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[neiptune]

I think there's been a glitch

c/w: 6k wc, wedding date trope, friends to (possible) lovers, mentions of alcohol, mentions of cheating, levi's smoothness has your brain short circuiting

Just as expected: you’re hating every second of it.

You love your family, you really do. Doesn’t matter how loud and overexcited and nosy they are, it’s always nice to take a few days off to travel back home. Sometimes it’s for birthdays, minor special occasions, surprise visits. Nothing was spontaneous about this specific occasion, though. Train tickets were bought months in advance, your dress picked facetiming your mom (she insisted), your arrival highly anticipated by aunts and uncles and cousins and old friends all coming together for the most significant event of the century: your little brother’s wedding.

To be absolutely honest, the day had a good start. Waking up at dawn didn’t bother you, not with the nutritious breakfast your mom had prepared and the excitement stirring behind your brother’s tense smile. The wedding was agreed to have a mix of traditional shinto-style (to please the bride’s family) and more laid back, western-style influences, something your family has always been accustomed to, given your dad’s roots.

The ceremony held at the shrine was emotional even for you. Hiromi looked gorgeous in her uchikake, gold threads and foil with motifs of waves and cranes standing out on a bright crimson base. You watched them drink the sake and exchange cups first, then vows and wedding rings. It was so hard to process than the man getting married was the same kid who once pooped himself in his crib at daycare and then proceeded to take off his diaper to play with the poop like it was play-doh. Sweet, sweet memories.

Everything started going downhill at the fancy hotel where the reception was set to be held.

The convention room is blinding in its beauty: white pillars, draping fabrics, pretty fairy lights and elegant floral arrangements compliment the venue and the minimalist but luxurious style your families decided to go with. You’re not foreign to wealth, your parents have worked hard to grant you and your sibling a comfortable life and you’re grateful for them. What you don’t like about your family, is how for your aunts and uncles and cousins, everything should constantly be tied to money and profit. Which is why they all turn up their noses when you reply to the dreaded “what’s your job again?” question. Which is why, at every family reunion, you’re forced to sit with your younger cousins and take part in the salary conversation (they could literally compare and brag for hours about raises and bonuses and working overtime and paid vacations). Which is why Aiko, already CEO of a join-stock company at her young age, had first introduced you to one of the employees from the financial department.

Floch Forster was certainly attractive, a real gentleman who’d take you out for fancy dinners, casual dates and fun rides on his flashy, red porsche cayenne. You liked him but your family had always liked him more, your brother going out for drinks with him, your dad inviting him over more and more frequently to watch baseball games or ask for help for the restoration of his old kawasaki ninja, a project he’d been working on for a while.

In the end, the relationship simply didn’t work out and you broke up with him in the most amicable way possible, the time spent together still worth cherishing. You were just too different from each other: his interests not matching yours, his friends way too stuck-up, his parents looking at you like you were some kind of gold digger.

But that’s when he became petty, cruel even, mocking your dreams, deriding your aspirations, sharp edged phrases and words thrown your way so harshly they still dance around your brain from time to time.

Are you surprised by his presence at your brother’s wedding? No. You knew he’d be invited, they’re still friends and you never really told your sibling how the separation actually went down. Is it shocking that he’s here with a pretty brunette anchored to his arm? Also no. He might be an asshole but he’s hot and rich, two qualities weighing pretty damn heavily on the bachelor scale. He’s also the main reason why you’d asked your painfully stoic, blasé friend to accompany you to the reception.

Yes, it was both a childish and desperate move, but you were willing to take drastic measures to save face before your very much extended very much elitist very much expectant family after the fatal phone call with your mom where you’d suddenly blurted out that you’d bring a special someone with you to the wedding.

Your love life (aka currently a big big void made of emotional unavailability & crippling loneliness) was yet another topic open to be attentively scrutinized by those around you. Normally you don’t mind, you really don’t, but just this one time you wanted it to be different. As much as you try not to let it get to you, the facts are that your younger brother is now married, your hot rich ex boyfriend has probably already proposed to his new girlfriend, you still haven’t been given the raise you were expecting and it plainly just sucks to be alone at weddings. It’s the fourth one you have attended on your own now and you can tell by your aunt’s sympathetic gaze and your cousins’ knowing giggles that you’re not gonna be able to push the he had to attend an emergency meeting with external partners lie any longer.

Frustration makes your stomach churn. Why couldn’t he have indulged you just this once?

“Oh, come on”

“No”

“Please!”

“Still no”

“I can beg”

“You’ve been begging for the past ten minutes”

“I can beg better?”

Levi’s resolute glare didn’t soften like it did on the rare occasions when he accommodated your requests.

“Why do you even need this?”

You heaved a deep sigh over his obstinacy, index finger lazily tracing the edge of the steaming cup in front of you. You’ve always been a coffee person but his is the only tea you’ll drink.

“D’you want the honest answer or the pathetic, moping one?”

He raised an eyebrow with a far too evident interest that had you rolling your eyes.

“Both”

“Well, if you must know, it’s because I’m a lame, lonely, disappointment of an adult who’s scared of facing her family’s overcritical comments and knowing glances at her younger sibling’s wedding” you paused to take a deep breath “that and the fact that I already lied and said I was gonna bring someone and my perfect ex everyone loves so much is gonna be there”

Levi slowly took a sip from his own cup, the classic bergamot flavor notes lingering with tantalizing velvety softness on his tongue.

“They both sound pathethic and moping to me”

You shrugged with a weak smile.

“They’re both honest, too”

“You’re gonna be fine” he pushed the little plate of shortbreads towards you.

“Did you hear the part about my perfect ex?” nevertheless, you accepted the cookie offer and, much to your friend’s horrified expression, dipped one into your tea prior to taking a bite.

“Give him my love” Levi ignores your frown and, more importantly, the annoyance he felt listening to you belittling yourself so blatantly.

“Okay” a defeated sigh leaves your lips as you take another cookie “not sure why I thought you’d get it”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Mouth still full, you gestured vaguely with your hands, tiny crumbs attached to your fingertips catching his attention for a split second before you speak again.

“Why would you? You’re a functioning adult. Should’ve asked someone as fucked up as me, maybe Reiner from the marketing department will—”

“A functioning adult?” Levi cut in, tone oozing with skepticism “that’s new. You usually refer to me as the clean freak with a stick up his ass”

“Which you are” your clarification is met with another glare “but you wouldn’t understand what being lame means”

“How so?” he challenged, eyes narrowed and some sort of weird warmth in the pit of his stomach he didn’t know how to shake off.

“You have your shit together, Levi. M’sure your family wouldn’t shoot sympathetic gazes your way if you showed up to your brother’s wedding on your own”

“I don’t have a brother”

“Not the point” you let out an obnoxious groan as you slightly pushed the empty cup away and dropped your head to rest on your overlapped arms, forehead pressing on the soft fabric of your sleeve. Levi sat still, grey eyes fixed on you.

“You’re not lame, idiot” no one else would’ve been able to tell that his tone had gone softer “I’m not dating anyone either and you still think I’m a functioning adult”

Exasperated, you turn your head so that your cheek is now pressed to your wrist as you glare at him.

“But that’s your choice. You don’t like anyone. While I had three of my coworkers come to my desk just to ask who the handsome dude passing by to bring me a homemade bento box was”

Half a smile dripping with smugness tugged at his lips, one that caused you to roll your eyes again.

“Don’t even” you warn, already gagging at the idea of him considering to visit you at work more often “forget I said anything. I’ll handle it”

As Levi inched across the table to flick your forehead and then got up to collect your cups, you had to quickly whisk away the thought of how much your family would have genuinely liked someone like him too.

On second thought, it’s not really fair to blame him. You might not be a greatly functioning one, but you’re still an adult. You can face something as trivial as the disappointment of multiple generations of your family, right? Either way, it would’ve felt wrong. It would’ve been awkward. Levi is stiff, way too cold, the opposite of cordial. He would hardly be credible as the good friend he actually is, let alone pass for a boyfriend. Has he ever even dated someone? You’re sure he has, given how weirdly popular he is. Yeah, there was one girl, what was her name again? Petra? Ugh, he hardly shares anything truly personal with you anyway. Sure, you can guess he’s a good partner. Handsome, kind, talented enough to cook killer meals, maybe even good in bed. It just wouldn’t hurt him to be a little more… amicable. But maybe that’s what women find attractive? The fact that he’s like this weird, interesting secret thing to continuously discover and unwrap until it suddenly turns into the perfect, passionate lover any woman wants to end up with?

The champagne you’re downing at the hotel bar is proving to be a wonderful ally, although your mind currently seems to be wandering a little. Or it was, at least until a familiar, awfully close and quite frankly unsettling voice causes a harsh return to the pathetic reality you’re trying to escape.

“Drowning your sorrows in alcohol? You haven’t changed at all” the venomous smile on his face is so painfully familiar it has your insides twisting right away.

“I’m really not in the mood, leave me alone” you mutter, not even sparing him a glance as you stubbornly focus on the golden bubbles popping in your freshly filled flute.

But Floch takes a seat right next to you and elegantly orders two martinis.

“Shaken, not stirred” he adds, to live up to yet another clichè. You can hardly suppress a snort.

“I would argue you already are. Alone, I mean” the rhythmic drumming of his fingers on the mahogany counter distracts you for a few seconds. When your gaze finally meets his, the fake sympathy glistening mischievously in his amber eyes almost has you barfing on the spot.

“Where’s your trophy wife? Is she even legal?”

Unperturbed, Floch smiles sweetly at you.

“She reminds you of yourself, doesn’t she? A young dove in need of rescue, held captive by the wrong guy” he inches closer, smile growing wider “but she’s nothing like you. You’re too exhausting to love, no one in their right mind would choose that”

And just like that, memories that cut as deep as razors make their way back to you right then and there.

If you really want to lose weight you shouldn’t eat the free bread at restaurants.

I feel like you’re faking this just to make me feel guilty.

You’re not that attractive anymore, you know that?

I’m sorry you feel that way.

Could’ve done so much better than you all this time.

Now I don’t feel so bad about having cheated.

The flute in your hand might very well shatter from how tightly you’re holding it, knuckles white as two drinks gracefully slide in front of you. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid, not him entirely but letting him know that he can still get under your skin.

“Fuck you” in a final, desperate attempt at playing off your discomfort as indifference, you hold him level in your gaze, a boldness so weak it has him chuckling.

“Am I interrupting something?”

You both turn to your right, the shock laced into your features comical enough to be met with a patient, slight smile.

Levi looks nothing less than dashing in his black suit, hands buried in the pockets of pants you wouldn’t even think he’d own. Since you’re pretty sure the alcohol has you hallucinating at this point, you open your mouth to voice your surprise, Floch’s presence long forgotten and filed away at the back of your mind. But right before you can sabotage yourself with dumb, unnecessary inquiries, Levi takes a step forward and with one, swift motion, cradles your cheek in his hand to gently press his lips to your forehead.

“Sorry I’m late” he murmurs, fighting back another smile before the dumbstruck way you keep looking at him.

“We haven’t met” Levi’s eyes follow the voice and flicker to the person sitting next to you. That’s when you snap back to reality once again. Goddamn, maybe the champagne wasn’t that good of an ally after all.

“We haven’t” he replies and Floch introduces himself, offering a hand that never gets shaken. Levi gives him a nod instead, a silvery gaze cold as steel you’ve never seen him direct to anyone. Perhaps that’s why it makes you shiver.

“Should we go? I’d like to meet your parents” his voice is kind as he looks at you again and you accept the support of his hand to hop down from the barstool. He doesn’t let go as he guides you away from the hotel bar and lightly squeezes your hand even if it’s cold and clammy.

“How are you here? When… why?” you whisper, still unable to shake off the shock of his sudden, unexpected presence.

“Stop asking dumb questions and play your part”

That’s more like it, you think. Thank god for the infuriating, irritating tone and impatient glare. Their familiarity will certainly be enough to ground you despite the warmth you can still feel on your forehead, right where his lips were pressed a few seconds earlier.

But then he looks at you again, head slightly tilted to the side, eyes slowly taking in your figure so blatantly, in a way so uncommon for him, it has the same warmth from before exploding in your chest as well.

“You look very nice, by the way”

Fuck being grounded, apparently.

The champagne is no longer buzzing in your veins but it might as well be since your mind feels all over the place and you haven’t had a single second to collect your thoughts. Not in the middle of so many introductions, your mother’s obnoxious questions, your very much tipsy aunt’s inappropriate jokes, the microphone you had to approach and the speech you had to give in front of hundreds of people, one of them always focused on you with such intensity you won’t have to rewatch the videotape at family reunions to know that words came out ungraceful and wrong.

To be honest, the most unsettling thing is how smoothly the whole thing is going. It’s not weird, it’s definitely not awkward and he seems to be in complete control. Staggered, you’re left watching with wonder floating in incredulous eyes, a Levi you don’t think you’ve ever met before. It’s so effortless, the way he speaks to people he’s never met before and manages to come off as interesting, witty, charming. He’s smiling, he’s even respectfully offering elegant chuckles to uncomfortably personal questions and stories you just know he doesn’t actually think are funny.

As you dine at the table filled with curious old friends and noisy cousins, for the first time able to stay silent as all the attention is directed towards someone other than yourself, a weird thought crosses your mind. Levi, your friend Levi, fits so well. He’s perfectly at ease around chatty strangers, bold roses, tea lights and candles in clear metallic holders. How’s that even possible? The Levi you know, your Levi, curses under his breath if his usual barista tries to make small talk. He grunts if the cashier at the cinema chirps an overly excited hope you enjoy the movie, sir. You literally know he’s once replied to one of his clients’ email with please stop hoping your email finds me well, it never does.

So who’s the person sitting next to you, warm knee flush against yours underneath the table, features relaxed, pink tinted cheeks, courtesy of the cabernet sauvignon you’ve been served? It has your head spinning, the thought of him enduring a 4-hour train trip (he hates trains) to reach a town he’s never been to (he hates Kobe and its humid, subtropical climate) to attend a wedding (he hates social gatherings) as your date. What had him changing his mind? When did he change it? How is he so good at coming off as this bundle of… of… confidence and magnetism and graciousness?

He’s been impeccable so far, going as far as to bring a shugi-bukuro envelope with 50.000 JPY inside as a wedding gift.

Isn’t that what they’d expect from the groom’s sister’s partner?

Clearly, you have every intention of giving him that money back. As soon as you recover from the sudden and absolutely unexplainable embarrassment you feel every time his eyes flicker to you during a conversation or the shudder that runs down your spine when his hand gently presses on the small of your back to guide you from one table to the other, as different family members and friends of yours excitedly motion you to approach them.

It doesn’t have anything to do with him specifically, you tell yourself. It’s just the shame you must be feeling at carrying out such a pathetic act in front of everyone, it’s the awkwardness of having forced one of your closest friends to go out of his way to support your stupid, childish plan that now has you feeling all weird and vulnerable. Levi is not being his usual self and that makes you uncomfortable because you’re not allowed to be your usual self in turn. No sarcastic remarks, no witty comebacks, not a drop of the usual teasing you enjoy annoying him with.

It’s not him, it’s the whole setting. That’s what you tell yourself when Levi asks you to dance.

“Why?” you come off as defensive and he furrows his brows, confused.

“Because it’s what couples do at weddings?”

“We don’t have to” you’re not sure what you’re doing at this point “you can’t even dance”

He huffs at that, inching a little closer to casually lift the strap of your cocktail dress, cool fingertips barely brushing the skin of your arm as they guide the thin length of fabric up to your shoulder. The simple, intimate gesture stirs something in you.

“Are you coming or not? He’s watching”

You follow his gaze and meet Floch’s, three tables to the left. At this point the thought of him seems so worthless, so distant in time, you don’t even care about his judgmental glare anymore. But you don’t have the chance to make that clear, because your date whispers a soft “come on” so close to your ear his voice seems to trickle down your spine just to make you shiver and then offers his arm as an invitation for you to get up.

Regular you would’ve mocked the gesture, called him a victorian ghost or something. Current you, on the other hand? Apparently she’s accepting the support of his arm and can barely register Aiko’s excited squeal as she follows him all the way to the different couples already filling up the middle of the convention room, too disoriented to even remember she is the one who can’t dance. Still, the upbeat rhythm of the song being played is familiar enough to give you a false sense of security: you can wing it. Until you can’t. Because right as you position yourself in front of your friend with a tense smile, the familiar beat is abruptly taken from you. The music doesn’t stop, it just has the audacity to change into an excessively romantic, exceptionally slow, sappy track.

But Levi doesn’t look as dazed as you. He doesn’t waver as he pulls you close with one swift motion, right hand warm on your back while you barely have the time to balance yourself, fingers tightening around the fabric of his jacket, right above the shoulder.

“You’re being weird” he clasps your other hand, one eyebrow raised in that overcritical way of his.

“You’re being weird” you parrot back.

“What d’you mea—fuck” he curses as quietly as possible when you stomp on his foot, looking down for the first time to notice how weirdly and out of step you’re actually moving.

“Shit, sorry!” you, on the other hand, are not as quiet and attract the unwanted attention of the couple dancing nearby.

“What exactly are you doing?” Levi’s tone is familiarly mocking, which takes some of the weird awkwardness away.

“I’m not really good at this, okay?” you retort, praying your harsh reply remains private this time. Amused, he hums.

“No way”

“Shut up” you whine and accidentally step on his expensive leather shoe again, hard enough to make him hiss.

“Just follow my lead” Levi gives your left hand an impatient squeeze and you scoff with a theatrical ugh.

“Sexist”

He rolls his eyes but says nothing because you comply and honestly try to keep track of how he’s moving, intensely focused on not trampling on his foot again.

“Hey” his voice is dangerously soft once again “eyes on me”

Reluctantly, you look up from your feet and take a deep breath.

“Why are you this tense?”

“M’not a good dancer” you blurt the words out, as if to convince yourself. He’s noticed, of course he’s noticed. Idiot.

“Okay” Levi stops for a moment and gently grabs your wrists to guide your arms around his neck. He then positions his hands on your hips and applies the slightest pressure to guide your movements. “Better?” he asks and you know he’s just wondering if this is easier for you, but the dryness of your throat seems to be taking over your ability to speak. You resort to a simple nod as he sways to the beat, feet barely lifting while stepping from side to side. You get accustomed to the movement after a while and manage to move your body slowly back and forth, the comfort of not feeling like a wooden block allowing you to relax a little.

“How are you so good at this?” it almost sounds like you’re accusing him, must be why he cracks a smile.

“Took a few classes with Hange, they were obsessed and had no one else to go with”

You’re finally able to let out a genuine, incredulous laugh.

“I’m sorry, what? So you just joined? Goodness of your heart?”

Levi shrugs.

“They had to buy me lunch for a month. Totally worth it”

There’s mirth glistening in his eyes when the pressure of his hands changes slightly, the left one tightening on your waist to subtly guide you in the opposite direction. Has he danced like this with Hange as well? If yes, did they feel as flustered and ridiculous as you’re feeling? Probably not, because they’re friends and friends should not experience the weird body reactions you seem to be having at the moment, goosebumps blossoming underneath his fingertips, the staccato of your heartbeat, blood wooshing in your ears. Fuck.

“Tense again” his eyes are narrowed now, but not in his usual, threatening way. He’s studying you, looking for something he can’t seem to pinpoint amidst your dazed expression and sweaty hand. He would’ve been grossed out by anybody else’s palm but this is you, so Levi can’t really bring himself to give a shit.

“I’m sorry” you murmur and the sudden, sheepish route catches him off guard. You’re avoiding his gaze, eyes focused on something, somewhere over his shoulder.

“For what?”

“This whole charade” you whisper the last word, head hanging low just an excuse not to look at him “I’m so pathetic you felt bad enough to drop all your plans, come all the way here, be perfect and nice to everyone, spend so much money and I can’t even dance…” you sniffle, horrified by the sensation of being on the verge of bursting into tears in the middle of the dance floor.

Levi is silent long enough to prompt you to timidly look up from your shoes again. You’re worried he’s gonna be mad because what the hell, this is what you wanted. You asked him to do this for you and now it’s too late to whine about how sorry you are. But he doesn’t look mad. His features are unreadable as you return his gaze, which stirs a whole new kind of nervousness in you.

“I’m going to twirl you” the gentle warning takes you by surprise as Levi takes your hand from behind his neck, steps back a little and lifts your arm above your head. A bit stiffly, you turn around under it.

“Again” he prompts, arm already guiding you through another twirl. You comply, so clumsily a chuckle slips past your lips and Levi cracks another smile as you balance yourself against him, arms around his neck once again.

“See? You can dance” he mutters with a tone so soft it makes your heart squeeze.

“Please” you scoff, voice still a little broken that just won’t. Do.

Levi hums to himself, like he does whenever he’s trying to come to a decision.

“Let’s dip”

Your eyes comically grow in size.

“Let’s not?”

“I’ll do all the work” he playfully gives your hip a light squeeze to emphasize his words “you just have to let go”

“I’m not exactly good at letting go” you hope he can sense the warning in your tone but all you get is another eye roll.

“Yeah, I noticed” his tone, unlike yours, is weirdly serious “d’you trust me?”

Oh, well, putting it that way surely isn’t fair.

“Unfortunately, you’ve given me a reason or two to do that” you heave another sigh, defeated. Another smile tugs at his lips.

“I’m gonna do it slowly” he reaches behind his neck to grab your hand again, while his fingertips rise from your hip to your upper back.

“Twirl” Levi gently spins you again and his touch is featherlike when it glides down your side, grazes your stomach and settles on your lower back as you turn around, warm palm pressing firmly against it. The hand holding yours anchors your arm around his neck, then finds place on the nape of yours.

“Now, relax” it’s barely a whisper, so close you can’t hold back a shudder he pretends not to notice.

You soften your knees and then, with a movement so swift and natural, you’re turned to the side and pressed flush against him for a second, nestled in his embrace before you shut your eyes and Levi gently dips you, one of his strong arms secured around your waist to support your weight, the hand sustaining your neck tightening around your hair for a moment so brief you think you’ve imagined it.

He pauses as if you weigh nothing, then slowly brings you up again and you open your eyes, brows furrowing right as he lets completely go of you and the warmth of his arms is taken away so abruptly.

“You okay?” you didn’t think you’d be the one asking the question but something seems to be bothering him as he returns your confused gaze.

“Yeah. Can we take a break?” still weirdly well mannered, you find yourself thinking as you agree to make your way to your table again. Only he stops you right before you can take a seat next to Aiko, who’s blatantly gushing over you’re not sure what, precisely. Is it him? Or the weird dance that had you looking like a complete fool in front of everyone?

“How long before the cake?” he politely asks your cousin and she shrugs, not even attempting to hide the wide grin stretching her lips.

“Maybe around ten minutes”

“Permission to steal the groom’s sister for around ten minutes?”

Aiko’s chuckle isn’t enough to distract you from the tightening of your chest, something not entirely unpleasant swarming around in your stomach when he slips his fingers in between yours.

“Permission granted” she winks and you still, for the life of you, cannot understand why your heart flutters as you follow him outside the room, away from the party and the music and the chatter and all those happy, proud glances you’re no longer able to return because of how embarrassed you are by your own lie.

“Where are we going?” you bring yourself to ask, finding it exceptionally odd that he’s waiting for the elevator.

“My room”

“What? Why?”

Levi turns his head to look at you, eyebrows furrowing at your strangled tone.

“I forgot the wedding gift on the nightstand”

“Oh” you let out a nervous chuckle “right. And why d’you need me for that?”

“You look like you’re about to throw up, thought you could use a few minutes away from the crowd”

Well, he’s not wrong. But that doesn’t mean he gets to know.

“Dunno what you’re talking about” you flash him a fake smile and he skeptically hums as the doors open and you step inside.

Of course his room is located at the top floor of the building, where all the suites are. One thing about Levi is that he likes treating himself: whether it’s shopping from brands that produce top quality loose leaf teas, selecting premium suiting fabrics or always ordering the most expensive red wine at a restaurant, his taste is impeccable. He travels first class and only stays at 5-star hotels, so you really shouldn’t feel the guilt pangs stinging like needles in your throat when he swipes the key card through the magnetic reader and swings the door open. You shouldn’t feel so bad while taking in the king size bed, the LCD tv, the additional area with armchairs and a whole sofa, the private balcony. But you do. And when he turns to look at you, still standing by the door with a heartbreaking, bashful expression taking over your features, Levi clenches his jaw.

“What are you doing?” you ask as you watch him slide the balcony glass door.

“So many questions” he prompts you to precede him with a slight tilt of his head.

“What about the gift?”

Levi hates seeing you so defensive, so upset. He’s not used to that weird self-consciousness, not when you’re with him at least. Didn’t he come to obtain the exact opposite of what he’s getting? Isn’t he here to shield you from embarrassment, uneasiness? Why are you persisting in your stubborn shame?

“I get around ten minutes, remember?” he attempts a smile your tense features choose not to mirror. You sigh softly instead and, still uncertain, accept his invitation.

Outside the air is cool, a balm for your feverish skin. The balcony furniture includes two wooden armchairs, one small coffee table and a small couch. You plop down on the latter, not even having the energy to properly appreciate the beauty of a sparkly Kobe right at your feet, silhouettes of skyscrapers standing out against the night sky, the flickering lights of the harbor shining in the distance, tower so familiar you’d recognize it from a mile away. It’s home.

“So” Levi makes himself comfortable next to you, the breeze gently combing his hair back “wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

Plenty is wrong, the most urgent matter being the overpowering attraction you’re feeling for one of your closest friends. It’s fine, no use lying to yourself any longer. Maybe it’s always been there, underneath all the teasing and the jokes and his rare smiles that always felt like small victories you got to collect and preserve in your memory at the end of each day, when  you’d often replay the hours spent together as pretty movie frames in your mind right before drifing off to sleep. But it’s easy, playing weird feelings off as regular familiarity that comes with friendship. You just didn’t think this night would make things feel so different, so good.

He’d be a great actual date, a wonderful actual boyfriend too, probably. He’s already a wonderful, actual friend. One that dropped everything to rush to the rescue of annoying, silly you, seemingly an adult but really a scared excuse of a grown up who can’t confront her family on a matter as trivial as not being in a relationship. It’s mortifying, really. You wouldn’t think it’d feel that humiliating, especially not in his presence.

Slender fingers delicately close on the fist you don’t realize you’re clenching. They’re warm as they try to make their way underneath yours, a silent plea for you to let go of the fabric clutched in your hand.

“I already told you” your hand lets go at last and slips easily from underneath his touch, the silk of your carefully picked cocktail dress wrinkled already.

“You feel guilty about me dropping all my plans, coming all the way here, beng perfect and nice to everyone, spending so much money…” he’s being playful but the teasing doesn’t elicit the eye roll or chuckle he was hoping he’d get. Your head just hangs lower, chin almost pressing to your chest, as if you’re trying to curl into yourself.

“About that, you’re gonna accept a complete refund. Train tickets, this room, wedding gift, everyth—”

Levi cuts you off by grabbing your jaw and turning your head towards him, eyes narrowed in a familiarly impatient gaze. He can’t believe the nonsense you’re sputtering out, the weird formality of it all.

“Stop that” his voice vibrates with determination and words are forced to die in your throat as he inches closer, grip loosening ever so slightly “you keep looking at things and seeing the opposite of what they are”

“So what, you didn’t spend a fortune to be here?” you challenge and he sighs, as done as a person can humanly be.

He lets go of your jaw but you don’t pull back.

“You asked me to be here”

“And I’m trying to apologize for it!”

God, you’re wearing him out.

You get up from the couch and, out of frustration, rest your back against the railing, palms behind you pressed on the cold, metal edge. Levi is looking at you so intensely you’re tempted to turn around and just take the view in to calm yourself because this is going downhill enough to become a fight and fights with Levi are never pretty. You should know.

“Remember the reasons you put forward to try and convince me to come?” his calm tone is such a sharp contrast to his hardened features, it takes you by surprise.

“Pretty sure I called myself lame and pathetic quite a few times” you shoot him a frown.

“Yeah” he gets up as well “then I end up actually getting here and guess what I found?”

You let out a dry laugh, one with not an ounce of humor embedded in it.

“A version of me worse enough to be brought in your room to hide?”

Two well measured steps and Levi is in front of you right as you cross your arms in defense.

“The version of you I already know” he retorts, exasperated “beautiful, intelligent, clumsy. A functional adult with a family that loves her very much”

“You’re drunk” you breathe out but it’s yours the head that’s spinning. Somehow, Levi knows. At least that’s what you guess when he steps closer, arms effectivey caging you against the railing as he slightly leans forward.

“Hardly” he mutters, pensive, and you swear his eyes flicker to your lips for a second “you don’t see things for what they are. I didn’t see a perfect ex, just a self entitled asshole. Didn’t meet hypercritical family members, just old-school people who are unyielding in their affection for you. I could’ve stayed home, honestly, you seem to be bothered by me the most”

“I’m not bothered by you, don’t be fucking stupid” you blurt out, saliva levels down to zero at this point. What is he even doing? Why is he so close, why does he smell so nice and where the fuck is that wedding gift?

“Ah, there she is” Levi offers a soft smile “had me missing her all night”

He then moves a strand of hair away from your forehead and the pads of his fingers linger on your temple, then barely graze your skin as they travel all the way down to your cheek and along your jaw.

You’re unfamiliar with this version of him. It’s a version that compliments the one that’s met your family and friends, the wedding date you’ve been lucky enough to score. This version knocks the wind out of your lungs and has your knees weak.

But then something happens, the snap of invisible fingers and, just like that, the magic wears out. Your skin is left burning and his arms set you free as he takes a step back and shoves his hands in his pockets.

“I had a good time so enough with your guilt-ridden bullshit”

You’re barely able to catch your breath, still dizzy from the change of the overall mood. Perhaps he’s right and you’re the drunk, hallucinating one.

Levi slides the balcony door again but goes back inside first this time, leaving you little to no time to pull yourself together or calm the pounding of your heart. He collects no envelope from the nightstand before you both leave the room, a burning sensation churning in your stomach as you follow him down the hallway, feeling utterly boneless when you stop in front of the elevator. Maybe that Petra girl did have a point.

“There’s still one thing you probably haven’t noticed about me” right as a ding echoes in the empty hallway he turns his head to look at you, standing a few feet behind “I’m a terrible fucking liar. Wouldn’t convince anyone if I tried”

[sulemiozine]

We're so excited to announce preorders for Save the Date: A Sulemio Artbook are now open! Please see below for additional bundle information and stretch goals!

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[curlicuecal]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Homestuck Rating: Teen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Dirk Strider/Gamzee Makara, & etc Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, soul bonds, shadows as familiars/daemons, Humanstuck, Demonstuck, marriage discussions, Stress Baking, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known Series: Part 20 of Shadowbound AU Words: 9.5k Summary:

Frowning himself, Dirk glanced at the card Gamzee was holding, a fancy thing with gold foil scrolling all around the edges and elegant script. You are cordially invited to the wedding of Dirk Strider & Gamzee Makara! There was a note in pen at the bottom of the invitation. I gave you a chance to get there first and you dragged your heels, lil bro. It's my show now. - Bro - In which Bro precipitates a crisis, and a lot of baking.

*drops some new shadowbound on your dash*

[brinkworth]

Married at First Sight by @tracingpatternswrites

I have been looking forward to these binds for months. @marley1031 and I knew long ago that we wanted to do a set of Mal's work, but couldn't decide which ones to do! We settled on starting with these three. (Which turned into four!)

I was hooked into reading Married at first sight from the very first chapter. Remus muttering "fucking hell" into the mic when Sirius walked down the aisle looking drop dead gorgeous, was perfection. And it just got better and better with each chapter. This fic was just so fun to read.

I originally had a different design in mind for the cover, but when I talked to Mal, and saw some of her inspiration for where the wedding would have taken place, I was immediately inspired to do something different. We went with seafoam green bookcloth, and black foil for an upscale English country wedding vibe.

For end paper, we did a cornflower blue toile print that I just adore.

For the back, a wedding invitation in the same black foil.

Gold foil gilding on the edges, and a gold ring charm on the bookmark to match.

My absolute favourite parts of the bind, are the praise quotes we collected from friends and the foreword written by @squintclover. When we sent out asks for people willing to help us add love notes for these fics, everyone jumped at the chance to gush about how much they loved Mal and her writing! This is the first time we've done forewords in a bind, and it was so much fun. I am sending the biggest thank you to Rory for being so amazing!

And lastly the biggest thank you to Mal! Your writing is a true joy and we had the best time working on these! ❤️

You can see the others in this set here if you're interested: Wilder than Mountain Thyme, Unbound by you, and Over Blackened Water.

[annachum]

Edwina Sharma back in India

So since it's confirmed that Edwina and her mom did go back to India in Bridgerton S3, here are several of my HCs of what happened after that

. After returning to Bombay , Lady Sharma pulled some strings for Edwina to become a new lady in waiting of Empress Lai Bal, the 3rd chief Consort of Emperor Akbar II of the Mughals

. Edwina was thus sent to Agra to live with her relatives there, all the while getting herself accustomed to the luxurious Mughal Imperial Court

. She also came to meet Akbar II's numerous wives and many children. One of them was Khorshed V, one of the Princes of the Mughals

. Throughout her time in Agra, she takes cues on how to navigate the unpredictable waters of the Mughal Imperial Court, made powerful allies in Agra, and also connecting with her relatives.

. She became gradually closer with Khorshed V, who is a foil and parallel to Anthony Bridgerton. He is a handsome Prince with caramel skin, big caramel brown eyes, thick eyebrows closely knitted together, curly dark reddish brown hair, and a buff physique. He is brave and valiant, yet somewhat arrogant and somewhat spoiled ( especially at first )

. Edwina gave the Prince a window to what a simpler life is like

. The two came to bond over a shared love of poetry and diplomacy, and began courting.

. The House Sharma is one of the Hindu clans in the Mughal Empire, so the eventual marriage of Edwina and Khorshed V is one of the several Hindu - Islamic marriages in the Mughal Empire

. They got engaged in a lavish engagement dinner in that spring ( aka the same year Colin and Penelope got married ), with their relatives in tow at witness.

. The Mughal Royals didn't know much about the heartbreak drama in London then. Edwina's inner circle in India knew, they kept it hush hush about it in the wider public, because in Ancient India, a failed engagement/wedding/marriage can literally risk civil wars between clans.

. Sometime after they got engaged, Khorshed V one evening visited Edwina in her engagement boudoir and asks her about the gossips he heard of Edwina in London. He never blamed her for what happened in London- He just wanted to know the truth

. And Edwina just broke down in sobs and told Khorshed V EVERYTHING. And they tried their damn best to comfort each other and reassure their love for each other

. Next day after thar, Khorshed V's Mughal relatives in tow have a literal argument of that London disaster, and Khorshed V stands up to his relatives that he will marry her and that what happened to her in Londo isn't her fault in the first place.

. Both decided on a monogamous marriage btw

. A few weeks after Colin and Penelope's wedding, the Bridgertons in tow are all invited to attend the Royal wedding of Edwina Sharma and Khorshed V.

. The trip to India is such an eye opening experience to the Bridgertons. They came to find out more of the cultural differences between India and England, got themselves accustomed to sitting on cushioned floors, and also visited Kate's lovely childhood mansion in Bombay before going to Agra.

. Well, Khorshed V and his Mughal relatives didn't trust Anthony at first ( cuz of the whole drama in Bridgerton Season 2 ). But with some help from the Sharma sisters, Khorshed V and Anthony came to vibe with each other as friends/allies, and the Mughal Royals in tow came to trust Anthony more

. At that point, Edwina also has access to the Mughal Imperial harem, and she moved into Khorshed V's lavish private apartment

. The wedding day is a grand occasion. Thousands flocked to get a glimpse at the new Princess of the Mughals, and the happy Royal couple got married in lavish wedding Mughal attires of red and gold. And everyone had a blast at the wedding day

. Going from debutante to Princess has got Edwina to grow so much as a person. She went from a more naive debutante to a wiser regal Princess who is respected by many

[fleckcmscott]

Glad and Golden Hours

Summary: Two months after Arkham, Christmas Eve is on its way. Y/N and Arthur prepare to host their nearest, dearest friends.

Words: 4,466

Warnings: Swearing

A/N: This comes from a request made by @sweet-nothings04​. Thank you for the opportunity to add to the Stepping Stones series and get to know Robert a little more - in many ways, he’s still a stranger to me! 😂 Hope you all enjoy! Have a wonderful holiday season! ⛄

Arthur snipped each layer of twine, and the pine's branches lowered in a curtsy of festive green.

They'd gotten a Christmas tree later than usual this season, a mere two days before the holiday. (Mike from New Hampshire apologized for his tree stand's slim pickings. Arthur found the last six and a half footer tucked under a tarp.) With Y/N's return to full-time hours at the office and the burst of gigs that'd come his way, they'd barely had time to breathe. The work was welcome, especially the charity events at the mall and clinic. Waypoints on a map that led to routine.

It'd also taken a lot out of him. Too little tiredness had morphed into too much. His body was still processing the medication switch from Arkham, and starting last Thursday, he'd lowered the dose of his anti-depressant to 20mg, a change suggested by Dr. Ludlow to help with fatigue.

It was a marvel, the difference having a partner made in recovery, how it helped three steps forward remain three steps. (The days it slipped back to two he mostly kept to himself.) He and Y/N had even made love twice this month, including the Saturday afternoon he'd woken her from a nap. A kiss to her bare shoulder and he'd fallen into her. Satisfyingly simple - and initiated by him.

Branches freed, he turned to see her standing before their console stereo, stretching to tape red and gold garland to the wall. Most of their ornaments had come with her from Missouri, but this decoration was theirs. The shiny foil had caught his eye from across the pharmacy aisle, gone into their shopping basket without delay. Started the tradition of adding a bauble to their collection every year.

When she made a disgruntled groan, lifted her right foot to reach a smidge higher, he chuckled. "Let me do that," he said, crossing to her. He taped it a good four inches above her fingertips. The garland dipped in the middle, an approving smile anchored by cascades of color on each end.

"Thank you." She moved to kneel on the stereo, grabbed a big red bow from her left. She hooked it on the smile. "Remind me to start the Swiss steaks in the morning. They have to cook ten hours."

A loose hold on her waist, more of a protective hovering lest she lose her balance. "I think that's the only recipe I've seen in your handwriting."

"I copied it out of a magazine in a doctor's office and served it every Christmas back home. Mabel always took the smallest piece. But the kids liked it and it wasn't half bad. Made it easy to keep an eye on my father, too." That she could mention her past without a hitch in her voice, that she'd share the dish him, turned Arthur's hovering into a caress. She patted his hand. "If you agree with Mabel, you won't go hungry. We'll be lucky to close the fridge, with all Patricia's going to bring."

Ah, yes. Patricia and Robert.

Arthur had gotten close enough to Patricia to hide her paltry smoking from Y/N, to be entrusted with secret tidbits about his wife. But Robert remained an enigma. The man had attended their wedding, like any friend should. Joined blue moon double dates concocted by their better halves. He was quiet, stayed on the periphery.

Patricia also knew the details of Arthur's relapse; Robert barely cracked a grin at his jokes.

Other than when Y/N's family had visited (one bathroom for eight people; bah humbug, indeed), Arthur and she had celebrated by themselves. Truth be told, he would've preferred it stay that way. They'd barely had an anniversary. For his sake, she'd declined her sister's invitation to Thanksgiving. Though it'd worked out in the end, his damned moods had botched Black Friday shopping.

She hadn't minded any of it, she said. He believed her. But he also loved her. There was no reason to let her in on every negative thought, every doubt. When she'd asked about having friends over, her smile had dazzled at the idea. How could he have declined? With everything she'd done for him? He'd hung onto her happiness, a dog finally catching the car it'd been chasing, and said yes.

Now that car just had to be small enough to handle.

"You still up to hosting?" she asked, peeking at him over her shoulder.

He prayed for a moped instead of a tank. "Yeah."

That irresistible smile came again. She slid backwards off the console, clipping his toes with her heel. She'd just begun to lean into him, when she squinted and sped in the direction of the front door. "Shit, I forgot the poinsettias. I'll run to Ed's. Please get out the lights!"

~~~~~

Thickened liquid shot the mercury to 160 degrees. "Quick, quick, put the pot on the trivet."

Y/N followed Patricia's command. Without the older woman at her side, Y/N wouldn't have trusted herself to make anything involving a cooking thermometer. Black sludge had resulted from her one attempt at chocolate fudge. Scraping it into the trash, she'd forsworn any recipes involving that tool forever.

Two teaspoons of vanilla extract met furious whisking. When Patricia cracked open a bottle of whiskey, Y/N covered the pot with her forearm. Steam dampened the sleeve of her sweater. "Can we add that later?"

"Arthur still not drinking?"

"Besides a sip of my wine every now and then, no."

"He's smarter than all of us combined." Patricia picked up the pot, poured the mixture through a mesh strainer into an awaiting ceramic bowl.

Y/N hugged her at the waist. Patricia had taken a keen interest in Arthur's recovery. Made a point to ask how he was at least once a week, how everything compared to before. It was a first for Y/N, having stepping stones of support to climb. Patricia being her wonderful self was a gift. And she'd been a dear to suggest putting together an old-fashioned Christmas for Arthur, to offer to do the heavy lifting and give them both a break.

Over dinner, she'd updated them on the latest at Shaw & Associates. Her new colleague, the third since Y/N had left, was a total bore. Never wanted to order lunch, completely lacked a sarcasm detector. The Wayne Foundation was looking to start another charity arm, this one for the arts. It followed a trend of donations focused less on the poor and needy, more on galas and museums for the rich and needless. After nearly a decade of chasing, Matt had finally won back his ex-wife Laura. All victory had taken was a river cruise and a prenup.

Arthur had tapped his fork on his plate, his face a mask of bewilderment. "Why marry someone already planning to divorce?"

The Swiss steaks had turned out well enough for Robert to ask for leftovers. He could handle sticking them in the microwave and wanted to give Patricia a well-deserved break. It was flattering, them choosing Y/N's cooking for Christmas Dinner. Patricia's duchess potatoes - her daughter Ruby's favorite - were a buttery take on spuds Y/N could eat every day. And Patricia had prepared a small tray of mac and cheese for Arthur to heat up in the oven, replete with 3" x 5" instruction card and tied with a bow.

Just then, the bathroom door creaked open. Y/N peered into the living room. A hand the size of a catcher's mitt and holding a beer gestured frantically for Arthur to get his butt on the couch. Robert chastised him like an old uncle, groused that he'd missed a touchdown, updated him on the score. Arthur hiked up his trousers. Settled next to him and leaned forward, elbows on his thighs. She bit back a chuckle. Football interested Arthur about as much as hardening cement, and even then, the cement might win out.

When the teams on TV huddled on the sidelines, she came to the rescue. She strode to the back of the couch and bent between them. The seven minutes left on the clock were a godsend. "Miracle on 34th Street is on NCB, and Robert Shaw Chorale's Christmas Spirit is on PBS. Take your pick."

"Robert Shaw," Arthur said.

Robert stood, stretched his arms behind his back. His shoulders snapped, crackled, and popped. "Doesn't matter to me. The Wildcats are gonna blow it either way." He pulled a pack of Silk Cuts from his front pocket and went to the fire escape to light up.

Arthur's brow furrowed into a mountain range. "He's not very friendly. I don't know if he wants to be here. He could watch the game at home."

While Robert was the strong silent type, Y/N sensed a softness hiding underneath. He'd agreed to go to marriage counseling with Patricia. He always ensured she walked on the inside of the sidewalk, a protective gesture from an earlier era. Tonight, he'd rubbed his stomach after each bite of potatoes, a compliment to Patricia's kitchen wizardry.

Y/N offered a gentle reply. "This is their first Christmas without their daughter and grandson." Ruby had married the Gotham General tech she'd met six years ago, and she and Brian were spending the holiday weekend with his family upstate. "You know how when I have a bad day, and I just want to forget it? When we kiss or sit without saying anything? That's enough. Sometimes having a friend sit with you is enough."

Arthur's boyish dimples reappeared. "I won't be kissing him anytime soon."

"Good. That'd send him running back to Burnside."

Later, she served eggnog: three with a shot of whiskey, one virgin. An angelic choir drifted from the television, familiar and comforting as crocheted mittens. Popcorn bowl at her side, Patricia sat on the living room carpet and invited Arthur to join her. She pulled a coin purse from her pocket, took out two big needles connected by a long, black thread. She demonstrated how to slide a fluffy flake down the string.

"I love the smell of pine," Patricia said, five kernels in. "This year we got an artificial. It just isn't the same."

"There's canned pine scent," Y/N suggested. "Donahue's has it by the artificial snow."

"From Aurora Fresheners? We tried that. The whole apartment smelled like a bathroom. When I was a kid, it was real or nothing. My mother hated the needles. One Christmas, when I was six, I asked Santa for a sled. I dragged it over to Cherry Hill - that's down by the water district - and slid right through a fence into the reservoir. They sent mom a bill for repairs. She made me clean up all the needles. With a broom."

Laughter threw Y/N's head back. Although her family hadn't been religious, they'd gone to the usual seasonal social gatherings. Being in the Bible Belt, they'd revolved around the local church. "One Christmas service, a candle caught a lock of my hair. It smelled terrible, like burning rubber. Mabel and I gagged our way to the bathroom."

There were other recollections, of course, ones she kept locked in the keepsake box of her heart. Her earliest holiday season in Gotham had marked seven months in a new state in a new city in a new home. Though only three people worked in her new office, her new boss Matt had planned a Secret Santa. That she'd gotten an Aqua Velva soap on a rope (a discount store bestseller) had made it obvious who'd drawn her name.

For the first time, she'd experienced a truly frigid chill, one that'd frozen her bones. Admired Christmas windows grander than she'd ever seen. Rented ice skates at Gotham Park and exchanged smiles with Ned, a cute man in flannel and jeans who'd complimented her form. The hot chocolate they'd shared at the concession stand had been surprisingly rich. But she'd resisted Ned's suggestions to make a snowman, to surrender her last name and phone number. The evening had ended with thanks and well wishes.

New to herself, she hadn't wanted to play the game of pursuit. Not yet. She'd cherished the quiet of her own place, a hard-won light at the end of twenty years of tunnel. When she'd sat at the counter of a nearby diner on Christmas Eve, sliced turkey roll and canned cranberry sauce before her, a wave of joy had overwhelmed, to the point where she'd had to dab at her eyes.

"Thanks for this," she'd whispered to what was probably nothing. The closest thing to a pray she'd offered in her life.

Arthur's mouth tightened in concentration, popcorn stuck on the eye of the needle. "At school we made paper chains. I brought mine home and taped it on the TV. My mom and I watched the Murray Franklin Christmas Special."

"They had a dance floor for the audience in the sixties," Patricia said. "We got tickets once, really lucked out. Bing Crosby was there, Slam Bradly, too. Remember that, dear?" She directed her inquiry at the sofa.

Robert twisted to look at them over the cushions. "We did a pretty good Lindy hop back then."

"You and Y/N should go next year!"

The flake Arthur had been wrangling broke into crumbles.

Y/N's regard shot to him. There was a tremble in his fingers so subtle only she would notice. Since his spot as a Special Guest, Murray Franklin hadn't been welcome in their homes. Before they'd moved in together or after. Whenever the TV Guide happened to feature his smug mug on the cover, Arthur tore it clean from the spine. He'd flick cigarettes towards bus stop ads for Live! If he was in the mood for late night comedy, he'd catch David Endochrine with her.

"I don't think so," Arthur said. He fingered another kernel to try again. But after a moment, he laid the needle and thread in the bowl, pushed himself to stand. "I, um-" His voice had gone thick, inflected with the raw quality of the wounded. He winced. A whisper this time. "Excuse me." He walked to the bedroom. The door thudded softly behind him.

No one moved a muscle. Breath couldn't be heard. A peaceful rendition of "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear" began, notes wrapping them in glorious sounds of old.

Patricia straightened, interrupted the peaceful rendition. "That was stupid."

Y/N scooted two spaces across the carpet, placed a comforting palm on Patricia's knee. "He just needs breaks, that's all."

Last week they'd attended her office's Christmas party. He'd done his best to fit in, make small talk, be a person like other people. And he'd been good at it, seemed like a combination of his old and new self, both selves she'd fallen in love with. But after forty minutes, without a hint that something was wrong, he'd asked if it'd be too soon to leave. She'd planned on staying two hours. As they'd held hands on the subway home, she'd mulled over what she'd observed, tried to understand.

She shared that with Patricia. "He'd probably had enough of everyone asking how he was. They'd known he'd been ill but not the details. Arthur likes attention - he needs it more than most people I've met. But I don't think he knew how to answer without saying he'd been in Arkham. It's hard to predict how someone'll react to that."

"I don't blame him," Robert said, his rich baritone kinder than she'd ever heard it. "People can see a broken leg but not when your brain has a limp."

Y/N felt her shoulders loosen, his words an etching of reassurance. "Only dear friends," she said. She moved to check on Arthur, see if he'd been granted some of the peace on earth, impart the goodwill mentioned in the song.

Patricia stopped her with a palm to her shoulder, braced herself against the wall to stand. "I'll go." She straightened the hem of her blouse, grabbed strands of tinsel from the middle branches, and made a beeline for the door.

~~~~~

Arthur sat on his side of the bed, facing the vanity. He disliked the set of his features, dour and stern, as if carved from rough granite. The low light of the bedside lamp bathed but didn't soften. He opened his mouth, practiced loosening his jaw, stretched it until the hinge joint popped.

That Patricia hadn't meant to hurt was obvious, even to a guy with a lot of problems like him. How was she to know Murray had been a father figure? A man he'd loved who'd pierced him so deeply, that that love had bled out and left hatred in its wake? He'd been too silly, too inexperienced to recognize the differences between celluloid and real life. To have thoroughly set himself up for disappointment was almost as embarrassing as the way it continued to sting. Nearly a decade had passed. Time to let it fucking go.

The flash of a police car prompted him to look out the window. Clouds had rolled in, and sparse streaks of moonlight fought their way through the batted cotton. White lights sparkled from an apartment across the street, the tree a perfect display in the front window. Two little girls jumped around their father, relenting only when he doled out gifts from under the tree. Arthur hugged his pillow to his stomach like a life vest.

There was more to the paper chain memory. Visitors from a Catholic charity had gone door to door that evening. Arthur had polished off a bowl of Rice Honeys for dinner, been in the middle of rinsing his dish when the buzzer sounded.

The two nuns towered over him, a couple of emperor penguins. "Are you home alone, young man?" the older one had asked, as if it was weird for a little boy to answer the door.

Uninvited, they'd stepped into the entranceway. Surveyed the walls of the apartment, the open and empty cupboards, the rug that was dirty because they only had a carpet sweeper. They had to have noticed his filthy t-shirt. The lack of tree. Penny passed out cold, her motionless form in the living room chair. At that tender age, it'd felt normal.

The penguins offered two gifts, wrapped in paper covered by shepards and nativities, along with a mimeographed invitation to the candlelight service at St. Swithun's Parish. "Bless you, sweet boy," the younger one had said. Then they'd left, drifting down the corridor like ghosts of Christmas past.

Arthur had scribbled "From: Arthur" on his mother's present. A white lie that'd make her happy, so god wouldn't mind. He'd put the presents on the coffee table. Bounced his stuffed bear and watched Red Skelton, waiting for his mother to come round.

A light knock at the door. The knocker didn't wait for a response to squeak the hinges. Brass trumpets spilled into the room. "I have a real talent for putting my foot in my mouth."

Patricia's self-deprecation forced a crooked grin. He watched her approach in the mirror, loosened his hold on the pillow. He pushed it aside as discretely as possible.

"I hear so much about how you're doing from Y/N," she said. "But never from the source."

"I'm fine."

The woman had a way about her. Warmth oozed out of her like a radiator on a blizzardy night, which allowed her to make the bluntest comments and never offend. A strange sort of equation that never failed to balance. She sat next to him and continued the tradition. "The news talks about Arkham being a place for criminals. It's not reported as a hospital for regular people; it's gossiped about. I'm glad to know better now. And that you're doing well."

If they were close enough for her to share secrets, maybe he could trust her with one of his own. But he couldn't quite return her stare. "Some days are hard. More than I'd like. More than- than I tell Y/N."

"She's the type of woman who wants to know all the facts and figures. That doesn't mean you have to tell her everything."

He bit down another grin. It was too true. And he wouldn't. She didn't need to learn about the nights in the hospital, when he could've sworn he'd felt her arms around him, her breast beneath his cheek, while also wishing she'd stay the hell away from McKean Island. That the years with her were when he'd learned what healthy felt like. That what he coveted more than anything, to the point of cold sweats, was to get back to that. For her. For their marriage. For himself.

Patricia broke through his reverie. "Is today a nice day?"

"Yeah." He turned to look at her, nodded, met her ebony eyes. "It is. But you didn't have to go to so much trouble. With the food and decorations."

Tipsy but honest kindness shone in the curve of her smile. Suddenly, she tossed tinsel on his head, a pile of silver atop his chestnut mop. Frowning, he reached to drag it off, tangling it in his waves. She grasped his fingers on the way down and squeezed tight. "You and Y/N are family, Arthur. You're family."

It took a while to find his voice. "Thanks, Patricia."

In the middle of "Away in a Manger," the television switched off. Stevie Wonder's Someday at Christmas played in its stead. The B-Side, which Y/N found upbeat. It wasn't exactly Arthur's style, but he'd come to appreciate her preference for disco and soul. And it was a welcome change from choral melancholy.

Patricia slurped at her mug, stuck it out towards him. "I need a cigarette. As a trusted family member, would you bring this to the kitchen? Take her with you. I'll owe you all the tea in China."

~~~~~

Y/N tied the shopping bag handles and opened the refrigerator. She'd packed the main and sides separately, otherwise gravy would've ruined the potatoes' crispy finish. As she arranged three Tupperware containers on the top shelf, Arthur came in, Patricia's mug in hand. He rinsed it and took the ladle from the bowl for a refill.

He indicated Y/N's cup on the counter with a tilt of the head. "You want some, too?"

"Please." She closed the fridge's door, gave it an extra push for good measure. "Patricia's quite the charmer, isn't she?"

Arthur snorted, drew his back chin, its skin squishing into pinchable folds. The cheery sound was a breeze that freshened the whole apartment. His gaze fell to the floor before rising to meet hers. He held out her drink. "She's not the only one."

When Y/N took it, her fingers lingered on his for too long to be an accident. She brought the rim to her lips for a sip. She'd add a nip later.

"You're doing great," she said. "I'm proud of you."

His smile blinded, a flash of light to outdo Damascus. The gap between them narrowed, foot by foot, inch by inch. He plucked a bloom from the poinsettia on the counter, tucked it behind her ear. The gesture made her insides ripple in the same manner as a girl's first crush.

"Do you love me?" he asked. The love light gleam in his green irises told her he hadn't asked because he didn't believe it, but because he wanted to hear it.

She stretched the rest of the way to meet his lips and spoke her answer against them. "Completely. Now let's go see what Santa brought."

Multicolor lights glimmered on the pile of presents under the tree. The four of them sat around it, Y/N and Arthur on the floor, Patricia and Robert on two dining chairs due to his aching tailbone. Y/N's cheeks felt as if they were going to melt, the result of alcohol and menopause. She unbuttoned the top of her sweater and held her cold mug to her skin, just below her neck.

Robert hummed approval when he unwrapped the bottle of Ballentine's Scotch, aged ten years. (Thank god they'd gone shopping for their husbands together.) Patricia immediately plugged in the True to Light makeup mirror from L. Ballinger's. She tested the office, day, and evening settings, explained the subtle differences. ("Black eyeliner works better at night.")

The Gormans' gift to Y/N was a clothes shaver from the Windmill Signature collection, a practical, odd tool to remove fuzz and pills from her blazers and skirts. She burst into silly laughter. What else did the "collection" carry? An automatic foot scraper? Premiere upper lip waxing kits? At least it wasn't a soap on a rope. She flicked it on, ran it over Patricia's polyester skirt until she batted her away.

On top of the mac and cheese, Arthur got a Christmas tie deemed cheesy enough for him. Polar bears skated on cursive Merry Christmases on a background of red and white stripes. "I'll put this in my bag," he said, and folded it into thirds. "For December gigs."

The remaining presents would have to wait until tomorrow. A private gift exchange better suited both couples. Arthur had dropped no hints as to what he'd gotten her; she'd shown respect by not snooping. She was certain he'd love the microwavable mug warmer, guaranteed to keep his coffee hot during long journaling sessions. The other box under the tree hid mounds of tissue paper and a bathrobe, midnight blue tinted royal, to be tied at the waist. She giggled, imagining how he'd pluck her folded note from the breast pocket, the blush that'd betray when he got to the naughty part.

Leaning back on her forearms, she sighed a contented sigh. A happiness to rival turkey roll and cranberry sauce swept through her, wetting her eyes all over again. She turned towards the window, gnawed her bottom lip.

White flecks glowed in the orange of the phosphorescent streetlamp, brightening the sky. She recalled that first Christmas in the city, the memories Patricia and Arthur had shared. The holiday wouldn't be complete without making another.

"There's an unplowed parking lot three buildings down," Y/N said, standing. She darted to the coat hooks in the entranceway, snagged their hats and mittens, returned and shoved them at Patricia and Robert. "We can build a snowman." The quirk of Patricia's mouth said she thought Y/N was out of her mind, but she'd play along. She rose to her feet, pulling Robert - mid-trying to open his scotch - along with her.

Arthur burrowed deeper into his bathrobe, a playful skepticism narrowing his gaze. "It's supposed to be ten below tonight."

"We'll bring a thermos. Besides." Y/N sat on his lap, put his cap on his head, and fluffed the pom-pom on top. "Your love will keep me warm."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​​​ @ithinkimaperson​​​ @sweet-nothings04​​​ @stephieraptorr​​​ @rommies​​​ @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1​​​ @another-day-in-chuckletown​ @hhandley80​​​ @jokerownsmysoul​​​ @rafaelbottom @ralugraphics​​​ @iartsometimes​​​ @fleckficgirl​

[corrugated-packaging-boxes]

Hot Gold foil printed premium and luxury packaging Box in magnetic lock style

Hot gold foil-printed premium packaging boxes with a magnetic lock closure offer a sleek, elegant presentation, often used for high-end products like cosmetics, jewelry, or luxury gifts. These boxes are typically made from rigid cardboard, adding durability, while the magnetic closure provides a seamless and satisfying opening experience.

Key Features:

Hot Gold Foil Printing: The use of gold foil adds a metallic finish, enhancing the visual appeal with a luxurious shine that stands out, making the brand or design look more prestigious.

Premium Materials: Made from high-quality rigid cardboard, these boxes are sturdy and long-lasting, suitable for protecting premium items.

Magnetic Closure: The concealed magnetic lock ensures a secure and smooth closure, elevating the overall user experience.

Customization Options: The boxes can be customized in various sizes, colors, and finishes (such as matte or gloss) to align with branding needs. You can also add custom inserts like PVC, foam, or velvet for product protection and a tailored fit.

Uses

1. Luxury Retail Packaging

Products: High-end cosmetics, fragrances, watches, jewelry, and designer accessories.

Purpose: Elevates the brand’s image, providing a sophisticated unboxing experience and emphasizing the exclusivity of the product.

2. Corporate Gifts

Products: Premium promotional items, custom stationery, wine or liquor, or other luxury gifts.

Purpose: Reinforces the brand identity and professionalism during special events, holidays, or business gifting opportunities. The box can be customized with logos and messages in hot foil to leave a lasting impression.

3. Wedding & Event Favors

Products: Wedding invitations, event souvenirs, and custom gifts.

Purpose: Creates a memorable and opulent experience for guests. The gold foil detailing adds a classy touch, making the event more personalized and luxurious.

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[merrybrides]

Great Gatsby Wedding Invitation Ideas

Great Gatsby Black & Gold Foil Wedding Invitation

Roaring 20's Great Gatsby Wedding Invitation

White Gold Great Gatsby Art Deco 1920s Wedding Invitation

Art Deco Gatsby Wedding Invitation (Available in many colors)

[worldofweddingco]

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Looking for the perfect wedding invitation that exudes luxury and sophistication? Look no further! Join us in this video as we unveil our exquisite Acrylic Wedding Invitation, a true masterpiece for your special day.

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[fantabulousblog]

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[digitalcardwala]

Wedding Invitation Cards in India: The Rise of Digital Invitations and Invitation Videos

India is known for its lavish celebrations, especially when it comes to weddings. Traditionally, wedding invitation cards have been an integral part of Indian weddings, representing not only a formal invitation but also a reflection of the family’s culture, values, and style. With the passage of time and the rise of technology, digital wedding invitations and invitation videos are replacing this age-old practice. The blend of tradition and technology is creating a modern twist on the wedding invitation experience, which is both convenient and environmentally conscious.

Traditional Wedding Invitations in India

Traditional Indian wedding invitation cards are famous for their intricate designs, rich colors, and religious symbols. These cards often include elements such as the image of Lord Ganesha for good luck, paisley, peacocks, and other motifs that hold cultural significance. The cards are usually printed on high-quality paper, and are often embellished with gold foil or embossed patterns. In India, the act of sending personalized wedding invitations is seen as a sign of respect and importance. This personal touch along with the grandeur of the printed card has kept traditional wedding invitations relevant for centuries. However, as wedding ceremonies evolve and adopt modern trends, the ways in which couples invite their guests also change.

The Shift Towards Digital Wedding Invitations

With the rapid adoption of technology, wedding invitations have undergone a digital revolution. Digital wedding invitations are now becoming the preferred choice for couples, especially millennials, who are attracted by the convenience, cost-effectiveness, and eco-friendliness of the format.

Here are some of the major reasons for the rise in popularity of digital wedding invitations:

Cost-effective: Printing traditional wedding cards can be expensive, especially for large-scale Indian weddings where the guest list can run into hundreds or thousands. Digital invitations eliminate the need for printing, thereby reducing costs significantly.

Eco-friendly: In today’s world, where sustainability is a growing concern, many couples are opting for eco-friendly options. Digital invitations help reduce paper waste and reduce the environmental impact of wedding preparations.

Convenience: Digital invitations can be sent via email, WhatsApp, or social media, making the process fast and efficient. Guests can easily save the invitation to their phones, and there is no risk of losing the invitation.

Global reach: Many Indian families have relatives spread across the world, so digital invitations allow couples to instantly reach their loved ones, wherever they are.

Customization: Digital invitations allow for a wide range of personalization options. Couples can choose from a variety of templates or work with designers to create unique invitations that reflect their personalities and wedding theme.

Invitation videos: Adding a touch of creativity

One of the newest trends in the wedding invitation space is the rise of invitation videos. These are short, beautifully designed videos that serve as wedding invitations. Invitation videos combine visuals, music, and storytelling to create a memorable experience for recipients. The video format allows couples to share a more personal message, including their love story or details about the wedding events, in an engaging way.

Invitation videos offer the following benefits:

Visual appeal: Videos allow for more creativity, combining animated elements, photos and text in dynamic ways that are not possible with printed cards or even digital images.

Emotional connect: A well-made invitation video can evoke emotions and set the mood for the upcoming wedding ceremony. Couples can also include personal touches such as music that holds special meaning or even a short message from them.

Easy sharing: Invitation videos can be easily shared on multiple platforms such as YouTube, WhatsApp and social media, making it easier to reach a large number of audiences.

Memorability: Compared to traditional paper cards, guests are more likely to remember a video invitation due to its visual and auditory impact.

Hybrid approach

Interestingly, many couples are taking a hybrid approach by combining both digital and physical elements in their invitations. For example, they can send a digital invitation but then send a smaller, more personal physical invitation to their close family members. This allows them to retain the traditional values ​​associated with wedding invitations while embracing the convenience and creativity of the digital world.

Conclusion

The wedding invitation landscape in India is evolving, with digital wedding invitations and invitation videos becoming a growing trend. While traditional printed cards will always hold a special place in Indian weddings, new-age formats offer exciting possibilities

[printingcompany]

Discover Top Printing Services in Dubai: Digital Printing, Corporate Gifts, Wedding Cards & Invitations

As to high-quality digital printing Dubai, the choice in abundance and variety of suppliers is impressive. Due to the increasing rate of expansion of the cosmopolitan city of Dubai, printing solutions need to be fast, reliable, and deliver high-quality prints.

From graceful brochures to brightening posters, Digital Printing Dubai provides small businesses with several choices to promote their company. The outstanding technological advancement in this printing section makes it possible to accomplish any project as big as it may be to the required standard.

Apart from digital printing, the corporate gift in Dubai has become part of the corporate culture. Businesses never stop searching for novel and individualized presents that will remain meaningful to clients and employees. They range from your ordinary key chains, mugs, pens, notebooks, and even to luxurious gift hampers among others.

In corporate gifts dubai are not only items that you present to another person but also the proxies of your company’s standards and organizational capacity. In addition, there are always opportunities to select custom prints for the gifts so that they are personalized and their corporate identity is effortlessly incorporated within the gifts.

The last but not the least important segment of this list is the wedding invitation card printing which Dubai does exceptionally well. Especially in Dubai where big and glamorous weddings are part of expectations and the invitation truly represents the groom’s expectations.

Traditionally designed cards or designer cards, there are so many choices one can get in Wedding invitation card printing Dubai. With ranging from beautiful gold foil designs to simple but stunning styles, the printing services in the city are unequaled. It means your wedding invitations will not only be as special as the event but it will also be done to the highest standards.

For that, it is fair to conclude that Dubai boasts of high-quality printing services for its clients. Be it digital printing Dubai service for your corporate rights, corporate gifts Dubai to make a lasting impression, or even wedding invitation card printing Dubai, the best services are here to offer. As they use advanced technology and are very serious with their work, they will be able to meet the required printing services.

[andrealeocoutures-blog]

Tips for Putting Together a Whimsical Fall Wedding

A fall wedding is naturally enchanting, with the season's vibrant colors and crisp air providing a picturesque backdrop for your special day. To elevate this beauty into a truly whimsical affair, you need the right blend of decor, attire, and ambiance.

Here's a guide to help you create a whimsical fall wedding, complete with tips on choosing the perfect whimsical wedding gown, like those from Andrea & Leo Couture.

Embrace the Season's Palette

Color Scheme

Fall offers a rich tapestry of colors, from burnt oranges and deep reds to golden yellows and browns. Incorporate these hues into your wedding theme to capture the essence of the season. Consider adding pops of unexpected colors like soft purples or blush pinks to create a whimsical contrast.

Florals and Greenery

Use seasonal flowers and foliage to enhance your decor. Think dahlias, chrysanthemums, and marigolds, paired with eucalyptus, ferns, and autumn leaves. For a whimsical touch, incorporate elements like fairy lights, hanging lanterns, and dreamcatchers into your floral arrangements.

Whimsical Wedding Gown

The Perfect Dress

A whimsical fall wedding calls for a dress that embodies fantasy and romance. Andrea & Leo Couture offers a stunning collection of whimsical wedding gowns perfect for this theme. Look for gowns with ethereal details such as intricate lace, delicate embroidery, and flowing tulle. Dresses with illusion necklines, bell sleeves, or floral appliqués can add a magical touch to your bridal look.

Accessorize Thoughtfully

Complement your gown with whimsical accessories. A floral crown or a delicate headpiece adorned with pearls and crystals can enhance your enchanting look. Consider a veil with lace edging or even a capelet for a dramatic, fairy-tale finish.

Enchanting Venue and Decor

Outdoor Ceremony

An outdoor venue, such as a garden, forest, or vineyard, can provide a naturally whimsical setting. Take advantage of the autumn landscape and consider holding your ceremony under a canopy of trees with leaves in vibrant fall colors.

Indoor Reception

For indoor receptions, choose a venue with character — think rustic barns, historic estates, or charming inns. Decorate with elements like twinkling fairy lights, vintage lanterns, and mismatched antique furniture to create a cozy, whimsical atmosphere.

Unique Invitations and Stationery

Set the tone for your whimsical fall wedding with unique invitations. Choose stationery with watercolor designs, hand-drawn illustrations, or gold foil accents. Incorporate autumn motifs like leaves, acorns, and pumpkins to reflect the season.

Personalized Ceremony and Reception Details

Ceremony

Add personal touches to your ceremony with a handwritten vow book, a custom-made ring box, or a unity ceremony involving autumn elements, such as planting a tree together or blending different colored sands.

Reception

Incorporate whimsical elements into your reception with a creative seating plan, such as a vintage mirror or a tree adorned with guest names.

For table settings, use vintage china, eclectic glassware, and linen napkins in autumnal colors. Enhance the whimsical feel with centerpieces featuring fairy lights, candles, and woodland creatures.

Seasonal Cuisine and Drinks

Menu

Offer a menu that celebrates fall flavors. Serve hearty dishes like roasted squash soup, apple and sage-stuffed chicken, and caramelized root vegetables. For dessert, consider a naked cake adorned with fresh flowers and seasonal fruits, or a dessert bar featuring pumpkin pie, apple crisps, and cinnamon donuts.

Drinks

Warm your guests with signature autumn cocktails such as spiced apple cider, mulled wine, or pumpkin spice lattes. For a whimsical touch, offer a hot chocolate bar with a variety of toppings like marshmallows, peppermint sticks, and whipped cream.

Entertainment and Activities

Music

Set the mood with live acoustic music or a string quartet playing whimsical tunes. For the reception, consider a playlist that includes folk, indie, and classic love songs.

Activities

Entertain your guests with fun, fall-themed activities. Set up a photo booth with whimsical props, organize a pumpkin carving station, or provide cozy blankets for an outdoor fire pit where guests can roast marshmallows and make s'mores.

Creating a whimsical fall wedding is all about embracing the magic of the season and adding your unique, personal touches. From the enchanting decor to the perfect wedding gown, every detail should reflect the fairy-tale atmosphere you envision. With these tips, your fall wedding will be a day filled with romance, enchantment, and unforgettable memories.

For more information about Evening Gowns and Party Dresses Wholesale please visit:- Andrea & Leo Couture

[fbcelebrations1]

Understanding the various Indian wedding invitations

Indian wedding invitations are as diverse and vibrant as the culture itself. They often reflect the couple’s heritage, incorporating traditional motifs, intricate designs, and rich colours. Invitations can range from simple, elegant cards to elaborate, multi-page booklets. In today’s day and age Indian couples are also looking to modernize their designs and creatives. Abstract and contemporary designs are becoming popular as an alternative to the typical Indian themes.

*Traditional Invitations*: These typically feature symbols like  Lord Ganesh, Paisleys, Lotus flowers, Tubroses  Peacocks, Temple bells etc, and are often embellished with gold foil and intricate patterns.

*Modern Invitations*: Contemporary designs blend traditional elements with modern aesthetics, using minimalistic styles and unique colour palettes.

*Digital Invitations*: Increasingly popular, these eco-friendly options offer convenience and creativity, often including animations and music.

Each invitation type adds a unique touch to the celebration, setting the tone for the grand event to come.

Event Conceptualised, Executed & Managed by @fbcelebrations1 Décor Designing, Execution & Entertainment Curation @fbcelebrations1