back to the present.

Rowan blinked. “What do you mean?”

His expression was sly, the fire of his eyes seeming to flicker with mischief. “You don’t remember?”

Huffing, Rowan pulled away. He would tease her all night, and then her painting would never be finished. And she wanted it to be finished.

She couldn’t put her finger on why, but something had changed. Maybe it was the wine, or the way Gavin had commandeered her last painting. Or perhaps it had something to do with how the smudged red paint she could still see on his cheeks made her giggle.

All she knew was that now she simply had to finish her second painting. Even if it wasn’t perfect. Even if it was silly. She wanted it to make Gavin smile as much as he’d made her smile.

Unfortunately, despite the wine and the laughter she still felt in her chest, Rowan still wasn’t that skilled of an artist. Perhaps one day she could be, but tonight she was not. There was too much wine in her veins, still a little too much melancholy, and she also just had absolutely no idea how to properly paint anything.

She’d tried recreating the memory of standing in the backyard of Gavin’s late grandparents’ house. The clothesline to the side, the sky aflame, casting the world in an orange haze as the sun began to set. The copse of viridescent trees in the distance, the overgrown lawn drowning in clover and wildflowers and dandelions.

What Rowan had neglected to remember, was that nothing ever looked as good on canvas as it did in her head. The trees were somehow electric green, a mistake she didn’t understand how she’d even made. The clothesline and the sheets they had washed looked misshapen, the wildflowers and clover blobs of too-bright colour that looked stark compared to the rest of the scene. The horizon line was muddy, demarcated by what had ended up being another cartoonish sun. The only thing it was missing was the sunglasses and grin and it could have been the twin to Gavin’s sun from earlier.

The only thing she’d really managed to replicate from her memory was the colour of the sky as the sun had set. But then she’d gotten a little too ambitious and had tried adding that haze she had remembered so well. The orange and gold that had limned everything in the setting sun’s fire, that had hovered in the air, staining everything it touched.

And when she’d tried to replicate that she’d ended up making the painting look like something out of a halloween book for children. The oranges and golds and reds she mixed continued to be too bright or too deep, never that perfect shade that seemed to melt into the very air itself.

She nearly burst into tears when she smudged one of the few wildflowers she was proud of, the gold she’d tried lining the petals dripping over the pretty blue, turning it into a blurry mess.

“Hey.” She started at the sound of Gavin’s voice, having nearly forgotten he was there. Having nearly forgotten everyone was there.

The sliver of contentment Gavin had helped her with earlier was slowly melting and spilling from between her fingers like water. There was only frustration and, beneath even that, embers of anger. Beneath the chilling blanket of melancholy that dulled her senses there were always sparks waiting to ignite, right when the blanket had begun to be drawn away. Anger alighting at how she’d spent so much time in misery, at how shattered her mind was, how useless a friend and partner she was, how wasteful she was, how exhausting she must be to be around.

And today, at how horrible a painter she was, and would likely always be.

Gavin must have sensed that something was amiss because he tried again to gain her attention, this time plucking her paintbrush straight from her hand and dangling it just out of reach. Had she stood she would have reached it easily, but she didn’t move from her spot as she slowly swung her head around to face him.

The anger had only just sparked, her bones not yet kindling for a wildfire that would leave nothing but shame in its ashes. She did not glower at him, although the thought did cross her mind. She was too tired yet, and the wine was still racing through her veins, dulling her senses.

So instead of glaring, or scrunching her face in ire, her eyes only burned. There was nowhere for the embers of anger to go but to strengthen a sudden wash of sadness descending on her.

Gavin was cupping her face in an instant, his voice soft as he coaxed her back from the tears threatening to spill. There was still mischief in his eyes, but for now it was tempered as he comforted her.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay, pumpkin.”

She sniffed, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for. Just let me help.”

She nodded, although she did not know how he would be able to help. Could he piece her broken back brain together, could he weave natural talent in painting into her DNA? Could he take her apart and replace the parts of her that were broken like one of his projects?

“Come back to me, love.”

She opened her eyes, his voice like a lifeline that drew her from the spiral of her thoughts.

He smiled as her gaze met his, the gold of his eyes flaring bright once more. “There you are.”

She offered a small smile. It felt pathetic, but it was all she could manage. “Hi.”

His hands fell to her shoulders, and he ran his hands up and down  her arms gently, warming her even through the sweater he had given her. “Tell me what’s bothering you.”

She shrugged. “I mean what isn’t?”

“Things were okay for a little while there, weren’t they?”

She nodded, dropping her gaze. There was a splotch of bright green on his knee, the colour of leaves in the height of the summer.

“Then what happened?”

She gestured helplessly to her painting. “It’s no good, it’s even worse than the last one.”

She listened as he hummed, turning to take a look at her painting.

There was a pause, and for a moment her heart stopped, thinking he would tell her there was no way to salvage the painting. Perhaps he would admonish her for wasting both their time, and for wasting his money in signing them up for this class.

They were horrible, oily thoughts. Gavin was kind, he was always gentle and loving with her. He would never say something so cruel, would never pierce her heart with barbed words.

And he didn’t. She felt his hands squeeze her arms as he turned back towards her, his expression soft. “It’s my grandparents’ house, isn’t it?”

She nodded, unable to hide her surprise that he’d been able to recognize it. “How could you tell?”

He laughed, eyes crinkling as his chest shook. “Rowan, we spent one of my favourite birthdays there, clearing the house out.”

“I remember.” Although her heart stuttered at how he’d said ‘his favourite.’

“Love, that’s one of my most precious memories. How could I forget it?” He stroked her cheek, his voice warm and soft as her favourite blankets, pulled from the dryer and wrapped around her shoulders.

“But it doesn’t look like it. It looks like a mess.”

He tipped his head to the side, regarding the unfinished painting again. “I don’t think so.”

“It looks like something a child made.”

He snorted. “Then I’ll put it up on the fridge.”

A bubble of laughter escaped from her lips. “Gavin, you can’t put it up on the fridge.”

“Why not? Isn’t that where the best art goes?”

She opened her mouth, closed it again. The mischief had returned to his eyes.

“It’s on a canvas,” she finally managed, her thoughts grinding to a halt like rusty gears. She couldn’t think of a coherent thought, not as he smirked at her like that, like he was plotting a way to make her smile. “You can’t hang a canvas from the fridge.”

“Then I’ll hang it up on the wall.” He shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. “Right in the living room, so I can see it right when I get home.”

“Gavin.”

“Rowan.”

His smirk was widening. He pressed a kiss to her cheek, releasing her as the light in his eyes danced. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. I think it’s perfect.”

She flicked her gaze to the painting once more, taking it in. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

Another snort. “Less than you.”

She leaned back, surveying the flush of his cheeks beneath the paint staining his face. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

His brow arched. “Your face is red.”

“So is yours!”

“Because you wiped red paint all over it.”

Another giggle passed her lips, then another. She shook herself, trying to dispel the laughter. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I thought I was precious? Beloved? Adored?”

She turned her attention back to him, taking in the way his eyes darkened, the crimson flush that had spread from his ears and cheeks and down his neck. Oh he’d definitely had a lot to drink.

“You are, of course you are.” She tried giving him her own impish grin. “But being beloved and being ridiculous aren’t mutually exclusive.”

He opened his mouth and closed it again like he was a fish gasping for air, his brows shooting up. He seemed at a loss for words, although the upwards curl of his lips promised his mischief was far from over.

Finally he settled on a breathy “finish your painting.”

“You’re sure?” Part of her wondered whether she should abandon the project now, certain she would only make it worse.

“I am.” He lifted her hand, brushing a kiss to her palm. “I want to see what it looks like when it’s complete.”

Still she hesitated; it was all too easy to slip back down into the spiralling darkness that had brought her to tears before, that had made her limbs so leaden she hadn’t wanted to ever move from her bed ever again.

“For me?” Gavin’s bottom lip popped out, his brows drawing together. She never had the strength or willpower to say no when he pouted, and she could not find a reason to say no to him now. How could she? How could she say no when he’d brought out his ultimate weapon?

“Alright.” She conceded. “For you.”

He kissed her hand once more before letting it go. “Thank you, pumpkin.”

Heat crawled across her face that had nothing to do with the wine and everything to do with the soft tenor of his voice, with how his words had reverberated through her from where his lips had brushed against her skin.

She steeled herself, trying to dredge up some of that contentment that she had felt before, trying to channel it into the painting she was trying to create. She still hadn’t added her object, which was the whole point of this exercise, which meant she still had work to do. For Gavin, so he could see the final piece. And maybe a little bit for herself, too, to see what she was capable of creating.

***

Seeming to sense Rowan’s struggle as she continued to waver on the edge of being mostly-alright and being very-not-alright, Gavin scooted his canvas closer to hers, then his stool. It meant they were constantly bumping into each other, and very nearly knocking over paints and water glasses countless times. 

But it also meant that they were close enough to whisper to each other so their classmates couldn’t hear them, and it made it so that when Rowan felt down all she had to do was tilt her head to the side and she would be enveloped in his warmth until she felt well enough to continue.

Now that they were pressed close together for the remainder of their class, Gavin took the opportunity to relay to Rowan all the bits of gossip he had picked up from his other classes about the women around them. This shared whispering was normally saved for evening showers when Rowan was massaging shampoo through his hair and was searching for her preferred face wash on the rack of soaps they hung from the shower wall.

Rowan had a sneaking suspicion that his plan was to keep her mind distracted, all her mental bandwidth taken up by choosing paints and transferring said paints into a vaguely human-like shape on the canvas, and listening to him detail the shockingly sordid affairs of their classmates.

If she were being honest, which she was going to be in this moment, the alcohol inhibiting her ability to tell so much as the smallest of white lies, she didn’t mind in the least. She always found herself looking forward to the evenings when she showered with Gavin, if only to listen as he reiterated all of the drama and rumours and gossip he picked up each day from his coworkers. And this was by no means any different.

There was something delightful in how his expression shifted, how his brows lifted and his eyes narrowed, how his mouth quirked to the side, how his hands flicked through the air as he described dramatics fit for a supernatural drama and not for a handful of PTA moms at last year’s bake-sale.

He finished the dredges leftover in his glass, pausing their conversation as he took up his glass and Rowan’s and went in search of the wine bottle. Lilting laughter rang through the room as he said something to the woman currently guarding the bottle. Rowan watched as he laughed, extending the glasses, saying something Rowan couldn’t hear.

The woman pointed to the door and Gavin nodded, seeming pleased with her response. Rowan furrowed her brow, pausing in her attempt to paint in what was meant to be hair as Gavin returned.

“What did she say?” Her voice was much quieter and much louder than she had anticipated all at once. It felt so small in her throat, and yet her ears seemed to ache from how loud it became once the air had stolen it from her lips.

Gavin only smiled in response, setting down their glasses. “I’ll be right back.”

Then he was pressing a kiss to her brow and he was gone.

Only then did Rowan notice a few of the others from the class had gone missing, half finished glasses of wine with lipstick marks left unattended, paint-brushes drowning in murky water, bright colours dripping down canvases, entirely forgotten.

She considered getting up to investigate, but her legs felt like they were made of jelly. It was a welcome difference when she considered how leaden they had felt earlier in the day, although jelly wasn’t particularly known for being stable. And the last thing she wanted was for her legs to give out on her when Gavin was not nearby.

For all she knew she could knock over someone’s masterpiece, or she could topple into someone's palette and end up looking like a preschooler's finger painting project.

So instead she sat still, kicking her legs absently as she sipped her wine. Gavin’s sudden departure had distracted her, and she couldn’t seem to find her earlier focus. She needed him back beside her, she needed his voice to soothe the furious churn of her thoughts.

It felt like an eternity, and yet only a few moments passed before Gavin returned, a cardboard box in his hands.

“What’s that?” She tipped her head back, waiting for another kiss. He usually kissed her as he walked by, and she wanted one now more than ever. She’d missed him, and she wanted his attention now more than ever.

He did not disappoint, stooping down to kiss her cheek. But Rowan wasn’t entirely satiated. As he pulled away she turned her face to the side, staring at him expectantly.

It took Gavin all of five seconds to understand what she was trying to convey, and he chuckled as he leaned down once more to kiss her other cheek. And then he went the extra mile and brushed what could have been a chaste kiss to her lips, had he not gently sunk his teeth into her bottom lip.

She withheld a shriek, if only just, although she couldn’t entirely contain her delighted surprise. Instead, she squeaked, reaching for him even as he pulled away, practically beaming.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she whined, pouting as he returned to his seat, still grinning far too smugly.

“You didn’t give me a chance to.” He leaned forward, pinching her side. “You’re awfully demanding.”

She stuck her bottom lip out further, hoping it would persuade him to cave to her wants. “I wanted your attention.”

He chuckled. “And it’s yours. It’s always yours.”

She wrinkled her nose, flicking her gaze from the box in his hands to his face, then the box and then back to his face again.

Snorting, Gavin settled the box in her lap. “Take a look for yourself.”

Curiosity propelled her forward, taking hold of her arms and her hands as she unfolded the lid of the plain box he’d set in her lap. Delight soon rolled through her as she found cookies and brownies and one cupcake with bright pink frosting nestled within the box.”

She wiggled her shoulders, unable to contain the sudden excitement at such delicious looking treats. “Gavin, where did you get these?”

That self-satisfied grin was still curving across his face like a crescent moon, but in that moment Rowan found it utterly adorable. He was so proud of himself. She had the overwhelming urge to cup his face and squish his cheeks. She wanted to sink her teeth into the shell of his ear, the line of his jaw, the spot just above where his pulse fluttered.

“The PTA for one of the local elementary schools is hosting a bake-sale.”

She frowned. “At ten at night?”

He shrugged. “A lot of PTA members and parents from the school frequent this art centre. They figured they’d make more money from drunk adults with credit cards than fifth graders.”

She kicked her legs again, snorting. “It must be working.”

“It must be. They got me.”

She arched a brow. “Is that what you were talking about?”

His already flushed cheeks seemed to deepen in colour, nearly maroon. “It seems I’m an easy target. They knew I wouldn’t say no if I could buy some treats for my wife.”

Rowan had to cover her face to stifle the snorts of laughter trying to escape. It was surely rude to laugh at Gavin now, but it was hard not to.

Maybe she had drunk too much.

He pinched her side, smirking. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing!”

He pinched her again, clearly not buying her lie in the least. “Try again.”

She smacked his hand away, still giggling. “Okay, okay, you got me.”

“Well?” He tipped his head to the side, watching her expectantly.

Rowan paused, racking her brain for what just made her laugh.

“Rowan?”

She drew her shoulders up, wincing as she said “would you believe me if I said I don’t remember?”

Gavin paused too, staring at her for what felt like an eternity, with what was probably disbelief in his eyes. It was hard to tell as they glowed, light dancing in them like flames leaping and whirling in a never-ending ballet.

Then he was the one laughing, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth as if that stifled his laughter in any way.

She gaped at him, frozen in shock as she tried to decide whether to pinch him or ignore him entirely.

Ignoring him didn’t seem to be an option though, not when the sound of his laughter reminded her of music. It was warm, reaching deep into her bones, curling around nerves and senses. She felt like she was being submerged, the sound sweet as sun-warmed honey.

But that meant she couldn’t pinch him either. So instead she sat there, trapped in his thrall until his shoulders stopped shaking and his hand fell away, a whisper of a smile remaining.

“If it helps,” he said, dropping his voice to a whisper as if what he was about to say next could not be heard by any other ears. “I don’t remember either.”

She hummed, sitting back. The box of treats still perched on her lap, sprinkles spilling from the side of the cupcake and over the brownie, turning it into a bright, colourful mess. Just like Gavin, just like her.

“Well would you like to share a cookie?” She asked, holding up the box.

Sighing, Gavin gently closed the box. “We can have them when we get home. I think we’re a little too messy to have them now.”

She frowned, but then caught sight of Gavin’s hand covering hers. Greens and blues had muddied together into a brown that streaked across the back of his hand. Splotches of pink marred his wrist like a rash, and daisy yellow was caked around his nails.

Looking at her own hands she saw that they were no different. Bloody reds stained the lines of her palms, robin-egg blue swirled with white on the side of her thumb like eddying waters. Flecks of green along the inside of her forearm reminded her of helicopter seed pods scattered across the sidewalk in the early summer, when the trees stretched their branches wide, when the deep green leaves spread throughout the air, turning the skies into oceans of green.

“Hm.” She let Gavin pry the box from her hands as she flexed her fingers. “I hadn’t realized I’d gotten paint all over myself.”

“Not even when you stuck your hands in the paint and smeared it all over my face?”

She rolled her eyes, taking a long drink from her glass. “Well besides that.”

Gavin snorted. “I can’t believe you nearly forgot that. Not after you made me look like a clown.”

“I never said you were an ugly clown!”

“So you think I’d make a handsome clown?”

She huffed, nearly throwing her paintbrush at him. “You’re always handsome!”

“Alright, alright, I surrender.” Gavin lifted his hands, palms out, as though he really were surrendering. But she knew the crescent moon smile on his lips was one of victory. He’d teased her and he’d won.

“Just go back to your painting,” she grumbled, scowling at her own canvas.

“You mean you don’t want to hear about what happened at the firefighter’s car wash last month?”

Her ears perked up, and she turned back around, not caring that she was smudging black and violet and still-wet ivory. It wasn’t like this was a masterpiece anyways.

His brow arched and he leaned so close their noses bumped together. “Does that mean you do want to hear about what happened?”

“Obviously I want to hear about what happened.”

“Good.” He pressed a finger to her lips, shushing her gently. “But don’t speak a word of this to Veronica. She’ll kill me if she finds out I told anyone else.”

***

Somehow, although the logistics of it all escaped her, they both finished their final paintings.

Rowan snapped a photo of hers before moving it to the back alongside the other paintings to await varnishing. The instructor promised they could bring them home when they returned for their second class.

It wasn’t by any means what would be considered a good painting, but she did want to take a look at it once more with sober eyes. Show it to Gavin to see what she could work on when they returned. The class was meant to be fun, meant to get her outside and around new people so she didn’t sink into the mire of desolation yet again. But maybe she could learn new skills too. Maybe she would become good enough and confident enough to make something special for Gavin that was actually worth hanging on the wall.

Some of the women Rowan had spoken with asked to exchange numbers, talking over each other about book clubs and bake-sales and charity car washes and Thursday brunches when they all told their managers they had doctor’s appointments.

It all became a dull roar in Rowan’s ears, the alcohol muddling her mind, and exhaustion slowing her understanding until trying to decipher even the simplest of words seemed like a mental feat too great for her to conquer that night.

But she swapped phone numbers, promising to consider attending all the fun clubs and groups the women were in. They wanted to get to know her, wanted to know details about Gavin, giggling as they told her how scared they’d been at first when he’d begun taking some of the available classes.

“I’d nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw him in the corner of our pottery class,” someone said, laughing. “But he turned out to be such fun!”

Rowan nodded, sweeping her gaze around the classroom. Where was Gavin anyways? He’d mentioned needing to run to the bathroom before they headed out, but it had been awhile now, hadn’t it?

Perhaps it was all the wine, or perhaps it was because of how late it was, or some combination of both. But Rowan’s mind began to trip over itself, stumbling as it tried to come up with reasons for why he was still gone.

Maybe he’d drank too much, and he’d tripped and passed out in some dark hallway. Or maybe he’d gotten lost, confused from all the alcohol that was muddling his mind. Or maybe someone had taken the opportunity to steal him away, kidnapping her beloved husband while he was inebriated.

Or what if he’d been called into work? Could he even go when he’d drank so much? Or what if he’d been attacked by an evolver, or someone getting revenge for an arrest he’d made in the past?

Her heartbeat began to pick up, and she felt like she couldn’t draw air into her lungs. Where was he? Should she call the police? Eli? Hadn’t he put an airtag in one of Gavin’s jackets as a prank and just never retrieved it?

Before her heart could give out from the sudden self-inflicted strain, hands settled on her hips, pulling her back from the circle of chattering women.

“Hey,” Gavin murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Should we get out of here?”

She spun around, tears in her eyes, relief flooding her like a tsunami drowning an island. He was safe! He was here and he was safe!

He gaped for a moment as she threw herself into his arms, nuzzling her face against his neck.

“You’re back.”

He chuckled, stroking her hair. “I only went to the bathroom.”

“You were gone for so long.”

“It’s only been five minutes.”

She reeled back, glowering at him. “No it hasn’t.”

At least he had the good sense to blush, his already pink cheeks staining crimson now. He scratched at the back of his neck, looking away. “I might have gotten a little lost.”

She frowned. “I thought you knew this place like the back of your hand.”

He shrugged, not making eye contact anymore. “I got a little turned around. It was dark.”

Rowan didn’t hesitate to reach up and pinch his cheek, pouting as he stared at her, aghast.

“Don’t lie to me!” She huffed, pulling at his cheek harder. “How much have you had to drink tonight?”

His blush raced down his throat, until he looked like he’d been dyed with rose petals and scarlet paint. “Not that much.

“Your face is all red.”

He smirked, pinching her cheek in return. “So is yours. How much have you had?”

“Answer the question, commander!” She felt rather proud of herself, egging him on using his official work title.

But Gavin was unperturbed, smiling wider. “You first, pumpkin. I could arrest you for obstruction of justice.”

At that she stuck her bottom lip out further, hoping he would cave first. “You would do that to me? Your beloved wife?”

He seemed to hesitate, releasing her cheek before stroking it gently. “You are.”

She beamed. “Then you have to do what I say.”

“And what’s that?”

She opened her mouth, but hesitated. She wasn’t really sure.

“Tell you what,” he said as the silence stretched on. “Let’s get home and then we can watch an episode of whatever you’d like.”

Excitement bubbled in her at that. “Really?”

“On one condition.”

Suspicion quickly drowned out her excitement, and she narrowed her eyes. That decision proved to be quite poor, as the world around her quickly turned blurry and she swayed on her feet, losing her balance although she stood still.

Maybe she had drunk just a little bit too much.

“You need to stop pinching my face.”

She gaped, releasing him immediately. She’d forgotten she’d still been tugging at his cheek. “Oh babey, I’m so sorry.”

He rubbed the place where her hand had been, although there was no ire in his eyes. He looked at her fondly, seeming content although she’d just been manhandling his face. “You don’t need to apologize, love. Although we should head home before we’re locked in here overnight.”

She let him take her hand then, drawing her from the room. And stepping past the threshold and into the chilly, dimly-lit hallway, she felt different. Like something had changed, and she had become lighter, had become better. And she knew it was all thanks to Gavin.

***

Getting home turned out to be tricky. They’d both drank too much to drive back, which meant they had to leave the car overnight.

They could have taken a cab, but Gavin insisted he could fly them home, and it was dark enough and late enough that no one would see them in the skies. But this turned out to be just as tricky, as they both lost sight of where they were once they were airborne, and had to land on the roofs of many houses to reorient themselves until finally they landed in their backyard.

Rowan tried teasing Gavin, telling him that they could have just taken a cab. But he was insistent that his way was still faster, and cheaper. And they hadn’t had to sit on sticky seats and pretend like neither of them were drunk.

Stumbling inside, Rowan pressed her palm to the wall while she struggled to get her shoes off. This was not a task that should be so hard, and yet she found herself struggling until Gavin motioned for her to sit and undid her laces for her.

“Is that better?” He asked, voice little more than a breath, although it was just them in the quiet shadows.

She nodded. “Better.”

He stood to turn the lights on, and as they flared to life Rowan found herself freezing, staring at the bright pink handprint she’d left on the wall.

“Oh no.”

Gavin crouched beside her, arms going to her waist to lift her up before he, too, froze. But he didn’t murmur a quiet curse or even laugh. He just stared at the handprint for a minute, then pressed a kiss to her brow.

“Hold on,” he said, leaving her on the floor in the entryway as he vanished.

“Gavin?” She was so confused she didn’t move, didn’t try to draw herself to her feet to make chase.

So instead she sat on the floor, the cold of the night slowly leeching into her skin. She was so heavy, although the leaden feeling was more from exhaustion than anything else. It was so late now, would they even have time to watch anything? Maybe if they hurried through showering, maybe. But that meant she’d have to stand up, and she wasn’t sure she even wanted to stand up.

Before Rowan could make up her mind about standing or remaining on the floor for eternity, Gavin returned, yellow paint smeared over his palm.

“What are you doing?” The question slipped from her lips before she even had a moment to process what was happening.

Gavin’s only response was to grin, pressing his paint-smeared hand against the wall next to the handprint she’d left behind.

“Gavin?”

He pulled his hand away, leaving a bright yellow handprint against the wall, stark against the dark blue they had chosen for the entryway. “Take a look.”

She giggled, cupping her cheek in her hand as she stared up at his handprint smeared next to hers on the wall. “It’s your hand.”

“Now there will be a little piece of us on the wall forever.” He crouched down, leaning against her. “What do you think?”

She felt a little like her brain was wrapped in a blanket, her thoughts struggling to claw their way out of the daze they were swaddled in. “I think your handprint is pretty.”

He snorted in laughter, bumping his nose against her cheek. “Anything else?”

“Well I think mine is a little pale in comparison.”

It was true. Whatever was on her hand must have been residue from their class. She hadn’t remembered to wash the paint from her hands as they’d left, too focused on Gavin and the box of treats and the fog in her head.

A bottle of pink acrylic paint appeared in his hand, although where he’d pulled it from she had no clue. Maybe he had a super secret second evol, one where he could pluck things from entirely different rooms and have them materialize right in the palm of his hand.

Or maybe it had been in his pocket and she just hadn’t seen him take it out.

“Where’d you get this?” She took the bottle from his hand, rolling it between her hands. It looked familiar, like the cheap paint they’d used when they were trying out a paint-by-numbers ages ago.

He shrugged. “I’ve just had it lying around. We have a whole collection of colours, but I thought you’d like pink best.”

She frowned, handing it back to him. “Why’d you bring it down?”

“I thought you might think your handprint was too pale, so you’d want to do a new one.”

Rowan blinked, part baffled and part utterly enchanted by her husband. He’d predicted what she would think before she’d even thought it, before he’d even put his own handprint against the wall.

His brow arched, and he nudged her gently. “Well? Would you like to make a new one?”

Rowan didn’t have to think as she stuck out her hand, bobbing her head furiously. She knew she wanted it as bright as Gavin’s against the wall, wanted it to match, to be a reminder that they were here for as long as the house stood.

He cradled her hand in his, uncapping the paint in his other hand and carefully squeezing out a quarter’s size of paint into her palm before smearing it all over.

“There, you’re ready to go.” He kissed her cheek again, and she could feel his smile against her skin. It made her warm, made her heart beat and her blood race and her mind muddle in a way no bubbling wine could ever do.

She stood, her legs shaky, pressing her palm over where she’d accidentally smacked it at first, putting her weight against her hand. She waited one second, two, three. Perhaps a whole minute before pulling away, smiling as the bright, bubblegum pink of her palm stared back at her.

“How does it look?” She danced on her toes, some of her exhaustion whisked away with the delight of seeing their two palm prints side-by-side. Just like they always were; side-by-side forever and ever.

“It looks perfect.” He stood, grasping her paint covered hand with his. “Everything is absolutely perfect.”

She leaned against him, the energy rushing through her moments before just as quickly spilling away. She was tired, and she was cold. She wanted him to lift her up in his arms and hold her for the rest of the night. Perhaps the rest of their forever.

“I mean, we are covered in paint. I’m not sure if that’s perfect.” She yawned, her eyes heavy even as she spoke. She could barely keep them open, barely stay upright on her own feet.

She felt as Gavin leaned over, nuzzling against the side of her head. “I have an easy solution for that.”

And then she was weightless, her legs swept out from under her, the solid warmth of Gavin’s chest pressing against her side as he cradled her in his arms.

Her eyes flew open, and she gaped as Gavin chuckled, the sound reverberating through her bones as he pressed his lips to her forehead.

“What are you doing?!”

He sighed, carrying her up the stairs towards their room. “I thought you might want to be carried.”

Leaning her head on his shoulder, Rowan smiled, breathing in the smell of his skin and the detergent they used and the faint smell of paint. She felt warm, she felt safe. Contentment was being cradled in his arms, was being held so close she could feel his heart beating in tandem with her own. “I did.”

“I wanted to hold you, too,” he admitted, looking a little sheepish as his cheeks glowed with colour.

She closed her eyes, the gentle sway of his movements lulling her to sleep. She really could sink into oblivion in his arms, just like this. She could slip away into her dreams, so long as she stayed warm and safe in his arms…

“Hey,” he murmured, rousing her before she could completely slip away. “Stay with me. We still have to shower, and I promised you we could watch a show.”

Rowan yawned again, wrapping her arms around his neck in an attempt to pull herself closer. “You did.”

“So you can’t fall asleep yet.”

She whined, pressing her face against his neck. “Will you shower with me?”

He chuckled, the arms around her growing tighter. “For you, love? I’d do anything.”

Rowan sighed, thankful that he was in her life, thankful that she was in his. “I don’t wanna let go.”

“You don’t have to.”

She cracked an eye open as he flicked on the bathroom light, the LEDs so bright they were nearly painful after the shadows of the entryway and the soft lighting in the halls. “I mean I probably will. In the shower. I can’t imagine it’s easy to wash the paint away if I’m holding onto you the entire time.”

“But I’ll make sure I hold you again as soon as we’re done,” he promised, setting her down on the fluffy rug next to the shower. “How does that sound?”

She swayed on her feet, falling against his chest. She really didn’t want to be away from him; she felt so cold without his arms around her. And she was tired and her mind was everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Gavin chuckled, steadying her. “Pumpkin? Are you still with me?”

“I’m with you.” She huffed a long, tired sigh. “That does sound nice.”

“Good,” he murmured, squeezing her hands. “Now lift your arms and I can help get you out of your clothes. They’re covered in paint.”

She snorted, lifting her arms as he helped to peel away her dirty clothes. “I suppose that would help the cleaning process.”

“Just a bit.”

Gavin made quick work of their clothes, and then he let her press against his side while he turned the water on, checking it until it was the perfect temperature.

“Boiling,” he announced, helping her to step over the lip of the tub lest she trip like the last time she was drunk. “Just how you like it.”

She giggled, squeezing his hands as he followed behind her. “If I’m not red as a lobster afterwards, then what’s the point?”

“Getting clean, maybe?”

She shook her head. “It’s about the experience, babey.”

He arched a brow as he drew the curtain closed. “And the experience is being boiled like a lobster?”

“Yes! Exactly!”

All Gavin could do was laugh, clutching her against his chest for a long while. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Keep holding me like this?”

His shoulders shook with laughter. “We need to get cleaned up. And then I’ll hold you for as long as you like.”

And Gavin did stay true to his word. He helped her to wash, massaging shampoo into her hair while she ran a washcloth over his shoulders and down his arms, until they were both covered in soaps and suds and had to help each other rinse. They didn’t emerge until the water no longer ran with the rainbow of colours of paint that had been smeared all over them, and their bodies were matching shades of bright red from the heat of the steaming shower.

He wrapped Rowan in a fluffy towel, carrying her into their room to dry her off and help her change.

“You know I can get myself dressed,” she teased, balancing on one foot, gripping his shoulders with both hands.

“I know, but I like to help.” He drew up her pajama bottoms, gooseflesh racing across her arms as he brushed his lips to her stomach before handing her a sleep shirt.

Once they were both washed and dressed, they crawled into bed, Rowan’s laptop balanced on Gavin’s lap as he dutifully scrolled through an unending list of shows and movies to the show she wanted to watch.

“Have we seen this one before?” He asked, leaning forward as Rowan fussed with the pillows, trying to prop them up so they could comfortably lean back against them.

“No, although by this season all of the episodes kind of feel like repeats of earlier seasons.” She smacked the pillow directly behind her before shimmying backwards, allowing herself a satisfied smile. “But it’s still fun! And I still wanna watch it.”

“Then we can watch it,” he assured, wrapping an arm around her waist to draw her in close before hitting play on the episode.

Gavin was generous, and they ended up watching two full episodes, each nearly an hour in length. They chattered as the melodrama unfolded on the screen, about the class, about what was happening in the show, about whether Gavin would read the book series Rowan was trying to get him to read.

By the third episode, Rowan could barely keep her eyes open. But something deep in her bones made her resist wanting to fall asleep. If she fell asleep then the day would be over, and perhaps the scraps of contentment she’d managed to grasp would slip through her fingers. And perhaps she would wake up and no longer be comfortable, no longer be warm and pleased with herself.

“Looks like you’re falling asleep,” Gavin teased, smoothing back her hair. “Maybe it’s time we went to bed, pumpkin.”

She pouted, trying to force her eyes open wider. “No, I don’t want to sleep yet.”

“Rowan, it’s late. It’s been a big day, maybe you should sleep.”

She shook her head. She made a halfhearted attempt to pull away from his arms, but he only drew her close once more and instead she slumped pathetically against his side. “I don’t want to. What if I’m sad again tomorrow?”

He sighed, pressing pause on the show and turning to face her fully. “Rowan, do you feel better?”

She pouted more, her bottom lip trembling. “Maybe a little.”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips. It reminded her of a crescent moon, of the gentle silver light that washed across the world as the moon rose. “Do you feel a little happier?”

“Maybe a bit.”

He nodded, his smile growing. If his smile was the moon, then his eyes were the stars. They were galaxies of stars, lighting up the darkness of the night. She felt as though if she were to make a wish on their light, it would certainly come true.

“Do you think that you should trust me, then? Trust that I’ll make sure things will be better?”

She furrowed her brow, glaring down at a wrinkle in the quilt. “I guess.”

He clicked his tongue. “Rowan.”

She looked up, still pouting. “Okay. I’ll trust you.”

He cupped her cheek, stroking her bottom lip with his thumb. “Then trust that I’ll make sure tomorrow is alright. But you need to sleep, your body needs to rest.”

She wilted, feeling any resolve she had vanishing in the wake of his gentle ministrations. He continued to stroke her bottom lip until her pout was gone, and then he pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, smiling against them.

“Please trust me from, love.”

“Okay,” she said, yielding to him. She did trust him, she always trusted him. But letting go of the few good feelings she had in her heart was hard. She never knew what the next day held; if it would be the same, if it would be better, if it would be worse. It made her scared of sleeping, of relinquishing her hold on the frayed strings of contentment she’d managed to weave that evening.

But she had to trust Gavin. He always did his best to help her. And hadn’t that evening been alright? Hadn’t she felt even the tiniest bit better at times?

“Okay,” she said again, new determination blooming in her heart like a flower in the spring. She would trust him, and she would let herself hope, just the tiniest littlest bit, that tomorrow she would be okay. That maybe tomorrow would be better. Because she had Gavin beside her, and she loved him, and he loved her, and everything was better with him.

He smiled, pressing another kiss to her lips. “Okay. Let me just put the computer away.”

He made quick work of folding up the laptop and setting it on the desk in the corner. Then he went around the room, shutting off all the lights until they were cloaked in darkness, the only light in the room the quicksilver moonlight staining the curtains drawn over the window.

She felt the bed shift as Gavin returned, and as her eyes adjusted to the gloom she saw as he held out his arms to her, beckoning her close.

“Come here,” he murmured, folding her into his arms before pulling the blankets up around them.

“There.” He brushed his lips against the top of her head. “Are you comfy?”

She nodded, pressing her face against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “I am.”

“And you trust me?” There was a note of teasing in his voice now, and it made her smile.

“I do.”

“Good. Then you’ll trust that I’ll keep you safe all night?”

She nodded, burrowing closer. “I do, babey. I promise.”

He chuckled, holding her tighter. She felt as he rested his chin on the top of her head, his breath tangling in her hair as he sighed. “I love you, Rowan. I promise I’ll always try to make you happy and keep you safe.”

“I love you too, Gavin. I want you to be happy and safe too.”

He rubbed small circles against her back, the steady motion slowly quieting her mind, lulling her to sleep.

“I’m safe so long as I’m with you,” he murmured, his voice feather-soft. “And I’m always happy, as long as you are too.”

“But I want you to be happy even when I’m not.”

He shushed her gently, brushing another kiss to her head. “I’m always happy with you, Rowan. But I want you to be happy, too.” He tucked her back beneath his chin, humming. “Now sleep. Let me worry about tomorrow.”

So she closed her eyes, nestling as close as she could against him, and she let the steady beat of his heart and the unwavering warmth of his love soothe the last worries that had swirled through her mind, until she slipped away into a warm, peaceful dream. Of bright blue skies and smudged wildflowers in every colour of the rainbow and electric green forests, and Gavin’s arms wrapped around her, reminding her that she was safe, and loved, and that everything would be okay.

[wolfboywarmachine]

i know we’re literally never going to see ak’ghal usar in story content again...but. with the way he reacts if you mention khem during his recruitment (”DO NOT DARE SPEAK HIS NAME HE IS SO COOL I LOVE THAT GUY”)

can you please take a moment to consider his reaction upon realizing that khem val 

1) has joined the alliance 

2) is nailing the inquisitor 

[shadeofazmeinya]

please imagine some form of jerevin artist au with artist jeremy and model gav where jeremy paints across gavin’s back and takes pictures of his designs and gavin rewards each work with a bright smile and tons of kisses while he paints

[thewomaninlilywhite]

Secret Garden 2018 Revival (dream) Cast

Nicole Scimeca as Mary Lennox Tam Mutu as Archibald Craven Zell Steele Morrow as Colin Craven Ramin Karimloo as Dr. Neville Craven Daisy Eagan as Martha Sowerby Andrew Keenan-Bolger as Dickon Sowerby Gavin Lee as Captain Albert Lennox Emily Harvey as Rose Lennox

... and Me as Lilias - wink wink

[parad-ice-lostandfound]

OBEY ME BROTHERS + SHORT!MC

Prompt: Imagine person A (the shorter of the pair) always finding creative ways to reach person B to kiss them. Like climbing on top of a stack of books, jumping on one of those small trampolines, and even just climbing up person B’s side. Pairing: OM!Brothers xGN!MC Genre: Fluff TW: None

Lucifer

Honestly, he was very confused when you just barged into his study one day.

Mans would have thrown you out if it were anyone else, but it was you. His beloved MC.

“MC? What are you doing?”

Gets his question answered as you pull him into a kiss after climbing onto his desk, which he happily returns, of course.

Is a little surprised when you do it the first time, but gets used to it. He looks forward to it, though he won’t say he does.

Lucifer watched as you gently took the papers on his desk and kept them on the ground. Before, he would have scolded you, saying that he had work to do, but now he knew what you were trying to accomplish. His eyes followed your small figure as you climbed onto his desk, a mirthful and endearing smile on his face as you pulled him closer to you.

“Missed me that much, my love?” he teased you as you fiddled with his collar. “Just kiss me,” you mumbled, blushing lightly as he chuckled and did as you asked.

Mammon

Loves watching you try to somehow reach him to kiss him.

Tries to make it so that there are no climbable things around when the two of you are together, just ‘cause he wants to see that adorable pout you have when you realize.

The first time, you caught him by surprise when you climbed and sat on the backrest of the sofa just so you could pull him into a kiss.

Stutters adorably if you somehow manage to reach him.

You and Mammon were in Majolish, shopping for clothes. Normally you would have gone with Asmo, but your boyfriend insisted on coming with you.

Anyways, you were currently trying to get his attention. “Mammon, which one looks better on me?” you asked as you held up the outifts for him to see. “You look great hun,” Mammon hummed, not even looking up from his D.D.D. You glared at his D.D.D, suddenly having this overwhelming urge to throw it away. Some might say getting jealous of a D.D.D was juvenile, but Mammon had literally thrown a tantrum when you asked Asmo to accompany you. And now he won’t even give you a fraction of his attention?

At times like these you’d curse your height difference. However, luck seemed to be on your side today. You spied a footstool standing a little away from you, and a devilish idea came in your head. A way that would surely make Mammon give all of his attention to you.

You quickly grabbed the footstool, placing it near your oblivious boyfriend and stood on it. Tapping his shoulder gently, you smirked as he turned to answer you. “Ye-mmph?!”

Just as abruptly as you had kissed him, you pulled away, leaving a very pouty and blushy Mammon in your wake. You giggled as Mammon struggled to form coherent words.

Leviathan

Adores the fact that you do it.

Obviously was taken by surprise the first time you did it. Might have even short-circuited.

No matter how much you do it, he’s never gonna get used to it.

Get ready for him to be a blushing mess for the rest of the day.

“Levi?”

Levi turned at your voice, only to be met with Asmo’s grinning face, holding you up towards him. You giggled softly, pressing your lips to your boyfriend’s and wrapping your arms around his neck. Asmo loosened his hold on your body, prompting Levi to take over and hold you up, close to him.

You could hear Asmo fangirling in the background over 'young love’, and smiled as you broke the kiss. Levi’s face was bright red, and you couldn’t help but pepper his face with kisses.

Satan

Definitely the kind to scold you after kissing you, saying you should ‘endanger yourself’ just to kiss him.

Do not climb on his books, he will throw you out of his room.

He’s not quite used to getting affection, and seeing you go the length just to kiss him makes him blush.

Please, please be careful during it, you almost gave him a heart attack when you attempted using a trampoline to pull him into a kiss.

Satan was in the library, reading whatever new book he had recently found. Virescent eyes trained on the words in front of him, he never registered your entrance, nor when you managed to climb up onto the table. You giggled softly at the endearing sight before running your nimble fingers through his hair, petting him.

Tearing his eyes from the story in order to see which insolent being had dared to disturb him, Satan looked at you. The corners of his mouth lifted into a small, precious smile when he realized it was his love. You smiled back at him, revelling in the soft moment before doing what you came here to do.

You kissed him gently, humming in delight as he pulled you closer and off the table. You were now sitting on his lap as you broke the kiss, only to have his arms around your waist, effectively trapping you. “Such a naughty kitten,” he remarked, his voice like honey, making you feel all warm and cosy inside as he read to you.

Asmodeus

Asmo absolutely adores it.

He swears he might die of your cuteness one day-

Loves the expression you have when you manage to reach his height, just seconds before you pull him into a kiss.

Believes that your efforts just make the kiss a whole lot sweeter.

You and Asmo were in his room, listening to the caramel-haired demon ranting about this particular incubus who had infuriated him earlier that day. Although you agreed that the incubus should not have been as crude as they were, you were in need of affection. Neither of you had a good day, and all you wanted to do was to cuddle with your lovely boyfriend.

How were you supposed to do that when said boyfriend wouldn’t stop pacing across the room?

You sighed, sinking into the soft fabric of his bedding. Almost instantaneously, an idea presented itself to you, and you smiled. You stood up on the bed, making sure that Asmo was close enough for you to latch onto him.

“And then, they had the audacity to-mmph?!”

You quickly pressed your lips to Asmo’s, effectively shutting him up. Asmo quickly melted into the kiss, holding you close till the lack of oxygen in your lungs forced you to part. You giggled as he peppered your face in kisses, anger and indignation long forgotten.

Beelzebub

Worried baby.

Honestly, why do you insist on climbing up things you shouldn’t just to give him a kiss? Though he does appreciate your kiss, you worry him a lot.

Please just be careful MC, he cares a lot about you.

Will make sure there is always a soft surface nearby if you accidently fall and he’s unable to catch you.

You hummed as you sat on the counter top. You were with your boyfriend in the kitchen, happily munching away on (favorite snack) as he told you about Fangol practice and ate his food. Post workout Beel was hungrier than usual, and sitting there with him, listening to him felt really domestic.

As Beel turned to face you to feed you some of his custard, you lightly pecked his lips, earning a pleased smile from your demon.

Belphegor

This man-

He naps in the weirdest places. You once found him napping on the chandelier

THE FREAKING CHANDELIER

So with him, it’s kind of a necessity

He finds it cute when you go out of your way (and do dangerous things) just to kiss him

Get ready to become his new pillow for the next few hours, he’s not gonna let you go-

You wandered through the house, trying to find Belphegor. The sleepy demon had yet again skipped class in favor of sleeping, and was hiding from Lucifer. The first born had enlisted your help in finding Belphie, and it wasn’t as if you could refuse.

Sighing, you walked through the hallway, pausing when you saw Belphie sleeping in one of his prime spots. You smiled at the sight of your favorite demon, climbing over the cupboard to get to him. Placing a light kiss on his lips, something you had found was extremely effective in waking him up, you giggled lightly. Belphie lazily opened his eyes, smirking when he saw you, and quickly trapped you in his arms. Ignoring your protests, he went back to sleep, not caring if he’d have to listen to one of Lucifer’s long ass lectures later on.

[qoinq-qhost]

memories - dannymay day 1

“Phantom, hey, I need you to answer me.” Maddie shined the small flashlight across his face again.

“What do you remember?”

The ghost’s face twisted in confusion as he tried to sit upright, attempting to prop himself up in the rubble. He turned to look at her but his eyes seemed unfocused, lids barely open.

“Hm. Mom? Wha-” He trailed off, looking past Maddie towards the debris behind her.

“Just as I thought. Concussed.” She muttered. She was choosing to overlook the fact that the ghost had called her “Mom” again. Initially, it had bothered her, enraged her even, when she had a lesser opinion of the specter. Now though, with their shaky, but so far long-lasting, truce, she and Jack had begun to see the ghost kid as just that; a ghost kid. She took note of his round face and too-long limbs. He couldn't be over sixteen. The thought of someone that young dying in a way that created ghost as powerful as Phantom shook Maddie to her core. She knew Jack felt it too. And so if Phantom called either of them “Mom” or “Dad,” the couple silently agreed to ignore the ghost’s slip up.

“Wait, where am I?” Phantom looked up at her, eyes unfocused, but still the distinct toxic and inhuman green that matched the trail of ectoplasm leaking from a gash near his hairline.

Maddie sighed softly before crouching down next to him and answering. “You’re downtown. Amity Park. There was a ghost fight.”

With this, his eyebrows drew closer together. “Ghost fight?” He seemed to realize he was injured then, as he brought a gloved hand up to his head. His hazy eyes widened in fear.

“Wha- green? What happened to me?” Panic coated his voice.

Could he have really hit his head that hard? Maddie wondered.

Phantom seemed to be in a crisis. He sat up fully on the side of the road, now staring down at his own body. He held his own gloved hands in front of his face, turning them over and even taking off one of the gloves to inspect the skin underneath. Maddie was surprised to see the gloves could actually come off. By looking down, he caught a glimpse of his own white bangs, and this, too, seemed to shock him. He grasped at his own hair and tugged a strand forward so that it was in front of his eyes.

Watching him made Maddie realize something: She really did not want to be the one to tell Phantom he died. Who knew how he would react to the news? In this state, with their weeks of cooperation seemingly forgotten from his mind, it was entirely possible that the ghost would become violent.

And yet, assessing him now, he looked like he’d sooner burst into tears.

“Please, Mom, what happened to me? Why can't I remember anything?”

“Well, I’m not your mom. I’m Dr. Fenton, and you’re Phantom. You hit your head pretty hard during this fight. I was afraid you wouldn't wake up for a second there” Maddie tried to chuckle but it sounded hollow.

She knew how strange it was for her of all people to be concerned about Phantom’s wellbeing. But ever since she started working with him, she began to notice small details about the specter that set him apart from others she’d seen up close. She watched as his chest continually rose and fell, how his eyes reacted to bright light, and once, she even saw him sneeze. These minute details made her wonder exactly where the line between mimicry and sincerity was. She had hoped her cooperation with him would lead the ghost to trust her enough to let her ask.

Though currently, Phantom was in no state to answer any of her questions. He looked worse than she’d ever seen him; utterly crushed by the news of his own death. She wondered what memories he did retain, and how long this apparent amnesia would last.

Maddie hoisted herself back onto her feet and held out a hand to Phantom. He took it but struggled to stand, resulting in Maddie almost carrying the boy back to the GAV. He had the sense to ask, “Where are you taking me?”

“Back to FentonWorks. I’ll try to get you patched up best I can, but it will probably be better for you to heal back in the Zone.”

“The Zone?”

“The Ghost Zone, yes, it’s where you live.” She informed him.

Phantom’s face showed his confusion again, but he did not say anything more. Maddie figured being back in the Zone with its abundance of ectoplasm would accelerate the ghost’s healing.

“I don't live with you?” He asked.

“No, Phantom, you don't,” Maddie chuckled at the thought. She imagined the ghost sitting down at the kitchen table for dinner with her family. She pictured him sitting on her couch watching TV with her kids. Ha, what a sight that’d be.

Maddie didn't realize Phantom’s change in mood until she saw his face as she helped him get buckled in the passenger seat of the GAV. She was surprised to see him blinking back tears.

“I don't understand. What happened? Why can't I stay with you guys? How did I die?”

Maddie bit down on her lower lip and looked into Phantom’s eyes. He still didn't look like he was all there, with the spacy, unfocused look in his eyes and green staining his face. What was there, though, was genuine hurt, a display of emotion Maddie didn't think possible for ghosts.

“I’m sorry but you can't stay here. You don't belong in this world. I know you have been helping people here, but ghosts are supposed to stay in the Zone.” She sighed and looked down at her hands. She couldn't bring herself to keep looking at him. “And we don’t know how you died. You never told us.”

Phantom didn't say anything more. His far away eyes looked through the windshield of the GAV but he saw nothing as the two rode in silence.

[readyandnot]

reaction to HBS with morgan part two-

@morgansplace <3

GAVIN EDITION:

(r is me and m is morgan)

r- HES DRIVING WTF EVERYONE GET OFF THE FREEWAY HES DRIVING

m- Freelancer should get out the car tbh

r- “my love”-i’m passing away

m- I PASSED AWAY HOURS AGO

r- KISS TO THE HAND YESSIRRR

m- THAT'S ONE OF MY WEAKNESSES HELP

r- I OWE YOU SO MUCH 7/11 “every inch” please omg-

m- I'M PASSING AWAY HES A GENTLEMAN

r- AFTER YOU YES HES A GENTLEMEN

r- the spot in question” GAVIN IM PASSING AWAY

r- first encounter” is an interesting way to put it

m-First encounter is a professional way

m-BUT I LIKE STORMS:(

r- if that doesn’t prove the poly relationship could be canon idk what will

m- sit your ass in that couch Imma beat you at mario kart

r- i fucking LOVE HIS LAUGH

m-WE DO, WE ALL DO

m-SHUT UP GOLF SIMULATOR IS THE BEST

r- “i’m grateful for him” GAVINNNNN

m-Gavin watch your mouth because you may be my love but Lasko's my life

r- “cmon” OKAY

m- IH C'MON

YOU'RE GOING TO KILL ME

*gav asks about controller buttons and why it’s different*

r- gavin you’re asking what everyone is thinking lmao

m-That's the whole point

m-“ Kissing you instead” Proceeds to do everything more than kisses

r- “you” MY FUCKING GOD

m-you<3 That was so cute

m- what's the point if YOU'RE NOT PAYING ATTENTION NOT IF YOU'RE EATING MY NECK SIR

r- ITS LITERALLY A FOUR COURSE MEAL AND DESSERT

r- “aim for the hole” “sink it all the way in” STOPPPPP

BUT DONT STOP

m-STOP BUT NOT LITERALLY

m- **CURSES IN SPANISH BECAUSE MY ENGLISH SAID GOODBYE**

r-YOURE ONE TO TALK ABOUT BEAUTIFUL NOISES

m- THEY PAUSED THE GAME- i’m going to scream

r-i’m going to die

r-I was going to say without the s but are u okay

r-GETTING COMFORTABLE GETTING FUCKED MORE LIKE “fuck deviant” FUCK

m-imagine if just **bell rings**

*door bell actually rings*

I FUCKING KNEW IT

r- FINISH THAT FUCKING SENTENCE “my deviant” THERE HE GOES AGAIN

[cleanlenins]

He Drives Me Crazy

AO3 FFN

Written for the Minibang

Artwork done by @tumbling-darkling

Mother's Day is today and Danny forgot to buy a present! How did this become Jazz's problem? Danny convinces Jazz to help him pick out a last minute Mother's day gift. He also somehow convinced her to teach him how to drive. Sibling hijinks ensue and Jazz is going to need some advil to get through all of her brother's terrible jokes.

The bird had been singing just outside her window for ten minutes now, but Jazz was well practiced in ignoring Mama Bird's pre-dawn routine. She snuggled further under the blankets, not quite waking as dawn began to break. The soft fingers of early morning light began to brush against her eyelids. She had found that arranging her bed in a way that allowed for natural daylight to wake her was beneficial for her mental health and refreshed her enough to face a new day with an upbeat attitude. Danny said it was proof that she was, in fact, a robot running on solar power. Honestly, he could laugh, but he would benefit from taking a little time to plot out his sleep cycle.

Something suddenly blocked the dawn light, casting a faint shadow that covered her face. She frowned, not quite waking, but some part of her brain was aware of the change.

"Jazz," a cold whisper tickled her ear. She furrowed her brow further, hiding her face from the suddenly cold air. She mumbled incomprehensible nonsense.

"Jazz, I need your help," the voice whispered again, this time breaking from desperation. A finger prodded her shoulder. Poke. Poke. Poke. "Jazz, it's an emergency ."

Jazz bolted upright, startling her little brother enough for him to fall on his butt with an oof . Jazz frantically scanned her brother, her hair a halo of ginger tangles framing her face.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt? Is someone attacking? Did Mom or Dad make something new and horrifying? Are you okay?" She nearly shouted. Her words ran together as she raced to get them out as quickly as possible. Danny flinched from the sudden tirade of information. Jazz searched her brother’s body for any obvious wounds, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. But no, he looked perfectly whole. He was still wearing his pajamas.

“Not that kind of emergency,” Danny said with a pitiful pleading look. “I forgot to get Mom a present!”

It took Jazz a second before she could comprehend Danny’s words. She responded by mercilessly hitting him with her pillow.

“You wake me up for a supposed emergency , and that emergency is you didn’t buy Mom a Mother’s Day present? I don't think you know what emergency means,” She said, not letting up on her pillow assault. Danny tried to protect himself from the feathery flail.

“Jazz, please. This is an emergency! Mother’s Day is today!” Danny pleaded. But Jazz did not let up.

“I know that Mother’s Day is today, you dork. I know how to read a calendar,” She huffed. Jazz dropped the pillow back in place on her bed, slightly out of breath. Danny peeked through his fingers to see if it was truly over. Jazz glared down at her little brother before wrapping herself back in her blanket. “Just fly out and buy her something. Stores will be open in an hour or so.”

“I don’t know what to get her,” Danny pouted. He stood and flopped on top of Jazz, who objected to the movement. “I don’t know what she would like. Jazz, you’ve gotta help me.”

“Why didn’t you do this before now?”

“I meant to do it last weekend, but then there was that weird Simon-Says ghost that made it so you could only do something if you said his name. And the weekend before that I had to study for that big test, remember? And the project Lancer had assigned. And then there was that whole thing with Johnny 13 that ended up with the Mall closing early, so unless I broke in I couldn’t have bought a present anyways.. And then the weekend before that-”

“Okay, okay. I get it. You’ve had a lot on your plate,” Jazz said. She shoved her brother into the floor and unwound herself from the blankets. Danny didn’t bother to move from the contorted position he fell in, but just continued to look up at Jazz with his puppy dog eyes. She sighed. How could she not give in when he looked at her like that? “Did you have any ideas about what you wanted to get her?”

“Well, I had thought I could bake something for her? I also thought to go by that weird academic place and see if they had something she would like,” Danny mused.

“It's just a bookstore, Danny.”

“Weird Academic Place.”

“Whatever. Fine. Call it whatever you want. It sounds like you have it planned out. So what do you need me for?” Jazz rubbed her eyes. Ugh, couldn’t he have waited five more minutes?

“You know her better than I do. You’re actually here most of the time. Not, you know, avoiding...her.” Danny shifted guiltily. He murmured something unintelligible. Jazz ignored it. “I just want to make sure she likes it, you know?”

“I’m sure she will like whatever you pick out.”

“Yeah, but I want her to actually like it, not just ‘Mom-like’ it, you know? I want it to be something she will enjoy because she wants it, not because I gave it to her.”

Jazz sighed.

“Fine, just let me get dressed and then you can fly us over to the mall when it opens.”

Danny shifted on the floor, still looking up at Jazz with his puppy dog eyes. Honestly, those should be criminal.

“Do you think that, maybe, just this once, I can drive your car?” Danny said, increasing the puppy pressure.

“What? No! Why would you want to drive my car anyways? You can fly,” Jazz said. Was Danny’s lower lip trembling?

“I know. I just- I got my learner’s permit now! And I just really want to try. I promise I will be really careful. Just please please please PLEASE. Don’t make me learn using the GAV,” Danny begged. “Do you want Dad teaching me to drive?”

Jazz shuddered at the thought. Imagining a teenage Danny driving like Jack Fenton. Except with no fear of death.

“Well…”

~~~

Jazz was trying very hard to not laugh as Danny was practically bouncing in his seat. The driver’s seat. Of her car. That was a sobering thought. She couldn’t believe that she was actually going to do this. Danny grinned as he fiddled with the seat settings, the seat jittering back and forth with an electric hum.

“Will you quit that?” Jazz snapped.

“What, I need to make sure my toesies reach, don’t I?” Danny grinned, stretching his legs comically.

“So why the heck is the seat all the way back?”

“Well, maybe my toesies need some toe room,” Danny argued, adjusting the seat's backrest all the way forward so his face almost touched his own lap.

“I’m regretting this already,” Jazz muttered, still gripping the keys.

“What? No, wait! I can behave,” Danny said, rushing to return the seat settings back to a normal setup. Not that there was any way to rush the old mechanical chair. The seat slowly moved back, the squeaking of the leather seats the only sound as Danny stared at Jazz, who was really starting to regret this. Neither teen broke eye contact as the chair moved with agonizing slowness. When the seat was finally upright, he grinned at her. “See?”

“Congratulations, you're sitting in the car like a normal person,” Jazz deadpanned. She took a steadying breath. “Okay, so what is the first thing you do now that you’ve figured out how to get your butt in a chair?”

“Uh, plug in the key?”

“Plug in?”

“I don’t know the word! You stick the key in the hole and twist.”

“I thought you got your learner's permit?” Jazz said suspiciously.

“I did, but it's early and I don’t remember words this early. I stick the key in the hole- the ignition! And turn. Right?”

“Wrong,” Jazz said, looking pointedly at her little brother. “First thing: Put on your seatbelt.”

“Why? It’s not like I can die again,” Danny laughed.

“Do you want me to teach you to drive or not?” Jazz snapped.

“I do! I do. Fine, I’ll put on the seatbelt,” Danny pouted. He clicked it into place, then made grabby hands toward his sister. “Keys, please.”

“No, you still haven’t checked your mirrors,” Jazz said.

“They're still attached to the car, I would notice if they weren’t,” Danny furrowed his brow.

“Not if they are still attached, you dork. That you can see with them,” Jazz groaned. Danny blushed.

“Sorry, cars missing mirrors tends to be a more common problem for me,” He said. He sat up and looked at all the mirrors, not having to make very many adjustments. “I think that's good. Now can I please start the car.”

Jazz hesitated, before finally dropping the keys into Danny’s waiting hands. The raven-haired teen looked gleeful at the little clump of jangling metal. He instantly put the car key in the ignition, the engine humming to life.

“Okay, so now you are going to put your foot on the brake. That’s the one on your left. And then you are going to shift the gearshift-”

“PRNDL,” Danny said, already shifting into Reverse.

“You've never even watched that show, it's on the wrong network,” Jazz complained.

“Doesn’t matter. So, do I put on the gas-?”

“No,” Jazz tried not to shout. She took another deep breath. “No, just. Get a feel for how fast it goes before you hit the gas, okay? Cars will go a little bit even without having to press the gas.”

“Sounds like me in English class,” Danny smirked, easing off the brake. The car inched toward the road.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Jazz said. She turned backwards to double check that no one was coming down their street. It probably wasn’t necessary. Most people avoided the street that the crazy Fentons lived on. With her Dad's driving? That was probably a good idea. “You should be good. Just turn the wheel to straighten yourself into the lane.”

Danny nodded and did just that. He seemed relieved, as he switched the car into Drive.

“Okay, cool. So now I floor it, right?” Danny said.

“I can’t tell if you are serious or not, but if you want to continue driving my car you will do no such thing,” Jazz's voice wavered. She squeezed the door handle, starting to feel it slide with sweat. “Just gently tap it. Speed limit is 35, so don’t go over that.”

Danny did a...really good job. Jazz relaxed. His turns were a little hair-raising, but nowhere near Jack Fenton levels. And Jazz only had to ask him to slow down twice. He braked a little hard at the lights. It could be worse.

“You’re doing great, Danny,” Jazz said fondly. Danny’s face, which had slowly contorted into a stern look of concentration as he drove, brightened. He shot his sister a look before she gently slapped him on the shoulder. “Eyes on the road!”

“Am I wheely doing a good job?” Danny snickered, tapping his fingers against the wheel. They were approaching an intersection.

“No puns.”

“Even if I am being carful ?”

“Stop it.”

“But I have miles of them. Can’t stop me now that I am on a roll .”

“Stop.”

“You can’t be tired of them yet-”.

“No, STOP!” Jazz cried. Danny slammed on the brake just as the light turned red, sliding slightly further into the intersection. The squeal of the tires against the pavement attracted the attention of the few pedestrians. Luckily, there were no other cars at the traffic light. It was early Sunday morning. Jazz held her hand to her chest for a second before her head jerked to Danny.

“Danny, are you okay,” Jazz asked. Danny gave her a wry grin.

“Yeah, I’m fine. The seatbelt doesn’t hit near as hard as Skulker,” Danny massaged his collarbone. “Sorry.”

Jazz took a deep breath. Danny was avoiding her gaze, his cheeks flushed the same color as the traffic light. He gripped both hands on the steering wheel, elbows rigid.

“Danny, you're okay. It’s fine. Everyone makes mistakes while learning,” Jazz said softly. Danny shook his head, still keeping his eyes forward. “You’re doing a really good job, I promise. Just don’t let yourself get distracted, okay?”

Danny still didn’t look at Jazz, but Jazz didn’t need eye contact to see where his mind was going. He was fast getting over his embarrassment, but it was turning into something she saw far too often on her little brother’s face.

“Danny, you have nothing to feel guilty about. I promise you are doing a good job. This is your first time driving a car, right?”

“Legally, yeah.”

“Legally-?” Jazz cut that thought short. “Nevermind. This is your first real lesson. You’re doing a good job. I promise. When this light turns green, just continue on a little more cautiously. And maybe don’t make anymore driving puns until you get a bit more comfortable. Or ever. That would certainly make me feel more comfortable.”

Danny’s lip twitched, but Jazz wasn’t satisfied.

“I want you to repeat after me,” Jazz said. Danny groaned. “Just do it. Stop complaining. Now, say ‘I am doing my best.’”

“I am doing my best,” Danny recited. The light turned green and Danny slowly pulled through the intersection.

“And my best is enough,” Jazz continued.

“And my best is enough,” Danny said unenthusiastically.

“Good, now say it all together,” Jazz said.

“Good, now say it all together,” Danny repeated.

“Danny, I’m serious,” Jazz admonished.

“And here I thought you were Jazz,” Danny quipped, his tone light. Jazz didn’t believe it. She knew when Danny was trying to pretend he was okay. She knew when he was trying to deflect. Jazz said nothing and continued to look at her little brother. Minutes passed in silence until they stopped at another intersection. Danny sighed deeply, weary.

“I’m doing my best and my best is enough,” Danny mumbled.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you,” Jazz said.

“I’m doing my best and my best is enough,” Danny said in a normal tone of voice.

“Yes, and I am very proud of you, little brother,” Jazz said fondly. “Really, I am. You do so much. And you work so hard. And you do so much good. I don’t know how I could be any prouder.”

“I thought we were talking about my driving? Why are you getting all mushy?” Danny complained half-heartedly, finally smiling. Genuinely smiling.

“Because I love you. Turn left at this next intersection. It’s faster,” Jazz directed. Danny grumbled something about sisters, but Jazz didn’t let it bother her.

It hadn’t taken long after she found out about Phantom for her to realize her brother always seemed beaten down. And not just literally. But while the scars from the ghost fights healed ridiculously quickly, the mental and emotional scars Danny had been accumulating since The Accident were just getting worse. The constant detentions from teachers who could never understand what he was going through. The bullies that tore at her little brother’s self-esteem. And then their parents. Jazz knew they meant well. She knew they scolded Danny because they thought it would help. She knew they grounded him because they were worried. But the constant negativity was not good for him. When was the last time they had said something positive to him? Something that didn’t bring up their bigotry against ghosts? Something that made him feel safe? Something that made him feel truly loved? No wonder he was stressed about Mom’s gift.

It didn’t help that it seemed like they were always complimenting her. Yes, she did work hard on all her tests. She worked hard for her grades. She had worked hard for her CATs. She had worked hard on her college entrance essays. And she liked the praise. But couldn’t her parents see the damage they were doing by constantly praising one child but not giving the other child the attention they needed? If only they could see all the good Danny did. Because Danny was an amazingly good person who-

“Jazz, this is your short cut. I don’t know where I’m going. So could you stop spacing and tell me when to turn,” Danny cut in, breaking Jazz out of her thoughts.

“Whoops, sorry,” She apologized, taking stock of where they were driving. A store caught her eye. “Oh, they finally opened that new ice cream shop!”

“Really?” Danny said. He glanced around nervously, not wanting to let his eye leave the road.

“Yeah, it opened a few days ago,” Jazz squinted to read the sign, a bright fluorescent green. She groaned.

“What?” Danny asked nervously.

“They called it ‘Scream’. That’s awful . I hate that,” Jazz lamented. And sure enough, as they drove by, the little ice cream shop was taking full advantage of Amity Park’s ghostly reputation. Cute cartoonish green ghosts decorated the windows. A few were curled up on top of ice cream cones, smiling out at the potential customers. Danny snickered.

“Well, I love that. We have to go!” Danny said.

“It’s too early for ice cream.”

“So we get it on the way home.”

“I thought you were going to bake something for Mom?”

“I mean, yeah. But that takes time. And it’s ice cream,” Danny said with longing. “I’m a itty bitty cold core ghosty. I crave the sugary icy treat. It's in my DNA.”

“Danny, you don’t need ice cream.”

“But I do . Ask Frostbite. Complete medical necessity. Don’t be ghostphobic, Jazz,” Danny complained as they passed by the shop. “I need it so bad I could scream .”

“Ugh, turn left for the mall” Jazz groaned, causing Danny to cackle in delight.

“That didn’t sound like a no,” Danny nearly sang.

“You’re paying. If I have to go into a store decorated with ghosts, you’re paying,” Jazz demanded.

“Deal!” Danny crowed in victory. Jazz rolled her eyes. She continued to give directions as Danny drove, interspersed with compliments and tips. By the time they arrived at the mall, Danny was back in high spirits. Was that a pun? Ugh, Danny’s sense of humor better not be rubbing off on her.

Jazz took back the keys when they got out of the car. Danny had turned on the puppy look again to try and keep them, but Jazz put her foot down. Jazz was far less likely to lose the keys than he was. He finally agreed as they headed toward the mall.

The siblings walked through the parking lot, with Danny trailing slightly behind Jazz. It hadn’t been open long, but there were already more people than Jazz had anticipated. Probably other last minute Mother’s Day shoppers. She smiled, knowing the probability that at least one of them was delayed because of ghost reasons as well. Just not her brother’s specific issue. She reached the door and opened it for her brother, turning to comment on that thought, when she paused.

Danny walked past her, not noticing her stalled comment. His eyes scanned the inside of the mall as he took on a tense defensive posture. The baby blue of his eyes didn’t match the sky, as Mom had always said. Not right now. They were cold and hard like ice. The calculated stare of a predator. Walking with purpose, he continued inward, not letting his guard down until some unspoken criteria was met. Jazz wasn’t sure what he saw that made him relax. What did he see that let him know that there was no immediate threat? And wasn’t that just awful that walking into the mall would make her baby brother feel threatened? Jazz watched the tension melt from her little brother’s shoulders as he turned backwards to grin at her. Jazz did her best to grin back at him.

Her brother rushed forward and grabbed Jazz by her wrist. Danny dragged Jazz through the store quickly, not noticing his sister’s lapse in concentration. He weaved in between the shoppers, apologizing quickly when he accidentally bumped into one of them. Jazz worried that he might dislocate her arm. But the pain of that possibility didn’t compare to the emotional roller coaster in her head. It wasn’t the first time she had thought about this. It was wrong. He was just barely fifteen! It shouldn’t be his responsibility. They were just kids. They should just be able to go to the mall and just be kids. Instead, Danny was always on edge. Always ready to throw himself in danger. And Jazz understood because she recognized the Mall as being statistically a likely place for ghost attacks.

Jazz almost tripped over Danny when he suddenly stopped outside the bookstore. He spread his arms wide, gesturing to the facade.

“Here we are! The Weird Academic Place. The WAP,” Danny said, a huge grin across his face. Jazz punched him.

“You are not going to call it that in public. Not if you want my help,” Jazz admonished.

“What do you mean?” Danny asked in feigned innocence. “What is so wrong with WAP?”

“Danny, you know exactly what is wrong with that acronym?” Jazz said.

“No, honest big sister. I am just your tiny baby brother. I don’t know what any word means. Tell me. Does it have a dirty meaning? Why would my perfect sister know something that has a dirty meaning?” Danny tried very hard not to laugh. To keep up the charade. Jazz felt her lip twitch before she couldn’t hold back the giggles any longer. Okay, maybe they still were able to be children. They weren’t actually completely deprived of it.

“Danny, you're ridiculous. Now, did you want to get a present or not?” Jazz asked. Danny winked.

“Yes, a Wonderfully Awesome Present,” Danny said.

“No,” Jazz said, marching forward into the store without him. She smiled when she heard his chuckling get closer, her baby brother following her in.

Looking around, Jazz could see why her brother might label this bookstore Weirdly Academic. Even ignoring his stupid joke. The bookstore was geared toward academic and science books. It was, honestly, a little pretentious. What was wrong with a little light fantasy reading? Nothing. Though, she grudgingly admitted that it was the best store to get peer-reviewed science journals in print.

“Okay, so what kind of book were you thinking?” Jazz asked. Danny shrugged.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think she would want an ectobiology book. I mean, Mom and Dad wrote the most accurate ones. But she is super into science and I am not sure which sciences would be relevant?” Danny frowned in thought.

“Well, why don’t we go look at the ectobiology section and see if anything stands out. Who knows? Maybe we can find something they haven’t read yet. After that, I know Mom was talking about looking into different ways of measuring and predicting atmospheric changes so they can finally go into the Ghost Zone safely. Like a barometer, but for ectoplasm. We might find something about that in the meteorology section. Or the general earth science section. Or possibly even engineering?”

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s go!” Danny said, rushing down an aisle. Jazz waited a few moments before Danny’s head popped back around the shelf. “I’m going the wrong way, aren’t I?”

“Why don’t I lead the way this time?” She said, grinning. She grabbed his hand and steered him in the right direction. He moaned about holding his sister’s hand in public, but both of them could tell his heart wasn’t in it. Just a little brother reflex.

It didn’t take long for her to find the section on meteorology. Granted, she wasn’t super well versed in any of the Earth Sciences. But she had picked up a book here after the Vortex incident. The section wasn’t large. A big portion of it was taken up by a life-sized portrait of Lance Thunder, the local “weatherman” as he used to be known. Now he mostly just got called out to Ghost Fights. He didn’t seem very happy about it.

Danny looked over the books briefly, picking up a very fancy book that seemed promising. It’s title did seem to insinuate that at least one of the articles had something to do with atmospheric changes. But…

“What is it?” Danny said, looking up at Jazz.

“I didn’t say anything,” Jazz replied, a little too quickly.

“You didn’t have to. You don’t think this is a good choice,” Danny sighed, putting the book back into place.

“Well, no. I guess not. I think it might be a bit too broad for what they are looking for. But then again, what they are looking for is very specific. Maybe we should look at the engineering section first. Mom and Dad usually make their own stuff. But maybe there is something in there similar to what they want and they can base their designs on that?” Jazz said hopefully. Danny slumped.

“Fine, lead the way,” Danny said, slightly disappointed. Jazz squeezed his shoulder in sympathy, before they walked over to the engineering section. They passed by the small kids section on the way there.

As with everything else in the store, the kid’s section was education oriented, with science being the predominant field. There weren’t any kids here, probably because of the time. Jazz paused as something caught her eye. There on a display was the book version of Bearburt, Bearburt Knows It All. Jazz looked at the book wistfully.

Back when she was a kid, she was enamoured with that book. She had seen it at the old bookstore when she was five or six years old. She had skimmed it with her tiny fingers, seeing how the book encouraged her to be smart and to study. And to never stop questioning. She read it three times just while they stood in the store. Jazz had begged her Mom to buy it at the time, but she hadn’t gotten it. Mom had been distracted and instead of buying her the book, she had thought Jazz had wanted the stuffed animal that went with it. And Jazz didn’t correct her. Her teachers at school said she wasn’t supposed to correct adults, even when she was right. And so she had taken Bearburt home.

And she loved Bearburt. He had always been there for her. Through the kids that teased her in elementary school. To the crippling self-doubt she hid in middle school. She had thought she had grown out of him when she hit high school, when everything seemed to be working out according to plan. Even though Bearburt had helped her out through all of those hard times, it was the book that had given her the courage to be herself, even when others didn’t approve. To finally speak up for herself when she saw something wrong. And maybe she got a lot of grief over the years for being a know-it-all, but she was happy with who she was.

“Um, Jazz? You okay? I’m supposed to be the space case, not you. Remember?” Danny asked, shaking her gently. Jazz blinked rapidly. “That’s like twice. I didn’t think waking you up early would turn you into a Zombie.”

“I’m not a Zombie. I’m fine. I just remembered something.”

Danny hummed in response, a single eyebrow raised.

“So, the engineering section. This way,” Jazz directed. Danny watched her closely a moment longer, before shrugging off the distraction.

The engineering section was much larger than the section geared towards earth science. Jazz couldn’t be sure, but she imagined it was probably because of the constant destruction in Amity Park. Interest in engineering would likely soar when people wanted to find a way to create city infrastructure that could withstand the force of a giant glowing dragon being suplexed into the road. Or at least that seemed logical.

“That’s a lot of books,” Danny eyed the aisle warily.

“Yeah,” Jazz agreed, scanning the titles. She gestured to one section. “I think those are mostly geared towards Architectural Engineering, so we don’t need to look through those.”

“That still leaves a lot to look through,” Danny sighed. “Oh well, better start.”

The siblings began grabbing books and looking through them. Most of them were collections of articles instead of just being books on one subject, so they couldn’t just read the dust jacket to get a sense of what was inside. Many of the concepts were foreign to Jazz, but she was able to parse out the jargon well enough to get a sense of what was not what they were looking for. The problem was that they didn’t know enough to say if any of the few options they considered would actually be helpful.

“ Status and characteristics of diagnostics on Korea Superconducting Tokamak Research seems like a good option. It details what would work and what wouldn’t work with their design, so that might be a good place for Mom and Dad to start,” Jazz mused, looking at the journal entry.

“Yeah, but wasn’t it published in like 1996. Isn’t that kind of old?” Danny asked.

“Yeah, it’s not ideal . But they mostly just need a starting place. You know that they don’t stick to a blueprint from start to finish very well.”

“But what about this one? Pressure and interaction measure of the gluon plasma came out in 2010, wouldn’t that be better?” Dany said.

“Do you know what gluon plasma is?” Jazz asked.

“No,” Danny admitted.

“Me either,” Jazz sighed. “Who knows if it is similar to ectoplasm or not.”

“Maybe I should just get both?” Danny ventured, before wincing at the price. “Or not.”

“Yeah, academic titles are pricey.” Jazz said apologetically. Danny just hummed in agreement.

“I think I will go with the first one. The one about Korea Superconducting. If it’s the wrong thing, I think she would still enjoy that one more? She said something about superconducting at some point, ” Danny sounded unsure. Jazz hugged her little brother.

“Why touchy?” Danny complained. Jazz just squeezed him tighter.

“Big sister,” Jazz explained.

“Ngh,” Danny wriggled out of her hands. “I'm going to go buy this. You can go look up a book on personal space.”

“Rude,” Jazz called after her brother as he sprinted off towards the checkout. Or she thinks that’s where he was heading. He was going the completely wrong direction. Jazz chuckled. The red-head then put back the small pile of books she and Danny had pulled out, before heading over toward the psychology section. Maybe she could find a book on personal space just to irritate Danny. Actually, that was a good idea. Read a chapter of it here or there out loud until Danny stopped pestering her. Turn his own joke against him.

She noticed the ectobiology section as she made her way through the store. The section was probably bigger in Amity than it was in any other city. Most of the covers sported a massive orange ‘F’ on the front. There was probably twenty years worth of research, countless hours spent by her parents locked in the basement. Researching and inventing and writing papers, day after day. Even now, it wasn’t uncommon for Jazz and Danny to not even see their parents for a few days, their schedules causing the family to be like ships in the night. She wondered if they would ever get tired of that. Did they miss Jazz and Danny? Because Jazz found herself more and more missing them.

Maybe she should pick up a new book on childhood development instead. She passed the ectobiology section and found her way into the psychology section. They had actually restocked since she was last here! She soon found herself lost in a psychology journal article about sibling rivalry and didn’t notice the minutes ticking away from her.

“There you are! Dang it, why is this WAP so complicated to navigate?” Danny said, startling Jazz out of her focus.

“How long is it going to take you to get bored with that joke?” Jazz said, slamming the book closed and replacing it on the shelf.

“Depends. I still say the 'Road Work Ahead' line every time I see one of those signs,” Danny shrugged. He was grinning, and he swung the plastic shopping bag around lazily.

“I know. And there is one on every block,” Jazz bemoaned. She grabbed her brother by the shoulders and marched him toward the exit. “Why do you think I gave you directions the way I did this morning? So much construction.”

“You were trying to deprive me of Road Work signs?” Danny gasped, trying to turn around to stare at his sister. She kept pushing and ignored the false hurt in his voice.

“I was trying to keep you from having to maneuver through a construction zone your first time driving,” Jazz retorted. She was lying, so sue her. He literally said it every. Single. Sign. There are twelve on 4th street alone. “Sometimes I think you let yourself get thrown onto the road just so they put up more of those signs.”

Danny went strangely quiet but Jazz had grown adept at reading the silence.

“You don’t try to destroy the road so they put up more of those signs, right?” Jazz asked.

“I mean, I didn’t before. But you have such good ideas, Jazz.”

“No. Uh-uh. If I get any indication that you are letting yourself get curb stomped for a meme , I will lock you in the thermos for a week and just suck ectodogs in there for you to eat. That has to be the stupidest form of self-harm I have ever heard of,” Jazz chided as she pushed Danny out of the Weird Aca- dang it. Now she was doing it. They now stood in the mall proper. It had grown much busier in the time they had been inside the store.

“Was there anything else you needed here?” Jazz asked, Danny shook his head. “Then let's drive over to the grocery store and you can find something to bake for Mom.”

Danny lit up and held out his hand. Jazz fixed him with a stare.

“I will only let you have the keys if you promise me you will not intentionally get yourself thrown into a road,” Jazz said.

“Jazz,” Danny whined. “Sometimes I have to get thrown into the road. It’s better than getting thrown into the nursing home or doggy daycare or something. Sometimes the road is the best option.”

“Okay,” Jazz said, noting to process that later. “No intentionally getting thrown into the road for a dumb joke.”

A passing couple gave her an odd look, which she ignored. Danny put his hand over his heart, left hand in the air.

“I, Daniel James Fenton, swear not to let myself be thrown into the road for a dumb joke,” Danny said seriously. “Now gimme.”

Jazz sighed, and gave her brother the jangling mass of metal. He tossed it up in the air and caught it once more, a smirk at his sister.

“But you said nothing about a great joke!” Danny smirked, before sprinting through the mall. Jazz took a second to react before she chased down her brother.

“Danny Fenton, get back here with my keys!” She yelled.

~~~

Danny Fenton did not, in fact, get back there with her keys. When she made it to her car, her brother was already inside on the driver’s side. He was buckled with both hands on the wheel and beamed at her when she came into sight. Jazz glared at him and his smile dimmed. She marched over to the passenger side and slammed the door as she got in.

“...You know I am not really going to throw myself into the road for a joke, right?” Danny asked hesitantly, sinking down into the seat. Jazz sighed.

“I hope so. But sometimes you say something as a joke and then you actually mean it. I just want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. The things you do...they are completely out of my depth, little brother. They don’t sell any books on how to handle this. I know what you do is important, but can you please try not to stress me out so much?” Jazz begged.

“Sorry. I guess I took the joke a little too far,” Danny said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I promise, Jazz. I’m not going to let myself get hurt for some dumb reason. Jokes aside, I really don’t want to find out if I can die all the way.”

Jazz leaned over to give her little brother an awkward hug. He leaned into her. The moment passed and Danny grinned at her like the chaos gremlin he was.

“So, grocery store?” Danny asked. Jazz just smiled and turned around to make sure he didn’t back into anyone. Her brother eased out of the parking space, the mall in the rearview mirror.

The grocery store wasn’t all that far away from the mall, so it was a pretty short drive. Honestly, Jazz had been considering just walking from the mall to the supermarket. But Danny seemed to be having so much fun driving that she didn’t bring it up. The closer they got to the store, Danny’s smile grew and grew. Jazz thought it was bordering on maniacal.

“What’s with that face?” Jazz asked, suspicious.

“What face?” Danny tried to straighten his grin into one of innocent confusion.

“You know what face. Why are you making that face?”

“I don’t know what you mean. This is just my face. My normal human face. No need to attack me about it,” Danny cackled.

“Okay, you’re making a pun. I hear that in your voice. But I have no clue what joke you are making,” Jazz said as she stared at her giggling brother.

“I’m just getting in the zone ,” Danny snarked. Jazz was about to grill him about his behavior when she saw it.

“Oh no, they didn’t,” She said, horror struck. Danny expertly parked the car so he didn’t crash from laughing.

“They did,” Danny gasped, tears dripping down his cheeks. His face was as bright as a tomato as he continued to laugh. Jazz gaped, torn between being insulted by the misuse of government resources and amused by the absurdity.

On the side of the road was a very new sign. And as Jazz looked around, she could see that they were scattered everywhere. How had she missed them? The sign was a bright yellow equilateral triangle with the vague silhouette of a blob ghost, eyes glaring menacingly. Underneath it said-

“Ghost Attack Zone? What?” Jazz was flabbergasted. Danny clutched his stomach.

“I know!” He choked out between giggles.

“What does that even mean? Ghosts attack everywhere!” Jazz threw her hands in the air while Danny just continued to laugh. Jazz tried to stay strong and be the serious one, as usual. But she couldn’t do it. She caved, snorting and laughing with Danny. The siblings leaned into each other and guffawed until their sides hurt. Whenever they tried to get ahold of themselves, they would make eye contact and suddenly they were both back to clutching their sides and gasping for breath.

“Oh Ancients, do you think you can use this against Walker?” Jazz mused when she was finally able to control her laughter. Danny looked awestruck and grinned.

“Sorry, Walker, this is not a Ghost Attack Zone. Attacking me is against the rules,” Danny mocked the absent ghost. “Oh, I have no clue if it will work but I am absolutely doing that. I can’t wait to see the look on his face.”

“I think you can wait. We don’t need him showing up right now. It’s almost noon,” Jazz chided. Danny smiled.

“Would you say it’s High Noon?” Danny drawled.

“That meme is as dead as you,” Jazz rolled her eyes as Danny once more lost himself in a peel of laughter. “Can you please get a hold of yourself and drive to the store? The parking lot is right there!”

Danny held his breath, trying to contain the laughter as he drifted back onto the street. He pulled into the parking lot and began to look for a spot. Jazz pointed one out to him.

“There is one! It doesn’t have anyone next to it so it is a good place for you to practice.”

“I’m not parking there!”

“Why not?”

“The parking lot seagulls are there, minding their own birdy business. Are you trying to get me to commit birdy genocide?" Danny asked aghast.

“They will move when you get close to them.”

“But then they might not like me anymore and take their poop-fueled revenge. I don’t have the gull to make them my enemy. We’re birds of a feather !”

“How does that even remotely make sense?”

“I mean, they're white, they fly, and most of Amity Park thinks they’re a menace when they mostly just want to eat cheese fries,” Danny listed off, slowly passing the seagull mob. “Oh, and they are from the Ghost Zone.”

“What do you mean they’re from the Ghost Zone?” Jazz said, rubbing her temple.

“How do you think a bunch of seagulls end up in a city in the middle of Minnesota? Random transient portals,” Danny nodded sagely.

“Are you making that up?”

“You’ll never know.”

Jazz did not like not knowing things, but Danny was stubborn. Even though Jazz pestered Danny well after the car was parked, Danny refused to budge on elaborating. He just smiled mischievously. Jazz stewed, but it was fine. Danny may be afraid of bird-related vengeance, but she was an older sister. And she knew how to wait. And he should be more worried about Jazz related vengeance.

The siblings entered the store, Danny quickly grabbing a shopping cart. Jazz held onto his shoulder so he wouldn’t zoom off without her. Even so, she was having to speed walk to keep up with him.

“So, what are you planning to bake for Mom?” Jazz asked.

“Um, that’s a good question,” Danny slowed his pace. He looked at her with big pleading eyes. Jazz sighed.

“Well, I know she likes key lime pie but-”

“Great! Key lime pie, it is!” Danny said, successfully zooming away from his sister toward the produce aisle. Jazz wanted to scream, but she walked at a sensible speed after her little brother.

Jazz didn’t like key lime pie all that much. She had plenty of evidence as to why it was the inferior dessert in the Fenton Household. For one, it was green. Or, green-tinted at least. It made it very difficult to tell if it had been contaminated in the refrigerator by her parents' ectoplasm samples. It was made doubly hard by the citrus sour taste, something that limes and ectoplasm shared. Though limes didn’t usually have that battery-acid aftertaste as well. Not unless they had been left in the Fenton Fridge too long. On top of it, Jazz just didn’t like sour things. But if she were to honestly examine her distaste, she may dislike sour things because she had eaten so many ectoplasm contaminated meals.

Danny was still in the produce aisle. Jazz frowned as she watched him grab different fruits and stick them in the cart. He hadn’t even grabbed any of the limes yet. But he was going along, grabbing item after item at seemingly random.

“What are you doing?” She asked once she caught up to him. He looked at her seriously, before slowly reaching into the cart and solemnly handing her a bright red apple. Jazz just stared at it, before looking at her brother suspiciously. He was leaning over the cart.

“I just wanted to apple-ogize for driving you bananas today,” He pulled out the yellow fruit and put it on top of the apple in her hand. Jazz looked at the fruit expressionlessly. “ You kiwi-ckly agreed to go shopping with me, even though apricot to buy Mom’s gift. I cherry-sh our currant relationship, and think your grape for en-durian my jokes. And I will try to not take you for pomegranate again because we make a great pear. ”

As he spoke, he piled each named fruit into Jazz’s hands, who just stood there looking at the growing mass of food she held. When he had finished talking, she had a small fruity hill precariously balanced in her arms. She looked at her brother.

“Are you done?” She asked. He looked at her sheepishly, before sitting a single avocado on top of the pile.

“I couldn’t think of a pun for it in time,” Danny admitted. Jazz just stared at him. And took a deep, steadying breath.

“Why?” She asked. Danny shrugged.

“Fruit was there,” Danny said, as if it explained everything. Which it didn’t. But Jazz was going to at least pretend to be the bigger person.

“Please just put them back,” Jazz begged. Danny grinned as he pulled each fruit out of Jazz’s hand. “Where did you even find a durian?”

“Sam.”

“...were you just carrying that in your pocket?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jazz,” Danny scoffed. “It was in my backpack.”

“Right. And you are carrying a durian around with you because-?” Jazz prompted, handing over the last of the fruit to Danny.

“They are smelly,” He said, brows furrowed.

“Danny. Please. Explain it to me. Use your words,” Jazz begged.

“It makes it easier for Cujo to find me. Strong smell. And also he really likes playing fetch with them,” Danny shrugged. “Hey, can you go grab the stuff for a pie crust while I put all of this fruit back? We are in a hurry, you know.”

Jazz really wanted to explore how he had found out that the Ghost Puppy enjoyed durian, especially since she wasn’t sure if living dogs could even eat the fruit safely. Was he just chucking random fruit for the dog to chase? There was a story here. Not to mention it wasn't something usually found in the local stores but-

“What kind of pie crust?”

“Um, I guess a graham cracker crust? I don’t know how to make other kinds,” Danny said, still holding his fruit pile. “I think the graham crackers are in aisle eight.”

Jazz turned to walk away, keeping one eye on her brother and making sure he put the assorted fruit back in their place. He seemed to be doing just that, after sliding the durian back into his backpack. She walked past the baked goods. Danny was getting good at baking, somehow, but she would still prefer any of these store bought goods to key lime pie. She tried not to eye the cute little tiramisu that was placed right at the front, wrapped in a hard plastic box. She really liked the little cake, but never found the time to make it. Wait, she was getting distracted. Jazz blinked away the thought and walked briskly to aisle eight. Danny was right. This did have the graham crackers.

It took some time for Jazz to find Danny again. She had taken a detour to make sure he had actually put all of the fruit back in their correct place before catching up with him by the eggs.

"Don't we have eggs at home?" Jazz asked. Danny shrugged.

"I think so. But they have probably been in the fridge for a week so-"

"Ah. Yeah, better not chance it," Jazz nodded.

"Yeah. I guess I could still take a crack at it, though," Danny snickered.

"Oh my god, Danny-"

"You gotta learn to take a yolk , Jazz," Danny drawled out her name. "Don't be so hard-boiled ."

"I'm getting rid of you. I am going to Vlad's house and giving him your birth certificate," Jazz deadpanned. Danny gasped dramatically. "Danielle can just come and live with us. Upgrade."

"You wound me! Also, Ellie's puns are worse than mine, so not much of an upgrade there," Danny shrugged, grabbing a dozen eggs and putting them in the cart. "All that's left is the sweetened condensed milk. What even is sweetened condensed milk?"

"It's just milk that has been heated to remove some of the water from it, with sugar added," Jazz grabbed the cart from her brother and started pushing it toward the baking aisle. It forced Danny to walk at a normal pace. "You know you could have asked me to grab it while I was getting the graham crackers, right? They are in the same aisle."

"Of course I knew that," Danny said, his tone saying he very much did not know that. Jazz chose to drop it. They grabbed the can of sweetened condensed milk, Jazz physically holding her hand over Danny's mouth to prevent another infernal pun. Danny licked her hand, so she did the mature thing and rubbed his spit on his face. When an adult turned down the aisle, Jazz straightened up. She angled the cart toward the registers, but Danny stopped her.

"Let's do the self checkout," he complained, tugging on her arm. She shook him off.

"Do you see how many items we have in this cart? That would be so annoying! The cashier-run register is better."

"Noooo,"Danny whined. He leaned all of his weight on Jazz, causing her to stumble. "Self checkout, Jazz!"

"Seriously? You're going to knock me over," Jazz complained, trying to push her brother off of her.

"Sounds like a personal problem," Danny said, continuing to hang off of Jazz. Jazz was severely tempted to just let him fall on the floor, but that was probably not the correct response to have.

"If you want to do the self-checkout so badly, I am not going to help you. You can do it yourself," Jazz huffed

"Okay," Danny chirped, standing upright immediately. "Why don't you wait in the car while I check out?”

Jazz was going to argue against it, when inspiration struck. A little bit of pay back for her baby brother. She smiled sweetly at him and gave him a kiss on the head. He sputtered and gagged at the show of affection as she turned on heel to head for the car.

It didn’t take her long to set up her revenge. She had kept it on the backburner for a while, a small plan to be enacted when the time was right. Preparation was key. So she waited primly in the passenger seat of her car, giving occasional glances to the storefront. She saw her brother heading toward the car, half a dozen bags hanging from his arms (with one tiny one clutched in between his teeth). She unlocked the trunk as soon as he got close, letting him put the groceries in before slamming it shut with a thud. Danny slid into the driver’s side, grinning from ear to ear. Jazz did her best to hide her excitement as he buckled his seat belt.

“Why are you making that face?” He asked, suspicious.

“Face? What face?” She asked, knowing she was failing to hide her excitement.

“You are worse at keeping secrets than I am,” Danny said, staring at her.

“If you say so. But we need to get going if you are going to get ice-cream,” Jazz said, deflecting.

“Uh-huh,” Danny said, still suspicious. He shifted the car into reverse, and both he and Jazz turned to make sure he didn’t hit someone as he pulled out. He drove through the parking lot, slowing to wave at the flock of seagulls that were currently tearing apart a deli sandwich. He pulled up to the road, about to turn when Jazz made her move.

“Why don’t we listen to some relaxing music on our way,” She said, all too innocently. She turned the volume up, the unmistakable sound of flute and harp warbled through the speakers.

“No,” Danny cried, horrified. His mouth fell open as he stared at the car’s radio, not moving even though he was clear to drive.

“ Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling~ ” The car crooned. Danny groaned loudly, trying to drown out the lovely soprano voices of Celtic Women.

“Jazzy, please! Have mercy on your brother!” Danny begged.

“I have know idea what you mean, Baby Brother,” Jazz said, grinning. “You can turn, you know. There isn’t anyone coming.”

“Jazz!” He cried. “Please.”

“Come on, don’t get distracted. Just think of that frosty treat, cold core ghosty. Go on,” Jazz mocked. Danny fake sniffled as he pulled onto the road.

“Jazz, this is torture. I hate this song! You know I hate this song.”

“What? You hate this song? This is brand new information. I guess I was due to learn something new since you refused to tell me about the seagulls,” Jazz said. “Here, I’ll change it for you.”

Jazz pressed the button that would change the song. A soft organ played a delicate melody.

“ Oh Danny boy -” sang Johnny Cash.

“Jazz!” Danny yelled. “Jazz, why?”

“Oh dear, it seems like this entire CD is made of only covers of the world-renowned Irish hit Danny Boy . Who would make such a thing?” Jazz grinned as her brother expertly stopped at the redlight. “Great job, Danny. You’re doing great.”

“Please, just kill me Jazz. This is cruel and unusual punishment,” Danny said, reaching to turn the car radio off. Jazz slapped his hand out of the way.

“Both hands on the steering wheel, Mister,” She admonished.

“Jazz, I’m sorry! Yes, the seagulls came through a portal. But they are just birds. Please just stop this torment,” Danny yelled over Johnny Cash.

“So interesting, little brother. I am really glad you told me,” Jazz said. She clicked the radio. A fiddle introduced the Daniel O’Donnell version of the song. Danny made an inhuman noise of distress, causing goosebumps on Jazz’s arms.

Jazz directed him, sometimes yelling over the Irish tune to make herself heard. Danny moaned and groaned, throwing quite a tantrum over each iteration of the song as they faded into the next. His driving did not reflect his words, though. Jazz only had to correct him slightly, warning him that he was drifting into other lanes here and there. She considered asking him about the “not-legal driving” he had insinuated, as it really was impressive that this was his first time. Instead, Jazz sang along happily as her brother screeched his displeasure. Before they knew it, they were pulling into the ice cream shop. Danny was shrieking nonsense over the blaring music. A few people in the parking lot gave the car an odd look.

Jazz flicked the radio off, but Danny continued to scream until the car was completely parked. She scrunched her face as the blaring noise.

“You good?” She asked, as he stopped for breath. He gave one more inhuman shriek before ceasing. He intangibly reached into the cd player and pulled out the cd, cracking it in half.

“I am now,” He smiled. Jazz rolled her eyes, before opening the car door.

Scream had really pulled out all the stops for their ghostly ice cream theme. She had only caught a glimpse when they had driven by before. Little blob ghost silhouettes were pasted on all of the windows, statues of some of the more well known ghosts were positioned around the building. Fairy lights were strewn around the outside, each one fitted with a little green ghost bulb. The very front had an almost to scale statue of Phantom, though anyone who actually got close to Phantom could see little mistakes in the appearance. They couldn’t stand there examining every decoration, though. They had groceries in the car.

“They just can’t get my nose right,” Danny whispered, causing Jazz to giggle. Jazz opened the door for her brother and followed him in. The walls were papered with articles about the different ghost attacks as well as drawn art of the different ghosts. Streamers hung from the ceiling, wrapped around themselves in such extravagant swirls and twists that the ceiling was completely hidden in the green and purple paper.  The ice cream was set up behind a counter, as any other ice cream shop would have it. But there were also shelves filled with different merchandise. T-shirts, cups, and hats with little ghosts. The logo for Scream clearly in view.

There was not a very long line, only about four people in front of the siblings. This gave them plenty of time to peruse the different flavors and options. It wasn’t a franchise, so they didn’t have as many options as a corporation like Baskin Robbins. Apparently, they even changed their flavors weekly. Jazz thought that was smart for the small time company. But she had to wonder how much money they blew on decorating the place.

Danny was cackling at the flavor names. Jazz just ignored them. More puns. Of course more puns. Did Danny give input for this place or was he just corrupting the entirety of Amity Park? It wouldn’t surprise her if puns became more popular because of a certain Ghost Hero’s penchant for using them in his witty banter. Witty in quotation marks.

“That will be $20.22. Will that be cash or card,” Jazz turned to where a worker was passing a cone to an elderly gentleman and what she assumed was his grandson. The older man whistled.

“That sure is pricey,” He said as he reached for his wallet.

“You get what you pay for. We only use the best ingredients,” The worker said unenthusiastically. The cashier waited for the elderly man to pull out his money, but the grandfather seemed distracted. He started telling the young whippersnapper about how things used to be and how far he could make a dollar go back during the depression. Jazz tuned it out as she continued to look at the options.

“Actually, Jazz. Maybe we shouldn’t do this today,” Jazz turned to Danny. He was looking away from her so she couldn’t read his expression. “This is probably going to take a while, and we do have groceries in the car.”

“It’s fine, Danny. There aren’t that many people waiting. We have time,” Jazz assured him.

“I mean, it is already getting late. And I still have to make that pie without Mom noticing. So maybe we should just leave,” Danny rubbed the back of his neck.

“We’re already here. I thought it was a medical necessity that you get some ice cream?” Jazz was confused. He had been so insistent.

“Yeah, but I think we should just go. We don’t want to be late,” Danny said, turning toward the door.

“Wait, Danny,” Jazz grabbed her brother’s arm. “We came all the way here. And I know you still want some ice cream so why-?”

“It’s nothing, Jazz. I just changed my mind,” Danny refused to make eye contact with her, but glanced over at the man still regaling the tired employee with the value of a dollar. Jazz followed his gaze, before it clicked. Danny was flushed with embarrassment, hand hovering over the pocket that held his wallet. A wallet she would guess was quite a bit lighter after buying gifts. One that was often empty because of ghost related costs.

“You know, I’m feeling really bad about subjecting you to all of those covers of Danny Boy . How about I pay for the ice cream this time instead?” Jazz said.

“Wait, you don’t have to do that,” Danny said, finally meeting her eyes.

“I don’t have to, but I am going to. It wasn’t very ethical of a future psychologist to subject my younger brother to musical torment. Even if it was my right as an older sister. Just don’t get it in my car. Besides, that Coffee Carnage ice cream actually sounds really delicious,” Jazz pulled Danny back over next to the display. Danny made another half-hearted attempt to leave but Jazz ignored him. “What are you going to get?”

“...I guess the Harshmallow Chocolate Chunk,” Danny sighed.

“Even you know that that pun is bad, right?” Jazz asked. Danny snorted.

“No such thing,” He chuckled. The line finally moved.

The siblings got their ice cream and Jazz grabbed so many napkins that the employees had to step in to limit her. The Fenton's walked out of the shop, eating their ice cream and heading for the car. Jazz decided to drive the remainder of the way home, and Danny did not object. It was a little difficult to eat ice cream and drive. And neither Jazz nor Danny felt comfortable with Danny attempting that on his first day. Jazz stuffed the napkins all around Danny to make sure that he didn’t drop the sticky chocolate marshmallow creation on her interior.

“Jazz, I’m fifteen not five. I’m not going to drop it in your car,” He rolled his eyes before fumbling his cone. He had to catch the scoop in his fingers as it threatened to tip off into his lap.

“Right, that makes me feel so much better,” Jazz said as she watched her brother lick his fingers clean. “If my car is chocolate-covered after this, you are going to wish that I still had that CD.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Danny saluted with his sticky hand. Jazz suppressed a groan and pulled out onto the road. She forgot to take an alternate route and soon Danny was pointing out every Road Work Ahead sign on the road. She felt the muscle in her eye twitching.

After threatening to shove her ice cream in Danny's face if he didn't stop, Danny focused on eating his treat. Jazz kept glancing at him from the corner of her eye. When Danny smirked like that, it usually didn't bode well. Even so, the younger sibling didn't pull anything even after Jazz parked in the Fenton driveway. Suspicious.

Unfortunately, Jazz didn't have time to grill her little brother on the mischief he was planning. As soon as the car was stopped, he shoved the final bit of his cone in his mouth (paper and all, ew Danny) had unbuckled and flung himself out of the car. Jazz watched as her brother scrambled to grab every bag at one time, nearly dropping most of them.

"You're going to drop the eggs," Jazz warned.

"No I'm not," Danny said.

He dropped the egg carton and they would have splattered on the ground if he had reacted even a moment slower. However, precariously balanced on his knee wasn't a super stable place to be. Jazz grabbed it from him, raising an eyebrow. He chuckled nervously, attempting to rub the back of his neck. But the plastic bag on his wrist slapped him in the face. Jazz bent over with laughter, which Danny joined.

Danny and Jazz walked into the house and straight to the kitchen. She started to put the eggs in the refrigerator, but thought better of it. Danny was going to use them soon anyway. She sat them on the counter and turned to the rest of the supplies. She reached out to unpack the groceries, when suddenly Danny was there blocking her way.

"I got this. You don't need to do that," Danny said quickly.

"I know I don't need to, but I want to. It's just a few things," Jazz said.

"Yeah, but you've already done so much! And I've taken up almost all of your Sunday. Didn't you have to do something for-um. You have a penpal, right? Or, er- the kid you tutor in English online. Weren’t you supposed to message them today?" Danny fidgeted. Jazz's eyes widened before she glanced at her watch.

"Oh, Ancients, you're right! I was supposed to message him twenty minutes ago!" Jazz said, she ran out of the kitchen. She called back "Let me know if you need any help!"

It turns out, her tutee was running late as well. So, no harm done. Jazz spent the next hour helping him, keeping a constant ear out for her little brother. Afterwards, she decided to get a little bit of her homework for next week done. She hoped Danny would come ask for help if he needed it. She hoped that he had learned that she was there for him. When she finally shut off her computer and walked down to check on Danny, he was placing the pie cautiously on the table. The whipped cream was a bit lopsided, but it looked cute.

"That looks nice, Danny," Jazz said. Danny beamed.

"Thanks. I had to cull some of the ectodogs in the fridge. They really wanted to take a bite out of me instead of the pie."

"Why don't I run upstairs and get my present? Then we can get Mom out of the lab to wish her a Happy Mothers day."

"Sounds good to me," Danny nodded. Jazz took a quick trip up to her room. She grabbed her perfectly wrapped gift and brought it downstairs. Danny had found a gift bag for the book, and it was sitting next to the pie. Jazz sat her gift next to the pie, as well. Before she could turn to the Lab, the door burst open and the heavily armed Fenton parents rushed out.

"Sorry, kids. You are going to have to find something for dinner tonight. We just got a call about a potentially haunted house over on Northshore. Don't wait up, okay?" Maddie Fenton said, rushing through the kitchen. Jack hot on her heels.

"Wait, but-"Jazz called after.

"No can do, Jazzy! A Fenton waits for nothing! Especially red lights," Jack Fenton called back. The front door slammed shut, and their parents were gone. Jazz just stood there, mouth ajar. Oh, Danny had worked so hard. And they were just going to leave? She turned to her little brother.

He was eating a slice of the key lime pie (how did he already slice it?). He seemed bored.

"Danny, I am so sorry-"

"Jazz, don't worry about it. We can give her our gifts later. It's not a big deal," Danny shrugged and took another bite of pie. "You want a piece?"

"Um, actually Danny, I don't really-"

"-like key lime pie? I know. I may be clueless, but I'm not blind," Danny grinned and pulled something from under the table. Jazz leaned forward to get a better look.

The little tiramisu she had seen at the store was sitting on a colorful platter. Jazz didn't know what to say.

"I just wanted to say thanks. You know, for letting me drag you all over Amity today. And teaching me how to drive. And for just always having my back, you know, in general," Danny rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as Jazz took the platter, still speechless. "You're a great big sister, and I love you. I guess. But if you tell anyone about this conversation, I will deny everything."

Jazz fingered the platter-no not a platter. The smooth surface was much too light. Gave too much under the weight of the tiny cake. She picked up the plastic box the cake was in and felt a wet prickle in her eye.

Bearburt Knows It All by C.L. Werk. Jazz gently sat the plastic box on the table and ran a finger over the shiny cover. She traced the letters slowly with her finger, just as she did the first time she read it. She looked up at Danny, who was fidgeting in his seat. He stuffed another bite of pie in his mouth. Jazz laughed wetly, and rushed around the table. She folded her brother into a tight hug, ignoring his protests.

“I love you too, Danny,” Jazz sobbed. Danny chuckled before hugging Jazz as well. Both relished the moment of peace their life so desperately needed.

Words are hard. It's hard to express only in words the love between two siblings. Because it wasn’t always tender. It wasn’t always kind. It was chaotic, and loud, and full of energy. Even with all the words Jazz knew, she knew that no word could ever explain the feeling in that moment. So she held her brother tight, and she would always hold him tight. Because he may drive her crazy, but she wouldn’t miss it for the world.

[barzzal]

when the ball drops

summary: out of all the times you wanted to bail, for once you were certainly glad you didn’t ditch this year’s new year’s eve party.

↳ pairing: mathew barzal x you

↳ warnings: language, parties, drinking, flirty banters + a smitten mat (set in a pandemic free au)

↳ genre: fluff, meeting a total stranger, early 2000’s romantic/comedy typa thing (what i think at least)

↳ length: imagine; 5.9k

↳ masterlist: the barn

note: this is an entry for @hockeynetwork’s winter fic exchange and i was matched as @bqstqnbruin’s secret santa! i genuinely hope you get to enjoy this, boo!! i wanna thank a few mutuals, @tkachukme @calgarycanuck @pizzarandomness (esp @thirteenisles !!) for helping me out so i could get thru with writing this imagine! you guys are so nice i truly appreciate all of you. happy holidays & happy new year, everyone! 💕 (gif used: mine)

Every year you swear to yourself that you would spend the New Year’s at home, eating a peaceful dinner by yourself and maybe enjoy a good bottle of wine whilst you spend the whole night watching The Holiday. But just like all the other years you have spent alone since you’ve moved to New York, you end up breaking that same promise, pretty much with the help of your two best friends Emma and Katie.

Now, instead of being curled up in your living room, wearing your favourite knitted sweater and away from all the New Year chaos happening all at once in the very best place to celebrate such a festive occasion, here you are, getting your second glass of vodka tonic as you wait for the goddamn ball to drop.

The local bar has always been crowded especially during this time of the year. You and your friends already made it an annual thing which is probably the reason why despite the yearning you have for the idea of spending it all alone, you couldn’t find enough courage to ditch them and disappear even just for one night. 

“Where are the girls?” Gavin, the owner of the bar whom you’ve already befriended due to the amount of times you and the girls spent helping him close up was busily wiping the counter when you sat in your usual seat.

You casually motioned your hand to where you left Emma and Katie, dancing with men they’d most certainly end up kissing once the clock strikes twelve. 

“Alone again? You’ve got to blow off some steam, y/n.” He greets you with a concerned look exuding from his virile exterior. You idly shake your head, giving him a tight smile to reassure him that you were doing okay. 

“It’s not that big a deal.” is the usual thing you say to people when your being ‘alone’ on the holidays becomes in question. “Besides, I’m a big girl, Gavs.” You proudly announce, leaning against the bar with your palm resting underneath your chin. 

“I know you’re a ‘big girl’.” He rolls his eyes before his gaze trails off to your friends and then landing onto a couple of young lads from across the room. “I’m just saying, loosen up. Meet people. It feels nice to have someone holding you close at night so don’t be too hard on yourself.” 

A snort bursts from you as soon as you hear the words leave Gavin’s mouth. Who would have known a guy as tough-looking as him would be too much of a softy underneath? 

“What?” He holds his guard as he continues making your drink. The liquid swirling around a few ice cubes and a shot of liquor. 

“Nothing, nothing. I just– I didn’t think you were one of those people.” You say, clearing your voice once you’ve finally gathered yourself. “You know, the sappy romantics.”

Gavin looks at you, giving you an ‘Oh, please.’ look. “No, ‘cause that’s where you’re wrong.” He protests. “I’ve always been this soft, “sappy romantic” kinda guy. You just choose to see me the way you see me; a typical macho man who hands you good drinks.” He pauses, finishing off with the last touches of your drink. “But you know what? That’s fine. ‘Cause that’s how I know you’re just like me.” He then slides the cold drink towards you. 

“What do you mean?” You were intrigued to be fair. You already had your head tilted to the side trying to piece something that could justify what he just said.

“That.” He looks at you, index finger circling before your eyes to make his argument even more compelling. “You act like a strong independent woman, which by the way you still are,– but you have to admit that you do want someone who’s gonna want to spend his New Year’s watching that dumb old movie of yours.” He says with a grin before he pours another customer a shot of tequila. 

You were sure you wanted to just shrug it off, but somehow, you can’t help but think of how his words hit you in the subtlest way. Each word bearing an insane amount of possibilities of him being right all along. 

But what’d he know anyway? It’s not like he knew you better than anyone else. Maybe it’s just his way with words. Or maybe he’s just that good. After all, that’s basically the reason why he’s running a goddamn bar, right?

𖥸

It wasn’t Mat’s first time spending New Year’s away from his family but if he only had a choice, he’d certainly take the next plane with no question. However, given how the team’s fight for the Cup is going stronger than the last season, he couldn’t bring himself to risk going away and missing out on his usual routines. So, for the past couple of weeks he’d let himself be stuck with Beauvillier throughout the holidays. 

Now, for the sake of festivities, the two decided it’d be best to come out to the city and have fun welcoming the New Year along with some good friends that were surprisingly available at the last minute. That being said, the local bar was already the third one they’ve gone to having started the drinking binge earlier than intended. 

“Happy New Fucking Year, Motherfuckers!” The loudest and perhaps, the drunkest man cheered at the center of the dance floor, holding up his drink carelessly as he danced to the mind numbing EDM coming off from the DJ’s booth. 

“Way to get wasted. Am I right?” Dan says as he stands to gather everyone and clink their beer mugs for the nth time. 

“Somebody’s definitely gonna miss the ball drop.” Tito snides, referring to the drunken man cheering tirelessly. Mat shakes his head and idly laughs. Their glasses meet halfway, causing some of the beer to spill over the table. The loud music and cheers echoed in Mathew’s ears, finding the whole scene a little too overwhelming despite how he liked to loosen up with bottomless drinks coming his way. 

Somehow, he was thankful that he needed a second to breathe which only meant having to take his eyes off of the same guys he hangs with on and off the ice. Because if he didn’t, he wouldn’t have been able to see someone so beautiful yet seemingly out of place when his gaze landed onto that one girl sitting by the bar all by herself at what seems to be the loudest pub in the city. 

“God, she’s pretty.” The words unknowingly slip off his tongue, making him realize he’s announced his thoughts out for the group just enough to make their brows quirk at the now out-of-reach Mathew.

“What?” Anthony leans closer to him so as to give himself a view of what Mat had his eyes peeled for. 

“That girl by the bar, she’s— she’s really pretty.” Mathew says, completely sure that he has never said anything true in his life. Much to his surprise, the boys gathered around and turned their heads towards the girl sitting by the bar. 

“So? Go and talk to her, man.” Anthony casually proposes with a nudge, urging him to go after her. 

Mathew immediately lets out a foolish scoff and chooses to gulp a large amount of liquor from his mug. 

“Yeah, just go for it. What’s the worst thing that could happen?” Tyson chides, looking at the girl who has utterly made their night a little more interesting. That being said, being stuck with the three biggest blokes wasn’t that too interesting to begin with. 

“Oh, worst thing? She could hear me!” Mat runs a hand through his hair, incapable of taking his eyes off of her even just for a second. 

“You know if you don’t, I will.” Tyson puts his beer down and acts as if to make the move Mathew was too hesitant to do himself in order to boost his mate.

“Fuck off. Fine. Hold my beer.” Mat rolls his eyes and shoves Tyson his mug before gathering himself by straightening creases off his suit along with a few sharp breaths to ease out the nervousness he’d been feeling.

You watch the teeny tiny leaf of mint swirl around the whirl of liquor you’ve successfully made, ignoring all the background noise, still evidently fixated on the words Gavin has left you with earlier. Has it really been that long since you allowed yourself to be fully vulnerable around someone? 

A sad smile escapes your lips, one that made the man that was now towering all over you wonder what could have possibly caused such melancholy on the most beautiful girl he has seen all throughout the city. That’s a rather heavy way to put it but that doesn't mean he was lying. He did find you really pretty. Maybe even a little too much and too out of his league.

A tap on your shoulder pulls you from your thoughts.

“Hi.” He says, gray eyes illuminated by the strobe lights hitting your direction. You give him a tight smile, acknowledging his presence and frankly even the boldness he had to strike up a conversation. 

“I just wanted to ask if what you’re drinking is any good.” Mat subconsciously reprimands himself for coming up with what is yet to be the lamest thing he’s ever told a girl. 

Great. Now, you’re asking her if a vodka tonic is good? As if it could get any better? He thinks to himself. So, to compensate and reduce further damage, he plays it off by laughing quite sheepishly as he absent-mindedly massages his nape.

Noticing what the man was doing, you let out a shy laugh too, biting your lower lip as you find his foolish attempt of hitting on you quite adorable.

“Wow. You’re really good at this.” You tease, now giving away a playful smile, poking at his middle school pick up line. 

Mathew chuckles. His doe eyes shy and alienated by the confidence he certainly knew he had not until a few seconds ago when he met yours. “I swear I’m better than this.” He tries again, this time earning himself a soft giggle from you.

Atta boy, Mat. 

“I’m Mat by the way. Mathew Barzal.” 

He reaches out his hand which you gladly took. It was calloused and rough around the edges whilst Mat found yours completely fitting in his. Your eyes meet halfway as you both shook each other’s hands. Fingers lingering quite longer than it should be.

“Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.” 

“So, you’re telling me you haven’t had a tonic before?” You ask him, hands now all to yourselves. Mat leans against the bar, his elbow resting on the counter, unable to suppress the embarrassment now dawning on him upon remembering his little set back.

“I’m sort of a vodka tonic connoisseur.” He kids in an attempt to redeem himself. “Come on, it wasn’t that bad.” 

You look at him, shaking your head at how unbelievably gorgeous this man is. “Fine. It wasn’t. I’ll give you that.” 

“So,” He takes a deep breath before taking one of the empty seats beside you. “I– I can’t help but wonder, I mean– if it’s not too forward of me, how come you’re drinking alone on New Year’s?” 

You take a sip off of your drink and faintly shake your head, dismissing his query. “Hmm. Actually, no.” 

Mathew muttered an “oh.” at the thought of hearing what he thinks you’re about to say next. To his surprise, and frankly feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his chest, you motion towards your best girls, Emma and Katie who were now obviously way too fond of the guys they just met.

“See those girls?” 

Mathew nods, the answer to his question now becoming much clearer and put together. An answer that absolutely went along with his cards well. 

“Those are two of the most important persons in my life going at it at a New Year’s Eve Party.” 

“Would it be wrong to ask why aren’t you ‘going at it’ like how they’re doing it now?”

Is he always this formal? You think, lips curving to a grin. 

“What?” He asks when he sees the expression (he can’t quite put a finger on) on your face.

“Nah. I’m all good. I mean, not that I don’t want to. I just–” You pause. Unsure of whether telling him the truth would do your case any better. What’s there to lose anyway? He’s just some guy you’re bound to meet at the bar. It’s not like you didn’t anticipate a scenario like this from happening, right?

“Just take me as someone who isn’t really fond of big parties,” he then cuts you off and finishes your sentence, “But still go anyways.” 

“Exactly.” 

Gavin pops in for a bit, handing Mathew a bottle of beer he was certain of not ordering. He looks at him puzzled. A silent question that Gavin answered with a wink before getting back to tending to his alcohol induced customers. 

Apparently, it’s on the house.

“How come you’re here chatting with me when your friends are all the way there?” You motion towards a curly haired man and the other boys across the room. One was even smiling at you but you just opted on giving him a nod before turning your head back towards Mathew.

“Well, I didn’t like the idea of having you celebrate the New Year’s alone.” He honestly says. But since you were the kind of person who wasn’t the best at taking any type of compliment nor flirty exchanges like a normal person would, you roll your eyes and be the blunt person you were always known for. “Oh. I thought you saw a girl sitting alone at the bar and saw that as an opening.” 

To be fair, Mat wasn’t really intimidated by your remark. In fact, he actually liked how straight forward you were with him. You didn’t look at him the way he’s gotten used to whenever he comes up and introduces himself to other girls; something that only made him more interested in you. He can’t help but want to know what exactly is going on in your mind. Not the creepy kind, of course. Just the one where he’d rather spend the New Year’s getting to know a total stranger than getting insanely pissed with the same men he’s spent most of his days with.

“That too.” He admits, taking a sip off his beer without breaking his eyes off you. 

There was a sheer silence for a moment. The kind that Mat knew was much deafening than the booming sound of the usual dreadful New Year’s Eve Party. “So tell me,” Mat regains himself, catching your attention once again. “What would you rather be doing tonight? You know, if you hadn’t had to come out here.” 

He watches your lips quirk thinking about what it was that you actually wanted to do tonight. Then again, you only had one thing in mind. 

“I kinda wanted to spend it alone for the past three years.” 

“That long? How come?”

“Well, you know, for some peace and quiet. Maybe watch a movie or two.”

Like what he has been doing since the moment he’d gone to talk to you, he watches you run your fingers around the rim of your cold drink. Evidently immersed in your own thoughts from trying to piece out the real reason behind your grave wanting to spend the occasion alone. 

Turning the tables, you ask the same question back, “What about you? I mean, other than getting shit faced, what would you rather be doing?” 

Mathew takes a deep breath trying to suppress the longing he’s felt for the past few weeks. He just misses his family so much that he couldn’t help but wonder how they’re doing even if he’s constantly kept in touch with them hours before he’d gone out with the boys. 

“I’ll be with my folks. You know, all that usual family stuff.” He answers you shortly. 

You didn’t think much of what he’s told you so you just tell him the very thing that crossed your mind. “You know, it’s amazing how two people who didn’t even want to be here find each other just so they could bitch about not wanting to be here a little bit more.”

The two of you share a good laugh, utterly and undeniably enjoying each other’s company. It didn’t feel weird having to talk to a total stranger, let alone let them have bits and pieces of yourself that only enables them to put together an image of you that isn’t even as close to who you really are. Regardless of that notion, there was something about how Mathew connected with you, and how you connected with him. 

It was far from being the movie type of thing, but you have to admit, the remainder of the time you two have spent talking over a half empty bottle of beer and a glass of vodka tonic has definitely made the two of you feel this unexplainable wanting of having to learn more about each other. That being said, when all drinks were drunk till its last drop, Mathew couldn’t help himself from wanting to spend a bit more time with you. Maybe, even the whole night if you’d only let him. 

“D’you want to get out of here?” He shoots his shot as quickly as he could, afraid that losing even just a second would mean losing a night of spontaneity with you. 

You have long waited for a reason to miss the annual party. And if that meant having to wait three years just so you could stumble upon a tall and fairly handsome man that was going to save you from a dreadful evening, nothing would’ve felt as right as this if it weren’t for the push Mat had stored in his piercing eyes and mischievous grin. 

You didn’t have to give it much thought. After spending a whole hour exchanging little trivias of yourselves, Mat finally had it easy in making a riveting case. You sigh in defeat as you fish out a few cash from your purse and slide it into your tab. 

Excitement now exuding from Mathew, he bobs his brows up and down whilst he watches you roll your eyes once again for the hundredth time tonight. “I’m gonna hate you for this.” You tell him as you get off the bar stool.

Mat hurriedly signals Tito for his coat to which he was able to catch the moment he had tossed it towards his way. He then gets yours that was placed on the back of your seat before finally following you out towards the door.

“I highly doubt that.” 

𖥸

Mathew draped your coat over your shoulders, helping you to slip into it. You politely say your thanks and hold your purse close, your gloves gripping onto the leather as the two of you stroll the streets of New York, the winter breeze brushing on your cheeks with every stride you make. 

“So,” You begin, putting both of your hands inside your coat pockets. “Where are you taking me, Mat?” 

He tries to think for a second. The thought of not having a concrete plan for the night finally dawns on him. He clicks his tongue and breathes in the familiar scent of the city. Mathew looks around the block and spots the good old food truck he and the boys once tried when they were out for an away game with the Rangers. 

“How about New York’s finest burrito?” He points to where the truck was parked, clueless to how his sudden movement placed him inches closer to you. You didn’t notice it until you looked at him for his eyes were still pinned to where the truck was at. 

Mat’s eyes were pretty. That’s a known fact. But what you didn’t realize was how astonishing they are not until you got this close. You took in the sight sitting before you as fast as you could while he was still preoccupied like a five-year-old kid seeing an ice-cream truck pass by the neighborhood. Your eyes linger from his well structured brows, his unbelievably long lashes, down to the tip of his nose and his rosy cheeks before finally settling down to his cherry plump lips. All of which were more than enough to send butterflies in your stomach. 

“O-Okay.” You agree. Mathew takes you by the hand before you can even say a word. Thank the gods for letting you live in a city that seems to never stop the hustle to still have open food trucks good for a quick bite at this time of the night close into New Year’s.

“Hey, bud. Two sixes to go, please.” Mathew says politely once he knocks on the window. 

“You’ve got to try this, I swear.” He looks back at you with the same warm smile beaming on his face.

“Unless you want a proper meal? I mean, there’s a diner down the–” You immediately cut him off and take out your purse, offering to pay for it instead. “No! It’s fine, really. I’m a bit hungry myself.” 

After spending the whole time waiting for the wrapped snack, arguing on who would be paying, you let Mathew have this one for now even if you didn’t like others paying for what you can pay yourself.

You take a good look at your watch and see that you only have about an hour left till midnight. An idea pops in your head, making you gasp at the thought. Mathew looks at you with a half-eaten burrito in his hand, his brows all furrowed as if to ask a piece of your mind. 

“Come on, I know where we should go.” 

𖥸

Mathew never thought he’d found himself standing on a rooftop of a random building overlooking the Empire State during one of the coldest times in the city. The things that has only kept him sane was the girl who was still holding his hand, the city lights that have always left him in awe, and of course, the well heated rooftop.

There have been a few exchanges that are quite notable over the time you’ve spent with Mathew. He’s told you about the usual night outs he and the boys have for leisure, the family he had back in Coquitlam, how much he misses his mom and his sister, and how much love he has for hockey that he ended up doing the thing he loved most for a career. 

Him, on the one hand, pretty much learned the same stuff about you. Well, almost, for he has yet to ask you the one thing that has been bugging him off all night. 

You were telling him how this was your safe haven in the city and how much you loved going here every time you felt like needing to take a deep breath and step back from the world when he asked you a simple question. One that’s absolutely left you surprised (and a little bit impressed) that he still even remembered it at this point. 

“What’s the movie about? You know, the one you’ve been wanting to see tonight.” He asks, both of his hands inside his pockets to keep warm. 

The two of you sat on the bench facing thousands of lights illuminating the whole city. You look at him for a second, biting your lip as you contest with yourself, the thought of Mat being the kind of douché that would shit around women and their romantic comedy films comes rushing to you like a cold December breeze. 

“Alright, why do you want to know?” You pass the ball back to his court. To which Mat shortly answers with a level-headed sigh. “I kinda get the feeling it has something to do with the three-year thing.” 

“You’re nosy.” You kiddingly say, earning a chuckle from him. 

“You’ve spent the whole night walking with me and I can barely even feel my legs anymore, y/n. Trust me, between you and me, you know you’re the nosy one.” The two of you share a small laugh, your voices are the only sound that can be heard besides the sleepless city acting as a white noise to you and Mathew’s little bubble. 

“Fine. And you’re a fucking athlete, so don’t even start.” 

You playfully give him a nudge on the shoulder when he starts mimicking what you say. Mat stops immediately and looks at you with the same doe eyes glinting under the security lights that the rooftop had. He then patiently waits for you to gather your thoughts, breathing in all of New York as he lets himself drown in your presence. 

You didn’t know how but there was this unspeakable comfort you feel around Mat. Sure, he was just a total stranger you’ve met a few hours ago, but no one, not even the guy who dumped you after your five-date rule, was able to connect with you at the same level as Mathew did. 

“It’s not that I want to see it so bad. I’ve watched it for like– a reasonable amount before it became my comfort movie. Plus, it’s literally called The Holiday. Why wouldn’t you want to see it during the holiday?”

You tell him a bit more of how you’ve come into liking it, stalling him from the real reason why you wanted to celebrate the New Year’s alone. But you know, that even after all the circles you’re willing to go through just to keep Mat at bay, you’re bound to lose all your strings and resort to telling him in the end. You just hope you wouldn’t be making the same mistake you’ve made three years ago. 

You told Mathew about your on and off childhood sweetheart Claude who has always kept you high and dry throughout the years of being together. (That is if you were in fact together.) He was the constant reminder that you will never be the kind of person someone would want to stick around with.

You and him go a long way. You both ended up going to the same university because he just had to have you around and that he couldn’t afford not being with you even just for a second. He said that he couldn’t take the thought of having to see you only on the holidays so as the dumb kid you once were, your feet followed his everywhere he’d gone.

That cycle went on and on until you finally had the courage to leave everything behind and move to New York. Months as a new kid in the city, you were scared, of course. You spent your days hanging around your apartment, doing all sorts of crap you can even think of just so you wouldn’t have to leave your flat. Although, meeting Emma and Katie was the biggest push you needed to finally let yourself let loose. Long story short, at the first New Year’s Eve Party you’ve ever gone to after moving in the city, the person you least expected to see was the very first one to come out of Gavin's bar. Claude.

Just like what a normal person would do, the two of you sat down and caught up. Pretty much the same thing you’ve gone with Mathew. Although only a lot less chit chat and a lot more kissing.

Claude told you his real intentions. He said that he wanted to start something with you for real. Of course, you had let him but you have made the biggest mistake of telling him about your five-date rule.

Lo and behold, Claude did stick around for the fifth date. That being said, he had stayed only for the fifth date. You saw him sneaking out of your flat so early in the morning, leaving you nothing but a voicemail that said his foolish reasons and insincere apologies. Since then, after a lot of major hook ups here and there, you’ve never let yourself become as vulnerable and stupid as you once were with the biggest douche you’ve ever met.

“It’s crazy, I know. You can laugh about it.” You say when Mat hasn’t spoken for a few seconds. 

He takes a glance at you, a tight smile on his face. “I don’t think it’s crazy. That man is crazy. And also, a big prick. Classic dick move.” He tells you before he turns his eyes back to the city.

“Well, yeah. That’s me. That’s the holiday story.” 

“A crappy one, of course.” You add. 

Mat shakes his head no. He didn’t know why exactly but all he wanted to do at that moment, a few seconds before New Year’s, was to give you something,– even just a memory you could look back on. That that story isn’t going to be the one you’d be remembering for the next holidays. He wanted his to be something that’ll make your three-year-old crappy story long gone and forgotten. That his version would be the one that’s stuck.

“Definitely not this one.” 

As the clock strikes twelve, cheers erupted throughout New York along with fireworks shooting into the city’s midnight sky. The first thing you see upon looking back were the same kind eyes of the man whom you have randomly met at the party you dreaded most. Only this time, drowning you little by little as it becomes iridescent under the thousands of lights covering New York City.

You were frozen to your seat as Mat’s face inch closer to yours. You feel his breath against your cold skin as if it was lulling you to sleep. His hands find its way to your face, cupping both of your cheeks rather gently as he finally paints a new memory you’d be carrying for the rest of your holidays. 

“Happy New Year.” He greets you, almost like a faint whisper whilst the two of you gasp for breath. You blink a few times just to process what had just happened and digest how unbelievably good that kiss was. 

Mathew’s hands were still on your cheeks. You held them close so he’d know you weren’t ready to let go. You take a deep breath, gathering enough courage to ask him an unusual way of greeting someone a Happy New Year. 

“Will you walk me to my car?”

𖥸

You have both of your hands tucked inside your coat pockets as you walked the street leading to where you left your car. Mat was just telling you about the game happening next Thursday against the Bruins and how it would mean a lot to him if you’d come and see him play. 

“To be fair, the Bruins are good.” You commented, a playful smirk plastered on your face rather teasingly. 

Mathew lets out a snort as he rolls his eyes, chuckling at the thought of you dissing on his team the moment you had the chance. “Hey, both teams are good.” 

“It’s just the matter of who’s better.” You finish his sentence, yet again working your way with a clever remark. Mat hums, not necessarily agreeing with your sentiment. 

“So will you come?” He asks again just so he could hear you say yes. You take a deep breath, not letting yourself think too much of the said invitation. If you’re going, you’re going as a friend. Actually, you weren’t even sure if you could even call yourself such a label.

You nod your head yes to which had become the reason of Mathew’s glee. The two of you walked side by side in peace, basking in the comfort of each other’s presence. 

Once the rush of excitement about you coming to one of his games starts to wear down, Mathew begins to feel the weight of walking befall on him as it grows quicker with each step he takes. With his brows meeting halfway, he looks at you, eyes evident with confusion. 

“Where did you park your car exactly? I feel like we’re walking straight to Long Island.” He chortles, scratching his temple quite adorably.

You bit your lower lip as you looked up at him. Mathew’s physique towering over yours. “I uh– I took a cab to the party. My car’s actually parked outside my apartment.” You admit with a shy laugh.

Mat’s mouth went agape upon hearing you confess; awkward silence envelops the two of you with every second spent not talking to one another. Not long after, he decides to break the ice, undeniably impressed at how he’d never seen it coming.

Clever. He thinks, incapable of stopping his gut from swirling. His smile widens when he sees you looking at him; unfazed and perhaps, enamoured. 

𖥸

Mat did walk you to your car. The two of you exchange your thank you’s; utterly grateful for what has to be the best New Year’s you had in years. 

You wanted to ask him for one last cup of coffee because the last thing you wanted him to do was leave. But after all the things you’ve gone through with the man within such a short amount of time (and frankly, even a tedious walk) you still failed to muster enough courage to stop him from doing so. 

Once you see him get in the lone cab that miraculously passed by your neighborhood at such an ungodly hour, you close the door behind and head straight to your flat. 

You get home to the sight of your weighted blanket spread over your couch along with a couple of pillows that seems to be the best place to bury yourself in after a tiresome night out. Things were just as they were left hours ago; prepped for a much awaited movie night. As planned, you quickly get out of your winter clothes, head for a quick shower, before finally slipping into some comfortable nightwear.

You were just finishing up putting the bowl of popcorn and a bottle of Chardonnay on top of the coffee table when a buzz coming from the intercom catches your attention.

Once your hands were free, you quickly made your way towards the box, a bit irked at the thought of Katie and Emma ruining your long-overdue New Year agenda upon remembering how she’d told you to let her in the building just in case Katie gets a little too overboard. 

“Emma, I’m about to watch Jude Fucking Law. Just come up!” You hurriedly say, turning your head back to the screen which already had the movie on pause. 

However, instead of Katie’s whiny and drunken voice, what you heard was the same familiar chuckle that had been cruising your mind all night. 

“You know, I don’t think I mentioned that I haven’t watched The Holiday. Is Jude Fucking Law any good?” He asks. A mental image of how his eyes crinkle when he laughs comes to mind upon hearing his voice. 

Once again, pretty much like how you’ve spent the whole evening with Mathew, a wide smile lets loose as you press the black button. “Come on up.”