#she is NOWHERE NEAR THE PERFECT CANDIDATE

[rantblr]

you are all so excited for a Trump presidency. You will kill each other and shit your own pants in public in every effort to dunk one on Kamala; aka the slightly better equivalent of Trump’s policies. It is so exciting to see how many people are making pro-Trump posts because we will inevitably see 1 million posts post-November 5th of people sobbing and shitting and begging each other for help and support; speaking about how oppressed they’ve become after advocating for his presidency past the point they’re red in the face. Everyone’s itching to stick it to the stupid Dems up until the point where Trump wins and everyone is a fucking victim. Absolutely pathetic dogwater behavior from people believing the white supremacist will save the Middle East. Ugly and stupid.

[jaggedamethyst]

bucky barnes and his physical media

pairing: bucky x reader, use of she and girl once or twice

content: bucky is obsessed with physical media, especially photos…but he hates being in them. you try to change that.

notes: minors dni, slight smut but it’s honestly pretty tame here, some obligatory bucky angst. i don’t believe in proofreading I fear.

word count: 1.8k

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Growing up Bucky quickly gained a fondness for cameras. He loved to capture the images of those he loved--moments in time for which he could always look back on when he missed them.

He considered himself a confident guy and took said pictures at any opportunity he was given. He figured someone would always want to look at a face that perfect, if he could say so himself.

It was different, though, when the reflected images no longer were of the young man so keen on going to war. When the moment in time was one that could only elicit one of fear. He couldn’t recognize himself these days, not after being the Winter Soldier. The man was now adamant about not having memories that preserved him as he was now. Not when he was a shell of the man he’d known years ago.

If he absolutely had to take pictures, he was even more sure it would never be on a fucking phone. Not only are they the most fickle objects imaginable, he also hated the damn cloud. He wasn’t entirely prehistoric; he understood when people said that it was a way to store things…but a cloud. He’d had one too many mishaps with technology that things randomly disappearing from the cloud was not too far fetched in his mind. If he had to preserve something special to him it would absolutely be in an album. An album was tangible, and if it came to it, he could easily grab the stack of them in a hurry.

Physical media was absolutely near and dear to him. Whenever an old show was nowhere to be found, he clung to his DVD sets like a lifeline. The same could be said of his photo albums. They quickly became a way for him to reclaim some of the power he felt was lost with his mind. But taking pictures and storing them, to him, was therapeutic.

That's how he ended up with several albums on his shelf. Some were miscellaneous, ones that had yet to be sorted. Others solely for pictures of nature that he found calming to look at.

Nothing compared to the album he had of you, though.

An inadvertent smile would always creep up on his lips when his eyes met the spine of your album. Just the sight of your name sprawled in his handwriting was enough to make him feel warm inside. Inside were photos of you, some candid, others posed. He hated pictures, but for you he would at least attempt to stomach the feeling .

He flipped through the pages as he always did, feeling sort of proud he’d managed to take such great snapshots in time..and even more that he preserved them without the damn cloud.

Bucky made note to add more to this album; it wasn’t nearly as full as he’d like. With that, he swiftly closed the album—a gust of air causing one photo to fly out of the book. He grabbed the print that lay at his feet, not thinking much of it other than it would be returned to its rightful place among the other portraits of his girl.

As he flipped the picture, a heat quickly spread across the man’s cheeks. Oh. He definitely was not expecting this.

A selfie. Yes, that’s what it’s called. He’d learned that word a while ago. Somewhere in time he also learned that while people could be “in the nude,” they’d also referred to risqué photos similarly. Yes, a nude was how he would describe this one.

The man had seen many works of art in his day. Some of which were dedicated to his friend for his accomplishments in war. Others, of objects, like how Bucky would leisurely snap a photograph of a bird sitting stoic in a tree.

None of that compared to the polaroid he’d laid eyes on right now. His thoughts reeled in his mind, observing every detail. He knew it was hard to capture yourself in frame with these print cameras—no clear indication of what was in focus. But you were skillful.

The sun cascaded over your body, highlighting your skin in a way he’d never seen. He couldn’t see your face above your lips, but they curled in a way that seemed purposeful. How he’d do anything to see your eyes reflect the light of the sun that day. He slowly placed a finger on the photo, tracing the curve of your neck…your shoulder…your fingers.

No. He mentally groaned. The curl in your lips, a smirk, made sense now. You’d covered yourself where he wanted to see most. Hands crossed over your chest but your skin remained bare, teasing him. He felt so disgusted with himself even thinking this way, wanting to see more. It’s not like he hadn’t already, but in this moment the taunting imagery drove him up a wall.

He’s not sure when exactly he’d sat down on the couch or when his pants got to be pooled at his ankles. He’s even less certain of what time it is, but your footsteps approaching his door bought him back to reality. You’re off work.

The now strained fabric of his pants irritated him. Not only did your nude leave him extremely worked up, but he didn’t even finish before you got back.

Your voice resounded from the door, “Buck! I left the key, can you open up?”

“Coming!” He froze, an audible huff leaving his nostrils at the poorly timed reply.

He placed the photo in his back pocket before stalking towards the door.

With a swift swing, the door opened to your smile on the other side. Unlike the mischievous smirk that was printed in the picture in his pocket, this one was borderline affable. He let out what could only be described a a mixture between a scoff and chuckle.

You quirked a brow, “um, what's funny?” You rounded the space left by Bucky’s shoulders, making your way towards the kitchen.

“Nothing,” Bucky replied with a hint of sarcasm, “just had a bit of a weird day.”

“Really?” You turned to start the faucet, washing your hands before looking for something to drink. “You…wanna talk about it?”

The man felt his chest continue to rise and fall at an erratic pace. As the water continued to trickle he became painfully aware of the situation in his jeans at the present. Fuck it.

He reached for his pocket, quickly whipping the film towards your back.

He tried to level his voice in an attempt at asking his next question in the most nonchalant way he could muster. “Baby…what’s this?”

You craned your head away from the faucet a bit, “huh?” Grasping a towel, you slowly turned towards the sound of Bucky’s voice. “What’s wha- oh-”

An obvious shock appeared on your face but had he not looked close enough he would have missed it. The shift to an indifferent facial expression perplexed the man--even more when you replied in a chipper tone.

“Oh! I just got this new camera the other day at the store.” You moved past him, turning the corner and heading down the hall towards the junk closet you guys kept. He followed your movement with his eyes, stuck in place with pure intrigue. The distance and scrambling left your voice low to his ear. “You wanna see it? It's so cool and it wasn't too expensive!”

He moved back towards the couch, slouching a bit. “Sure, baby.”

Bucky twisted his head at the sound of you walking, no skipping, back towards the living room. “This thing is so easy to use, Buck. I feel like a pro like you.”

“I am not a pro,” he mumbled, his hand meeting his forehead.

He felt a hand on him, brushing his hair back. The nudge forcing him to lift his head to meet your eye. You’d knelt on the floor in front of him.

“I,” you planted a kiss on his cheek, “think you are amazing at taking pictures.” A pause loomed in the air, “but I wanted to do something for you…show you can be a great subject too.”

You placed a finger on his shoulder, urging him to lay back. “You should get comfortable, Buck…because this,” you gingerly plucked the photo from his grasp “is just the first installment to an amazing collection I think we will have.”

Bucky absolutely needed to work on his recollection skills—his ability to focus too. He again found himself with his pants down and no idea of how he’d come to be that way. This time, a cool breeze swept against his chest—his shirt somehow flung across the room. He absolutely did not mind, though.

The way in which you seemed to be skilled at everything truly blew his mind. With only a hand pumping him up and down, slowly at that, he’d found himself writhing against you. Whispers fell on deaf ears, as he’d quickly become overstimulated from his lack of release before.

“I- I-,” he stumbled as he usually did with you. There was no time when you were together when he didn’t feel at a loss for words. But here, with himself dripping all over your hands, your eyes looking at him expectantly, and your gentle lips grazing against his skin—he was struggling to even say more than one syllable.

You assured him, “it's okay, I know.” Simple words, but enough to make his insides tingle.

“Fuck…please,” he uttered your name. “I can’t-“

Your soft hands grasped his face again, a silent request for his eye contact.

It was so unfair, he knew that she knew that’d be his weakness. As quickly as it started, Bucky would finally finish. A feeling of euphoria and relief rushed the man, his skin prickly and glossed over with sweat.

“This is perfect,” he lowered his head a bit to see you back on your knees, this time holding your hands up. An arched brow raised on his face once more…you could be so damn elusive sometimes. At a further look, he could see you there, one eye closed. He searched between your hands, they were making L shapes in the air.

“Actually perfection,” you said with a flourish of your fingers. You leaned back, grasping your camera from the coffee table. “Now, be good James and don’t ruin my work.”

“I don’t know what you mean-“

Your finger met his skin, softly mixing in with the wetness now drenching his lower abdomen. He felt you marking a shape into the puddle—a heart?

Before he could even register, a flash. You’d taken a photo.

“Like I said, perfection.”

You left the polaroid beside the other on the coffee table, planting a kiss on the man's lips this time.

Bucky’s smile creeped up on his face, a happiness enveloping him.

“I think we need a new album.”

[sirfrogsworth]

Let's talk about vintage lenses.

Here is your cool samurai show with modern lenses.

Here is your cool samurai show with vintage lenses.

Hollywood is no stranger to fads.

We are currently in the middle of a "make everything too dark" fad. But that fad is starting to overlap with "let's use really old lenses on ridiculously high resolution cameras."

This is Zack Snyder with a Red Monstro 8K camera.

He is using a "rehoused" vintage 50mm f/0.95 Canon "Dream Lens" which was first manufactured in 1961.

This old lens is put inside a fancy new body that can fit onto modern cameras.

Which means Zack is getting nowhere near 8K worth of detail. These lenses are not even close to being sharp. Which is fine. I think the obsession with detail can get a bit silly and sometimes things can be "too sharp."

But it is a funny juxtaposition.

The dream lens is a cool lens. It has character. It has certain aberrations and defects that can actually be beneficial to making a cool photograph. It's a bit like vinyl records for photography.

[ Peter Thoeny ]

It has vignetting and distortion and a very strange swirly background blur.

[ Gabriel Binder ]

Optical engineers have been spending the last 60 years trying to eliminate these defects. And I sometimes wonder if they are confused by this fad.

"I WORKED 70 HOURS PER WEEK TO GET PERFECT CORNER SHARPNESS!"

And whether you prefer to work with a perfect optic or a vintage one... it is a valid aesthetic decision either way. I think vintage glass can really suit candid natural light photography. You can almost get abstract with these lenses.

[ Peter Theony ]

Personally I like to start with as close to perfect as possible and then add the character in later. That way I can dial in the effect and tweak how much of it I want. But even with modern image editing tools, some of these aberrations are difficult to recreate authentically.

That said, it can be very easy for the "character" of these lenses to become distracting. And just like when someone first finds the lens flares in Photoshop, it can be easy for people to overdo things.

Zack Snyder decided to be his own cameraman and used only vintage glass in his recent movies and it has led to some complaints about the imagery.

I mean, Zack Snyder overdoing something? I can't even imagine it.

Non camera people felt Army of the Dead was blurry and a bit weird but they couldn't quite explain why it felt that way.

The dream lens has a very wide aperture and it lets in a lot of light. But it also has a very very shallow depth of field. Which means it is very difficult to nail focus.

[ Peter Thoeny ]

Her near eye is in focus and her far eye is soft. You literally can't get an entire face in focus.

There is no reason you have to use the dream lens at f/0.95 at all times. But just like those irresistible lens flares, Zack couldn't help himself.

Here is a blueprint that you can't really see.

Extreme close ups of faces without autofocus at f/0.95 is nearly impossible to pull critical focus on.

Looks like Zack nailed the area just above the eyebrow here.

Let's try to find the point of focus in this one.

Ummmm... she is just... blurry. Missed focus completely.

But Zack isn't the only one going vintage. I've been seeing this a lot recently.

Shogun is a beautiful show. And for the most part, I really enjoyed the cinematography. But they went the vintage lens route and it kept going from gorgeous to "I can't not see it" distracting. And perhaps because I am familiar with these lens defects I am more prone to noticing. But I do think it hurt the imagery in a few spots.

Vingetting is a darkening of the corners of the frame.

Light rays in the corners are much harder to control. A lot of modern lenses still have this problem, but they create software corrections to eliminate the issue. Some cameras do it automatically as you are recording the image.

Vintage lenses were built before lens corrections where a thing—before software was a thing. So you either have to live with them, try to remove them with VFX, or crop into your image and lose some resolution.

It's possible this is the aesthetic they wanted. They felt the vignetting added something to the image. But I just found my eyes darting to the corners and not focusing on the composition.

And then you have distortion.

In this case, barrel distortion.

This is mostly prominent in wide angle lenses. In order to get that wider field of view the lens has to accept light from some very steep angles. And that can be quite difficult to correct. So you kind have to sacrifice any straight lines.

And sometimes this was a positive contribution to the image.

I thought the curved lines matched the way they were sitting here.

But most of the time I just felt like I was looking at feudal Japan through a fish's eye.

It's a bit more tolerable as a still, but when all of these verticals are bowing in motion, I start to feel like I am developing tunnel vision.

I love that this is a tool that is available. Rehousing lenses is a really neat process and I'm glad this old glass is getting new life.

This documentary shows how lens rehousing is done and is quite fascinating if you are in to that sort of thing.

But I think we are in a "too much of a good thing" phase when it comes to these lenses. I think a balance between old and new can be found.

And I also think maybe Zack should see what f/2.8 looks like. He might like having more than an eyebrow in focus.

[lilystyles]

gingerbread at midnight.

part one of the sweetest thing series by @lilystyles

the sweetest thing masterlist & my main masterlist xxx

authors note did somebody say christmas fic szn??? if there is two things people know about me it is that i love christmas and i love harry styles. so here u go!

brief description during a chilly evening at the bakery, harry learns how to make gingerbread.

warnings! fluffy christmas baking including niall :) (4.3k words)

grumpy!roommate!journalist!H x sunshine!baker!roommate!reader

* * * * *

It was a snowy December evening and Harry finished work early for a change. Being a busy journalist who worked for one of the biggest media companies in the world, he never finished before the sun went down. Even before he’d been promoted to his high position now, and he was just some young fresh-faced Uni graduate assistant who rarely saw the light of day. Waking up early and finishing late. He was always running off much less sleep than your average person, and even when he was at home he was busily typing away on his laptop. But despite his strenuous hours and stressful workload, he loved his job a lot, and openly admitted he was a workaholic.

This was why he needed a roommate. He worried for his sweet girl while he was away during the evenings. 

At first, he couldn’t think of anything worse, he’d had roommates in Uni who literally made him want to pull his (gorgeous) hair out and swore to himself he’d never do anything like that again if he could avoid it. It wasn’t that his job didn’t pay well, in fact, he was very wealthy and he could’ve gotten a sitter for the days but it just didn’t seem practical to have a sitter every day for the rest of his life. And no, his sweet girl was not a partner to crawl into bed with during the evenings, or a child who needed his attention throughout the day. 

His sweet girl was his spotted Dalmatian named Peaches, who got lonely during the long nights he’d stay at the office. 

Y/n had been the perfect candidate for a roommate. Who he had met through a mutual friend Niall, they went to school together apparently and Niall worked with her now. He vouched that she was easy to live with. There had been a period of time when he had nowhere to go and Y/n let him live rent-free in her flat for a month until he could afford to get back on his feet. She was stupidly kind and generous, sometimes to a fault, but if you had the privilege of her friendship you were so lucky. When Niall explained to Harry what a good person she was Harry believed him. Niall had this great ability to see people’s true intentions, and when he looked at Y/n he saw a beacon of light coloured like spun gold.

Y/n worked for most of the week too, sometimes on weekends if they needed extra hands or she felt like going in, but her hours were flexible despite being a baker, which was unusual for her occupation. But she had a good group of workers who all loved their jobs even if it wasn’t exactly high-paying to work for her, which meant Y/n’s day-to-day life was pretty breezy. And during Harry’s hunt for roommates when Niall mentioned that this friend looking for an apartment with roommates happened to be a girl he was happy, because girls were usually clean and smelt good. Y/n very much smelt good and left a warm touch to the once cold large apartment. Quickly after she started living there, suddenly vases of flowers appeared everywhere, paintings were strung up on his grey walls, hand-knitted rugs found their way onto the couch, food was baking in his oven and Y/n’s contagious warmth filled every room. Harry had grown up with just his mum and sister and there was something he liked about having a feminine touch that made it feel homely. He liked how soft, caring, and gentle they were. Y/n was so sweet, whenever he had a bad day she made a tea and let him complain for however long he needed. And she and Peaches got on great, Y/n took her for long walks in the park near their flat and sometimes she even took Peaches into her work and the gorgeous pup would just sit in the front greeting customers.

The tires of Harry’s car rolled against the snow as he steadily drove through the busy middle of the city to the familiar route of Y/n’s bakery. She’d ran it for a couple of years now, having bought it fresh out of culinary school. It used to be a bookshop that was owned by a lady called Miss Green, now it was called ‘Sweets & Things’ and very successful with all the locals. Before they’d became roommates and he’d even known of her existence Harry remembers eating a particularly delicious danish pastry with blueberries in it, funny that a few years later his roommate made him fresh ones when he’d had a particularly rough day at work. 

During the Christmas season the little bakery picked up a lot more. Y/n found herself catering for lots more events starting from October and she didn’t know why but people seemed to need more sweets around this time of year. Halloween needed lots of cookies and sweets, but something about Christmas drove her sales right up. Maybe it was what got them through the bleak winter weather. And since Harry knew she’d been a bit stressed by it all lately, not that she would ever complain that wasn’t her way because she loved her job and was grateful to live out her dreams, he thought it might be nice to drop her some dinner since she’d been neglecting proper meals during the work week.

He picked up some takeaway from this little mexican place near his office, Niall had raved about it a few times now, he got an array of food from the menu and asked what they thought was best. Now he had three big bags of spicy smelling goodness heating up his backseats. He knew that Niall and Y/n would be eternally grateful and Harry wouldn’t mind eating with their company tonight. He forgot not everyone ate takeaway at their desk in the pitch black like he did.

His car pulled up out the front of Sweets & Things and he saw the golden bright lights were still on in the front area of the bakery, but no one was behind the counter manning for costumers. Snow littered the grass and concrete out the front, all the benches people sat at were caked in a thick layer of white and Harry shivered at the sight of outside. His office heaters were broken so he was actually always sweating, no matter the season. 

He parked his car lethargically and the sound of Fleetwood Mac cut off with the engine. He knew that the bakery stayed open until nine during the holiday season since Y/n had been working much later than normal and he’d asked about it, Harry checked his watch, and there was a little bit until they would shut down but it didn’t seem all that busy. And his friends deserved to eat after all.

He locked the car and walked along the path shivering and hugging the food to his body in attempt to warm himself up. He wiped his dress shoes against the welcome mat as he pushed the door with his broad shoulder, his dress shoes clicking on the tiles as he entered the bell above the door rang and he heard Y/n’s soft sweet laugh from behind the counter and footsteps. A warmth wrapped around his body and the smell of sweet baking and pastries filled his nose. 

The shelves with glass casing showed to be practically empty of sweets. This made him smile. Y/n always felt particulary chirpy when people liked her new creations of the week.

He felt his face start to warm up now and he sighed to himself.

“Hello! Welcome to Sweet & Things, what can I get y—” Y/n’s voice began in her usual script to customers stopping when she saw him, “Oh, Harry! What are you doing here?!” 

She rushed around the counter to come give him a cuddle in greeting. That was something about Y/n that took him a while to get used to, she was very physically affectionate. He opened his arms for her and held her happily. 

She looked cute as ever. Dressed in an apron that was covered in all sorts of powder and a little pink blouse that hugged her figure, paired with her favourite well-loved Levi’s, her shoes were these dark pink boots that made little clicks on the tiles. She looked beautiful, despite the fact she was running off less sleep than usual, she’d been here since the early morning and was probably very tired by now. Her hair was up in a messy bun that she’d thrown back with a pen and her face was bare of much makeup today. She was just in some lip balm that he could smell was strawberry-scented.

She pulled back from his warm arms and smiled up at him as if she hadn’t seen him weeks when in reality he’d driven her to work that morning. They carpooled and in the evening she’d either walk or catch the bus but usually Niall offered her a lift home.

“I just thought I’d bring you and Niel dinner, it’s from that Flaming Green Jose’s place he was talking about.” He said showing the bags of food. 

Y/n smiled this really big grin that Harry loved to make appear on her precious face. 

Y/n knew Harry was a bit of a grumpy old bastard sometimes, he tended to complain and not like new ideas, but he really was the sweetest thing underneath his stern face and scary resting stare. He was a sweetheart underneath it all. Even though he was so intimidating and tall Y/n always thought he was quite delicate looking. He looked pretty even under the harsh light of the front room, he was in one of his usual business outfits he wore to the office that made him look especially good. Today’s suit was all black and he had a big beige-brown coat over the top to keep him warm in the cold and this deep dark crimson scarf that Y/n had bought him when she noticed he had no scarfs, he said how much he liked her purple one day it was so soft he said and she decided then he needed one too. His long curls of brown hair were dusted in snow and messier now that it was the end of the day. She was sure it was from running his hands through it, he did that a lot when he was concentrating or thinking.

She rushed forward hugged him again with a big squeeze and kissed his cheek in thanks, he smelt so addicting and her head was the perfect height to smell his clothes that smelt like he always did. Like tobacco, vanilla, and his citrusy and woodsy shampoo. 

“Well aren’t you just a doll?” She said with a smile.

Harry couldn’t help but smile back at her looking down at her as a dimple formed in his normally stoic face. She pulled away from him hand still holding his bicep as she examined all the bags in his hands. Even though he dressed very formal always, he still had his touch on things, like his rings. Harry always wore dozens of amazing large rings, and nail polish too. Y/n had conviced him a few evenings ago to choose this nice lavender colour rather than his normal black. He said he would only if she would match him. So her nails were littered in that same colour and she was reminded of him whenever she looked at the chipping colour while she was kneading dough. And underneath those long shirts and pants were so many inked pieces of skin, that suited him more than you’d think. 

Y/n loved when, usually on Sundays which were his day off, he was sat at home in just some pyjamas that showed all the ink and she could ask him the stories behind each while they did laundry. She liked him in suits of course, there was something very attractive about it, but she liked him all cosy and casual too. He barely ever dressed that way, only at home. She felt lucky to see him that way.

She snapped herself out of her daydreams about his gorgeous hands and that cross tattoo she loved when her tummy rumbled hungrily at the smell of the delicious dinner.

“Niall! Harry brought us dinner!” She called out and Niall stepped out of the kitchen. He looked similar to Y/n, dressed casual too, because she didn’t think uniforms suited her place. The shorter man was in a pair of his own baggy jeans and this brown knitted jumper and a pair of ratty old sneakers. His bleach blonde hair was in messy spikes and he had a pair of glasses on today instead of contacts.

“Haz, is that Flaming Green Jose’s?” Niall asked instantly without even greeting him properly as he walked over to sniff and grab at the bags.

Harry nodded lifting the bags in show, the green plastic was printed in the familiar taco on fire logo that proved it was in fact Flaming Green Jose’s.

Niall practically drooled and looked up at him eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas. 

“I could kiss you, mate!” He said, his Irish accent dancing off his tongue.

Harry grimanced at him and handed over the bags. “Please don’t. Just take the tacos.”

Y/n giggled by his side squeezing his arm in her usual way when he said something that made her laugh. 

Niall and Harry quickly began to set up the containers of different Mexican dishes while Y/n grabbed some cutlery, cups, and cold water for them all to enjoy their late dinner. The bakery had a few tables for people to sit and enjoy snacks at, and only for one portion of the day did they serve hot drinks, Niall was also a trained barista, which was perfect because she thought coffee suited a lot of her sweets. 

The three of them set up their food in one of the booths that was a cherry red leather colour. The snow was falling heavily outside now against the windows and it had started to quiet down out there. Not as many shoppers or people finishing work were wandering around outside as usual. The storm was keeping people, hopefully, rugged up and warm inside.

Y/n dreamily looked outside as she turned the big overhead lights off and switched on just the fairy lights she had strung up for Christmas spirit. They were a nice soft golden orange glow for them to eat. 

The three friends enjoyed their dinner quietly as the radio hummed some old jazz Christmas songs, they were all huddled together really close and Y/n leaned into Harry sleepily which he didn’t mind at all. The bakery was warm but Y/n felt chilly now that she was sweating away in the kitchen. Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulder to help warm her as they lazily chewed down their food. Even though he’d stripped himself of his massive coat and scarf he was still rather warm. 

Niall was right it was quite good food and a family-run business which was always nice to support. Y/n knew how it hard was to be a little business in the busy city of London.

The three chatted about nothing particularly worth noting, just talking about normal Harry, Y/n, and Niall things and enjoying the food. Harry was very hungry so he’d barely spoken a word just chewing lazily beside Y/n. When all the food was gone and they all felt sufficiently full Y/n kissed Harry’s cheek once more. 

“Thanks again for dinner, H.” She said softly eyes drooping, now that’d she been fed she was getting a bit sleepy.

He smiled, a big one for Harry, he was almost showing teeth. 

“I know how hard y’guys have been workin’, just wanted to help in some way.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. And it wasn’t too much of a big deal but the fact he’d thought of them when he’d gotten the night off was sweet, he was so busy and he chose to spend some free time helping friends. That hardly matched his scary persona.

This made Y/n’s heart swell and she spoke softly. “Thanks, Haz.”

“Yeah mate, you’re the best.” Chimed Niall wiping his face with a napkin. Niall had devoured his food contently. 

Their little dinner together was interrupted by the door swinging open, the bell ringing, and a couple of two walked in. 

Y/n stood up, moving from the warmth of Harry. 

“Hi! How can I help you?” She said plastering a smile on her face, walking over and tying the back of her apron back on.

The couple ordered a few Christmas cookies decorated like pieces of art and some cream horns that Y/n had made that morning. Y/n handed them their bags took their change and waved goodbye. 

“Have a good night!” She chirped to them.

They smiled and waved. “You too, Y/n!”

Y/n came back over and sat down again, looking over to Niall tucking her knees up to her chest. “Is it gingerbread time then, Ni?”

Niall nodded throwing his head back with a sigh. 

Gingerbread could be quite tedious. Especially the way Y/n decorated them. She really made them all individual pieces of art just for people to eat them. Which was beautiful, but also very time consuming.

Harry looked over, “I thought gingerbread was quite easy, Y/n makes it so quickly.”

Niall scoffed. “That’s because Y/n’s a machine. But even she can’t do this many cookies alone.”

Harry looked over at the tired pair of bakers and down at his hands. He tried to think of the last time he’d made gingerbread. Must have been with his sister Gemma when they were kids visiting their grandparents. But he thought if he could get an interview with James Hadden (a man who notoriously never answered questions to the media) then he could bake some cookies. How hard could it be? 

“Let me help then. Many hands make light work.”

Y/n blinked. “You hate Christmas,” she stated.

He looked over at her. “But I like your Christmas cookies.”

Y/n decided not to fight him on it. “Alright. Niall find him an apron I’ll start setting up.”

Y/n began getting out all the ingredients they’d be needing this way they could each make a batch to save time. She grabbed flour pouring enough into three bowls for each batch, some unsalted butter, brown sugar from the cupboard, some eggs from the fridge, baking soda, milk, and all the spices. As she looked at the array of ingredients laid out on the steel bench she noticed she was missing the most with most important ingredient; golden syrup.

She walked to the stock cupboard and saw the big bottle of golden syrup sitting on the tallest shelf. Adam, a really tall baker, had been working earlier he must’ve put it there. Y/n tried to reach on her tiptoes though it was no use, her fingernails only just grazed it.

When a hand came out from behind her gripping the big can it startled her and she turned to see Harry standing behind her.

“Oh, you scared me,” She giggled.

“Sorry, Love.”

She followed him back out to the kitchen. He placed the big can down on the bench and she took in his form. His long shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a bun now, and he’d taken off his suit jacket and tie, his black shirt was rolled up to his elbows and the buttons on his collar were undone. He had an apron on now too, one of Y/n’s collection, it was pink and frilly with flowers.

Y/n softly explained to Harry the process of making the batter and he was intently listening to her every word watching her through his lashes. Soon enough the dough was perfect and all three of them rolled out the dough the perfect width which meant Harry had to re-roll it. Once Y/n gave a thumbs up of approval they began using the cookie cutter shapes and cutting the cookies out. 

Harry had the make hearts and stars, Niall made gingerbread men and women, and Y/n made circles and snowflakes. 

Eventually, they put in their first batch, a little after 10. They kept re-rolling the dough and cutting as many as they could until the batches vanished. Harry was very good and gentle with his technique, and some were wonky but Y/n loved that he was helping and it took her years to perfect her cookies so he was doing very well for his first time. She selfishly wanted to keep his batch for them to go home and eat but she didn’t. 

By 11 all the batches were cooked or still cooking. Niall was on oven duty and Y/n was teaching Harry how to decorate. 

The ginger people were decorated all classic. White iced smiley faces and an outline around their body, little chocolate buttons for the outfits and a pinch of icing sugar to look like snow. Harry tried his best to do them and Y/n loved their imperfections it was like real people; all individual.

The others needed to be painted in colourful swirls of festive landscapes and honestly, they looked like individual paintings. Harry was amazed at her steady hand and ability to decorate such creative and individual designs for each cookie.

“Y’like tha’ bloody Andy Wharol of cookies, Y/n.” He said.

And she giggled her concentrated face cracking to a smile. She looked over at him. “It’s just practice.”

“No, it’s not.” Said Niall, from his station. “I’ve been practising for ages, your baking is just pure talent.” 

By midnight the last batch had cooled down and they were all decorating together and Y/n was humming along to the Christmas playlist she had put on. 

Niall twirled Y/n around and they sang along goofily. Niall and Y/n had been friends since culanary school which felt like years ago now. They were only teenagers then. All baby-faced and wide-eyed, now they were older and still just as immature when put together. When Y/n opened her bakery and she needed extra hands he was the first person she called. 

Niall was her best friend, and Harry had easily become her other one. Even though she was so tired and it was late, and her feet ached. The boys made it better. Niall singing into a spatula and Harry refusing to dance or sing was what kept her going the final stretch. She stopped decorating to go over to Harry, she looped her arms through his waist forcing him to step away from the bench and she tried to make him sway with her. 

His body stayed still and she moved closer to the front of him, in hopes of seeing his face. 

“C’mon! Dance, Grinch!”

“I don’t even dance when it isn’t Christmas, Y/n.”

She huffed arms crossing, “Please?” she asked, fluttering her eyes best of her ability in hopes of convincing him. 

Harry melted at the sight. She was so cute, even Harry couldn’t say no to her. He sighed like it was the most horrible task anyone could’ve asked him and she held out her hand with a smile. He grabbed it and she raised her hand for him to twirl under and he obliged spinning even though he was much taller than her. She leaned in close to him hands landing on his hips as his landed on her shoulders in an embrace while they swayed. She sang softly, and very off-key and Harry just shook his head. 

She was like a ray of sunlight, and he was like the moon. She looked up at him, “Thanks for helping,” she said softly.

“Of course….you’ve done way more for me.” He said.

She just shook her head and was about to reply but Niall cut them off. 

“I gotta’ get home to Max soon.” Max was Niall’s recent boyfriend. 

“Sorry, let’s get back too it.” Y/n said pulling away from Harry.

By almost 1 AM they were finished with every cookie. It was perfect. They would probably all sell out tomorrow. Y/n grabbed two handfuls one for Niall and one for Harry. She wrapped them like she would for costumers. She tied two pink ribbons and handed one to Niall. 

“Thank you for all your hard work, Ni, I’ll see you Monday?” He nodded smiling in his easy going way, and pecked her cheek.

“Bye, Pet, see you Monday.” They waved him off and they heard him leave when the bell chimed.

Y/n and Harry turned the lights off and grabbed there things. Y/n put on her layers of clothes. A big red coat, her lavender scarf, and her blue beanie that had a fuzzy ball on top. She grabbed her bags and keys and they locked up the shop. 

At least tomorrow both her and Harry had the day off. 

The walk to the car was brisk but short, the snow had stopped now and but it was still freezing. The pair stayed close by to one another, trying to keep warm as they walked quickly to the car. 

Harry started the car as fast as he could and cranked the heat and while they waited for it warm up they finally tried the few pieces of gingerbread she’d saved for them.

“Y/n this is so fucking good.” He said looking over at her. His hair was back down and he’d put on all his layers too. She smiled. 

“All you, H.”

He just shook his head. “You’re the best.”

She looked over blushing. “And you’re the sweetest.”

[ghqstwriter]

Hi! I really like your snippets, your writing style is really good! Could you do a villain (male) x sunshine civilian (female)?

I understand if you can't :)

The alleyway was dark, claustrophobic, and altogether uninviting, however Villain paid no mind to it as he turned yet another corner and clutched his arm tighter. By now, he could feel his palm growing sticky and warm as more and more sanguine leaked from the bloody wound on his bicep. It was a disgusting feeling, one that made him nauseous to the bone, but if he wanted any chance of getting this problem fixed, he couldn’t just stop to calm the tightness in his throat.

There was only supposed to be one hero there. A relatively new recruit with mind reading powers, that’s what the intel had said. Villain could take on someone like that easily, and wouldn’t have to waste too much energy doing it. And, to the villain’s credit, he was right in thinking that. The hero was down before the fight had even begun, trapped by one of Villain’s latest inventions and unable to call for backup. Perfect, he had thought.

What the criminal had not considered, was the possibility that backup was already there. For whatever reason, this hero wasn’t working alone tonight, and once Villain had broken into the safe, he was met face to face with Superhero, who was much more likely to pack a punch than that weasly recruit. He had never faced Superhero before, after all he wasn’t the usual type of Villain that the do-gooder prefered to fight. Unprepared and foolishly cornered, like a mouse cowering in front of an unusually burly cat.

“Shit,” Villain cursed under his breath, feeling the agony dripping down his hand now, tracing each and every knuckle like a lover’s tender touch, only far colder. Normally, he was a well-mannered man, believing that cussing got you nowhere in a conversation, yet the anguish bubbling through his veins left him ignorant to his usual sentiments. Villain was practically hugging the wall by now, doing everything in his power to stave off his inevitable collapse.

“Need some help over there?” A sweet voice called out from behind the villain, causing the mastermind to whip his head around (far too quickly for a man who had lost this much blood).

“Civilian?”

Perched upon a dumpster, legs swaying idly, was Civilian, a complete juxtaposition to her filthy and dull surroundings. That typical gleam of light in her eyes was everpresent, discernible even in the dark, and her phone, placed to the side of her, illuminated the back of her head, as though she was an angel whose holy light could not be contained. Villain’s eyes softened slightly at the sight, as though the safety he was searching for was right there. It might have been.

“What are you doing here, Civ? There are heroes nearby, you should leave,” Villain questioned. Worry had already seeped into his tone, yet this time it was less concern about his arm, and more concerned about her. Civilian wasn’t a criminal, and was entirely uninvolved with the whole hero-villain business, which should have meant she was more than safe around a hero. However, her disinterest in the industry was exactly the problem here; it was the reason she couldn’t afford to be spotted by a hero.

The hero agency, for many years now, had been dedicated to keeping track of every single super they could find. On that very list, quite possibly near the top, was Civilian’s name and face, memorised by every hero with clearance to see it. Her miraculous foresight made them a more than viable candidate for the agency, yet Civilian had time and time again refused to join them, slamming the door on every recruiter that came by.

Though Civilian refused to let it wear them down, their optimism seldom faltering, the villain was still worried. If someone as gruff and forceful as Superhero spotted Civilian— Villain visably shuddered at the thought. In response, Civilian tilted her head slightly, probably attributing the shivering to chills. Though her expression was hardly gloomy, there was still a hint of anxiety behind her eyes.

“I brought a medical kit with me, I, uh, saw you’d need it. Not the best image to see when you’re making spaghetti, of all things, but, uh, still wanted to help,” Civilian beamed, hoping to provide even a little comfort. Villain sighed slightly, leaning further against the stiff brick wall.

“Well, if you’re gonna stitch me up like a teddybear, we should probably do this elsewhere. A grimy alleyway doesn’t exactly scream sanitary to me,” Villain responsed, earning him a gentle laugh from Civilian. The sound made the corners of his lips quirk up, the warmth of her laughter a much more comforting presence than that of the lukewarm crimson coating his side.

“There’s a cheap hotel close by from here,” Civilian was on her phone now, likely googling ‘comfy places near me’. “Seems nice there, comfortable looking rooms, not too fond of the breakfast options but, hey, not our priority now I guess.”

“As long as you’re fine sleeping there for the night— don’t think I’ll be able to go anywhere with my arm like this,” Villain responsed, leaning into Civilian as she wrapped a gentle arm around his waist to give some much-needed support. Villain would have flushed in response, but thankfully he was already dramatically pale from the gaping wound in his arm, so it was hardly noticable. At least, even though his arm throbbed (and likely would for a week or so after tonight), he’d have Civilian to keep his spirits up.

[viccyfics]

Tart, not torte!

Greaseball refuses to use autocorrect, so unfortunately for Dinah, her texts are illegible, so when Greaseball wants a sweet treat a little mistake is made

READ ON A03 OR BELOW THE CUT

Greaseball had woken up annoyed, her muscles were aching, her hair was clinging to her face and her neck was sweaty, she was craving something she couldn't quite place and Dinah was nowhere to be seen.

Greaseball glanced over to the clock on the nightstand, it had only just gone past 6 AM, there was no need for Dinah to be up this early, her shift never started until hours after Greaseball. It was Greaseball who always woke up early, kissing her girlfriend awake before heading out for the morning shift, so Dinah being out of bed made so much sense.

Especially considering today was Diesel's day off and Dinah had promised to cuddle her for most of the morning.

Greaseball reached for her phone, swatting away her work one to grab her one, her and Dinah's smiling faces greeting her as she switched it on.

Immediately Greaseball hit Dinah's contact and sent her a text.

"Wher are you"

It didn't take long for the response to come through, and the sound of movement down the hallway just confirmed it.

"I'm in the kitchen, are you alright?"

"Hungry"

Greaseball could hear Dinah's chuckle from the kitchen, a sound the Diesel loved.

"What are you hungry for? I can make breakfast or something to keep in the fridge for you"

Greaseball paused for a moment, she knew she was craving something, but what it was exactly she didn't know, that was until a few minutes of thought she knew exactly what it was, although not actually what it was called, how couldn't she remember something so simple?

"choclate thingy"

"Chocolate thingy? Pain au chocolat?"

Greaseball rolled her eyes, why couldn’t she just remember what it was called, it was right on the tip of her tongue… then it hit her.

"NO cholate tort"

"Oh Chocolate torte, I'll make you one :)"

Yeah, that sounded about right, she knew Dinah would know exactly what she wanted.

Greaseball found herself for most of the morning lazing in bed, watching movies on her laptop and occasionally scrolling through Twitter reading the many, many, thirst posts about herself and Dinah, some of which she liked and retweeted.

It was a perfect morning.

As lunch neared, Dinah slid into the bedroom, her apron still on, patches of flour on her face and in her hair.

"The torte is done, do you want it with lunch or dinner?"

"Dinner," Greaseball chuckled, not paying too much attention to her girlfriend, but to the terrible candid photos of Electra that she had been tagged in.

"Are you being mean online again?" The dining car asked shaking her head, "You're going to get in trouble again."

"It's not my fault they're so stupid-looking" Greaseball continued laughing, turning her phone around to show the photos to Dinah.

"I thought you were friends now?"

"We are, doesn't mean they aren't stupid though."

Dinah couldn't help but laugh at her girlfriend's pouting face as she continued scrolling, "They keep tagging me in things to annoy me."

"Like what?"

"Like this!" With that, Greaseball shoved her phone in Dinah's face, although Dinah didn't get the big deal.

It was the sweetest picture of Rusty she had ever seen, taken by Pearl, His cheeks rosy red and the cutest smile she had ever seen, above the photo, though seemed to be the problem, it read;

"He is the sweetest babygirl to ever babygirl ISTG he needs to win again cause I want rusty merch"

"He isn't babygirl!" Greaseball spat throwing her phone onto the bed, "I want torte now!"

Dinah started to laugh harder, hand clutching her stomach, "You're so dramatic," she wheezed out.

"I'm not dramatic, and Electra does this on purpose! They do it just to annoy me!"

Dinah managed to get her breathing under control after a few minutes, making a mental toll to thank Electra for the good laugh, although she was pretty sure it was Killerwatt who actually ran Electra's social media, since like the Diesel, Electra couldn't be trusted...which meant it must have been Killerwatt tagging Greaseball in that post which caused another round of laughter.

Greaseball rolled her eyes as she pushed past to head to the kitchen, Dinah's laughter following after.

There it was, on the kitchen counter, a chocolate torte, dusted with icing sugar on top.

Dinah's arms wrapped around her waist, "Are you going to have a slice?"

"What is it?" Greaseball asked eyebrows knitted together in confusion, Dinah's face soon mimicked hers.

"Chocolate torte…that's what you asked for."

"No, I asked for-" Greaseball stopped, damn dyslexia, and damn herself for not using autocorrect.

"What did you want?" Dinah had pulled away to stand face to face with her, though luckily she knew Greaseball well enough not to be offended.

"I thought you just said tart really weird," Greaseball started to laugh.

"Tart!" Dinah yelled, hysterical laughing starting up again, "You- You, wanted a tart!"

"That's what I said!"

The kitchen was filled with the laughter of both girls, holding onto each other so they wouldn't fall.

"Okay- okay," Dinah started, a hand to her chest trying to get a hold of her breathing, "Eat the torte and I'll make you a tart for later."

Greaseball nodded her face bright red, shoulders shaking, not even attempting to talk because she knew as soon as she opened her mouth she would just start laughing again.

"I love you so much," Dinah spoke, standing up on her stoppers to kiss Greaseball, "even though you need to use autocorrect."

Yeah, this was the best day off ever.

[flightfoot]

ML Fanfic Recs for 2023: 10K - 20K Words

So I’ve been going through and adding particularly good fics I’ve read throughout the year. Only Complete fics, of course. Enjoy!

Chat Noir and Marinette decide to fake date in order to get Buttercup jealous enough to confess. Why won’t that boy make a move on such a wonderful girl as Marinette? And why is he beginning to hope that Buttercup stays blind?

Adrien wakes up in Nino’s arms. Neither of them have any explanation for this, considering they were nowhere near each other the night before. 

Marinette and Zoe uncover a ring stashed away in a closet. Why does it have an unusual effect on Chloe?

Felix isn’t careful enough when he goes snooping around the Agreste Mansion. Gabriel decides that he can’t let him roam free.

Kim bets Alix that she won’t be able to attend all of her friends’ weddings in a row. She has never been one to turn down a challenge.

All this and more below the break!

---

May I Introduce Myself, Your Highness? by @chocoluckchipz

Whether picking up a stray animal off the streets or saving a dying child at the market, Adrien had always strived to be the best version of himself. Truly, he would've been the perfect candidate to be snatched up by a kwami, were he an orphan, dying somewhere remote after a short life full of nothing but suffering and misery. Yet as it stood, the sole heir to the French throne had little to complain about. Apart from, perhaps, a complete absence of a love life. That is until a mysterious girl, wandering around his gardens at night, catches his attention.

I love Fantasy AUs. It’s a bit unclear what’s happening at first, but it all gets explained in the last chapter. Also don’t worry about the age gap between Marinette and Adrien at the start of the story, I promise it’s not a problem in the end.

---

do you think I have forgotten about you? by @roseinaugust

Based on the song 'About You' by The 1975. Memory Loss. Told in alternating time lines, one leading up to and one dealing with the aftermath of Marinette relinquishing the Miracle Box and the guardianship. Marinette struggles with her life after losing her memory, though there is a persistent voice that calls to her that always seems just out of reach in her memory.

Beautiful memory loss fic here, with seeing Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s relationship before she gave up the Miracle box, juxtaposed with the present day, when Adrien is only a stranger to her. I could really feel how Marinette was struggling with navigating these new circumstances, with her friends seeming to expect her to remember, to be who she was to them, to Adrien especially, before, and her just... not knowing whether she can do that. It’s got a happy ending though, for those who are concerned about that.

---

Creative Lies and Destructive Truths by @azuriteartist

Alya and Lila are two sides of a never-ending fight. The fight between truth and lies, between honesty and deception, between justice and personal gain. And now they have the powers to elevate that fight to a city-wide level.

Can Alya stop the deception before it destroys the city? And can Lila stop the truth before it destroys her?

So everyone who’s been around my blog for awhile knows how much I love Alya getting the spotlight (I mean my sideblog alyaappreciation is dedicated to her, because frankly, she needs it), and azurite’s lovely fic here is no exception. Fu ended up giving Tikki to Lila and Plagg to Alya. There actually isn’t tension between them at first, they get along well to start with, but Plagg knows Lila’s lying about things and eventually pushes Alya to take action once they grow alarming, until the two of them are both accusing each other of being liars as superheroes, and the public doesn’t know what to believe. 

I’m betting there’s more of this AU to come. I hope so, I love the consideration and agency it gives to both Alya and Lila.

---

How Marinette Learned to Stop Worrying And Love The Ball by @rosie-b

Hidden from the crowds thronging around the busy fairy portal in Paris's town square, a fae gate sits at the edge of the forest, locked, rusty, and full of ancient magic. Marinette thinks that this abandoned gate must not work anymore... but one day, a fairy disguised as a black cat steps through it.

Ah, Fantasy Soulmate AUs, my beloved XD. This ain’t the only one of this fic type I’m gonna be recommending. This is just a cute fluff fic without much strife. I love Marinette and Chat Noir being able to be childhood friends via his visits, even if he has to pretend to be her cat whenever he comes over, and I ESPECIALLY adore Alya being his chaperone and quickly becoming friends with Marinette in her own right. It ain’t a complicated plot, but it is a nice and warm fic.

---

Vengeance Noire by @phiellydinyia

After a horrific argument with his father, Adrien escaped from the mansion with his heart in pieces. In hindsight, it made sense why an akuma was sent his way. He shouldn't have let his emotions get the better of him.

But he never expected Plagg to be even more upset than he was. He never expected his own kwami to be akumatized. To become the threat of a city he swore to protect. And what's worse is the fact that Chat Noir can't jump in to save this one.

But Ladybug can. And that's why he has to find her as quickly as possible, suit or no suit.

I love some good Adrien angst, especially with a delicious side order of Plagg and Adrien’s bond with each other. Even as Adrien’s barely functional, though, he’ll do everything in his power to save Plagg, even if Plagg wishes he wouldn’t go quite that far. 

---

the best laid plans (of bugs and bakers) by @mexicancat-girl

Paris is buzzing with the appearance of a new ladybug-themed hero, Scarabella.

Alya decides to use her second hero identity to help her best friend Marinette. A bit of her flirting with Marinette is bound to make Marinette's crushes jealous and finally ask her out! Her plan is fool-proof…!

Except when it's not. Not enough people are talking about Scarabella flirting with Marinette. How can Alya properly help her best friend if the news can't be bothered to cover Marinette's budding romance with Scarabella and only posts things about Marinette with Chat Noir?! So Alya puts her all into her plan, upping up her flirting each time she appears as the newbie hero Scarabella.

This totally does not backfire in any way.

I adore fics that center on Alya, I haven’t exactly been shy about that fact. This is a nice one for some Alyanette adorableness! (And some Scarabella and Chat banter, I really enjoyed reading that as well). “Fake” flirting to make crushes jealous tends to turn real very quickly, and this is no exception. It’s hilarious, Alya’s the last one to figure out that her romantic relationship with Marinette is very much real XD.

---

Control by @generalluxun

A fun and rebellious gesture by her friend Zoé leaves Marinette accidently in possession of something more precious than she ever expected to hold.

It's a blessing. It's a curse. It's life itself.

She has no idea what to do. There is so much wrapped up not only in WHAT, but also WHO. Her friends and partners can offer advice, consolation, and support, but in the end when you are both Ladybug and the Guardian you are the one in control.

This is a fantastic SentiChloe fic. Marinette ends up with Chloe’s amok and isn’t sure what to do with it, whether to try to give it to Chloe, whether to try and use it to make Chloe a better person, or whether to just hold onto it secretly. Along the way, she ends up getting into Chloe’s head, getting a better idea of Chloe’s mindset, what she thinks and feels when she does the things she does. I loved seeing her struggle with figuring out what to do, it ended up being a great character study for both Marinette and Chloe!

---

Within Your Heart by Inkyibis

It's Valentine's Day and Ladybug just wants to her superhero partner to find his love.

And what she wants, the Lucky Charm will create.

If only she could remember what it is she did last night.

Adrino fic here! Marinette’s drunk and feeling awful that her superhero partner is alone on Valentine’s (she’s in a loving and committed relationship with Alya), so she creates a Lucky Charm to help Chat find love! In this universe, Ladybug’s Lucky Charms have the power to create new rules for the universe to follow, such as making one that demands that if you have any magic in you, you have to tell the truth or else you’ll freeze. Or in Adrien’s case, that he has to wake up in the arms of his true love every day XD. It’s very sweet and I love both Adrien’s and Nino’s relationship, and the relationship between the rest of the Miracuteam members as well, even though that’s not the focus.

---

This Distance Between Us by @coffeebanana

After defeating Monarch, the search for the Peacock Miraculous brings Ladybug and Chat Noir to a hotel room in London. But it's hard to enjoy the victory when Ladybug can't figure out why Chat's been so quiet, why he seems so sad. How's she supposed to help if she has no idea what's wrong?

This is a great Sentiadrien fic, with Chat freaking out about it and feeling like he’s not worthy of Ladybug’s affections, but not telling her what’s actually wrong because he thinks she won’t want him anymore if she knows. Of course, he’s wrong about that.

Also there’s a pretty intense confrontation with Felix, pissing Chat Noir off is a bad idea.

---

Auspicious by The_Rabbit42

Entry #6 for AU April 2023: Reverse-Crush Kwami-Swap

Adrien is quiet and reserved whenever he's not consumed by stress. And between extracurriculars and modeling and his responsibilities as Mister Bug, he's often stressed. He appreciates his kitten, but he loves his bright and outgoing classmate. Not that she knows that.

Marinette's parents have always allowed her a good deal of independence, but she's felt her confidence skyrocket since getting Plagg. Simply being Lady Noire allows her to be more flirty and free. She likes her friends, but she loves her stoic and heroic partner. Not that he knows that.

This is just a lovely fic that’s exactly what it says on the tin. I like how Rabbit goes into what Lady Noire’s and Mister Bug’s dynamic is like here especially.

---

Of Crisp Days and Crispier Cakes by @scribeofrhapsody

Gabriel wants to not be sick. Adrien wants to make a cake. Nathalie wants a chill birthday. Maybe they can help each other. Maybe it'll be a disaster.

So this starts off as just the cute fluff fic of Adrien and Gabriel attempting to make Nathalie a birthday cake that the summary indicates, but soon evolves into a more action-filled drama fic when Gabriel makes the terrible decision to akumatize a cashier while sick... a cashier who happens to be in the same shop as Nathalie and Adrien. Who are willing to put their secret identities at risk in order to save each other.

---

After Irritation Do Us Start by @scribeofrhapsody

It was the most difficult decision of his life, but Gabriel did it. He let go of Hawk Moth. He moved on from Emilie. Now, all he wants is to enjoy life with his son and new wife. Unfortunately, a certain nephew of his seems to be determined to unearth what Gabriel needs to remain buried.

I love this look at what could have happened if during the season 3 finale, Gabriel had decided enough was enough and given up on being a supervillain, moving on with Nathalie instead. How much better things could have been if he’d just decided to stop - though Adrien still wouldn’t be happy to discover why Hawk Moth had suddenly stopped attacking.

Oh yeah, there’s an OC here called Gerald who Adrien’s puzzled by, since he’d never heard of this guy before the past year. At the end of the story you find out why he’s included in the story. It’s not a major thing, but it is kind of funny and fits well with the rest of the story.

---

Rocking the Cat-Eyes by @buggachat

“I like being a girl.”

“That’s the alcohol talking,” Marinette snorted.

“I’ve always been a li’l jealous,” Adrien admitted.

“... Of what?”

“That you get to be a girl,” Adrien murmured, “and I don’t.”

—

When Marinette and Adrien host Girls' Night at their apartment, Adrien is easily welcomed to attend as "one of the girls"... but has a bit too much to drink. Some drunken confessions are spilt, some assumptions are made, and most of all...

Adrien is confused.

This is a great Genderfluid!Adrien fic. Marinette actually figures out that Adrien’s not entirely cis before he does, and tries to let him know she’s supportive... but unfortunately Adrien comes to some incorrect conclusions...

Anyway it’s a lot of fun, and Adrien rocks a dress and makeup!

---

Desperation by OuzoAthena11

Marinette is at the end of her rope. There seems to be no hope for defeating Monarch, not now that he has most of the Miraculous and has figured out how to transfer their abilities to others.

Tikki has an idea: Awaken the memories of who Marinette was in the past to see if any of their knowledge across time and the multiverse could help.

But this means that Marinette might forever be changed, and so will Chat Noir, if he should choose to do this.

Little did they know that they knew each other in their past lives, and how frequently they crossed paths and even were a couple... well, that meant that they are soulmates.

Star Wars crossover fic here, with Marinette as Obi-wan and Adrien as Quinlan. I like how the reincarnation aspect was handled here, with Obi-wan’s and Quinlan’s memories being prominent and them “waking up” in a way at first, but those settling back down after a bit and Marinette and Adrien going back to being mostly themselves, but with a lot more life experience under their belts and some cool new abilities - which comes in handy for taking down Monarch!

---

Family by @unecoccinellenoire

“You know,” Nino grins, “if you need advice on being a big brother in a year or two I’m sure I could help.”

The bottom of Adrien’s stomach dropped out.

---

Adrien struggles with the concept of his father and Nathalie having children.

So this is a world where Adrien and Marinette managed to defeat Gabriel, taking his Miraculous, with them giving him an ultimatum: they won’t out him as being Hawk Moth so long as he doesn’t cause any more trouble and does right by Adrien. Gabriel does, in fact, move on finally to Nathalie, giving Adrien a lot of mixed feelings to deal with. He still loves them both despite everything, but he’s also angry at them and he definitely does NOT want them to have children, both because he thinks they’d like any biological child they had more (he’s also harboring guilt from indirectly being the cause of his mom’s death), and because frankly, they screwed up too much with Adrien for him to want them to inflict that on another child.

And then there’s also Adrien dealing with the realization that he’s a Senti on top of that and wondering why he and Felix look the way they do, what Emilie’s reasons were.

It’s mostly just Adrien getting to talk things out, navigating this emotionally fraught situation he finds himself in now that the dust is settled.

---

Galaxy In Your Eyes by @liiinerle

Arriving in Paris, Kagami almost immediately finds herself assaulted by a dark, infectious butterfly. When she wakes up, a ladybug-themed superhero is standing over her, and her eyes are like holes into an empty, vast, and incredibly alluring universe...

An AU where the two main Miraculous function differently from the norm.

Nice Marigami fic here! Or should I say, Ladygami - technically Marinette doesn’t exist, only Ladybug, who’s an immortal creation goddess, or something like that. But she still fights to protect Paris from Hawk Moth alongside Chat Noir, who is still a normal, squishy human underneath the suit.

Anyway, there’s a but of inspiration from Nimona here, with a lot of people being scared of Ladybug because she’s a bit... out there, especially when she shapeshifts to have like, 6 extra arms and a lobster tail. Kagami’s into it though XD

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Stay Weird, Ladybug by @diadraws

Ladybug receives an invitation at the end of a patrol!

Contains some of my own headcanons, most notably: MIRACULOUS HOLDERS ARE CREATURES!!! They get actual animal traits when transformed instead of just a costume. My tumblr is diadraws where I elaborate some more on my headcanons which may add some additional context to this fic if you are interested!

CONTENT WARNINGS: *major* depictions of panic attacks, discussion of child neglect/abuse, and a minor emetophobia (vomiting) warning towards the end.

I’ve loved the comics and fanart I’ve seen dia create for this AU, with Ladybug’s and Chat Noir’s more animalistic designs, so reading a fic set in that AU was a real treat! It’s mostly just a Ladrien sleepover at Adrien’s house, but it’s very nice and cozy, with some good character development of Adrien helping Ladybug with panic attacks she keeps having.

---

Trapped by @consistent-chaos-corporation

Felix asks to visit Adrien as soon as his father is gone. Gabriel catches him snooping, looking for Adrien's Amok.

Everything gets worse from there.

Damn, poor Felix. He came to try and help Adrien, but instead Gabriel stole his Amok, forcing him to obey his commands, holding him prisoner in his basement for months. If you want some quality Felix whump, this is the fic for you!

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When Secrets Come Undone by SortaArtsy

Ladybug promised not to tell Adrien... but she never promised not to confide in Cat Noir. What happens when Ladybug unintentionally vents to the one person who wasn't meant to know any of it?

****MAJOR SEASON 5 SPOILERS WARNING! ****

May not be season 6 compliant when it comes out.

This is a “Adrien finds out what everyone’s been keeping from him post-S5″ fic, and I think it’s handled really well! He feels very hurt, betrayed, and disbelieving initially about being a Senti and his father being Monarch (...mostly being a Senti, it ain’t that hard to believe that Gabriel was a supervillain), and is angry at everyone who kept it secret from him, but he still handles it well, going and talking to the people involved, getting their reasoning and perspective. 

---

Wanted: Catnap by SortaArtsy

Adrien Agreste has barely been sleeping, trying to be everything expected of him. What happens when he spreads himself too thin? Sick!Adrien/ Cat Noir

Adrien’s just pushing himself so hard, trying to do his regular duties, until his illness forces him to rest. I love how concerned everyone is over him - even GABRIEL eventually relents and wants him to rest. It’s just cute and nice and fluffy.

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Felix is Fine by SortaArtsy

Felix wakes up sick, but is determined to keep it under wraps. Kagami refuses to be fooled. Feligami fluff. Implied past trauma/ abuse, though nothing explicit. Set post S5 so there are SOME SPOILERS!

If you want a Felix sick fic, this story’s the fic for you! I like how Felix and Kagami actually talk about why Felix is so determined to keep the extent of his illness hidden, what caused him to feel like he needs to do that, and Kagami’s understanding about it. Colt sucks.

---

Our Tales Are Endless (That’s Why I Tell Them) by @joonapeach

Marinette lives a simple life - one surrounded by pretty dresses, fresh macaroons, and the calming view of Paris. It's a life she thinks she has always fit in.

And yet sometimes, when a certain boy comes by her shop with a flower and a new adventurous story, she can't help but wonder if there's something else she's missing.

This was a truly gorgeous story. It’s the classic “Marinette gives up the Miracle Box and loses her memories” storyline, exploring her life two years later. Even though she’s had time to heal and recover, she still feels like she’s missing something, something big. At least Adrien’s stopping by regularly to tell her stories about Ladybug and Chat Noir, even if she doesn’t understand why they resonate with her so well.

---

a winter so warm by @rosekasa

winters were hard for even the best of vampires, but at least adrien had marinette to keep him warm with her cuddles.

december was going to suck without her. so it was only to be expected to get extra cuddles in before she left, right?

(well, not really, considering those heating supplements he was taking, but she didn't need to know about that).

This one’s mostly just cute cuddly adorableness! It’s basically like all those “Marinette gets the Ladybug trait of needing to cuddle up to someone for warmth”, but with Adrien instead. And of course featuring Marinette being a very talented witch who just wants to help Adrien stay warm when she isn’t there XD.

---

The 8 Weddings of Alix Kubdel by The_Rabbit42

The bet is simple: with the Rabbit Miraculous, Alix will be speaking at all of her friends' weddings. No matter what age they tie the knot, she'll be there looking the same. From Alix's perspective, she's going to each ceremony and reception one right after another in a nonstop bender.

This fic’s a lot of fun! I loved seeing all the different weddings, as well as how Alix slowly felt more and more out of place, with going forwards in time. Some of the weddings could get, uh. Exciting as well XD. And while there’s been years in-between Alix’s appearances for her friends at the wedding, for Alix, it’s only been a few hours, if that...

---

and I thought I heard you sing by @into-september

When Hawkmoth has been defeated and unmasked, Marinette is left with two problems and no solutions.

First, that Adrien is further out of her reach than ever before, and no-one can tell her how to get to him.

Second, that Cat Noir is far more troubled than she knew, and the only thing she can do is wait for him at the place they agreed to meet.

It’s your classic “Hawkmoth’s defeated and taken into custody but that means Adrien’s in for a rough time” sort of fic. Everyone’s worried about Adrien and wants to give him what comfort and support that they can, but he’s being hidden away from everyone (which I mean, honestly that’s a good move), so that’s not really possible. Plus, Ladybug’s noticed that Chat’s having a tough time in his civilian life, which worries her.

---

Time Locked AU by PumpkinPatchworkQuilt

In Time Locked, instead of just fixing the damage it puts everything post akuma back to exactly how it was, people, buildings, memories, time. Since it’s more extreme than in canon it requires both The Cat and The Ladybug to complete the Cure,(and visually contains both as well). Because of this only those with a miraculous can recall the events and only those who cast the Cure will have any lasting effects from the fight and even then it’s limited to scars, phantom aches, getting a tad more muscle definition and of course spatial displacement in extreme cases.

Since technology is slightly resistant or incompatible with the miraculous magic, footage of right after the akuma attack will survive, on a technicality and as such only reappears when the time catches up the the recorded time, that could be minutes, hours, or days depending on how long it took to defeat the akuma.

First story: Alya’s Guide to Surviving a Magical Terrorist Which You Can’t Remember

In a world where the fight against Hawkmoth is kept secret from the public, one Alya Césaire sets out to bring the whole thing to light, (and possibly win a journalism award while she's at it)

This was an interesting AU, I loved the focus on Alya especially and her investigative abilities, figuring out that there was a battle between good and evil taking place in the background of everyone’s lives even though most signs of it are wiped clean after the battle’s over. And Adrien and Marinette pick up on her cleverness and want her to help! I love how much appreciation this fic shows for Alya.

---

Stitched Together by @nedjsmlfavs

Stitch Witch Marinette was just supposed to be having a nice, terrifying outing with her best friends. She never expected to find a magically trapped kitten, but here we are! Whatever happened to this poor little guy?

Poor Adrien, being transformed and chained up for ages, having no idea that he was gonna be rescued. But at least he got to have fun at Marinette’s place as a cat! 

Most of this fic is adorable, though with some dark undertones lying in wait. After all, SOMEONE chained up that poor little kitty...

---

Love Remains by @kasienda

Marinette stood in the center of her own room. The pink walls were adorned with sketches and photos, and other unfamiliar souvenirs of her life. Her eyes jumped curiously from a hand made purse to a bowler hat decorated with a feather to a cork board covered in pictures of her friends.

She loved her room. Which made sense, she supposed. She had theoretically been the one to decorate it, but she didn’t remember decorating it. And now, the room was like a cave filled with treasure.

Because each little piece of it held a secret - some part of herself that meant something to her, a clue to what her life had been like before…

Before she had woken up in the arms of a boy wearing a magic black catsuit. His heartbroken sobs had caused something in her chest to twist painfully. She hadn’t understood why then, but from that very first moment she knew she had wanted to make things better for him.

She had no idea how to do that now that she understood what she had lost.

Sixteen years worth of memories.

The echoes of which were papered onto the walls and notebooks of her room just waiting to be rediscovered.

No one else seemed to share her excitement.

Unlike most “Marinette loses her memories” fics, this one isn’t super angst for Marinette - she takes it in stride. Now, everyone else, not so much. It’s really interesting seeing her contrast who she appeared to be before with who she is now, particularly when it comes to her previous self being in love with Adrien and not Chat, while she’s in love with Chat and not Adrien. Of course eventually she finds out certain things that makes that make a lot more sense. She isn’t so different from how she was before after all...

---

Betrayal by @jennagrinsoverml

MAJOR EPHEMERAL SPOILERS!!

Ladybug planned to use Viperion's power of Second Chance to get Chat's identity to Su-han without Chat knowing or agreeing.

Of course, then the world went crazy, and she didn't go through with it.

But when an akuma exposes Ladybug's plan to Chat, he doesn't know that. He just knows that his Lady betrayed him.

He deals with his feelings in the best, most mature way he can think of.

He disappears.

So I, like a lot of others, wanted more follow-up on Ephemeral, and particularly on the betrayal of trust it was for Marinette to try to trick Chat Noir into giving up his identity to a third party without his knowledge or consent (I wrote my own take on that at the time, called Transcient, that I’m proud of). This fic did a good job of exploring that, with Adrien reacting in a manner that made sense to me (repressing his negative feelings about the situation as much as possible and trying to justify it to himself, but still feeling terrible despite his own best efforts), and how Marinette realized that she messed up, since Luka keeping it secret that he knows hers and Chat’s secret identities caused her to be upset as well. It did a great job of exploring those negative feelings and letting everyone talk things out, explain their viewpoints, and rebuild their relationships afterwards, which is something I really value.

---

Swimming in Circles by @generalluxun

Life has moved on for Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She's not where she thought she would be seven years ago, but she's still in a good place. Classes, hobbies, friends, her life is full despite the lingering shades of her faded yet sweet middle-school romance. Then just as quick at the first time, someone drops into her life and turns her into an absolute mess once more.

Love and crushes might be her undoing, but she's got a little more experience this time to weather the storm. This fateful stranger stirs memories as well as emotions inside of her, and with a forthrightness her old self would be jealous of, Marinette takes the plunge.

So this is a Trans fic, with Marinette’s new crush being a trans version of a certain classmate who she doesn’t recognize, who’s changed a lot, for the better. I like how it deals with the baggage she has with that person, has her think that through.

---

Three’s company by @torvalvt

Kagami has been doing her best for years to ignore her feelings for her friends. It doesn't help that Adrien and Marinette insist on spending as much time as possible with her, even going so far as inviting her along on their dates together. If only the affection she felt for them wouldn't get in the way of their relationship. Because it is growing harder and harder to tamp down her feelings with how close they are getting to her.

This is adorable. Adrien and Marinette really want Kagami to join their relationship and she just doesn’t dare hope for it. If you want some adorable Adrigaminette from Kagami’s perspective, I recommend checking this fic out!

[samstree]

(the 'jaskier likes a dilf fic' fic has a sequel, because i'm very nice ;)

following this

The blood is getting into Geralt’s eyes.

“Fuck,” he mutters, blinking it away, the wound on his forehead throbbing with every step he takes.

It must be a bad one if his healing still hasn’t kicked in. The gash runs deep and long near his hairline, bleeding sluggishly along his face. Geralt feels dizzy with the blood loss, the world spinning before his eyes. His senses are dulled—dark spots swimming in his vision, the ringing in his ears, slowed reflexes.

Head wounds are tricky bastards, he curses silently.

Geralt lets his feet drag himself forward, with much resistance from the uneven terrain and the injury, but carrying a fully grown man certainly doesn’t make it easier.

“Oh, thank you, master witcher!” Andrej says, draped over Geralt’s shoulder, head lolling upside down. Between every other word, he hisses from the pain in his broken foot. “If it weren’t for you, that beast would have eaten me whole!”

“Hmm.”

Geralt grunts, head pounding.

“I know you are a humble man, master. Jaskier told me all about it! He said you’d never admit to being a hero, but you are! Whatever shall I do to repay this debt?”

He says Jaskier’s name so casually, so intimately, without titles or honorifics.

The headache suddenly gets worse. Geralt has to suppress a groan. The barkeep’s weight is slipping from his shoulders, so he hikes him up with a jolt.

“Not humble,” he squeezes out the words in the end. “Just doing my job.”

“Still, you have no idea how much this means to me. To think I nearly died today, and my Lucja would have been left without a family. I fear no one would have taken her in this time. When that beast dragged me away, all I could think about was my daughter, master Geralt! My life is of no importance, but my sweet Lucja…”

Geralt grits his teeth as Andrej goes on and on about how he puts his daughter’s life before his, how he values nothing more in this life.

Stupid, kind-hearted Andrej, the best father in the world.

“How noble of you,” Geralt says pettily, out of nowhere. The blood loss lowers his inhibitions, making him more candid than he would like.

More reasons for Geralt to hate head wounds.

Distantly, he remembers he should not make such jabs at an innocent man who deserves no ire from him, but Andrej doesn’t seem to notice.

“I do not see raising my daughter as a noble deed, sir,” he simply goes on. “They say I saved Lucja’s life, but in truth, it was she who saved me! For you see, it is a privilege to love such a perfect daughter, who chose me as her family. I am only grateful for her arrival every single day…”

A growl falls out of Geralt’s throat on its own, the pettiness in his chest boiling hot. He barely notices the tavern appearing before his eyes as the good man rambles on.

Jaskier waits by the door, sitting on the step next to a small Lucja, who’s eyes are red and puffy. His arm is around her and patting gently, eyes brightening as he finds Geralt carrying Andrej back safely.

Geralt sets the barkeep on the ground, relieved both physically and mentally. When the beast came and carried Andrej away right in the middle of town, the heartbreak in Jaskier’s eyes…

He shakes away the memory of Jaskier panicked and pleading when the man of his dreams was in danger.

“Papa!” Lucja runs towards Andrej and jumps into his open arms. The broken foot is not the worst thing for a human, but it must still hurt when he lets her slam into him and picks her up.

Of course, the perfect father would do that.

“I am safe and sound, my sweet girl,” Andrej says between kissing Lucja. “You must thank master witcher. He saved me!”

Jaskier is hovering around the both of them, touching and checking Andrej all over. His face finally relaxes into a smile when he turns to Lucja. “As I said, Geralt is a hero! You see, your papa is back! Everything will be alright now!”

Geralt’s chest twists at the sight of the three of them, something heavy lodged in his throat. They make a lovely picture together, almost too precious for him to intrude.

With that, he turns to leave, but a dizzy spell suddenly takes over.

He stumbles, vision darkening. The ringing in his ears drowns out all the noises in the world, and there’s something warm and sticky on his chin. He touches it, and his hand comes away with fresh blood.

It’s nothing a few hours of meditation can’t fix, but he does need the rest. Now that Jaskier has the perfect man back, he’ll be busy cooing over his brave heart and broken foot, and on top of it, his undying paternal love even in the face of death.

Geralt needs to take care of himself, alone.

It’s fine, nothing he hasn’t done since before Jaskier came along.

Really, It’s fine, he tells himself again.

Geralt winces, and takes another step. His head must be more messed up than he realizes, because he only hears his name called out after a few times.

“…Geralt?” Jaskier appears out of nowhere. “Hey, darling. You are alright. I’m right here.”

Careful hands support Geralt by the arms, taking most of his weight. By instinct, he leans into Jaskier’s embrace. It’s familiar, and it’s a surprise.

Oh, Jaskier is right here.

“Why—” Geralt says, shaking away the fuzzy feeling in his head but only making it worse. The confusion of Jaskier’s presence by his side grows. “Andrej—”

“Hush, now. Here, let me.” Jaskier puts Geralt’s arm over his shoulder, guiding him up the stairs. “You saved Andrej, alright? His foot will be fine, because you carried him all the way here. Stupid witcher with your stupid heart…”

Jaskier complains more about Geralt’s heroics, but he didn’t do it to be a hero. He only didn’t want Jaskier to be sad.

“Oh. I’m not sad, dear. Don’t you worry about me.”

Hmm. Somehow, Geralt has said the last part out loud.

“Yeah, you did. Now—oof, let’s get you into bed.” Jaskier answers another one of Geralt’s train of thoughts, pushing open the door to their bedroom. “You are saying everything you think. It must be the head wound. Those are tricky bastards, I know.”

Geralt feels himself being lowered into the soft bed, the pillows against his back. Jaskier is all over him soon enough.

“Jaskier?”

“Yes?”

Those blue eyes are too close for Geralt to be thinking, he only leans into Jaskier’s touch. A soft, damp rug is pressed on his forehead, cleaning the blood away.

Geralt winces. “Why are you here?”

Jaskier’s hand stops, holding the rag and hovering. He shifts closer on the bed, his thigh pressed against Geralt’s. “Where else should I be?”

“Andrej…” Geralt closes his eyes, waiting for Jaskier to have the same realization. “You should go to him.”

Jaskier only looks more confused. His brows knit together in sympathy.

“Oh, my sweet witcher. It must be the injury messing with your head. Ugh, now I know why you hate head injuries so much. It’s making you ask these nonsensical questions.”

“Not nonsensical. You…” Geralt hesitates, not wanting to admit it to his treacherous heart. “You love him.”

The room is silent for a moment. Geralt focuses his senses on Jaskier’s breathing, the steady rise and fall of his chest, grounding as always. The headache feels less intense when he can listen to Jaskier’s breathing like this.

The gash is still an open wound, and Jaskier resumes his gentle care, cleaning away the blood clots and finding the bandages from the drawer.

“He’s a nice guy. I did, perhaps.” Jaskier says. “And?”

The bandage covers the wound, wrapping behind Geralt’s head. Jaskier gently tilts him forward so he can reach all the way around.

“And…” Geralt finds himself at a loss for words. “And, you love that he’s a good father to Lucja.”

Jaskier only shrugs, tucking in the corner of the bandage near Geralt’s nape. Both of his hands cup Geralt’s chin, helping him tilt forward, nearly tucking his face in Jaskier’s shoulder. A shudder runs down Geralt’s body at the closeness.

“Lucja is a very lucky child.” Jaskier finishes his work and pulls away. “Still, you are hurt. Why should I be anywhere else?”

It comes out as naturally as breathing, like it’s a choice Jaskier has never needed to make. To stay with Geralt.

“Huh.”

“I may have a thing or two for these gentlemen who happen to be lovely parents.” Jaskier meets Geralt’s eyes, blinking. “But as kind-hearted as Andrej is, he’s not the best father I know.”

Geralt blinks. “There are better ones?”

An unnamed annoyance rises again in his chest. There are more men Jaskier is noticing, more of them for the bard to get all hot and bothered over.

Geralt is trying really hard to not pout, but he can’t help the way his mouth tugs into the shape of displeasure. The blood loss must be getting to him.

A tiny smile appears at Jaskier’s lips, proud and wicked. “Why, yes. Of course,” he says. “There’s this one man. He’s better than the rest of them combined.”

A low growl rumbles in Geralt’s chest on its own volition. Before he can hide it, Jaskier lets out a chuckle.

“Should I describe him to you, dear witcher, so you may learn about my most prestigious, and frankly, almost impossible standards?”

“No, Jask—”

Geralt really doesn’t want to hear, yet again, how Jaskier’s attention has passed right over him and landed on another man, but Jaskier simply interrupts him.

“Where shall I begin? You see, he’s the best one in my eyes, not because he’s perfect. It’s the opposite, rather. He’s just as flawed as everyone else when they become a parent for the first time, but he always tries to do better. He knows of his shortcomings, perhaps too much, too intimately.” Jaskier’s eyes soften. “He feels guilty, for falling short in the early days, even after all this time. That’s why I’m here to remind him, of how far he’s come, how much he’s done for his daughter. It’s hard to raise an orphan-princess in the middle of war, you know?”

Jaskier smiles knowingly, and Geralt lets out a surprised oh.

“I—” he splutters. “Jaskier, it’s—I don’t—”

Geralt’s stomach flutters, his cheeks heating up.

“And he’s the reason…” Jaskier pauses, caressing Geralt’s cheek gently, careful with his injuries. “Well, he’s the reason I started to notice the rest of them.”

“The rest of them?” Geralt asks, brain still trying to catch up.

“Mm-hmm.” Jaskier nods. “All the other fathers started to catch my attention. Suddenly, I was swooning left and right at the sight of an older man taking care of his children. Once I added being a good dad to my list of standards, do you know what I realized?”

Geralt is now feeling woozy again, this time not for the blood loss. “What did you realize?”

Jaskier’s hand trails from Geralt’s face, making him chase for a brief moment, longing for the gentle touch. He catches Geralt’s hands, lifting them to his lips for a chaste kiss, and then another.

“None of them can compare,” Jaskier answers, solemnly. “Not Andrej. Not any of them. I have a man in my heart already, taking up all of the space, showing up in all my dreams. When he’s here, he’s the only one I see. Flaws and all.”

Geralt is warm all over when Jaskier’s eyes are on him like this, like he’s the most important thing under the sky.

“He sounds…” It’s hard to say it, but Geralt has always been more candid when his head is all over the place. “He sounds amazing. You should tell him more.”

“Yes.” Jaskier’s smile stretches. “I forget, sometimes, how deeply those doubts lie. Hopefully, he’ll forgive me for being neglectful.”

“I’m sure he will.”

“Or I should just profess my undying love, and never let his insecurities prevail again.”

Geralt’s eyes widen, his heart nearly giddy with hope. “You should.”

Jaskier’s features soften impossibly when he holds Geralt’s chin in his palm, leans in, and presses a gentle kiss on his eyebrow.

“Well, for one, he is you,” he whispers it like a secret, resting their foreheads together. “I love you, at your best and at your worst. I love all your faults and mistakes, and my love only grows when you try to do better. You are my favorite person, Geralt of Rivia. You are my heart, and my songs, and you are everything hopeful about this world. Now—” Jaskier kisses him again on the cheek, a big wet kiss that he wipes away with a thumb, pulling away. “Will you stop being an idiot?”

Warmth spreads from Geralt’s stomach, making him hum with happiness. The way he melts into Jaskier’s embrace, losing all the words, may indicate that he’s still failing at the not-being-an-idiot part.

“You love me,” Geralt mutters the most important thing, not sure how to react, so he traps Jaskier in his arms and buries his face in his chest, refusing to let go.

When Jaskier laughs, it’s carefree and indulgent, the vibration rumbling against Geralt’s cheek. His fingers have returned to Geralt’s hair, playing with it patiently.

“I love you, and I’m in love with you, my brave, concussed, impossible witcher. I might even say I have a crush on you when you are being particularly sweet like this,” Jaskier says. “And you do need some rest if we want that head wound to heal, dear.”

But Geralt is very comfortable, snuggling into Jaskier like this, and he also has a crush in return.

“I need to tell you too.” Geralt’s voice comes out muffled and sleepy, his eyes closing in contentment. “So you won’t have doubts… so you’ll know…”

The fingers in his hair are soothing, petting in a gentle rhythm that is getting slower and slower, lulling Geralt into a meditative state.

“When your head is clear, perhaps,” Jaskier answers. “I’ll still be here when you feel better. I shall confess my love again, lest you forget, and you can tell me all that you feel, all the sweet things you want to say to me. Well—on the other hand, when you feel better, I’ll also have the chance to tease you.”

“Will you?”

Jaskier’s smile sounds wicked, but Geralt cannot find it in himself to care.

“Oh, of course. Relentlessly. This is too good of an opportunity to pass, you getting the idea that I might care for Andrej more than you, simply because he is a good father. Hmm, let’s see, who should hear it first? Ah, yes. Ciri, of course…”

Jaskier’s voice blends into the background noise, chirping in excitement about the prospect of telling Ciri everything, his arms around Geralt, never for a second trying to let go.

Geralt closes his eyes, letting out a long sigh and finally letting himself rest in satisfaction.

A head wound may not be the worst thing in the world, he thinks.

He just needs to get better soon enough. There’s a love confession waiting for him, after all.

[lophophine]

Introducing my new character, Angie! With updated lore under the cut! 1.5k words

Tw for murder/suicide, overdose, and animal abuse.

Angie was born without a name. To understand this bizarre start to life, you must first understand her mother.

Neysa-a devoted priestess of the temple and one of the three candidates for High Priestess. Human as she was, she was also an angel, it was an odd mix, neither wholly one nor the other. This made her the perfect vessel to host an actual angel in her body, to bring Heaven to Earth and to tie the realms together. A virgin Mary, she was blessed with the opportunity to raise the chosen one.

"A blessing," most said.

"A burden," others whispered.

Neysa would soon find she aligned herself more with the latter, rather than the former.

It came to her in a dream. She'd always heard of prophets before, but she never dreamed of becoming one herself. She almost wished she was never graced with the ability, now that she knows what must come.

Her child was no savior, she was a sacrifice.

Born to be hated, to be scorned and despised. Born to give everything to this town and receive nothing in return. They would try to take her purity, hating her for her kindness. They would kill her, and with her death, her purity, which she mantained despite the circumstances, would leak out into the world, filling the town's holes and stopping the emergence of sin. She would save this wretched town, but she would die doing it.

Neysa, for the first time in her life, was horrified by her God. Thoughts on how to save her child raced through her mind faster than light. Could she run away? But the Temple is her only source of income, and her savings are nonexistent. She has nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Her brothers and sisters don't understand her plight. They offer empty condolences at best and congratulate her at worst.

No, she must save her child on her own.

She will not fulfill this prophesy. A town that can only be saved by the death of a little girl is a town that isn't worth saving at all. She will not allow her child to die in this way. Even if it means putting everything on the line, leaving it all behind, she will find a way.

Neysa gives birth alone in her home, claiming a stillbirth. Her body was not strong enough to carry an angel to term, she said, the anguish on her face severe enough that no one questioned it. She does not name the baby, as names hold power. If she named her child, she would seal her fate. She would put her in God's domain. But here, in her tower, her child was safe from the eye of God. Here, no one could reach her.

As her child grew, Neysa taught her the importance of living for herself. In other words, she was raised to be selfish. Despite this, her child rarely asked for much. She would, at times, ask what lied beyond the front door or why the curtains were nailed to the windows, but Neysa would simply smile and tell her it was for her own safety.

"The world outside is dangerous, especially for good girls like you," she'd say. "Mummy's safe, though."

"Mummy stopped being good a long, long time ago."

Her child would then protest that her mummy was the goodest in the whole world, but Neysa would simply hush her and tell her that being good was not a virtue. Not here, at least.

Her child wouldn't understand that lesson for a very long time.

She was nearing her seventh birthday when it happened. Her tower, once a haven protected from the world, was shattered in just a single night.

Someone broke in. Someone looking for Neysa. She took her child and hid her in a closet, telling her they were going to play a game. "Stay quiet, okay? We're playing hide and seek. Mummy is going to find her own hiding place, okay?”

Neysa took a knife from the kitchen but was unused to fighting with anything other than a whip. Up against three grown men, it was only natural that she lost.

Falling is a cruel thing.

Her daughter isn't safe. Not when her tower is so easily climbed. Heart filled with sorrow, she knows what she must do to protect her child.

Neysa won't go to heaven, but perhaps God will take pity on her child.

"Sweetheart, come blow out your candles. Mummy worked extra hard on your cake this year," she says, a broken halo floating above her. Her child never asked about it. Part of her wonders if she already knew. Her child takes the first bite of cake. "Eat as much as you'd like," Neysa says. "When you start to get sleepy, mummy will sing you a lullaby."

Her child never questioned why she felt so tired that night. She never got the chance.

"Happy birthday... Angie." The name was heavy on her tongue. It was a shot in the dark. A wishful hope that if she named her daughter after an angel, perhaps she could go to heaven.

It was the only thing she could do for her, now that she was dead. Neysa followed soon after, of course. The cake was still just as sweet, even after being laced with enough sleeping pills to kill a horse.

She fell asleep that night, with blackened wings and an angel in her arms.

The name changed everything. As soon as it was breathed into life, she was thrust under God's domain. If she had died without being named, her soul would have wandered this earth forevermore, never knowing peace or closure. But with a name, she was reborn.

After all, she was still the child of prophesy. She could not die so easily. Neysa had fulfilled her purpose. She was no longer needed, but Angie? Her story has only just begun.The next morning, Angie woke up, but she woke up alone.

The doctors asked her many questions, but the only thing she could tell them was her name. Her new name.

The doctors found no trace of any substances in her body and didn't have enough grounds to send her to the asylum, so they sent her off to the orphanage.

Angie, unused to being anything other than alone or the center of attention, struggled to adapt to her new environment, and began acting out as both a way to regain control of her situation and to get the attention she so desperately craved. Whether it was sneaking out, torturing animals and insects, or setting fire to people's gardens, she was always up to something. Just like her mother taught her, she lived solely for herself. Sometimes, God would reach out to her in the form of dreams, but she always ignored them.

"You're on the wrong path, my child," the voice would say.

"Halt before it is too late."

"Repent."

Angie was really starting to hate the voice in her head. It spurred her rebellion on even further. No longer satisfied with just being a nuisance, she quickly started to become an actual problem. She began to steal from people who had nothing. If an orphan had a favorite toy, it was destroyed before long. If a neighbor had a picture they cherished, it was burned. She would mix rat poison into the food at the orphanage, push children down flights of stairs, and generally do everything she could to be everything the voice tells her not to be.

Eventually, as she got older and began to grow into her body, the way people looked at her started to change. Still hostile, but now with something simmering beneath the surface. Lust.

Maybe if she lost her purity, she would lose the voice as well.

With that thought in mind, she began to seek out suitors to defile her. It wasn't long before she found one. But just as he was about to enter her, a primal fear emerged from her chest. Her hands wrapped around his throat and squeezed until he went limp in her grip. Once the threat was eradicated, she took a moment to realize what she had just done.

He was still breathing, but barely. She nearly killed him. Why? What was she scared of?

Angie inched near his penis, still hard, somehow, and positioned herself above it. The fear came back. Primal but unnatural. Like there was someone else in control of her mind. She dresses herself and leaves the boy, still naked, on the ground. He'll wake up eventually.

And if he doesn't, that's not her problem.

After a few more failed attempts at falling, she resolved to lower her purity in other ways instead.

Unfortunately for her, no matter what vile or depraved acts she did, her purity would always soar back up by midnight. It was a curse, really. The fear of falling had traumatized her so much it was nearly all she could think about, and she couldn't lose her transformation any other way. The looks around her got more and more lecherous, and she felt less and less safe until eventually it culminated in a suicide attempt.

She was scared. Terrified, even. The fear of falling plagued her every thought, tainting her every decision. She couldn't take it anymore. She had to die.

She had to make it all go away.

But Angie has yet to fulfill her purpose. The prophesy is yet to be complete.

She wakes up.

Again.

And again.

And again.

[themalhambird]

Just to correct some misinformation I've seen flying around, Diane Abbott has NOT been barred from standing as the Labour Candidate for constituency.

It's not clear who told her that she would be barred. Starmer didnt. Rayner certainly didn't. As far as I can tell, no one official told her. The decision about candidates is not taken directly by leadership, but by the party's National Executive Committee.

I don't think Labour have handled this incident particuarly well. But to say there's a purge going on just isn't accurate.

Like it or not, a Very Left Labour party does not seem to be electable in this country. They lost in 2010, in 2015, in 2017, and they had their worst defeat in over eighty years in 2019. Like him or not, Starmer has got the party to a place where its not only ahead in the polls, its been ahead consistently for two years and its currently still squeaking wider. "Red Tory" is a nonsense label- The Labour Party are planning on widescale investment in green energy; abolishing the tax free status of private schools; closing the tax avoidance/dodging loopholes that the rich get away with; forcing water companies to clean up the sewage they're pumping in to the water; nationalising the railways. Actually supporting, and perhaps increasing, devolution. They're nowhere near perfect. I'm a queer lets-go-with-woman/gremlin and the love of my life is a transwoman who does not pass. The Terfy shit Labour have been spouting terrifies me. Broadly speaking, however, they're still going to be better than another five years of the Conservatives. It's going to be easier to fight any transphobic legislation if we're not also fighting sewage dumps, complete disregard for climate change, and enlisting 18 year olds for National Service because a handful of boomers have hard ons for their parents' glory days.

The Tories are having a dismal campaign. Most of our media bats for the Tories. Suggestions of a purge, of a divided Labour party, being blown up out of proportion takes attention away from how badly the Conservatives have screwed up and their own monumental interparty slapfests. That is not to say that Labour haven't done anything wrong, I think there's a lot to criticise about the way this situation has been handled I general. But purge is an overexaggeration.

[catwings-writes-things]

For the ao3 wrapped: 3, 6, 16, 29

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

Surprising no one, I'm gonna have to say A World of His Own. Before this year I'd never written anything (I do mean anything--no fanfic, original fiction, essays, nothing) longer than around 15,000 words. Now I have an in-progress fic with a single coherent storyline that's over 100,000 words long and nowhere near done. Some of the chapters are longer than 15,000 words. And not only that, but I'm really proud of the writing and the characterization. The Jailbreak Squad have taken over my brain and I have no objections whatsoever.

6. Favorite title you used?

De Humani Corporis Fabrica--Latin for "On the Fabric of the Human Body"--is the title of the best-known anatomy text by Andreas Vesalius, a Rennaissance anatomist and pioneer of human dissection, which at the time was considered taboo. As such, most anatomical knowledge came from dissections of animals, inspection of traumatic injuries, and conventional wisdom from earlier anatomists who had largely been working under the same restrictions. Vesalius was both sufficiently dedicated to his pursuit of accurate anatomical knowledge and sufficiently unbothered by other people's opinions as to cut bodies down from the gallows after public executions (sometimes having to fight stray dogs for them) and take them home to study, even allowing them to decompose in his living space to get at the bones once he'd learned all he could from the soft tissue. (He was also my first historical friend-crush, which probably tells you quite a bit about me, although perhaps not much to which my fic wouldn't tip you off.) De Humani Corporis Fabrica is his masterwork, illustrating what he'd learned with intricate drawings of bodies in various lifelike poses and states of dissection.

Needless to say, Andreas Vesalius was a Flesh avatar if ever there was one, not to mention probably autistic AF, and De Humani Corporis Fabrica seems as good a candidate as any for a Leitner. So when I set out to write a fic featuring late human-era Mike Crew nearly working himself to death in an extended burst of autistic hyperfocus and Angela the Flesh avatar trying to both help him deal with the immediate fallout and convince him that bodies have limits and he needs to treat his with more respect if it's going to last long enough to get him wherever he's going, using "De Humani Corporis Fabrica" as the title seemed pretty damn perfect.

16. What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag?

Families of Choice, which is the canonical tag on AO3 for the concept I've mostly heard referred to as "found family." It's specifically tagged on three of the seven fics I've posted this year (that number is misleading, due to my aforementioned longfic), but it could or should have been tagged on six of them. ("Fix-It," "Temporary Character Death," "Complicated Relationships," and "Twisted and Fluffy Feelings" appear on two fics apiece, which probably also gives some relevant information. Especially that last one.)

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Honestly, I can't decide. I've been proud of so many things I've written this year that I really can't narrow it down--which is a good problem to have! If it helps, after I post chapter ten, I think I'm going to make a "pick your favorite bit of out-of-context A World of His Own dialog" poll--each option a line spoken by a different character.

Okay, never mind. I found a favorite. From Chapter 2 of A World of His Own:

“I can't... sit and watch television with you,” Helen finally said, almost a snap. “It won’t work.” She gestured at herself, head to feet. “This isn't even a real body. It's more of a... concept.” “Well,” said Harriet mildly. “Sit the concept of your butt down and let us introduce you to The Twilight Zone.”

Thank you so much for the ask, anonymous friend! I hope you have a great day!

[fantasies-fairytales-n-fics]

Code Blue Ch. 74- Pandemonium (Pt. 1)

Summary: Jo blurts out the truth. One reaction is candid and another is positively unexpected. Feeling attacked, Craig unloads. Humorous stories become the icebreaker inside the heated Chevelle. A nightclub is hoppin. Travis is fifty shades of green. A trap is set and the addictive bait is greatly consumed. Lee's conscious holds an addiction of it's own but is it strong enough to defeat his demons? The after party is also hoppin and Craig is the star of the show yet again. He unloads on another victim who had pushed his last button. Josie and Craig get close and steamy on the dance floor for a second time. All seems picture perfect until another picture triggers pandemonium. Craig snaps.

*Chapter Warnings* Language, angst, drug and alcohol use, bare booty shot, gunfire, sexual depictions and language,

Stories Stories Stories Masterlist

Boston, Massachusetts

March 25

With Jo tucked securely under his wing, Craig pushed through the crowd of panicked people blocking the back exit of the gallery with Gael and Callie right behind them. As they neared the door, they overheard a distressed waiter informing another employee that the man who was found with a bullet hole to the heart in the bathroom was not the only one deceased. Inside a stall was the other man, also snuffed out in the same manner, who was in the bidding war to purchase Craig's art.

Craig knew right away that Valentin was the one who pulled the trigger and that the innocent men died over a scorned ego. He had always been Valentin's biggest rival in the art world and because the murdered men were regular clients of Valentin's, he considered them traitors and it only added fuel to the fire when they fought over purchasing Craig's work. What did them in was when they took their bids to an extreme high just to own the piece and that sent Valentin into a jealous rage. The deathly move was also a power play against Craig. No one outshined Valentin and no one threatened him, which Craig had done both that night.

As the police were arriving in the front of the building, the four slipped out the back and sped off with a miraculously sobered up Craig behind the wheel. Although he knew there were multiple witnesses that could place him nowhere near the restroom at the time of the shooting, he didn't want to deal with the cops. He would endure their questioning when and if they came looking for him but for the time being, his only priority was getting Jo to safety and in the world of organized crime, the men in blue were of no protection.

All was quiet in the Chevelle except for the rumbling of the engine as Craig drove around Boston with Jo nestled against him, constantly checking his surroundings for being tailed and once he was certain there was no threat, he would then head to the after party where they could all hopefully relax and unwind for awhile but in the meantime, he had some explaining to do to the beholders of the eyes he could feel upon him.

With his worried, baby blues in the rearview mirror, he looked at Gael who had Callie pressed against him, "Alright man, I said I would explain but you better brace yourself because—"

Jo cut him off as she sat up and turned around to face Gael, then huffed, "He's mob. Not much more to say."

Craig's face whipped to her with stunned eyes just as Gael and Callie did with each other.

"Ok umm, no???" Craig strongly disagreed as his brows furrowed at her, then his eyes moved back to Gael, "Well yes...." he contradicted, "but...there's more to it than—"

Gael interrupted as his shellshocked eyes met Craig's in the mirror, "Your Mafia? So THAT explains your gun."

"It does, yes but I...I don't really like the term Mafia. I prefer—"

Callie sarcastically stalled his words, bringing his eyes to hers, "Criminal, gangster, thug, villain, assassin, ruffian, hooligan, piece of shit?"

"Well I...," He paused, brow raised at her extensive OC vocabulary, then he frowned, "Mob will do just fine," he corrected until he realized, "Wait...piece of—"

A wide grin stretched over Gael's face and his eyes beamed as he blurted out his joy, "Fucking bad ASS!!! My boss is a mobster!!" He then asked with hope-laced enthusiasm, "Does that mean I'm one too or will be??"

Craig displayed a curled, half grin at Gael's eagerness to join the dark side but Callie shut the entire idea down as she snapped and exploded at her thrill-seeking boyfriend, "What??? Have you lost your freaking mind Gael??? This isn't some Robert De Niro mob movie!! This is real life and we could have died back there! People DID die! I swear to god if you even think about it, I'm gone!. No, NO WAY you're selling your soul to some daredevil all for money and an adrenaline rush. I told you this guy was bad news! Pull over! Let me out!"

"Everybody just calm the fuck down!" Craig barked and sped up, "Nobody is getting out of this fucking car until we reach our destination and then sweetheart, I will gladly hold the fucking door open for you because I've had just about enough of your shrieking, Karen controlling mouth."

The silence was back as the acceleration of the engine became louder, except for Jo who stared out her window while speaking softly to Craig, "He's not Brando. You can't just expect him to step into the shoes your brother left behind."

He side-eyed her, one arm stretched out stiff to the steering wheel with a tight-fisted grip, "Yeah I think I know that Jo. Un-fucking-believable."

"And," she continued, turning to face him, "You can't blame Callie for being upset when all of this was thrown at both of them out of left field. As you once told me, this life isn't for everybody. You should have clued him in from the get go."

"Yeah, I did say that and it's very true and I didn't tell him because I didn't want to scare him off but CLEARLY he don't scare easily, AS you can see, it wouldn't have even mattered if it were then or now but thank you JO for all the support and for ratting me out instead of letting ME tell him and I'm not the one who even brought about the idea of recruiting him. It was HIS wishful thinking, AS you heard, and no, I suppose I cannot blame Callie for being upset BUT I'm not going to sit here and be insulted by her in my own fucking car. I tried to be nice. I tried to apologize. I kissed her ass basically and now you're turning on me too so I'm just fucking done. Everybody shut their damn pie holes so I can drive."

The silence lasted no more than ten seconds when Callie bravely defied his command, "So then, was all of that back there because of you or just some random wacko shooting up the place??"

His eyes rolled so hard that nothing but the whites were visible, "Good god. Right now, I wish I was the one who had been shot, preferably in my fucking ears."

Josie's gasp and hands slapping over her eyes gained his full attention as the prior vision of Craig's bloodied abdomen returned to torment her.

With instant regret of his words, he was quick to apologize as his hand massaged her back, "Hey...I...I'm sorry love. I wasn't thinking. My head is all over the place right now. We'll talk about that and everything else when we're alone."

Glaring at Callie in the mirror, Craig took a sharp turn and then one more down an alley where he pulled up and parked in the back of the after party.

For a few moments, they all sat in more silence as they viewed the backyard full of keg drinking students among other random attendees that were all dressed as if it were summer on the forty degree night.

Gael's chuckle broke the silence with a humorous tale, "Another reason I don't drink much anymore. It makes you so warm. This one time, I was so smashed on vodka that I rode a snowmobile with a friend, shirtless in a snowstorm and I literally got frostbite around my nipples. Didn't feel a thing though until the next morning."

Playing along to help ease the tension, Craig laughed as he also shared a story, "Yeah. I've done crazy drinking shit too in the middle of winter. I literally stripped down in front of all my friends, butt ass naked except for a pair of boots and a scarf around my neck and ran through the snow, then slipped on my ass, so I just sat there, balls deep in the icy snow and proudly took a snow bath with a cigarette hanging from my grinning lips. Pretty wild indeed. Should have seen how red my ass cheeks and ball sack was after the fact. Luckily, no frostbite though."

Gael rolled in laughter and it became contagious as Callie and Jo began to loudly giggle.

"I can totally picture it," Josie claimed and smiled at Craig as she visualized the moment from his detailed description. "You're lucky your hot nuts didn't stick to the wet ground like that kid's tongue did to that pole on Christmas Story."

Craig winced with a grimace as he admitted a truth, "Yeah welllll, it kinda did. A shot of whiskey poured over top finally unglued me."

Roaring chortles rocked the Chevy.

"You actually ran around naked in front of your guy friends?" Callie asked, still laughing, "That took a lot of....balls!"

Shaking his head, "Alright, alright, ha ha ha. Jo, it's YOUR turn for humiliation now!!" Craig eagerly announced.

She sighed, feeling skittish, "Ugh, ok welllllll....does it have to be in the winter? Can it just be a drunk story?"

Craig grinned, "Yes yes of course. Any drunk story. About YOU. Do tellllll."

"Well, how about the night you and I got shitfaced together?"

"Oh no no no sweetheart. I've already roasted myself. It's ALLLLL about you now baby. So come on. What stupid shit have you done while inebriated?"

"Fine," she pouted and chose a story that instantly came to mind. She also felt Craig would get a kick out of it since it involved his bff and her brother Jason and she also had another hidden motive for telling it.

"So I had recently turned twenty-one and believe me, I did a LOT of partying back then. One night, I was at Charlie's bar with friends and I drank sooooo many tequila shots—"

"Wait," Craig interrupted, "You were drinking at Charlie's? Sonny owned and still owns that bar and from what I recall, you don't like him one teeny tiny bit."

"I don't but I didn't know he owned the place, until that night. It was also the night I found out about Jason and his involvement in organized crime."

Craig turned to face Callie with a smug grin, "Jason's her brother. Sonny's the big boss man. We're all just one happy little mob family."

With a frown and a warning slap to his arm, Josie continued, "ANYWAYS, not knowing I was there, Jason came in and he didn't see us in the corner. He went straight to a back room and I thought that was so odd and you know me. I had to investigate."

"No surprise there," Craig teased.

"AND I overheard them—"

"No surprise AGAIN," he playfully snickered.

An eye roll and a sigh, "Stop it. ANYWAYS, it sounded like shady shit was going down and when Jason left, I hid and—"

"Let me guess. You followed him."

A whiny shout, "Oh my god Craaaaig, let me finiiiiish!!"

He chuckled, pleased with himself, "Sorry babe. I just know you way tooooo well. Ok, go on and don't skimp on the details. This is all way too interesting."

"Ok...so YES, I followed him. Down to the pier where he went inside a warehouse. Good thing I did too, which you will see. Some men with guns came out and left, like three or four maybe, but Jason didn't, so I went to find him. I saw a door with a light underneath it and when I opened it, there he was, hands handcuffed behind his back and ankles bound with rope. Needless to say, he was both pissed and happy to see me staggering in. Since neither of us had a key to the handcuffs, I tried to undo the rope but the knot was ridiculously tight. Now, here's why he was lucky I followed him. While I was tugging and picking and cussing like a sailor at the knot, Jason spotted bobby pins in my hair that I forgot I was wearing, SO there I am, trying to pick the lock with this tiny, little piece of metal that I'm seeing two of and mind you, I had only ever seen it done in movies so I'm rambling on with slurred speech of how it's never going to work and then," She throws her hands up, "Poof! The damn thing shoots out of my fingers and goes flying across the floor, so there's me, forgetting I had more of them in my hair and I stumble to my feet and go looking for the one I lost.

Jay's like, 'JO! In your hair!' and I'm like," She starts laughing, 'Jay, I know it's a mess OK?? I fell twice on the way here!' And then he gets mad, saying 'those guys would be coming back soon and that I needed to shut up and focus,' so then I get mad because he was being so mean and I told him 'he should be more grateful that I was even there to help him because if I had minded my own business, he would be up shit creek without a paddle' and he's like, 'you're not doing me any good. Just give me the bobby pins and I'll pick it myself. You need to get out of here.' I refused and argued that 'he wouldn't leave me if it were me' and he argued back that 'he could just carry me out if that were the case but that I couldn't do the same for him,' so then I'm telling HIM to 'just shut up and tell me what he was involved in or I was going to call mom and tell her that he's hanging around a notorious crime lord.' He glares at me and says 'are you fucking serious right now?' and I pull my cell out of my pocket and wave it at him and say 'or I can call the cops,' then," She laughs again, "I'm like, 'Oh my god Jay, why didn't I think of this is the first place??!! I can call the cops because they got the keys to the handcuffs!!'

Craig throwed his head back against the seat and clapped his hands as he guffawed, "Oh dear god Jo, you're killin me."

"Oh just you wait Craig, I'm so not done. SO," she chuckles, "Jay shouts at me, 'NO! No cops Jo!! Get another fucking pin out of your hair!' and I'm like, 'Stop SHOUTING at me or I'm leaving!!' By this time Jason knows he has to play nice so he gives me this lame apology and bribes me by telling me he promises to show me how to ride, hence how I got my Yamaha and—"

Craig's eyes popped, "You ride??"

Josie proudly stiffened in her seat, smiling with her chin held high, "Yep, Sure do."

Half smile, enamored stare and growling whisper, "Bad....ass."

"So then, obviously, I agreed and began picking at the lock again and BOOM, it unlocks. I was in so much shock that it actually worked that I was getting ready to squeal over my success when we heard the men's muffled voices and footsteps down the hall. Jason swiftly untied his legs, then came up with this spur of the moment plan that he would pretend to still be tied up and hurt and told me to 'sit by him and run when he jumps up to fight them off.' I swear everything hit the fucking fan after that. I never sobered up so fast in my life.

There were three guys with guns and they were pissed when they saw me and that Jason's legs were untied. They're like, 'who the hell are you and how did you get in here?' I played dumb and begged them for help, saying that 'I was drunk and homeless and looking for a place to crash for the night and I found this man and he's hurt and needs an ambulance,' so one of the dudes forces Jason to his feet by lifting him up under his arms and then Jason attacks them and I did what he said...I ran, shoving one of the guys out of my way but I froze in the doorway because I couldn't leave Jay behind. They had guns. He didn't, so I turned around and saw that the guy I pushed was aiming his gun at Jason as he struggled with the other guys. I didn't even hesitate. I grabbed him from behind and pulled his arm down. We struggled too and he threw me to the floor and pointed the gun right at me. It was only seconds and Jason had a gun placed point blank at his chest, then shot rang out from the doorway. Everybody ducked but me. I instantly ran to a gun I saw on the floor, picked it up and swung around, firing it once out of both fear and adrenaline at the place the other shot had sounded from and that's when Sonny, Max and Milo came charging in with their guns drawn. Jason had already disabled all three of the men and grabbed me to shield and disarm me and held his gun up in surrender until he realized it was Sonny and then there's me and my drunk mouth, cussing all of them out for putting my brother in danger. The end. Ta da!!"

Hot and bothered, Craig shifted in his seat, "You drunken, bad ass little vixen you. I am totally turned the fuck on right now."

"Wow, totally bitchin!" Gael added.

Feeling the rush from reliving the memory, Josie's eyes smiled at Craig, reciprocating his feelings.

Callie sat right up, her baffled eyes scanning over all three of them, "Are you all demented?? Ya'll could have been killed. I can't believe ya'll think this mob shit is cool????"

"There was a little moral to my story Callie," Josie explained, "Cleary yes, it's a dangerous world but not all that live this life are bad like you think they are. Like Craig, my brother is on the good side to keep the bad ones away. Those men were attempting a hostile takeover of Sonny's territory. They reneged on the deal they made and were going to kill Jason after using him to lure Sonny there and kill him too. They were drug and weapon dealers. Shit that no one wants in Salem or anywhere else for that matter. I understand your confliction because of Gael—"

"Do you? Do you really? Because it's quite clear you have feelings for Craig, so what if he would have been shot tonight?? Would you still feel all turned on by it???"

"Alright, alright," Craig intervened, waving his hand, "Come on. Enough. Bad shit went down tonight but we're all safe and what happened does not mean it was mob related," he claimed, knowing damn well it was, "It's over. Let's try to relax and enjoy what's left of this night. So how about this? No more talk or stories of guns and shit and that now means it's YOUR turn Callie to tell us a drunken story of your own to distract our thoughts and make us laugh so that we go into this party with big fucking smiles upon our faces. Surely there must be a time when you pulled that stick out of your ass for one night and got all sauced up and I don't mean in the bedroom?"

Gael cringed and chuckled, "Bad analogy bro. So bad."

"Bad I am," Craig claimed with a grin and a wink, "Now...spill it Cal. We're getting thirsty."

She sat back, eyes rolling and arms crossed, "Whatever, fine. I'll make this short and sweet to shut your warped mouth up. This one time—"

Craig couldn't resist, "At band camp?"

Gael and Jo both chortled as Callie glared, "You know what smart ass? Actually, it's funny though that you mentioned that because ironically we were all drinking homemade apple pie wine and playing truth or dare. I'm a lightweight as it is and I hadn't eaten that day. It was blizzard conditions outside and I was dared to strip down and make snow angels in the front yard and so I did it. Rock solid nipples in the air and a perfect shot of everything down below each time I spread my legs. Happy now mob man?"

Craig stared, eyes enthralled, "Very."

Josie was staring too. At him, "Are we done now?"

He smiled, pleased that she was clearly jealous yet once again, "Yes love. Let's go."

"Hey wait!" Callie commanded as they all stepped out of the car.

Craig sighed, eyes rolling as he turned back, "What now?"

"So, did that shooting have anything to do with you or not? Or was it just some coincidence that those men wanted to buy your painting and then they both end up dead only moments later?"

A sly grin curled on his lips before leaving her there, stunned by his answer, "If I tell you, I'll have to kill you."

After a few hours of driving around and boozing it up, the limo with the other Boston trio inside pulled up in front of Johnny's nightclub, toasting to a fun-filled night with the last of their red wine.

Relaxed with one leg crossed over the other and his arm stretched out behind Emily who sat comfortably close to him, Lee guzzled down the wine, then licked his bottom lip as he indiscreetly ogled her cleavage, "Are you sure Johnny doesn't have a problem with me being here?"

"Yes I'm sure. I told you on the way here what he said and we probably won't see very much of him. He had some business meeting earlier and he's been distracted ever since. I think something's going on at the pier tonight a few blocks down so let's just go fucking party already. I know where his stash is inside."

"Sounds good to me! I assume we don't have to wait in that line outside?" Lee asked as he stared at the creepy, neon sign reading 'Pandemonium' with the first and last three letters flashing so it would emphasize on the word 'demon'.

"Nope," she validated with a smile, "follow me boys. We're VIP."

She led them to a side entrance labeled VIP where a brawny bouncer stood guard wearing a business suit so tight that it greatly pronounced his biceps and even his manhood and judging by the ear piece, black sunglasses and an expression that screamed 'go ahead punk, make my day', Lee was certain he was packing more than just a sizeable cock within his pants.

With one look at Emily and Travis, he opened and held the door, no questions asked and luckily for Lee, no pat downs, for there was no way he was spending an evening in such a place and area without packing his own heat.

The bass of AWOLNATION's 'Sail' pounded through Lee's chest and vibrated his ear drums as they traveled down a long hallway where a sauna-like heatwave suffocated his airways and drew instant beads of sweat upon his forehead until they reached the very end.

Refilling his deprived lungs with a hefty gasp of booze and sex scented air, Lee's dilated sapphire's scoped out his surroundings, starting with a bar that traveled down an entire wall and then they surfed over the elbow to elbow packed dance floor that lit up hundreds of heads with strobe lights and spotlights and above the dance floor, on raised platforms were women, definitely drag Lee deciphered for obvious lower region reasons, dancing in cages in random areas of the colossal club.

"You guys get your drinks! I'll be right back!' Emily shouted as they stopped at the bar, then she motioned to one of the barbacks, "VIP! Their drinks are free all night!"

Travis scoffed after she left, "My drinks should always be free. I fucking work here and don't even get a discount. All she does is fuck the boss to get what she wants."

"Hey man, chill and just enjoy this night. Don't be rude."

"Oh you would defend her. I mean, you haven't taken your eyes off her tits all night."

Lee grinned, "Well what can I say man. They're in my face and I can't deny that they'd make a great pillow....among other things."

"You won't have an 'other' thing if you touch what belongs to Johnny. I heard he had some dude fucked up pretty bad the other night for doing exactly what you're thinking of doing. You're smarter than this man. Don't let your horny cock and pills be the death of you. Don't you already have issues with Zacharra?? That's why Em had to ask him about bringing you here and then he just does a one-eighty and lets you in? Something's not right man."

"Get out of here with that shit man. Enough with your jealousy already. And I'm not worried in the least about some mob scum. I know how to handle little pricks like him. He wouldn't even see it coming."

"Or maybe you won't see him coming, especially when you're blinded by anger and bitterness over your ex and mixing it with lust over Johnny's girl and being high out of your mind. Deadly cocktail!! Jesus man and also, I thought you took your profession as a doctor seriously. You know, do no harm? That kinda thing?"

"Oh I do take it very seriously Travis, but when someone takes what I care about, people are going to find out that all bets are off."

"Yeah ok, I get it. I really do but Johnny didn't take anything from you, so who are we really talking about here?"

"Don't worry about it. The less you know about my life, the better. Now let's get some drinks and fucking party."

"Whatever man. You're only screwing yourself babe."

Lee smirked, "Not tonight BABE!"

Emily collected more pills from Johnny's private, upstairs office and as she went to leave, her mobster boyfriend pulled her back into a deep kiss and gave a warning as he painfully squeezed her face between his thumb and fingers, "Don't fuck this up Em. You owe me after what you did. Just do as your told and I'll take care of the rest, then karma will finish it. Oh the irony of Travis' friend being that dickhead doctor Pace. This couldn't have worked out better and for you too because you get not one but two doctor dicks all in the course of just a few days, then you can compare notes on who's the bigger dick and ask yourself if the ride was all worth it in the end. Now go and get busy working off all these drugs and free drinks. I got other shit to take care of tonight."

With a rough push of her face, she stumbled off down the hall, then made a pitstop in the ladies room to collect herself before returning to carry out the insidious trap.

Emily's smile returned as she ran up and grabbed a hand from both Lee and Travis, "Come on! I got the stuff. LET'S DANCE!!"

Travis declined with an attitude, "You guys go right ahead. I'm sticking to the drinks for now."

"Suit yourself! More for us!!" Lee shouted as Emily drug him off to the dance floor.

Their bodies bobbed up and down as Buckcherry's 'Crazy Bitch' rocked the room with Lee serenading the dirty lyrics to Emily, "Break me down. You got a lovely face. We're going to your place and now you got to freak me out. Scream so loud, get fucking laid!!"

Flashing her bedroom eyes, she took a pill out and slipped it to Lee. She swallowed it down first and he quickly followed, then as he vigorously shook his head to the beat, he watched her shimmering breasts bounce about while Travis viewed with an envious disgust from the bar and the tall, dark and devious Johnny lurked above in the shadows of the catwalks like a vampire, snapping zoomed in photos with his phone.

It didn't take long for the drugs to kick in with the erotic euphoria Lee had previously experienced at Travis' place, only this time it was much stronger. He felt lighter, happier and extremely tortured with a concupiscent ache in his groin.

Those weren't the only magical effects of the unknown drug. As he watched Emily dance with a hypnotic lightshow behind her, his impaired eyes began to hallucinate with a vision of her shaking her hair down and flaunting herself before him in a form fitting, lustrous platinum dress that bared her entire midriff, arms and legs all the way up to her ass.

His forehead and dark locks were beginning to dampen with perspiration and his core was twisting with pleasure, enough so that he had to physically adjust his firming cock.

Feeling a bit insecure, Lee knew that his baggy trousers weren't going to hide his growth for long, so he swooped Emily up in his arms and carried her over to a lounge area filled with white leather sofas and placed her down and teasing her with a brief peck of his lips upon hers.

The mysterious drug was hitting them both hard. Lee was now profusely sweating and his entire body was overheating. As he laid with his head arched and resting over the back of the couch and his legs sprawled out and propped on the floor, Emily mounted him. His eyes squinted to see her, for the lights had become suddenly sensitive. All of his senses seemed to have become rather raw. The loud music reverberated through his ears and pounded against his skull with each beat of the bass and to make it worse, the song playing, REO Speedwagon's 'Keep on Loving You,' caused an overbearing, emotional pain in his heart as well. That's when the rambling began. Jo this and Jo that. All of his self-control was gone. He had lost the battle of burying her memory as it surfaced with a vengeance and consumed his all of his thoughts.

Emily tried to hold his head up and make him look at her and see only her, but he fought it as he laid his head back down and continued on with his rant which frustrated her, "No no no. Lee, listen to me. Listen to my voice. It's just you and me babe. No one else."

"No...she's here. I see her. She....she's drowning and....reaching for me." he claimed, his eyes still forcefully shut so that he would continue to see her.

Emily could feel his desire for her weakening just as his solid manhood was, "No LEE! It's me who's drowning....in my wetness. Feel me!" She grabbed his hand and slid it under her dress, pressing his fingers to her warm entrance and coaxing them under her panties. He deeply moaned at her slickness and as he did so, his mouth gaped open.

Taking advantage of the situation, Emily dropped another pill into the back of his throat, then gently closed his mouth, watching him swallow, "That's it baby. You'll come back to me in no time. Let me help speed up the process. Come here."

With all her strength, she pulled him up into a sitting position so the pill would go down and work faster, then she took another pill as well.

His immensely dilated eyes opened and he gazed at her as she slowly began to grind her hips over his sleeping cock. His large, soft hands caressed her bare back as his sapphires remained locked in her dark hues, "I see you now...Emily."

A sensual sigh escaped her lips as he caved and pressed his mouth over hers. As their tongues danced together, his cock began to revive. His body was tingling all over as the drug raced through his veins.

He flipped her over and laid her back on the couch, pressing himself onto her petite body as he slid his hand under her dress once again and teased her clit in a gyrating motion.

"Oh god, yes!" she gasped, then pleaded, "Please. I want to feel them inside of me."

Although everyone in the area was having their own make-out sessions without a care as to who could see, Lee still felt uncomfortable with all the wandering eyes, "Not here. Is there somewhere else we can go? I'll give you more than a few measly fingers. Do you feel that?"

He took her hand and placed it on his throbbing cock.

"Oh myyyy. Yes I certainly do. Ok, yes, there's a back storage room."

Lee rolled right off of her and hopped up, holding his hand out to her, "Well come on then. Lead the way before this thing goes south again."

"I got more remedies in my pocket for that, so no worries."

He guffawed as she took his hand and then off they went as Travis looked on, gritting his jaw with rage and as Johnny finished up his photo shoot, then happily texted the evidence to Josie with a humiliating caption that hinted of his Lee's location, "Looks like she's snagged herself another doctor that you love. It is absolute pandemonium in here tonight."

Earlier at the after party, Craig took Josie aside to speak to her about her vision.

"Ok. It's just you and me now. Tell me exactly what you saw Jo. Was it like with the train?"

The potent punch in her glass rippled from her trembling hand, "It was just as vivid but also just as brief. One second it was there, the next it wasn't and..." Her eyes teared up, "I didn't see your face but I know it was you because you were wearing the same clothes you are wearing right now. I saw your hand, silver rings and all, covered in blood as it pressed over the wound, right there."

With a shaky index finger, she pointed to his lower abdomen near his side, then she pounded her drink back and turned her face away as the tears fell.

Craig took the empty glass from her hand and sat it upon a table, then he gently grasped her face in his hands and made her welled up eyes look at him which broke his heart, "Jo, I don't know what these visions mean or why you're having them but—"

Her tears streamed, "I don't know either but what I do know is I'm scared Craig. I'm scared to death I'm going to lose you too and I just can't. You're the only person I trust anymore and who truly cares about me and if anything happened to you or you got hurt, I—"

"Craig!" Emma hollered with excitement as she rudely marched right up to him. "I'm so glad you came! I was so worried with all that shooting business and—"

"Emma," he snarled, attempting a smile as to not draw attention to them, "clearly you can see we are in the middle of a private conversation and—"

Josie furiously wiped her tears away, "It's fine Craig. I'll go get us some drinks."

She walked off, leaving Craig even more pissed off at Emma's intrusion that he knew was intentional, "Look Emma," he snapped in a low tone, "I don't know how much more clear I can make this except for being an asshole to get the point across. I'm ridiculously in love with Jo and not you or anyone else will change that. Now, I thank you for bringing the students to my studio today for a class and for the invite here tonight as well but as I already told you, I'm here for them and nothing else and I really need to go mingle and celebrate with all these brilliant and zealous young artists for having the opportunity to have their work exclusively on display tonight that's just as elusive as I am to you. Now if you don't mind, please fuck off."

With his cool cat swagger, Craig made his way over to Josie who was pouring their glasses of punch and eavesdropping at the same time. Her eyes were wide and impressed, "Wowww," she whispered with a smile and handed him a glass of the red Kool-Aid with a kick, "I guess you told her huh Chester?"

He blushed some, "I take it you heard....all...of that?"

She teased, her eyes flirty and increasingly impaired, "You mean the part where you said you were ridiculously in love with me?"

A whispery chuckle and a full smile of embarrassment as he avoided eye contact, "Ahhh, yes....that, well—"

The iconic beat of Michael Jackson's 'Billie Jean' blared through the house, triggering a confetti explosion and sending the party goers into a jumping outroar.

Gael was one of them as he sprung up and down like a kangaroo in the kitchen doorway and then gracefully moonwalked his way over to Craig squealing "Eeee heeee!"

Callie followed him, laughing and shaking her head as both Josie and Craig cheered and clapped.

"Go Gael!" Craig encouraged.

"He's got the moves like Jackson!!" Josie added, "Come on Craigy. I know you got the moves too. Go get em baby!"

His lips perked into a frown, "Umm...no," he objected but it was too late.

A random student began chanting, "Craig! Craig! Craig!" and then others joined in, Josie too, with bellowing out his name, faster and faster until he finally caved.

Josie was in awe. They all adored him. Craig was the life of the party once again. He had breathed a breath of fresh air and new energy into each and every person there and it just made him all the more attractive to Josie in every way.

Gael grabbed his arm and pulled him out to the floor, "You heard em man. The people have spoken!"

Craig gave in with a shy smile and the other dancers stepped aside and applauded as the two men's feet moved in sync to the beat.

"Woooohoooo!! Owwww, sexxxaaaay!!!" Josie shouted as she pulled out her phone and began recording them.

Craig frowned again, "Don't you dare post this!"

"Oh I'm SO posting it!!!" she teased and took Callie's hand, pulling her out with her to join them, but she bashfully refused.

"Nooooooo. I'm not drunk enough for that yet!"

"Ok well here. Record us!!"

Callie obliged while Craig happily grabbed Josie up and pulled her against him, then pressed his cheek to hers, "Alright then. Smile and wave at the camera!!!"

Gael hopped around them, video bombing the wild and carefree moment and for once, Josie felt normal and happy again. So did Craig, even in the midst of his daughter's kidnapping but thanks to Josie's support and being faithfully by his side, he was confident Blaise would be found soon.

With her arms stretched up around Craig's neck and his palms gripping the back of her thighs, Josie swayed and pressed her hips against his as a new song played by one of the most ridiculously hated bands in the world, Nickelback, but it coincidentally happened to be one of Craig's favorite bands. The catchy tune 'Into the Night' featured the legendary Santana on guitar and as the sexy melody rang through the room, he pulled Josie closer to him while singing to her once again.

"Like a gift from the heavens, it was easy to tell. It was love from above that could save me from hell. She had fire in her soul, it was easy to see how the devil himself could be pulled out of me. There were drums in the air as she started to dance. Every soul in the room keeping time with their hands...."

The chorus began and the place exploded with obnoxiously singing students, jumping about with their hands waving in the air.

"And we sang aye-oh-aye, oh, aye-oh-aye!! and the voices rang like the angels sing. We're singing aye-oh-aye, oh, aye-oh-aye!! and we danced on into the night!!!"

Everything was perfect. No fucks were given. All negative thoughts, emotions and energy from the night's tragedy at the gallery had been demolished by the magical and powerful energy in the room and it was all because of Craig's presence. To Josie, HE was perfect.

He spun her around, facing away from him and glued his body to her backside with his hands pressed firmly on her stomach and hers over his. As the pair offered more dirty dancing moves with slow, figure eight movements of their conjoined hips, Craig whispered more sweet song into her ear.

"Like a piece to the puzzle that falls into place. You could tell how we felt from the look on our faces. We were spinning in circles with the moon in our eyes. No room left to move in-between you I. We forgot where we were and we lost track of time and we sang to the wind as we danced through the night."

She spun back around and they joined hands, lifting them above their heads and joining in on the jumping and chorus shouting.

"And we sang aye-oh-aye, oh, aye-oh-aye!! and the voices rang like the angels sing. We're singing aye-oh-aye, oh, aye-oh-aye!! and we danced on into the night!!"

As the song ended, another blended in and the crowd went wild over the highly recognizable opening beat of the famous and classic tune from Grease, 'You're the One that I Want."

Out of breath, Josie attempted to leave for another drink and rest but Craig yanked her right back against him, his lips inches from hers as his warm, boozy breath teased her mouth with song.

"I got chills, they're multiplying and I'm losing control, cause the power you're supplying. It's ELECTRIFYING!!"

"Oh hell no," she laughed, then did what Sandy did to Danny in the movie. She pushed Craig away and sang back to him, waving her finger in his face, "You better shape up cause I need a man and my heart is set on you. You better shape up. You better understand. To my heart I must be true."

Gael jumped in between them, knees bent, leaning back with his eyes scrunched closed and hands sprawled in the air, screeching, "You're the one that I want. You are the one I want OOOOH OOOOOH OOOOOOOH honey!!"

Callie, still recording and finally feeling a buzz, was laughing so hard, she had tears streaming down her cheeks, "Josie!! You have to send me this video!!"

"OK!!" she shouted and then clutched Craig's shirt by the collar, "If you're filled with affection, you're too shy to convey. Meditate in my direction." She took his hand and guided it up her thigh, then winked, "Feel your way."

Craig waved his hand like a fan in front of his face, "Wheww!! Fuck...me, it's getting HOT in here!"

He pulled her right back to him, "I better shape up cause you need a man."

She sang back, "I need a man who can keep me satisfied."

Then him, "I better shape up if I'm gonna prove—"

"You better prove that my faith is justified."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure down deep inside!"

Smiling at the phone screen, Callie pushed stop since there was only a few bars left and then her brows furrowed and her smile faded, "Hey Josie?? You have like six text messages. I didn't see them while I was recording. Sorry. I hope it's nothing important."

"No, it's fine Callie. It's probably my sister and I need a break and a drink anyways. Wanna come with?"

Her eyes lit up, for she really like Josie, "Sure! Ok. I'm thirsty too."

Craig chuckled and tossed his hands up, "Oh sure. I see how it is."

"I'll bring you back a drink!" she promised as the two giggling girls ran off hand in hand.

"I'm having a lot of fun with you Josie," Callie confessed as they both filled a glass with the party punch, "And I'm really sorry for giving Craig a hard time. Everyone here seems to love him so maybe I need to give him a chance. I mean, you seem to have a good head on your shoulders and if he were that bad, I doubt you'd be with him right?"

"I'll agree with you on most of that. Craig is absolutely amazing but as far as my judgment," she sarcastically laughed and guzzled down the punch, "it's total shit. Trust me. Nothing to do with Craig though. I trust him with my life and my heart. As far as other men from my past, that's the shit part."

"Ahhh, I see. Yeah, I feel ya on that. No one has ever measured up like Gael. So, how about we toast to these two great men and to hoping you and I can be friends and get to hang out more."

"Here here!! Cheers my new, beautiful friend!"

They raised their glasses, tapped them together and drank all the contents down, then Josie opened her texts.

"What the fuck? Why is Johnny texting m...."

"Who's Johnny?" Callie asked, then busted up laughing, "Oh my god, remember that song? I think it's by El De...something??"

Josie didn't hear a word she said. She heard absolutely nothing except a light ringing of Tinnitus. She felt nothing. Her limbs were numb. She had been struck by lightning and stood there, paralyzed and staring in shock at the racy photos of Lee's lips and hands all over her so called friend.

"Josie? You ok sweety?" Callie asked, placing her hand on her shoulder and noticed that she was trembling, "Josie, hey? Talk to me. What's wr—"

Lightning struck twice in the same spot she stood as her hearing rushed back like a tidal wave, startling her into flight.

Into the crowded kitchen, she ran, pushing her way through the sweaty chaos in search for the door but she became trapped in the middle and began to panic.

"CRAIG!!!!! CRAIG!!!!!!!!!" she screamed and cried but even the people standing next to her couldn't hear her over the thumping bass of the rap music and their shouting along, nor could the tall flock of guys see her petite frame.

Also in a panic, Callie ran up to Craig, "Something's wrong with Josie!!"

He stiffened up, his eyes alert and darting around, "Where is she???"

"She..she ran over there. The kitchen I thi—"

Craig was gone, bolting across the room and charging through the the crowd like a running back, "JO!! Jo where are you??!!"

He followed the sound of a clamoring crowd that was egging someone on and that's where he saw her from the kitchen doorway, chugging eighty proof vodka straight from the bottle.

The room was packed as was the entryway of people waiting to get in.

"JO!!!!!!" he shouted again with Gael right behind him but it was futile with all the noise an literally no room to push through. He turned to Gael with a critical expression, "On my count, push as hard as you can!"

Gael gave a hard nod as he and Craig took their positions and buried their feet into the floor.

"1,2,3...NOW!"

An adrenaline rush fired through Craig as he and Gael barreled through the alcohol-fueled rabble like a raging bull, knocking many of the juiceheads over. What seemed like minutes were only seconds but Craig finally reached her and knocked the bottle straight out of her hands, sending it shattering on the ground.

He grabbed her firmly by each arm, "What the fuck are you doing??!!"

Her balance and breathing was unstable and her eyes were glassy with smeared mascara, "I...I...I panicked...I...couldn't get out...I called for....you so...so many times."

Leaning down, he swooped her up into his arms and carried her out the back door with Gael in tow, then he sat her down in a chair and kneeled before her with dire concern, taking her face in his hands, "Baby, what's going on?? What happened??"

"I....I....I feel sick. Craig, I'm going to be sick!!"

He quickly helped her to lean over on all fours in the grass and every ounce of the clear liquor she had just consumed came gushing out of her like a fire hydrant.

Feeling emotional over her suffering and confused as to what caused her to do something so reckless, Craig caressed her back and held her hair out of the way as he offered words of comfort, "That's it sweetheart. Get it all out. I'm right here. I've got you baby. You'll feel so much better in a little bit."

"No...no I won't," she muttered.

Feeling even more lost, Craig stroked her hair, "Jo...I'm so sorry I wasn't there when you needed me. When Callie told me something was very wrong, I did everything in my power to get to you."

In her silence, he looked up at a stressed Gael, "Can you grab her some of those napkins over there please?"

As Gael complied, Craig helped Jo back into the chair, placing his blazer around her, then he knelt before her once again, gazing at her wandering and humiliated eyes.

Gael returned, "Here ya go Josie. I have some gum too if you'd like?"

"S..sure," she quietly whimpered and took both of the offered items.

"Hey love," Craig sweetly whispered and smiled at her, touching her tear streaked cheek, "It's me. Tell me what's going on. Please. Let me help."

As Josie raised her eyes, Callie had joined them, holding her phone that she had let fall from her hands. She glanced at the phone and then nodded to Craig, "Go ahead."

With furrowed brows and a head tilt, Craig took the phone from Callie's reluctant hand. Mixed emotions coursed through him as he swiped through the photos that were already on display as Josie had left them. Out of those emotions, the dominant ones were anger and fear and both revealed themselves in his expression with anger pursing his lips as he wanted to rip the head off of the person who sent the photos and fear widening his eyes from Jo's reaction to them.

He had to know who the monster was, besides Lee, that crushed Josie's very soul so he swiped back to her text list, "Who's number is this Jo?"

"Johnny's," she squeaked as she teared up again.

"Zacharra did this???? That motherfucker. Who's the girl??"

She began to sob, "Johnny's girl. She used to be my friend."

"Why in the fuck would he send pics of his girl all over your ex, let alone even let it happen?????"

"Because he's a sick fuck and he's gloating. He's bitter that I blew him off all those years ago and can't stand him now and....he wants me to go there and catch them. That's why his nightclub's name is mentioned. That's where they are."

Craig's knuckles were turning white from the death grip he had on her phone, "Seems the real sick fuck in this situation is—" He cut himself off in order not to hurt her any further, "Never mind. It's none of my business."

"Yes it is or I wouldn't have shown you and you're....you're right about that. Lee is sick.... in his soul and I need to go there and confront him."

Craig blew a gasket, "WHAT??? WHY on earth would you do that or even WANT to??? First of all, that club is a shithole and isn't this ex-friend of yours the girl who also just screwed your other doctor friend only a few fucking days ago and got his ass handed to him over it by Johnny's men???"

She stood up, firm in her stance, "It is and the same thing could happen to Lee!"

"Jesus Christ babe. How much does he have to hurt you for you to let him go???!!! If he gave two shits about you, he wouldn't be where he is right now and you STILL want to save his SOUL while you destroy your own! Yet I'm here Jo! I'M the one who's HERE, trying to save you from yourself! I've always had your back to SAVE you, NOT to watch you get hurt!"

"Please Craig. Please, just take me," she cried.

"Fuck that!" he snapped and began to walk off into the darkness of the emptied yard to cool down.

"If you don't, I'm still going to go."

Her words stunned him in his tracks. He turned, frazzled, "Are you freaking kidding me?"

"No. It's only a fifteen minute walk from here and—"

His palms smashed over his face, then he roughly drug them down, "It's fucking freezing out and it's beginning to rain! NOT to mention, that area of Boston is NOT where a woman should be walking all alone! Have you lost your damn mind??? God dammit!!!"

"Then take me!!!! I would rather you be with me. Please!!!"

His hands went to his hips and his head lowered with a hard sigh as he shook it, "I can't fucking believe this. This night was so perfect and wonderful, for the most part and it's all non-existent to you now. Just like that, everything is instantly blown to shit by your precious Lee. Yeah sure Jo. Why not? Let's go so he can torture you some more. Maybe this time you'll wake up and see the truth and realize what's been right in fucking front of you ALL along. Sad part is, I'll still be here too, playing the fucking fool."

Craig marched off to the car, glancing back at the frozen trio, "COME ON!!"

@redeemer46

[salarta]

Genuinely how can you make a post about Lorna being a survivor of a genocide then in the SAME POST complain about people not voting for a literal genocidaire who **is currently and has been doing so for the past year** aiding, abetting & committing the genocide of over half-a-million Palestinians????

The cognitive dissonance is insane.

I don’t hold not voting for Harris against people. I DO hold voting for Trump against people. Let’s get that out of the way first.

Real life is complicated. With limited and terrible options, a vote is not full-throated support for everything about a candidate. A vote is a strategic move.

We had four options in this election.

1) vote for Harris

2) vote for Trump

3) vote for someone else

4) don’t vote

Options 3 and 4 did nothing because under our current very shitty system, only Harris or Trump could win.

So then we look at those two options. Trump and the people around him are blatantly self-serving racist fucks who actively WANT Israel’s genocide of Palestinians. Not because someone is giving them money or threatening them politically, but because they’re racist and want to hurt and kill people who aren’t white. That they can get something out of it, like “beachfront property” as they’ve said, is just a “bonus” to them.

There is no pressuring Trump or anyone in his circle to stop supporting the genocide.

Harris, on the other hand, has spoken with people and groups lobbying for Palestinians and against the genocide. No, it hasn’t led to what it should which is at minimum not giving Israel material support. But that she even met with them showed they feel at least SOME pressure. There was a chance there to effect change that no other route could bring.

In an idealized fantasy world, these would not have been our options. In such a world, a path to actually stopping the genocide straight away would have appeared. But that’s not the world we live in. We have to deal with the one we actually live in.

Even the ability to protest and demand change is at risk with Trump in power. He’s made very clear that he wants to attack and “punish” citizens for any actions opposing his will. That’s very different from our current situation where we actually still have our freedom to protest and openly speak out against the genocide. Harris still gave a path to public pressure and condemnation meaning something. The cost of protest in America is about to skyrocket, while the actual payoff for that protest is about to plummet.

If you’ve looked at my Tumblr activity, you would see I’ve shared posts condemning the genocide, and posts about how the United States should needs to stop materially supporting these war criminals. I’m nowhere near the sort of attitude you seem to think I have. But I’m also cursed with the knowledge and full awareness of what our options truly were, and couldn’t simply pretend we had some idealized other path where everything goes perfect.

But here’s a final piece for you. Now that the election is over, and Biden is a lame duck, he has absolutely zero excuse not to cut off everything to Israel that he can until he’s out of office. There is no political cost for him or Dems. There’s no potential legal cost for him either, after SCOTUS falsely claimed presidents are immune to everything while president. And if we look at the plans for Trump and Republicans, it’s highly dubious if we’ll ever have another real, fair election again, so this might be the last chance at Dems having and using their power. Meaning this, among so many other things, should be acted on by Biden right now. That he’s not doing it when there is literally no reason anymore not to do it is damning.

There you have it. Now please find other paths that can effect real change to stop the genocide among other things. If you’re an American citizen, then time for that work is of the essence and the clock is ticking. It’s going to be a fuckload harder after January 20.

[karmakatx]

just spent 20 minutes trying to convince my parents to register to vote so i don’t have to worry about my safety as a woman, minor, and queer person in this country. my dad just kept saying if he were to register, he would vote for trump because that’s who i keep begging him not to vote for, and he thinks it’s funny.

so please, if you are able to, register to vote and vote for kamala harris. she’s nowhere near a perfect candidate, but with this country you kinda have to take what you can get.

[reilliane]

✤ — Universe: Vigil ✤ — Concept: Two days apart, at long last, Kazuha has prepared himself to greet a latecomer... in more ways than one | Irodori Festival (Interlude) ✤ — Characters: Kazuha (platonic), Aether, Paimon, Xingqiu, Albedo, Venti — she/her A/N: Vigil!MC is a pretty lady and no one denies it. Also, there's a bit of angst in the first thousand words, but the rest is just a road down awe and fluff ehehe. We need an entrance before the rest of the parts come in full fluffy!.

Sweet, sweet Inazuma.

With its endless bloom of pretty sakura and perpetual descent of crimson maple, it appears that it too has come to welcome someone who's returning to her homeland.

The Irodori Festival is already at the pinnacle of excitement, what with the arrival of numerous authors and the jovial atmosphere lasting day and night.

But along with this festival arises a story cloaked in the smoke of buried history.

Kazuha has decided to hold off divulging the narrative he's held privy only to familial ties until the next afternoon—which is today—in favor of waiting for the arrival of someone.

He has two reasons; the premise being that Ayaka is acquiring more information herself, and him, truthfully a little sullen to go through this alone.

The past is, so to say, a delicate subject to touch upon. There are memories he doesn't wish to visit and mistakes that, up until now, he wishes to change.

But he knows this; he knows that he should no longer allow those blue devils to smite him, for he has redeemed himself.

Well, that is according to someone else's words.

If he is to be more candid with his still guilty conscious, he's nowhere near the remission he seeks... and maybe he'll never truly achieve it.

Ah, wait, what's he doing? He shouldn't have such a pensive front when everyone is at an obvious merry.

Besides, today is supposed to be exciting! Setting aside the serious matter, of course.

“We're all here. Perfect!”

The voice of Paimon brings him out of his reverie.

Time flies by so quickly when one is lost in another world, notes the samurai as he glances over the reformed group. Though one seems to not have arrived yet... to his dismay.

“Apologies,” his eyes proceed to wander around the plaza, “But may I be excused for a moment to head to the port?”

The smallest amount of concern rumbles in his chest, bitter on his tongue. It's a recognized feeling that he doesn't wish to rekindle.

“Sure... but,” Paimon decides to be the group's voice in the middle of their blinking surprise, “Aren't we already complete? Are we still waiting for someone?”

Eyes on his person, he decides to indulge them with eye contact, seeing how there is an assortment of expressions on everyone's faces. Which is understandable, given he's not one for abrupt diversions.

“Well... !” his supposed explanation comes to a pause when he spots a rather familiar person darting from one of the floral shops towards the docks.

His finger twitches. That man...

What he's thinking of may be out of the question, but he has to ascertain things for himself.

He bows his head.

“Excuse me, everyone. I won't be gone long.”

There sounds a collection of bewildered hums and gasps—followed by the Traveler's call of his name, but he does not look back.

Light on his feet as if the wind springs him with each leap off the ground, he moves with adept action. Swift to pass by like a breeze, but careful enough so as to not be a hazard to the people coming in to enjoy the festival.

When he arrives at the port, there is a noticeable ship unloading passengers—and the same man he saw, waiting with a bouquet of pretty dendrobiums.

He wishes his theory is false, but the second he sees the man darting toward a certain lady, he's already pursing his lips with a sigh.

“I have waited long for your return, my muse.”

Sometimes, he wishes his hearing isn't so attuned with the environment, but alas.

“Your beauty has not waned, but refined! Inazuma beams brighter with your return!”

The wharf is oddly swarming with a lot of people, the majority bearing faces he has seen from when he was an adolescent.

Working his way through the crowd, it comes to his prompt attention, the progenitor of such a mob—and he eases.

“Nee-san.”

The calling singlehandedly puts a stop to the blissful chatter, with plentiful eyes turning to look at him in apprehension.

Not like he minds, in fact, their alarm is well-placed.

“Ah, Kazuha! Where- where are you-”

The dulcet-sounding voice of his sister makes him course through the sea of shellshocked people—suitors—until he finally sees her. Or, well, at least her hands.

[Name]'s upper half is completely covered, hidden by a bunch of bouquets with differing flowers in each wrap. A flamboyant sight.

“The Kaedehara..” he hears one mumble as he goes to help carry the flowers, “I honestly didn't think I'd see them here.”

“Right? When I heard someone say that the Kaedehime will be coming back after so long, I just had to check it out. Now that it's true, I wish I brought something!”

Ah, that's right. The departure—escape—of his sister has always been known.

Perhaps it came with her popularity.

It's such a thespian matter to think that they're likening her arrival to a princess' return to a country that once sought to end her life.

Which is actually true, in a way.

Kazuha smiles the second he sees his older sibling's face appear once he has lessened her load of bouquets.

“Shall we get going? There arose some story pertaining to the history of our family, so I ought to wait for you first before proceeding to procure the rest of the account.”

“Oh, yes, let's! I'm quite eager,” the lady beams after bidding adieu to those who greeted her in the harbor, oblivious to the smiles belying their crestfallen expression.

Kazuha allows himself to chuckle. No, no, he's not making fun of them, no, of course not.

It's just a little comical, is all.

“I had to wrap things up in Liyue as quick as I could after receiving your letter. We were only apart for two days but it felt long...”

His sister is oblivious to the fact that the flowers she received aren't done out of friendliness, but with the intent to court.

Oh well. It's better that way.

Small talk arises on their way back to the Five Kasen Plaza, with him filling the other in about the poems and other findings they've gotten in relation to the Kaedehara's downfall.

It's a barely noticeable decline, the jubilance in his sister's gait, when he finished retelling yesterday's events. If he isn't so observant, he would've been led into thinking that this discussion doesn't matter to the lady at all.

“Oh, you're back!”

Ah. Kazuha braces himself.

“We were just about to go after-” Aether stops, blinking, “-You...”

The group reforms once again—and if they weren't that all surprised minutes ago, well they surely are now. Except for Ayaka, whose eyes are lit with silent excitement.

“Lady [Name]!” the Kamisato reaches to clasp the other girl's hands, “You're safe. Seeing you here puts me at great ease. It's been quite a long time since I've seen you... !”

[Name] nods at this, her lips also upturned.

“It has, hasn't it? How's your brother faring?”

“Oh, he's—”

With the two delving off into a small world of their own a minute after reuniting, the rest scoots closer to the onlooking ronin.

Paimon all but tugs at the crimson scarf, little hands clenched into fists as she bursts into a loud whisper, “Who is that!? Paimon feels like burning!”

Burning? Kazuha doesn't question the strange phrasing as he answers, “My older sister. Although I've come to journey with you and the Traveler, you both haven't met her until now...”

“There is an uncanny resemblance,” Calx speaks up with a hum, his turquoise eyes fixated on the older Kaedehara's profile.

It doesn't go unnoticed.

“It's clear why you chose to wait for her arrival before continuing a tale of history, then. Seeing that she's family,” concludes Zhenyu, whose smile appears to be a little larger.

Kazuha tries not to think much of the fluttering stares towards his sibling and he nods, thankful.

“I'm glad you all understood. My older sister may know more of the story than I do, as well, so having her here will be twice as meaningful.”

Well, he honestly didn't expect the festival to turn out this way—a run back down memory lane—because he initially only planned to bask in the merriment that the event has to offer, but tides change.

The green-garbed bard—someone that he felt is close to the wind—whistles shortly, a small chuckle of interest leaving before he glances at him.

“Very meaningful,” Venti winks, “Say, does your sister fancy music?”

Oh, dear. Now that's a question he's heard one too many times in the course of his childhood.

He wonders why such a query was raised. Surely it's not because—

“Pardon my lack of manners! Got quite holed up there,”

The entrance of another voice prompts the group to turn to the [c]-eyed lady. Kazuha notices that his sibling has one less bouquet, with said bouquet having been given to a bashful-looking Ayaka.

“I extend only the warmest of greetings. I take it you all are acquainted with my dear brother,” [Name] steps closer to him, then bows to the rest.

“I'm Kaedehara [Name]. It's a delight to meet you all.”

Facing that radiant smile doesn't last for long until the four, little flying fairy included, are simultaneously averting their squinted eyes.

It's an amusing sight. Was it too bright?

“Traveler, Paimon's going to fail as your guide if she goes blind!” yells the small girl in a panic as she darts to hide behind the aforementioned Outlander.

Aether rustles around with pink cheeks, trying to get the desperate clutch on his cape off without looking like a madman.

“Paimon, quit it... !”

“Ah... it's a delight indeed,” nods Venti, who has a glued smile on his face, his thumb raised in affirmation.

How bizarre, Kazuha almost sighs. All of a sudden, they seem to be acting a little strange.

Truly, the effect of his sister works wondrously. He can't deny that at all, she's the pretty flower of Inazuma for a reason.

But alas, now is not the time for gawking—even the mighty Calx appears to be a loss for words for once—for they've some history to undercover.

They mustn't get off track for too long.

“Alright, everyone. I would like to continue what we're about to-”

Thump!

“Goodness, Kazu, isn't this you? But why were you like that? Who tied you up?!”

Ah.

The bouquets have fallen on the plaza grounds, left forgotten by the lady who is openly gaping as she stares at a particular portrait.

I forgot about that, Kazuha blinks.

Immediately, there is an attempt to explain things. Calx is the first to try and clear up whatever's misunderstood, followed by Ayaka.

“Your brother was used-”

“Used!?”

Calx falters, “Yes—”

“Kazuha!”

In the spur of the moment, [Name] all but races to go to him, [c] eyes ablaze with concern.

She does not heed the others' hysteric explanations any mind, only acting upon a single objective.

“This is normal... I assure you, Kazuha will clear it up,” Ayaka informs the rest with a smile.

That much is true.

Kazuha allows his hands to be snatched and looked over thoroughly with an amused smile. Sometimes, he just forgets how much of a worrywart his sister can be... aside from being oblivious.

“Are you still a wanted criminal?” [Name] fusses, looking at the wrists and brushing her gentle thumbs over them, “You didn't tell me about this at all, what if—”

Oh, a miscalculation. He presents a timid and apologetic smile towards his acquaintances as his sister continues to ramble.

It's going to be a long day ahead.

a/n: FINALLY I- ugh, I've been waiting to write this for so long :v

楓　姫　(Kaede hime) - Princess of Maple (or in another angle, we can also refer to her as 'Kaedehara's Princess')

This the first part! Two more shorts will follow (aka the part where the older sibling embarrasses the other). MC IS THERE TO BRIGHTEN THINGS UP.

Kazuha's not alone in this universe aaaa ♪(´▽｀)

@cherryflushz @e7t3 @scarlet-halos @lordbugs @nebulaera @annoying-and-upset @hanniejji @applepi1415 @tjjjrsj @azirajane @hey-comrade-hold-stil @limelightsuperhero @chloeloe @loptido @windyventi @nejibot @ganyuqrt @justrinnn @uwu-dreams @nebulaera @yvechu @mininji

[rhaeverie]

Perfect Harmony ‣ cbg

‣ pairing: palace attendant!beomgyu x princess!reader

‣ genre: implied f2l, royal!au, fluff, some angst, sorta slice-of-life

‣ wc: 5.7k

‣ summary: “A perfect harmony… that’s what they are”; alternatively, you're slipping and stumbling for with anyone but Choi Beomgyu—but maybe it's a good thing…

‣ warnings?: reader keeps worrying about an upcoming event (a ball) and experiences near-humiliation surrounded by a group of people, lots of question asking (overthinking?), ending might be rushed bc I write at like 4 in the morning

‣ an: this was cuter in my head :( and I rly just pulled this outta nowhere because I wanted to write something but thanks to @hoonieji for helping me a bit with this

The ball happening at the end of the week was all for you. Its purpose was to find a gentleman that was to take the place of the king once your mother chooses to step down as the queen. This was why your mother was making a great deal out of everything. So great, that you can almost see the veins popping out of her forehead from stress.

The entire situation was bittersweet. 

Although, you admit that it is more bitter than it was sweet.

It was sweet because you loved big gatherings. You loved spending time with people who have travelled miles just to attend your party, as well as the people who resided in your own kingdom. There was also a small part of you that was rather curious about the gentlemen your mother deemed candidates and the fact that any of them can be your future spouse.

It was bitter because this wasn’t how you wanted to find love (or at least, what people defined as love). You always imagined yourself finding love on your own. Whether it be by accident or having seen it from afar… you just wanted to find it on your own. Not through the judgment of your mother. 

You were afraid that these ‘gentlemen’ would turn out to be roach-like, or put into simple terms, disgusting. But you wanted to give your mother the benefit of the doubt. If she was able to choose a kind-hearted man like your father, then she would also have the ability to do the same for you. 

Or at least you hope.

“Princess!” 

You’re knocked out of your thoughts by the sharp voice of Mr. Geum, who was impatiently standing at the centre of the ballroom. He had his hands on his hips, weight shifted to one leg while he tapped his foot against the cool floor, “I am here to assist you with your ballroom dancing. Not watch you get lost in your daydreams.” 

Moving swiftly, you stand up from the chair placed at the corner of the room and towards Mr. Geum. One last reason that this all falls under bitter. 

You had to dance.

When you were younger, your mother would point out how dancing was often related to elegance and how elegance was a significant trait that every princess must possess. You remember thinking that all of that was nonsense. Only because elegance could be indicated by many other things. Not just dancing. 

And although dancing didn’t always signify the elegance of a princess, you started to realize that it did play a role in the trait. Especially when ballroom dancing was one of the most considerable parts of a ball. It created opportunities to showcase yourself, and you figured that knowing how to ballroom dance was important in finding your future Prince. 

“Today’s lesson is close to finished,” Mr. Geum points out, “We need to use all the time we have to see improvement, Princess.” Smoothing out his shirt, he gestures for you to raise your elbows as he’s taught, and along with your arms, you straighten your back. 

You don’t say a word. Instead, you sigh and follow Mr. Geum’s orders. One of the ladies at the side of the room starts the music, and through muscle memory, you begin moving your feet. They move in a box-like motion, the waltz, while Mr. Geum leads you across the dance floor. 

You follow proper ballroom dancing etiquette, counting by fours in your head. Although you’re certain you’re following the steps right, you begin stumbling over Mr. Geum’s feet, which causes him to trip over yours. He tries his best to correct you, pulling and pushing you in a way to fix your positions. This doesn’t work.

“I apologize, Mr. Geum,” you say at the song's end. If you’re doing this horribly with the waltz, you can’t imagine how terrible you will be with the foxtrot. The corners of your mouth turn down into a frown, brows furrowing in frustration, “That was all my fault.”

Mr. Geum waves off your apology, “No need to apologize, princess. You’re learning, so it’s understandable that you make mistakes. I have noticed that you’re following the steps well.” 

“That’s what I don’t understand, Mr. Geum,” you say, “I’m not uncoordinated. I can comprehend everything you’ve taught me and translate them into dance moves. I don’t understand why I can’t complete the dance.”

Mr. Geum nods in sympathy, bringing a hand up to his chin as he’s sucked into thought, “I have taught many students who have gone through similar situations as you have… it sounds absurd, but partners do affect how the individuals act together within a routine. You can think of it as two different notes creating a perfect harmony.” You watch as he goes back into his thinking pose, spinning on the spot. 

As if on queue, Beomgyu, the palace’s attendant, and one of your best friends, enters the room, layers of cloth napkins in his arms. He’s out of breath and restless. But even so, Mr. Geum calls on him, “You! Boy! What’s your name?” He waves Beomgyu over, to which Beomgyu complies. 

“It’s Beomgyu, sir,” he answers quietly, trying to catch his breath, “Princess.” He bows to you, and although he normally doesn’t do this when it’s only him and you in the room, he still makes sure to show you respect when there are others around. 

“Do you know how to waltz?” Mr. Geum continues, “The princess needs a partner that may help her prove her skill.”

Beomgyu nods, “Yes, sir, I do.” He looks between you and Mr. Geum, still slightly nervous. 

Mr. Geum claps his hands together, “Ah, perfect! Let’s see it!” He makes his way to the music player, motioning for you to set yourselves up. His attention is kept on you and Beomgyu, and you admit that it’s a bit nerve-wracking. 

“You know how to waltz?” You ask Beomgyu, “What other secret talents do you have?” Raising a brow, you take one step forward towards the boy. The space between the two of you is small. You would feel Beomgyu breathing on your forehead if you stood up straight. 

“It never really came up,” he says quietly, “May I?” His left hand hovers above your waist, closer to your shoulder blade, raising the other hand at the level that you would be holding your right hand. 

“Of course,” you grinned. With one hand you take his raised hand in yours while bringing your other up to his shoulder.

Mr. Geum counts down and begins the music. When it was time, the both of you began moving your feet in sync, Beomgyu leading and you following. 

Almost instantly, you feel a difference between the way Mr. Geum leads and how Beomgyu leads. When Mr. Geum leads, you can feel that he was much more commanding. The push and pulls were forceful, though they weren’t forceful in such a way that was considered rough. In the way you danced with Mr. Geum, it was evident that he lives up to his role as your instructor, leading you as if you had no knowledge of what you were doing. You guess it made sense, but you weren’t an amateur. 

You liked the way Beomgyu led. 

Instead of simply leading you, or almost dragging you along like Mr. Geum, Beomgyu made sure to move you along with him. It was almost as if he was waiting for you to follow in his footsteps although you both had to execute moves at the same time. Beomgyu was gentle. He knew how to move as if you both were one piece. 

The way Beomgyu leads lets you show off the knowledge that you have managed to acquire over the lessons you have taken. Your confidence is heightened, and you can’t help but feel relieved because you now know that you have the ability to dance with elegance. It all just simply depends on who you’re dancing with. 

You look up at Beomgyu, who is already looking down at you. His eyes are glistening—you don’t know why. You smile. You wish you could dance with Beomgyu at the ball. 

You’d probably feel the most confident with him.

“Beautiful!” Mr. Geum exclaims from the side. He stops the music and approaches you and Beomgyu quickly. He has a smile on his face, hands clasped together with pride, “That was a perfect example of what it looks like to find someone you, with lack of words, harmonize with.” He pauses and continues, “You two looked wonderful!”

You drop your hand from Beomgyu’s shoulder and turn to your dance instructor. Your eyes light up at the compliment, a smile following it, “Thank you, Mr. Geum. I’m glad I can show you what I learned from you.” Mr. Geum nods and begins to list what he’s prepared for tomorrow’s class, seeing that you’ve finally reached his current expectations. 

As you nod along to the upcoming plans, you don’t realize that you’re still holding onto Beomgyu’s hand. He’s looking down at your joined hands, unsure whether or not he should let go. He tries loosening his grip, but that’s when he realizes that it’s you that is maintaining the hold.

Finally, Mr. Geum concludes the class, “The lesson is over for today! I will see you next time, Princess.” He goes in for a fatherly hug and that’s when you let go of Beomgyu’s hand. 

Even then you don’t realize, and Beomgyu’s left confused.

°•. ✿ .•°

Beomgyu feels like a fool. 

And not because he was sitting on the filthy floor of the stables. 

He feels like a fool because he can’t get the feeling of you holding his hand out of his head. He shouldn’t even be feeling this way towards you but he can’t help it. He blames you, but not in a way where he’s angry at you.

Sighing, he shifts in place and glances out at the setting sun. He can feel his clothes getting filthy by the second, but he also doesn’t mind because he knows the day’s almost over. He can change into his pyjamas and then he can go to sleep. And by then, he hopes he can forget about the things that happened in the morning. 

“There you are!”

Beomgyu jumps slightly and his head turns quickly towards the direction of the voice. He sits up a bit, hands pushing him up so he’s not laying on the unused pile of hay.

Beomgyu’s eyes widen at you making your way into the stable. You shut the stable door behind you and make your way down towards Beomgyu, who’s evidently confused. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” You halted in front of him, “And turns out you’re just here.” You plop down to his right, using the back of your dress as a makeshift blanket to sit on. “What are you doing here?” 

Beomgyu stretches his legs out and shrugs, “Thinking.” He has no other way to put it. He’s been sitting here for the past hour just… thinking. His eyes flicker to your crossed hands, then to his toes, “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to talk to you,” You say nonchalantly, “I want to get my mind off of the ball.” You almost shiver at the thought of the anticipated event. 

“So I’m just here to distract you?” Beomgyu jokes. He raises an eyebrow, “Am I just that to you?” 

You lean forward and push him lightly, though it’s still strong enough to make him fall back into the hay piled up behind him, “Of course not, Gyu.” Sitting back up into your original position, you continue, “It’s just… every single person in the palace… hell, even anyone I encounter in the town… all they want to talk about is that ridiculous ball. I feel like you’re the only person I can talk to that will talk to me about anything else and understand.” 

Beomgyu hums a response, a sound that lets you know that he’s listening and, just as you said, that he understands. “Well… what do you want to talk about?” 

“Anything but the ball,” you snort, “You suggest something.” The sun has sunken deeper under the horizon, though it’s still peeking over it in the slightest. The blue of the sky is more light than it was navy. There was still plenty of time to talk.

For a moment, Beomgyu’s stuck with no topic to talk about. To be fair, his head has practically been occupied by you, and only you, for the past hour. Then he suddenly remembers, “How about Mr. Geum’s toupee?” Beomgyu looks over at you with a knowing look, trying not to burst out laughing at the image of Mr. Geum’s toupee that had been sliding off of his head. 

“I wasn’t the only one who noticed?” You let out a hearty laugh, “I couldn’t stop looking at it! I swear that that was the reason why I kept losing my footing with him! I wanted to fix it so bad.” This wasn’t just a one-time thing. During the past few classes, you constantly kept getting the urge to push Mr. Geum’s toupee up higher on his head. You were unsure whether it would have been more embarrassing for the man to have you do that for him, or have it flop to the floor without warning.

Beomgyu lets out a laugh, “It was the first thing I noticed when he called on me.” He grabs a handful of hay and crunches them up, “How could I not? It doesn’t look even close to his real hair!” 

You continue to laugh, “I’m telling him that you said that!” Beomgyu doesn’t sense that you’re joking, and at this, he feels the need to poke your rib. 

“Ow!” you whine, using one hand to clutch your side, “I was joking!” You’ve sunken closer to Beomgyu, almost laying down. You fix yourself up, clearing your throat, “That reminds me… where did you learn how to dance? You were good! I think you’re better than me.”

Shrugging, Beomgyu purses his lips. “It’s not really a special story.” He’s actively recollecting the moments related to dancing.

You furrow your brows, “I still want to hear it.” 

Beomgyu looks at you as if he wanted to make sure that you were fine with him taking over the conversation. You gesture for him to begin. He nods, “You know how my mom would always bring me to the balls the queen held when I was younger? When I wasn’t obligated to be there?”

Your face lights up, bringing a hand up to your mouth, “Of course I do.” Beomgyu’s mom was your mother’s lady-in-waiting, so she would often be found at her side, waiting for any orders. Your mother never minded Beomgyu tagging along with his mom, just as long as he didn’t cause any disturbances. She was lucky that Beomgyu was a good kid. 

“Whenever it was time, I would always watch everyone dance, and I memorized it all by observing. It sounds odd, but I stood back and watched the same routine be performed every ball.” Beomgyu looks over at you, “And when you see it happen tens of times a year for many years, I guess it just makes sense for me to memorize it without being taught it.”

Beomgyu finishes his short story, and you're left finding it endearing how Beomgyu had actually managed it memorize the ball dances simply through watching. Many people would see these dances happen would but would not bother watching the entire routine. “That’s amazing.” 

Even though you asked Beomgyu not to direct the conversation towards the ball, you decide to do it. “I want to save you a dance at the ball.” 

It was an impulsive suggestion, although you wouldn’t even consider it a suggestion. It was more of a statement, a sure one at that. It should have been a question, but there was a great part of you that truly wanted Beomgyu to dance at the ball. 

Beomgyu’s slightly dumbfounded at what you just said, not quite certain if he heard you properly, “What?” He didn’t mean to come out as disrespectful. He was genuinely confused. He needed you to repeat yourself.

“I want to save you a dance,” you say, “Dance with me at the ball.” 

Eyes widening, Beomgyu shakes his head, “Y/N, I can’t do that.” 

“And why not?” You raise a brow, sitting up straighter before crossing your arms. He better have a good explanation. Beomgyu tended to lie to get out of situations. You can still recall the times he admitted to lying to his mom to get out of certain duties. It was simply Mrs. Choi’s mistake for believing the boy every single time. 

Beomgyu flicks up some straws of hay towards you, “I’m part of the staff… I have a job to fulfill during the ball.” He shakes his head again and starts fiddling with more hay. He’s somehow grown nervous over nothing. 

“I can tell them to let you—”

“And I don’t want to take the spots of the gentlemen the queen has lined up for you, Y/N,” he interrupts, “Imagine what they’ll say if they see that someone from your staff is taking up time that someone else could be using?” 

If Beomgyu was going to be honest, having the chance to dance with you at the ball would be… nice. Sure, he already his chance to be your partner during your lesson, but the atmosphere at the event will be different. There would be people watching, you both would be dressed in formal attire, and there would be live music. Everything about the idea of dancing with you at an actual ball is perfect, but there undoubtedly were factors standing in the way of it happening. 

You frown, “I don’t care about them, Beomgyu. That just says something bad about them if they’re like that. Besides, I think I’d enjoy it more if you were there with me.” It was true. Despite the fact that your friends will be present at the ball, Beomgyu being there would help ease the stress you already knew you would be feeling that night. 

I think I’d enjoy it more if you were there with me.

How can Beomgyu react to that? 

Beomgyu thinks fast. He mentally rakes through all the luxuries that will be present at the ball, all the people you loved building relationships with, and the music. He feels as if all those things would easily drown him out. Then he scoffs. “There’s no way you would enjoy the ball more with me there.” 

“Of course, I will,” you sighed, “Why would I not?” You look at Beomgyu as if he’s said something remarkably ridiculous. 

Before Beomgyu could think up an excuse, you hear a voice call for you from the palace. Only then do you realize it’s much darker than it was when you first found Beomgyu. You stand up in haste, brushing off the back end of your dress, “I need to go… Please consider it, Gyu.”

Only to please you, Beomgyu nods his head, “I will. Goodnight, Princess.”

You roll your eyes at the title, “Goodnight, Gyu.”

°•. ✿ .•°

The guests will be arriving soon and despite the fact that you should be looking forward to it all, you were sitting in your room lacking the spirit to leave. A list of the gentlemen, the suitors, that your mother invited for you is staring right back at you, and you couldn’t help but grimace at some of the names on it. 

Sure, there were some names that you weren’t as displeased with, but there was still that one name lingering at the back of your head that you wish you could easily substitute for a name on the list. 

Your finger plays with the corner of the list, pursing your lips. 

“Y/N?” Your lady-in-waiting, Chaeryeong, knocks at the door, peeking her head in, “The first guests are arriving. The queen asked me to tell you to get ready for your entrance.” She knows how you feel about the event, hence the hesitant smile on her face. 

Your heart briefly tightens at the mention of the guests, your stomach twisting soon after. You turn to her, presenting an uneasy smile,  “Thanks, Chae. I’ll be in position in a bit.” She nods before slipping back out of the room, leaving you alone.

You take a few moments to relax and catch your breath. You want to admit. Although you’ve attended and hosted many galas and promenades before this one, you have never felt this nervous about a ball. It was the purpose of this ball that snatched away the carelessness you often had when attending these celebrations. 

Sighing, you stand up from your chair and smooth out your ball gown before leaving your room, still feeling your heart pounding against your ribcage. Opening the door, you squeeze your eyes shut as if it’ll help you ease your worries. And even if it doesn’t, you use it to help you focus on your breathing. Then in one motion, you step out and swing the door closed behind you. 

This is just another ball, you convince yourself, There is nothing to worry about.

Expecting there to be an empty hallway, maybe a knight or two standing guard as normal, you’re startled by the presence of Beomgyu, who’s patiently standing, waiting, against the wall across your room. Your eyes habitually scan his attire, which is what all the other male staff were wearing—a white dress shirt, a suit vest, slacks, and black dress shoes. 

“I’m here to escort you,” he smiles, holding out his arm, “You look beautiful.” 

Your heart leaps just for an instant, “Thank you.” Grabbing onto his forearm, he begins leading you down to the top of the staircase, which is the place you were to be for your introduction. Many of the other staff you pass compliment you on your appearance. Their comments bring you temporary solutions to your current predicament. They almost help you forget that you were expected to keep an eye out for a possible future spouse in less than an hour. 

Others comment on how the invited gentlemen are going to swoon, and that’s where you’re taken back to the reality of it all. You turn to Beomgyu, “Are you… sure you don’t want me to save you a dance?” At this point, you don’t care if you appear desperate. 

No. “Yes, I’m sure,” Beomgyu replies, tapping his index finger against the back of your hand, “My reasons are still the same. I don’t want to cause any conflict between you and the gentlemen.” 

“But you saw how well I danced with you the other week,” you reason quietly, “What if I mess up with the suitors and they decide that they—”

“If you mess up and they don’t like it, then they don’t deserve you,” Beomgyu says in a hushed tone. He’s not looking at you but at the staff members waiting for your queue to enter, “Remember that, okay?”

Everything, in the beginning, went by in a blur. You were only aware of the conversations you had with your friends, the delicious food, the lovely music—you wished it was like this the entire ball. But once your mother had announced the commencement of the special portion of the ball, everything was back to its normal pace. Maybe it was just your mind doing you a favour. Only because you did have to choose carefully.

You were instructed to proceed to the centre of the ballroom, and once the music started the gentlemen were allowed to approach you and ask for a moment with you. 

You didn’t think anyone would have the courage to be the first to dance with you. Many pairs of eyes settled on you, awaiting the suitors to come up and ask for a dance. But once the music started, a handful of the suitors approached you swiftly. You decided to go for the one directly in front of you, “May I have this dance, Princess?” 

You nodded, almost reluctantly, offering a gentle smile. 

“My name is Sungchan,” he introduces, “Jung Sungchan.” 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Sungchan,” you reply. You couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was. His smile was eyecatching, and he had this mysterious glint in his eye that enticed you. You now wonder what criteria your mother used when inviting these suitors. 

Was it through appearance? Success and wealth? Personality? 

He holds out his hand, and you accept it, taking this as a sign that he was going to begin dancing. Just as you were taught, you start following the steps that you practiced many times, counting mentally, while simultaneously listening to the things Sungchan was telling you.

“How has your night been?” He drops his hand from your waist and he spins you, “Good, I hope?”

You giggle nervously, “It’s been… busy.” Unexpectedly, you step on Sungchan’s toes, causing the two of you to stumble slightly. “Oh, I’m sorry! It’s–“

“Don’t apologize,” Sungchan interrupts, “Accidents happen.” 

You feel a sense of relief in your chest. Even if there shouldn’t be any excuses for such mistakes, you’re thankful that Sungchan seems to genuinely understand the occurrence. 

He leans forward, “I’m nervous, too.” Sungchan squeezes your hand and continues to make conversation. His movements are quick and sharp, which makes you feel like you’re obligated to move along to his tempo. Unlike Mr. Geum, he makes sure that you’re caught up with him before making the next move, and you believe this is why you aren’t tripping any more over his feet.

After you and Sungchan have danced together, another gentleman approaches, “May I take it from here?” He’s bold enough to bring a shoulder to Sungchan’s shoulder. 

Sungchan nods, “I hope to see you again, Princess.” He brings your hand to his lips and kisses it, backing up to give you space.

You smiled genuinely, nodding him goodbye before moving on to the next suitor. You know who he is. Yoon Jaehyuk. 

You’ve heard of many things about Jaehyuk from your friends. He’s got the reputation of being stubborn especially when it comes to business deals. If he wants it, then he gets it. You think that this was likely why your mother had invited him as a suitor. He was powerful when it came to connections and was rich as well. 

“Let me sweep you off your feet,” he winks, “I’m Yoon Jaehyuk.” 

Immediately, you feel Jaehyuk push and pull you similar to how Mr. Geum often did in your lessons. It felt like he will quite literally sweep you off of your feet, and you’re worried. Your mind flashes back to your lessons with Mr. Geum and how you did poorly with your instructor, and just as you expected, you step on Jaehyuk’s toes. 

You apologize quickly, eyes widening, “I apologize!” Jaehyuk shakes his head and tells you not to worry about the accident, continuing to lead you with the dance. Jaehyuk doesn’t seem to understand, nor regard, that you were struggling to keep up with his movements. But then again, ballroom dancing required two people, and you weren’t fulfilling your half of the sequence.

Jaehyuk brings up the topic of his travels, having travelled from two kingdoms over just to be here, “Your region is the prettiest.” He comments, “The flowers here are beautiful and they are unique compared to those in the others.”

Before you could reply, you stagger in your footsteps and interrupt the tempo that you both were following. The unexpected disruption causes Jaehyuk to pull you towards his own body a bit harder than anticipated, and before you know it, you’re falling into his chest. 

You regain your balance on your own, trying to catch sight of Jaehyuk who made a noise of frustration. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat frantically, “I just–”

Jaehyuk doesn’t say another word, instead, he lets go of you and he walks away, shaking his head. You can’t tell if it was out of irritation, disappointment, or embarrassment, but you felt a huge sense of remorse for what just happened. 

If you mess up and they don’t like it, then they don’t deserve you. Beomgyu’s words echo in your head. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and then open them again, scanning the crowd for the other suitors. All of the room’s attention was on you, and after what just happened, you didn’t like it. 

“Next suitor?” You hear your mother’s voice bound from behind you. The music is still playing, waiting for bodies to dance to its melody. 

Your heart was beginning to beat faster and you felt as though the temperature in the room was rising rapidly. Again, your eyes scan the crowd, and to your left, you see Jaehyuk whispering to the other men words that you cannot hear from where you stood. And although you don’t want to assume the words are about you, his eyes continue to flicker to you, almost signifying that you were the topic.

“Next suitor?” Your mother repeats, voice wavering. No one dares to move forward and you’re not sure why. 

Was it because of your mistake? What was Jaehyuk telling them? Were you simply imagining everything?

Then, your mother’s voice appears in your head. The ability to dance signifies elegance. 

Did that one misstep give them the impression that you didn’t have elegance? Why did this even matter?

Questions are running through your head and you’re unable to stop them. Not when everyone’s staring at you. Not when no other gentleman is willing to take his turn. Not when you think you’ve actually blown your chances of finding someone that will take place as king. 

Your head falls in between your shoulders and you close your eyes, only hoping for all of this to end. Why couldn’t this all go by in a blur? Where was Beomgyu when you needed him?

As the music continues on quietly in the background, you start to hear commotion somewhere in the crowd. You choose not to look, afraid that whatever is happening will only cause you more stress. There’s whispering, though you can hear it gradually increasing in volume. 

Then you feel a hand on your shoulder.

You lift your head, opening your eyes so that you could graciously face whoever it was saving you from your embarrassment.

“Y/N.”

You open your mouth but nothing comes out. And you know he understands the reason for this. Without hesitation, you took a big step towards him, the front of your dress pressed up against his legs, and you let your forehead fall onto his chest. 

You close your eyes. “Beomgyu…” 

You feel like crying. It’s not clear whether you want to do it out of humiliation or built-up stress, but you know for sure that part of the urge is from relief. You’re relieved that someone’s here to join you at your side, despite the numerous people watching, and judging. You’re even more relieved that this someone was Beomgyu—the boy who you want to admit brings you comfort no matter what the situation.

“Still have that dance saved for me?” He whispers. He nudges your forearm with the back of his wrist in attempt to lighten up your mood. Beomgyu can feel all eyes on him as much as they were on you. But he turns a blind eye to them, his priority being you and making sure you are okay. 

Lifting your head, you nodded, “Always.” 

A smile rises upon Beomgyu’s lips at your answer before he steps back to bow, “May I have this dance, Princess?” 

You nod, mirroring Beomgyu’s smile.

In one swift motion, you and Beomgyu bring your hands up to  appropriate positions. Once you both were set and ready, your feet begin to move along to the music, counting to fours mentally. Your eyes travel from Beomgyu’s chest and up to his eyes. He’s already staring back at you, lips permanently propped into a gentle and comforting grin. 

Anyone who’s watching from the surrounding crowd can see how well you and Beomgyu danced together. As if the floor was ice, you both glided across the dance floor with ease, almost as though you practiced the routine for endless hours. 

As the song continued, you feel the worry in your chest begin to diminish, your confidence level slowly increasing as moments go by. The guests soon start to disappear from your peripheral view, almost as though as you and Beomgyu were the only ones in the room. Your mother was gone, your friends were gone, Sungchan was nowhere to be seen, and Jaehyuk? You couldn’t care less about where he went. 

It was just you and Beomgyu. 

As you and Beomgyu waltzed, your mind wanders back to the words that Mr. Geum had described how two people connected when they were dancing. You couldn’t help but ponder over his metaphor because here you were, dancing almost perfectly with Beomgyu, when not even minutes ago, you were stumbling roughly over, not just your own feet, but even another’s. 

If you were a musical note, you simply did not harmonize with Jaehyuk or Sungchan. And although it was a shame that you may not even get a chance to dance with the other gentlemen, dancing with Beomgyu made it evident that your notional musical note is compatible with his. 

Unbeknownst to your knowledge, Mr. Geum stands at the edge of the audience, a sense of pride growing steadily within his chest. His hands are crossed together, palm-to-palm, and brought up to his chin as he watches the two of you in endearment. 

“A perfect harmony.” Mr. Geum says this under his breath—so quiet that he believes that he is the only one who is able to hear his statement. Only, he doesn’t take notice of the queen who quietly positions herself at his side.

“Perfect Harmony?” She has a brow raised as she looks to Mr. Geum for an explanation. She says this out of curiosity, not quite understanding the meaning behind the instructor’s words. 

Mr. Geum nods and repeats himself, “A perfect harmony… that’s what they are.”

°•. ✿ .•°

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