#i celebrated the first warm day with an iced coffee

[myownparadise96]

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Paper Rings - A Joel Miller Drabble

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Word Count: 750 Summary: Signs of you are all over Joel's bedroom in Jackson. Warnings: Smut, slight somnophilia, drinking.

Masterlist

Thank you to @beskarandblasters for the amazing Taylor Swift Drabble Challenge, I picked Lover because I've been listening to a lot more of it as the weather begins to get warmer. "Paper Rings" is definitely not my favorite Taylor song, but oh my god I LOVED writing this about Joel, it fits perfectly for him.

***

The story of your romance with Joel Miller could be told with just one look around his bedroom. 

The picture frame on his dresser with a picture that you painted of the two of you the night you met.

It was quite a meeting, a quick slip on the ice as you stepped off the curb on your way to the Tipsy Bison to celebrate Tommy’s birthday, Joel jumping towards you to catch you. His hand grabbing your blue jacket’s shoulder before you fell into the large pool of water leftover from the melting snow. You both making your way to the Bison together, his handsome face taking your breath away once you saw him in the light of the high moon. You became fast friends, urged on by Tommy and Maria’s matchmaking. Your friendship accidentally turning into something more after a night of drinking and dancing together in Joel’s kitchen. The two of you sharing your first kiss as you slowly swayed along to a Neil Young record. The kiss turning heated, turning into Joel taking you from behind as you gripped his kitchen countertop.  

The books you’ve read stacked up on the table beside your side of the bed. Your favorite chapters marked with the bookmarks you made.

He’d always try to bring you home a book to make up for how early he’d have to leave for patrol on Monday mornings, the day always being more sad and dreary due to his absence. He’d always succeed at not waking you up until he’d kiss you goodbye. He found it hard to control himself when he’d hear you let out a small sleep drunk moan as his lips touched yours. Some mornings he could manage it and walk away, and others he’d be late to the stables, leaving you satiated and smiling after gently fucking you in the light of dawn. 

The comforter rumpled on the floor in the corner, left there from when Joel threw it off the bed last night before he made love to you.

Your glass is still sitting on the coffee table half full of wine, the thought of finishing it out of your mind once Joel began kissing your neck. You were teasing each other all day, playing a game of cat and mouse. Biding your time until both of you couldn’t take it, Joel stalking behind you up the steps as he threw his shirt off and started unbuttoning his jeans. 

The t-shirt of Joel’s you wear to bed with the large blue paint stain on it from the time you helped him paint Tommy’s house. 

He loves to see you in it, your body filling it out in places he loves to touch. He loves how you smell of him whenever you wear it, how it sits against your smooth skin. He loves it when you ride him while wearing it, seeing his clothes on his girl as you grind your hips.

The sheets on the bed always on your side, Joel sleeps warm, he never needs a blanket.

You like to watch him sleep, his face more at peace, his breathing relaxed and slow. A small grunt usually escaping his mouth when he turns away from you, followed by a hum of contentment when you wrap your arm around him. Sometimes you’ll wake up before him just to watch the rise and fall of his chest quicken as you take his cock into your mouth. Joel always waking up thinking he was having a dirty dream until he looks down and meets your eyes staring up at him. A small half smile as he realizes what comes next, his tired eyes growing larger with lust. 

The jewelry hung from the hooks surrounding the mirror above his dresser. 

The mirror that Joel loves to watch himself kiss you in. Sometimes because you had a long night. Sometimes because it’s the best way he knows to tell you it’s gonna be alright. Sometimes because he waited his whole life for you. He loves to stand behind you and watch his reflection touch you, he loves watching you gasp as he sticks his hand down your pants. 

The paper rings on each of your nightstands. 

Joel secretly teaching himself how to fold them as a way to surprise you until he could find a ring that would fit you. He just couldn’t wait to make you his wife.

[hunterthecharmer]

Unexpected - Part 3

Hope you all enjoy this next part. I am already writing part 4 and am happy to report that from here on out these will consist of much more Glen content. I just wanted to set up the story context first, so I appreciate your patience :)

“Well good morning, Mr. O’Brien!” You cheerfully greet him as he comes jogging down the stairs of his cabin. Dylan waves to you, reaching into his back pocket to retrieve his sunglasses, putting them on in one swift motion as he makes his way over to you to hop onto the golf cart. 

“Morning! I’m looking forward to today, this breakfast lecture should be good.”

You hand him his coffee from the cup holder, pleased with yourself for getting up in time to grab it for him. “Oh, you’re the best! I need this today. I’ve got a packed schedule!”

The two of you go over the day briefly before you arrive at the designated trailer he will be in for the next couple of hours. You spot Savannah and Glen across the lot, and shoot them a quick wave before reversing your golf cart and heading for the coffee stand on the other end of the venue. You didn’t want to risk getting two coffees this morning at the risk of being late to get Dylan. You check your phone for the time, and decide to ride over to the bigger trailer to get some breakfast. You text Savannah to meet you there.

 ----

“Do we have any overlaps today?” Savannah asks before shoving a muffin into her mouth. You scan your schedules. “Looks like Dylan and Glen have a workshop around 4, we could walk the trail while they’re there.” The two of you eat breakfast and chat amongst the other handlers, hearing some crazy stories about some of the talent already, making the two of you extra grateful to have been assigned to some of the chillest ones there.

The rest of the afternoon goes off without a hitch, and you are excited to stretch your legs and chat with Savannah. “Last event of the day before the ice cream mixer. Let’s do this!” Dylan gives you a high five before leaping off the golf cart and making his way down the hill to the trailer. Savannah and Glen pull up a few minutes after you, and you feel yourself blush as their cart comes to a stop next to yours. Glen shoots you a warm smile, “Hey! Havin’ fun?” You nod, waving him on to go inside as Savannah was getting him there a bit late. A playful smile creeps onto his face before he turns from you, running toward the door.

“Savannah! You can’t be late for these things. You’ll get him in trouble and even yourself.” You quietly scold her, playfully tapping her arm. She giggles, hiding her face as you both fall into step. The wind gently shakes the trees overhead, the two of you are the only ones on the trail. “How’s Dylan enjoying everything? Glen has been filling his journal with notes already! I think he’s really enjoying it.” You smile to yourself. “That’s good, I’m happy to hear that! Dylan seems to be having a good time too, I think he’s ready to let loose a little bit though.” 

Savannah nods as she listens to you. “Are you going to the mixer tonight? I’m kind of tired, I might just drop Glen off and go back to my cabin.” You turn to face her, confused. “Why won’t you go? I don’t want to go by myself!” You pout. Savannah giggles. “I think I’m just run down from traveling and the change in weather here versus LA. But I’ll go, don’t worry.”

The two of you do a few more laps to kill time before getting back on your carts to pick up the boys. You drive them both to the ice cream event, feeling a little surprised at the lack of people there. “Hm, I guess everyone’s turned in early tonight.” You state, watching as Dylan and Glen walk off toward the ice cream bar together. Savannah sighs loudly as she turns her body to lay down in the front of the cart. “Or the celebrities don’t eat ice cream at all. You know how they are with their diets.” She tries to force a laugh, but when she barely stifled a groan you turn to look over at her. “Are you alright?” 

“I’ll be fine..just need a minute. Can you make sure Glen has his room key on him?” she squeezes her eyes shut, placing a hand over her forehead. Your eyebrows raise in confusion. “Why wouldn’t he have it? Don’t you have a spare just in case?” Savannah rolls her eyes. “Can you just please go and ask him? I’m trying to be triple sure that he can get into his room tonight because I need to go lie down. I can’t promise I won’t get up by the time he’s ready to leave.” You rush around the golf cart to her, bending down to her level.

“Sav, I can always take him back to his cabin. It’s really no problem. Let me just let him know what’s going on and I’ll be right back.” You give her sympathetic smile before jogging towards Glen, who to your surprise is still talking with Dylan. “Hey guys! Sorry to interrupt but, Savannah isn’t feeling great so she’s going to go lay down. Glen, I’ll be here the whole time so whenever you’re ready to go I can drop you off. Dylan, same thing just let me know when you’re ready to leave and I’ll take you back. Is that okay?” Your eyes move between Glen and Dylan, waiting for their response. Dylan immediately nods, rubbing the back of his neck before taking another lick of his ice cream cone. “Of course, all good here!” 

Glen frowns, his eyes drifting to Savannah who is still lying sideways on the golf cart, her arms draped over her eyes. “Aw, I hate that she's not feeling well. Whatever we need to do, I’m good. I appreciate you letting me know.” Glen smiles at you, placing a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it before he moves past you to order some ice cream. Relieved, you run back to Savannah and let her know all is well. She thanks you quietly before riding off toward her cabin. 

You look out at the talent chatting amongst each other, sprinkles and crumbs of oreo cookies all over the grass. You shake your head - you would hate to be the clean up crew after an event like this one. 

30 minutes pass, and still no text from Savannah. You’re starting to get a little sleepy, it’s already 8pm and you’ve had a busy day. Everyone is still chatting on the lawn, the strung up lights now lit and glowing above everyone. You eye the ice cream stand, not seeing anyone in line. “It’s now or never.” You mumble to yourself with a shrug as you hop out of the cart and head towards the stand. As you wait for your ice cream, you feel someone stroll up behind you.

“Finally taking advantage of the perks, huh?” You turn over your shoulder to see Glen smiling at you, hands in his pockets. You uncross your arms and step closer to him, fully aware of the huge grin that appears on your face upon seeing him. “I mean, I’ve never been able to say no to ice cream..” Your voice trails off as you allow yourself to get lost in his eyes. They’re a beautiful bluish green, and they’re sparkling at you beneath the lights. “We have that in common. You want to take a walk with me?” You feel your heart skip a beat as you grab your ice cream and start following his lead, nodding silently while walking next to him. You remain quiet as you dig your spoon into your dessert, waiting for him to continue the conversation. When he doesn’t say anything, you raise an eyebrow at him. “Is everything alright? Do you need me to-” Glen holds up a hand to you, shaking his head with a smile. “No, no. Everything’s great. Relax a little.” He leads you to join him on a nearby bench. You sit on the edge of it, turning to face him in confusion. “Sorry..” You look at the ground.

“I just want to talk to you. Where are you from?” He questions, leaning toward you. You fill him in on where you’re from, your apartment back home and a little about your family. You learn about Glen’s upbringing too, and he tells you about his family and gushes about his niece and nephew. It takes your best acting skills to remain unphased through the whole conversation, pretending like you had no idea he was from Austin, Texas, and that you didn’t know he looked to be an amazing uncle from his sister’s instagram page. The more information he shared, the more you begin to feel uneasy. You didn’t want to be unprofessional, and you dang sure couldn’t let on that you were a fan of his. So, you continued to listen, asking questions you already knew some of the answers to while devouring your cup of ice cream. 

“Are you going to be able to see your family anytime soon?” You finally ask after tossing your empty bowl into the nearby trash can. Glen begins to tell you how he and his entire family are going to spend Thanksgiving at his parents home in Texas with everyone, but he pauses when you turn back around to face him, his thumb reaching over to wipe a sprinkle off the corner of your mouth. You feel your breath hitch, body freezing under his touch. You both search each other’s face for a moment, the silence hanging in the cool night air.

“Thank you.” You whisper, wiping at the area with the back of your hand. Glen nods, catching the tip of his tongue between his teeth. “You know, you have the prettiest eyes.” You admit, immediately regretting it once the words leave your lips. Your eyes widen, cheeks flushed as Glen’s chest rumbles with a low chuckle. “Why thank you, I’m flattered. You know, you’re the prettiest one here tonight.” He shoots you a sincere smile, and you immediately stand to your feet. “Oh, um..thank you. That’s really..” You stutter, unable to meet his gaze. You take a breath and fiddle with your lanyard. “I should let you get back to the party. Just let me know when you’re ready to head in for the night!” You awkwardly wave to him as you turn on your heel in the grass, a confused Glen Powell still sitting on the bench. You make a beeline for your golf cart, exhaling deeply once you’re there. Did he just compliment you and say you were the prettiest one here? What?! You try to even out your breathing as you watch Glen float back into the middle of the crowd, and you’re relieved to have some distance between you. If only he knew the things you wish you could say. But this was not for him to know- you were working, you had to remain professional. You immediately try to call Savannah, but when she doesn’t pick up, you shoot her a voice memo telling her what happened. Not long after, you watch as Dylan approaches you through the darkness, a smirk playing on his face. “Are you ready to go?” You turn the key on the golf cart, and Dylan slides in next to you. “Yes please. Hey, I saw you chattin’ with Powell. What’s up with that? Is Savannah feeling any better?” You sigh, the breeze causing your hair to cascade behind you as you drive down the path to his cabin. “He was just chatting with me about his family, my family, that sort of thing.” You nonchalantly reply, watching Dylan nod, lips pursed in your peripheral. “As for Savannah, I haven’t heard from her so she must be sleeping.” 

You both make small talk before reaching his cabin, and Dylan fist bumps you before heading inside. 

You quickly drive back to the party, your stomach doing flips as you pull into a parking spot to see Glen waiting for you. “Glen! I hope you weren’t waiting too long. Hop in.” You pat the seat next to you, and Glen happily hops on. “I just walked up, you’re good. Seriously, you don’t have to be so…professional. It’s after hours, deal?”

You scoff at his words, shaking your head. “Believe it or not, I’m on the clock. The only after hours I have are when I’m in bed for the night. It’s my job to be professional. Deal?” You turn to face him, shooting him a playful wink. He reaches across you, placing a hand on the steering wheel and extending his left foot to hit the brakes. You both jolt forward, your body momentarily colliding with his. He’s warm, and you can smell his cologne. “Let me drive.” He grins like a little kid before scooting you out of your seat and motioning to the right of him with his head. You laugh as you run to the other side, welcoming the break from being ‘on’. He puts the cart in reverse and heads backwards toward the event trailers. “Glen?” You question him before he pats his free hand on your knee. “Shh, shh. I just want to ride around a little bit. It’s such a nice night out.” You wet your lips, hands twisting into your lap. You knew you could get in trouble for letting the talent drive this cart, but you honestly didn’t care. He was a grown man, he could drive a golf cart. Heck, he’s a pilot for crying out loud! You press your lips together to stifle a laugh at your inner thoughts. Glen hadn’t shared this fact yet, but as if he could read your mind he breaks the silence. “Don’t worry, I know we aren’t technically supposed to drive these things, but I promise if we get caught I will take full responsibility.” He looks over at you, eyes glancing from your eyes to your lips. You can’t believe this is happening right now. Your eyes drift from his face to your surroundings, your nerves relaxing to see that no one else is around. Your eyes land back on his, and you watch as the corners of his mouth turn up into a grin, his body scooting closer to yours. “Tell me something no one else knows about you.” You ask in a whisper, surprised at your bravery. He cocks his head to the side, his sandy blonde hair blowing in the breeze as he thinks on his answer. “I’d like to think I’m a pretty open book, but I can understand how people might find me a little mysterious.” He pauses, glancing back at you. “Would you agree with that statement?” He questions you, and you feel heat rise in your cheeks. “I’d say so. I really don’t know much about you, other than what you’ve shared tonight. I’ve seen you in a couple Netflix films, but..” you can feel your speech quicken, trying to hide your lies. You’ve never been a good liar, and you were grateful for the darkness hiding your expression. Glen listens, continuing, “I guess I’d say not a lot of people know how nervous I am, in nature. I probably come off confident but, I really can get in my own head. I step on set or any project for that matter, full of nerves. I have a whole routine for the night before big jobs that helps me refocus.” You study his face as he looks out over the pond in front of you. “That’s actually really endearing. Thank you for sharing that with me. Everybody gets nervous. It just means you care.” You feel his hand ghost overtop yours on the seat before it rests in his lap. His eyes find yours again, his voice low. “Thank you. I’ve really enjoyed talking with you tonight. It gets a little tiring talking with the same kinds of people all day.” You practically melt at his words, peering at him through your lashes. Every bone in your body wants to touch his face, to kiss his cheek. He was so handsome in this light, it was unfair. But instead, you fight the temptation by switching the cart back into reverse, the loud beeping breaking the moment. “It’s getting late, I don’t want you to be tired tomorrow.” You smile softly at him, and Glen nods in agreement as he whips the cart back toward the cabins. “Which one are you?”

He parks directly in front of your cabin, turning to hug you before sliding off the seat. “Glen, let me drop you off!” You call out to him. “No way, I told you I can walk back.” You huff at him, swinging your lanyard in front of his face. “I will literally lose my job if anything happens between now and then.” Glen laughs as he concedes, jumping onto the back of the cart. “Fine, take me back, driver. Celebrities, am I right? Such divas.” You giggle the entire short trip to his cabin. “I appreciate the sentiment, but thank you for letting me do my job.” You wink to him, watching as he bounds up the stairs to his front door. “Goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He waves sleepily to you before disappearing into his room.

[geotjwrs]

snap-shoot

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The air was thick with anticipation on the set of "Summer Winter Fall Spring." The past few months had been tumultuous, with the film's production halted due to the allegations against Percy Hynes White. The studio had ultimately decided to recast Percy's character and reshoot most of the movie. After weeks of deliberation, they cast Y/N—a talented actor who had previously worked with Jenna Ortega in "Scream VI," "Beetlejuice," and "Wednesday" season 2.

Jenna had been the one to suggest Y/N for the role. She knew his talent and believed he could bring a fresh energy to the project. What she hadn't told anyone was how she truly felt about him. Working together had always been a joy, but over time, her feelings had grown into something deeper.

Now, with the last day of filming upon them, Jenna felt a mixture of relief and anxiety. She knew she had to reveal her feelings to Y/N before it was too late. But how?

The day began early, as usual, with the cast and crew bustling around the set, preparing for the day's shoot. Jenna found herself standing next to Y/N as they waited for their first scene.

"You ready for this?" Y/N asked, giving her a playful nudge.

Jenna smiled, trying to push aside her nerves. "Always. Just another day at the office, right?"

Y/N laughed. "Exactly."

Their first scene was a dramatic confrontation, their characters in the midst of a heated argument. As the director called action, Jenna felt herself slip into character, her emotions raw and real. Y/N matched her intensity, his eyes locking with hers, the connection between them palpable even through their performance.

As they finished the scene, the director called cut, and the crew erupted into applause. Jenna and Y/N shared a look, their breathing heavy from the emotional exertion.

"That was intense," Y/N said, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead.

Jenna nodded, still feeling the adrenaline coursing through her. "You were amazing."

"So were you," he replied, giving her a warm smile.

The rest of the day was filled with similar moments—scenes that demanded their full attention and emotional depth. In between takes, they found themselves gravitating towards each other, sharing jokes and light banter to keep the mood light.

During one of the breaks, they sat together in the shade, sipping on iced coffees. Jenna looked at Y/N, his relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the intensity of his performance.

"You know," she began, "I'm really glad you're here. I don't think I could've gotten through this without you."

Y/N looked at her, his eyes softening. "I feel the same way. You've always been my rock on set."

Their moments of connection weren't limited to breaks. In one scene, their characters shared a tender moment by a lake, the tranquility of the setting mirroring their own feelings. As they filmed, Jenna felt a sense of calm wash over her, the lines between their characters and their real selves blurring.

After the scene, Y/N turned to her, his expression thoughtful. "You know, these moments... they feel real."

Jenna's heart skipped a beat, but she managed to keep her voice steady. "Yeah, they do."

The day progressed smoothly. The scenes were intense but fulfilling, and the chemistry between Jenna and Y/N was undeniable. Everyone on set could see it—the way they interacted, the effortless connection they shared. As they wrapped up the final scene, the crew erupted into applause, celebrating the completion of the reshoots.

"Great job, everyone!" the director called out. "That's a wrap!"

Jenna felt a pang of nervousness as she watched Y/N interact with the crew, thanking them for their hard work. She knew this was her moment. Taking a deep breath, she approached him.

"Hey, Y/N," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Do you have a moment?"

Y/N turned to her, a warm smile on his face. "Of course, Jenna. What's up?"

"I wanted to talk to you about something," she said, glancing around. "But maybe somewhere more private?"

He raised an eyebrow, curious but obliging. "Sure. There's a little spot I found nearby that's really peaceful. Want to go there?"

She nodded, and they made their way to a secluded area just outside the set—a small clearing surrounded by trees, with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves. It was serene, the perfect place for a heart-to-heart conversation.

They sat down on a blanket Y/N had brought, and for a moment, they simply enjoyed the quiet.

"You know," Y/N began, "I've always loved working with you. Every project we've done together has been incredible."

Jenna smiled, feeling her heart race. "I feel the same way. You're an amazing actor, Y/N. And... an amazing person."

He looked at her, sensing there was more she wanted to say. "Jenna, is everything okay?"

She took a deep breath, deciding to take the plunge. "Y/N, there's something I need to tell you. It's been on my mind for a while now. I suggested you for this role not just because you're talented, but because I wanted to spend more time with you."

Y/N's eyes widened slightly, but he stayed silent, letting her continue.

"I've developed feelings for you," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't know how to tell you, but I couldn't let this project end without you knowing."

For a moment, there was silence. Jenna felt her heart pounding in her chest, fearing his reaction. Then, Y/N reached out, gently taking her hand in his.

"Jenna," he said softly, "I've felt the same way. I've wanted to tell you for so long, but I didn't want to risk our friendship or make things awkward on set."

She looked up at him, relief flooding her. "Really?"

He nodded, his eyes warm and sincere. "Really. You mean so much to me, Jenna."

She let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, a smile spreading across her face. "So, what now?"

Y/N grinned, leaning closer. "I think this is the part where we see where this goes. Together."

Jenna's heart soared as she closed the distance between them, their lips meeting in a gentle, heartfelt kiss. It felt like the culmination of all the moments they'd shared, both on and off set.

As they pulled away, Y/N brushed a strand of hair from her face. "How about we start with a real date? No scripts, no cameras. Just us."

Jenna nodded, her smile bright and genuine. "I'd like that. I'd like that a lot."

The two sat together, the weight of unspoken feelings finally lifted. They talked about their dreams, their fears, and their hopes for the future. As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the clearing, they knew this was the start of something beautiful.

[featherandferns]

It’s my birthday today!!!

Literally can not decide how jj would act about birthdays, what do you think?

-🍓

first of all - HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I hope you have had, or are having, the best day! <3

(everyone wish 🍓 anon happy birthday right now or else no more JJ fics)

hmmm. I think JJ would definitely try his best with birthdays. Even if he doesn't quite hit the mark, he'd get brownie points for giving it his best shot.

His dad didn't ever care about his birthday. At the most, he'd get a rough pat on the shoulder and a grunted happy birthday, kid, or even a can of larger if his dad was feeling extra affectionate and perky. At the least, it would go unnoticed. Thankfully, the Pogues made up for the lack. They'd supply him with drinks and weed and cake, and would spend the day doing JJ-approved things. Those typically involved starting the day with a blunt and a beer, surfing at the break, fishing in the evening and wrestling around the campfire. Money being tight and all, gifts were few and far between. Instead it was more company. That was plenty for JJ. Just the acknowledgement that he was turning another year older was enough.

Besides, his birthday brought a looming sense of dread. He'd try and push it down, distracting himself with festivities, but every year that passed, he wondered what his future might look like. A prison cell like his dad, or casual alcoholism? A scrimping-and-scraping lifestyle, alone and isolated? Or a simple but cheerful life with his friends, perhaps even rich with gold gathered from John B and Pope's countless adventures?

That final premonition became stronger after JJ met you. Once you were around, the festivities altered slightly. Instead of a blunt first-thing, it was sleepy morning sex, with you doting on JJ like he were the first born king, and then a sedated smoke straight after. The joys didn't end at the bonfire: instead, it extended into the night, with you practically worshipping JJ in the bedroom. You also splurged out to get him a gift. Usually it was something handy, like a lighter or pocketknife, but JJ treasured every bargain buy like it was a Rolex.

Because JJ knew what it felt like to go without on birthdays, whenever it was yours, he tried his best to make it special. He woke you up with his head between your thighs. He attempted to bake you breakfast in bed (often consisting of burnt pancakes and luke-warm coffee). He'd be the first in line to offer to take photos of you for your Instagram, working overtime to get the perfect angles and lighting. Had to at least try and push his luck, sneaking a shot up your skirt, earning him a smack upside the head. Same as you, he scraped together enough money to get you a gift. Some jewellery or make-up that you'd been eyeing, unable to justify the price tag. If money was too tight, he fell back on his acts of service. Fixed the creaky door. Pimped out your board. Cleaned your busted-up car. You fucking loved it.

Whilst some things became birthday traditions, one very quickly did not. The first time you celebrated a birthday with JJ, he tried to bake you a cake. Note the word 'tried'. It was undercooked, to start. When he took it out of the cake-pan, raw batter leaked everywhere. He salvaged the baked sponge and made some horrendous contemporary art out of it. The icing was just as bad. Isn't it strange how similar salt looks to sugar? In wonky, wobbling hand-writing, JJ piped happy bithday, joyfully oblivious to the spelling mistake. And whilst the cake was completely inedible (like truly diabolical), you marked that as the moment you fell in love with JJ. Hell, when a guy bakes you a cake, you sort of don't have a choice.

So, JJ tried his best with birthdays, and you appreciated every tiny effort :)

[hwangism143]

limbo (part 3)

synopsis: you finally reunite with hyunjin and felix, but things take an unprecedented detour

pairing: non-idol!minho x non-idol!fem reader

warnings: swearing, drinking, mentions of food and eating

word count : 711 words

a/n: ok so i KNOW IT'S REALLY SHORT but this is more of a peace offering since it's been weeks since my last update. i am having severe writer's block with this fic i'm so sorry :(

part 2 | masterlist | part 4

now.

You were engulfed in a bear hug, courtesy of Lee Felix. He wrapped his arms around you tightly and sniffed, tears welling in his eyes.

"I missed you so much," he said, pushing a warm box of brownies towards you.

You couldn't help but laugh, ruffling his hair in affection. Beside him, Hyunjin gave you a dramatic eyeroll, distressed by the information that you text Eun-bi everyday but texted them 'once in a blue moon' (how bold of him to call your weekly two-hour long gossip sessions once in a blue moon, but oh well).

It was true, you had gotten extremely close to Eun-bi after moving away. You both chatted on the phone regularly, leading you to add another member to your best friend roster. Eun-bi somehow always knew what to say to you. Maybe it was stemming from the experience of having lived longer than you (as you frequently reminded her), but conversations were never boring with her. She, thankfully, never touched upon the topic of Minho. Even though Hyunjin and Felix had bombarded you with questions about your break-up after it had freshly happened, she never did.

Soon, you two became each other's go-to person for everything. You got a promotion at work? You told her first. She and Chan got engaged? You were the first to find out from her end. You couldn't even just call Eun-bi a close friend; she was like a sister to you in every way that mattered.

In what seemed like an instant, the three of you got to conversing, not a single bump in the conversation. It reminded you of your college days, sitting at the corner of a tiny coffee shop when the boys needed escape from their astoundingly loud dorm house, hunched over textbooks and coffee that was exponentially cooling.

You were happy that Felix and Hyunjin were working with their college group of friends. You knew how strong the bond those eight boys shared was. You were also extremely surprised to know that 3Racha were doing extremely well in the Korean entertainment industry and were looking to branch out into western music. For some reason, you had always thought it would be the other way around.

Conversation continued even after your food came, Hyunjin making a fuss after taking a steaming bite of barbecued chicken and Felix silently (yet extremely obviously) judging the brownie ice cream that sat in front of him. Hyunjin's phone dinged! in his pocket and he took it out the check what was written. His face contorted as soon as he read it.

"What's wrong?" you ask. Hyunjin offers you no response, instead exchanging a worried glance with Felix. Assuming that it's work problems, you busy yourself into sneaking a spoon of Felix's untouched dessert while he wasn't looking.

Hyunjin cleared his throat and you looked at him, savoring the chocolatey explosion that was currently ongoing inside your mouth. You raised your eyebrows and tilted your head slightly upwards, non-verbally signaling him to just spit out whatever he so desperately looked like he wanted to say.

"So, uh, Chan hyung is hosting a party this weekend to celebrate you coming. The whole gang will be there..." Hyunjin's voice trails off.

"You don't have to come," said Felix quickly, "But Chan hyung and Eun-bi noona do have a killer penthouse."

You feel both pair of eyes trained upon you. You must have been like a bomb to them right now, ready to detonate at any given second. Yet, you mind was elsewhere.

Ah. The whole gang. You knew what this meant. Minho would be there. Either way, it didn't matter to you. The thought of meeting your old friends made you feel giddy. And yes, what Minho did to you was in your eyes, unforgivable, but you were fine with it nonetheless. Eventually, you both would learn to have to be cordial with each other. That was growing, wasn't it? Learning to live with things that had hurt you and moving on all the same. After all, Minho was your friend before he was your lover. As unlikely as it seemed, you both may at least remain some semblance of 'friends'.

"Okay," you said giving the two boys a tight smile, "I'll be there."

main taglist (reply to be added) - @linoalwaysknows @moon0fthenight

[medusas-musings]

YOUR BRIAN QUINN X READER ONESHOT WAS SO GOOD, HELLO?? Anyways, I was wondering if it was possibly to do a Q x Gender Neutral reader? Nothing fancy but maybe and established relationship and some fluff y'know?

THANK YOU????? OMG?????????? Anyway I think I'm gonna try to write in a more Gender Neutral friendly way anyway for one shots, everyone deserves to fantasize about their celebrity crushes <3 Hope y'all enjoy!!

Movie Night (Brian “Q” Quinn x GN!Reader)

Summary: Q is late from filming. Again. But you could never stay mad at him, it's almost impossible. Slight angst-ish??? But overall fluff!

As I finish washing the dishes, I can't help but shut the door to the dishwasher with a swift thud, causing some of the dishes inside to rattle. My lungs fill slowly then release the air in huff as I look at the clock to the microwave: 11:23 pm. I can feel my heart drop with every minute that passes across the face of every clock in our house. Q was late, again. But this time, it hurt just a little bit more.For the past month, Brian’s been staying later on set, whether it was to catch up on busy work or to simply squeeze in some quality time with his friends. At first, I really didn’t mind; I knew what I signed up for when it came to dating someone who has their own tv show. However, one hour late becomes three hours late and I end up waiting by the phone in bed for a “coming home” text from him. He still cares, I know that at least. There’s been a lot of morning coffee talks about my feelings and I know he had his full attention on me and my new worries. He suggested that the next night he’ll get home as soon as he can and we can have a cozy movie night in. It was such a simple idea but I couldn’t help but feel a comfort wash over me. I had set up our living room with warm blankets, lavender scented candles and popcorn that’s lost its heat. The screen of our TV was on a selection of movies I picked out for the night, but it’s been replaced with the scrolling Roku cityscape. Now as I find myself trying to distract myself with any busy work in the house, the soft fuzzies I had for this plan have been replaced with anger. Before I was about to pull out a broom from our pantry to start sweeping, I heard the locks of the door move around. Most days this was music to my ears but right now it was nails on a chalkboard. I wait for the door to open then close behind him; I don’t need the neighbors to hear me chew this man out. “You are…” I glance at the clock on the microwave again and do some mental math before continuing my sentence. “Three hours and 30 minutes late, give or take.” I inform him, my voice calm but laced with ice. I close the door to the pantry and start to walk toward the entryway, my tone shifting to release the pent up frustration from the hours. “Really, Brian, I get you work hard and can’t always text me but you can’t-”

As I turn the corner to look at him, the first thing that catches my eyes are the flowers. They’re classic roses, a flower I enjoy because it’s safe for our cats. The next thing I see is the plastic bag in his other hand, stacks of styrofoam boxes inside. I recognized the smell instantly as one of my favorites from a local restaurant nearby Q and I had our first date at. There was a second bag, this one from the grocery store down the street; I could see from the top of it a bag of one of my favorite sweets and a pint of ice cream clinging to the bottom of the bag. Brian’s face is what I noticed last, and it nearly broke my heart. His eyebrows were together and his eyes filled with anxiety. The confidence he usually carries about him is dissipated, as if it was gone for the season. I didn’t want to immediately forgive him, but seeing him so worried about receiving my disapproval almost made all of my anger vanish.

“Baby, I know.” Q finally manages to find his words. “I’m late, but I promise I didn’t mean it. I really wanted to get home on time but the producers were up my ass about some final details for the season.” He walks towards me, as if he’s holding out his hand to pet a snarling dog. I didn’t let my expression soften yet; I wanted to see just how much he was willing to put into this little apology.“You couldn’t call?” I ask, finding an excuse to let my anger be for more than nothing for a second longer. My eyes try to stay off the gifts, not wanting to put my guard down just yet. “I wanted to, I promise. But once I realized I was still there at 9 I couldn’t think of anything but rushing around to get ya all this.” His broad shoulders raise, motioning to everything in his arms. I can’t help but imagine myself there instead. “I guess trying to make it up to you worsened the damage, I’m sorry. He notices me looking at the ground, avoiding his eye contact. His confidence was returning; he knew I didn’t want to be mad at him, and he knew exactly how to fix it. He gently lays the bags onto the ground and walks over to me, placing the bouquet onto the end table next to us. His arms now vacant, Q’s places his hands onto my cheeks, gently tilting my head up to meet his. His eyes had that special glimmer of softness to them, one I’ve only noticed when he looks at me. I pursed my lips slightly, trying to keep a serious nature to my face, but the mask was slipping. And he knows it. A small smirk creeps up onto his face, his facial hair framing his smile perfectly. At times like this, I hated how gorgeous his eyes were. “I’ll let you pick the movie.” he teases, his lips forming a real smile. I can’t fight the gentle smile that appears on my face as he leans down to give me a gentle kiss onto my forehead. My hands snake their way around Q’s waist and I tilt my head up to place a chaste kiss onto Q’s cheek, a white flag in this battle that’s only transpired in my head. “You’re too good at diffusing my anger, you know that?” I ask, moving one of my hands to his face, the fuzz of his beard scraping against my palm. He smiles back at me. “I hate seeing you angry with me, Sweetheart, I gotta do what I can to fix it.” He breaks away from our embrace and grabs the bags he carried into our home. “Look, you go relax in our living room that you worked so hard to make all cozy and I’ll get these roses in a vase for you and get our dinner situated, don’t you do another chore, baby!” I smile at him walking to our couch and sit down, getting myself comfortable with the blankets and pillows. I watch as Q puts the ice cream away and fills a vase with water, looking at his phone from time to time about how to properly prepare flowers for a vase. Watching him try so hard to salvage this night made every angry thought I had 30 minutes ago seem so irrational. I wondered how I could ever be angry at the man who fills my heart with so much adoration and makes my world more colorful. In about 5 minutes, he shuffles into our living room area placing down the containers of our dinner onto the glass coffee table and lays a couple bags of snacks on the floor by our feet. From muscle memory, I cuddle into him putting my head onto his chest and then feel his arm wrap around my shoulders. He gives me a kiss on the top of my head as I take in his scent and I couldn’t describe it as any more than just “home”.

At this moment, I understand now that I wasn’t mad at Q, I was really having withdrawal symptoms of him. Getting my fix of my beloved set everything right in my world, and it felt as if anger wasn’t a feeling, but a distant memory.

[lisbeth-kk]

May Prompts (17) Chaos

The Luckiest Girl in the World (chapter 17)

Summary: Mrs. Hudson is treating her tenants to an American dish, and lectures them about a special Constitution Day celebration.

Seventeen Years Old

Nana’s American pancakes were legendary. She’d learned to make them while she lived overseas, and whenever there was a special occasion, she served them. Unlike most countries, the UK doesn’t have a Constitution Day or National Day, but several days are celebrated. It varied from year to year, which of those Nana chose to honour. Our birthdays were never neglected like St. Patrick’s Day, or Wilberforce Day might be. Never knowing when we were graced with the sinful treat, made the surprise even sweeter.

***

“Rosie, dear. Give me a hand, will you,” Nana called from downstairs one Saturday afternoon in the middle of May.

Dad and Papa were reading in their chairs, but not for long.

“Pancakes,” Papa whispered when the sweet and familiar scent crept up from downstairs.

I hurried to assure Nana that I’d be right down to help her carry up the tray with pancakes, maple syrup, and fresh berries.

***

“So, what’s the occasion, Mrs. H,” Dad asked after his second pancake.

The moaning and praise of Nana’s skills had been the only thing breaking the silence so far, but now that the first hunger had been stilled, the time for revelation had come. To my knowledge, we’d never had pancakes on this date before.

“We’re celebrating Norway today,” Nana stated.

“Elaborate.” “Please,” Papa added when Dad sent him a disapproving look for being so terse.

“Well,” Nana said, and sat back in her chair, which meant we were in for a lecture.

Papa rolled his eyes, but he chuckled along with Dad and me, picked up a strawberry and dipped it in syrup before he slipped it into his mouth. Nana cleared her throat and continued.

“Last weekend, I watched the Eurovision Song Contest, and didn’t that turn out to be more chaotic than normal… Anyway, I was enthralled by the Norwegian performance. Quite powerful. I had heard an interview with the band earlier when they spoke of their Constitution Day, and it was most intriguing.”

She took a sip of coffee and looked at us to see if everyone was paying attention to her presentation of this Scandinavian saga. 

“They have parades all over the country, but not military parades. Far from it in fact. Children are walking the streets of the cities and the roads in the more rural places, while brass bands play the national anthem and other songs and marches. Everyone is dressed in their best clothes. Their national costumes are really something else. I looked them up on the internet. There are about 450 different kinds! Can you believe it?”

Nana was getting really warmed up now, and there was no way of stopping her. Not that either of us wanted to. Knowledge like this was fun and interesting.

“So, it’s mostly about the children and eating hot dogs and as much ice cream as possible. They obviously cheer and sing, while waving their flags, and in the capital, the royal family greet the children from the balcony. It was mentioned that from an outsider’s point of view, it may look quite civil, but the band could tell the listeners that when the children are to be picked up by their parents when the parade is over, there’s chaos beyond belief. Crossing the streets are almost impossible.”

I thought she had finished and cleared my throat to ask her about the song contest, but a stern look, made me shut my mouth and sit back in my chair.

“There’s also some obscure tradition with graduated students of a certain age, eighteen or nineteen, I think, but I didn’t pay that much mind. What I could gather from it was that it had mostly to do with too much alcohol and dressing up in red, blue or black coveralls with all sorts of patches on them,” Nana concluded.

“Thanks for the history lesson, Mrs. Hudson,” Dad said. “It’s quite refreshing to know that not all parades need to contain soldiers and weapons.”

We all agreed to this, but the question was now burning on my tongue.

“Nana? I thought you were boycotting the Eurovision this year.”

“Stated in a moment of passion, dear. I admit I’m a weak woman,” she said with nonchalance.

This retort resulted in a snort from Papa, and spilled coffee on the front of Dad’s shirt due to him choking on the brew.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @keirgreeneyes @raina-at @helloliriels

More tags in the replies

[wexhappyxfew]

light up my lover's way

BLIND DATES FEST 2024

featuring: Florence 'Flo' Godfrey and Captain Bernard 'Benny' DeMarco + Meatball being the ultimate wingman Absolutely beyond excited to put this out. Florence has been living in my brain for some time, but Masters of the Air and @blind-dates-fest (thank you Merc for the fun!) offered the perfect opportunity to do some writing and recently, with the episodes we've gotten, I've become a big DeMarco fan and wanted to see what I could do. I tried to really nail down how I could write him since we don't have a whole lot of content from him, and I didn't feel the most comfortable writing in the MoTA universe yet just because I wanted to see all the episodes first, but I wanted to give it the old college try and really enjoyed how this piece and how Florence came out! She was a treat to write and considering her story, this was a night for her well deserved! I missed out last year because of school stress and this year, wanted to be kinder to myself and allow some time to test out the waters with writing in MoTA. Please enjoy Flo and her time with DeMarco! :)

The mirror stared back at her with a more than poignant look on her face, as she gazed at her rugged-looking hair that had surely seen better days.

Extensive time out in the sun on the tarmac, with plenty of harsh oils and chemicals meant for planes and not exactly hair would do the trick though. Self-assured, she reached back and ripped a brush through the caramel ends of her hair that were in need of cutting and sighed quietly to herself before glancing back at her reflection.

Lemmons had encouraged her to take the night off - you've been working hard, Godfrey, take the night to get a drink or better yet, a full night of sleep where you're not thinking entirely about all things plane-related. She'd been pretty hesitant, she'd even told him that he was the one who needed the night off, but he'd quickly brushed some dirt off her shoulder, helped her scrub out the paint stain from her OD jacket and then promptly shoved her off in the direction of the celebration in the nearby hall that a good portion of the men and pilots had gathered into. She'd taken the time to gather herself, clean herself up and look presentable, but she was left appearing hesitant to even leave her room.

Florence Godfrey felt more mechanic some days than woman, but on days like that, she usually found some of the Red Cross girls and spent nights trading cigarettes, telling stories and sharing coffee from the potbelly stove in the corner that worked to keep them all warm. Sometimes, she tried to work so stringently that when she got in, she'd lay down and reflect and cry.

But, tonight wouldn't be one of those nights, no, her hands weren't covered in grease, her hair wasn't matted with sweat and her boots weren't soaked with mud and ice-cold water.

No, she actually had washed up, powdered her face, pulled a bit of lipstick onto her slightly chapped lips, and smiled to herself, the dress that fell below her knees a beautiful baby-bird blue.

Lemmons had been right - finally do something for yourself, give yourself the wheel of life. She wanted to do that for herself, more than anything.

The celebration in the hall was dying down - she took a glance at her watch - it was past midnight and people were slowly pouring out, a few couples still slowly swaying in the middle of the floor, some others milling about or talking quietly with gentle smiles in corners outside of the main doors.

Florence smiled quietly to herself - even just to get a drink that wasn't her inhaling water to keep herself from feeling parched. She'd never really allowed herself a freedom like this away from the planes, away from the other mechanics and ground crewmen. She'd always told herself to do her job, do what was needed of her and then bed out and wake the next time she was needed. She had always been like that though ever since working with Dad at the Navy Yard as a 9-year-old, learning all the bits and bobs that made things run and function.

Florence waded into the softly lit bar where only a few people were still at, finishing last minute drinks or basking in the quietly gleaming Billie Holiday singing 'If You Were Mine' over the speakers in the corners of the room. Florence walked up to the edge of the bar and offered a smile at the bartender who came towards her and offered a smile back and nodded.

"What can I interest you in tonight, Miss….?"

"Godfrey. Florence Godfrey," Florence said with a soft smile, "I'll take a French 75 if it's possible." The bartender smiled with a nod and turned away, whisking himself away to start prepping. Florence grinned to herself and then looked up towards the wooden ceiling, covered in pretty lights and patterned carvings.

Suddenly, she felt a presence at her….feet? Florence took a moment to think before looking down and seeing a beautiful, gray dog sniffing at her shoes, a brown harness around his soft fur and his puppy-dog eyes quickly looking up at her in excitement and glee.

"Awe, hello there!" Florence said, kneeling down in front of the mixed-husky dog, petting his face, her heart immediately softening at the sight as she laughed quietly to herself, "Aren't you the prettiest thing I've seen in months." The dog licked at her cheeks and she let out a laugh as she rubbed behind his ears, the dog's tongue hanging out as his whole body seemed to shake with excitement, tail in all directions.

"Hey, Meatball, don't go sneaking up on the ladies," a voice called from behind the dog.

Florence looked up from, if she caught the name correctly - Meatball, the dog - and found instead one of the pilots of the B-17s walking towards her, gentle eyes lingering on her, long enough for a crimson color to rush her cheeks, his hair dark and nicely cut and styled, and the small smile on his face suddenly making her think that this pilot was actually the prettiest thing she'd seen in months. Florence felt a warmth enter her body, a quiet calm overcoming her as she felt an uncontrollable smile cross her lips, as she slowly rose back to her feet and watched the pilot come closer, the thrum of a quiet Louis Armstrong song entering her ears.

"Italian or Swedish?" Florence couldn't help but say as the pilot neared, his eyes deep and dark, but soothing and welcoming all the same. The pilot let out a soft laugh, his eyes trailing down to Meatball, the dog - she'd never get over how adorable that was - before looking to her.

"Italian." he said, with a nod, "Why? Don't think he fits the part?" Florence let out a quiet laugh and kneeled down again to Meatball and scratched beside his little head and laughed.

"I think he's adorable," she said, "how'd you get a hold on him?" The pilot smiled at her and leaned against the bar.

"Boarded a B-17 with me back in Greenland, was a real good sport the whole flight," the pilot said and then shrugged a bit, "I think I convinced him that he'd make a good co-pilot." Florence laughed as she stood to her feet again and looked at him with soft eyes.

"I don't think it'd be proper of me to only think of you as Meatball's Dad," she said, watching the small smile on his face quickly grow, "gotta name?"

"DeMarco. Captain Bernard DeMarco, but you can just call me DeMarco, whatever suites your fancy." he said, before chuckling slightly, before imitating, "Some of the guys like to yell, DeMarcooooo!" Then he looked to her and smiled.

"You don't have to do all that though," he said, leaning closer slightly, "Benny'll do just fine. Special cases." Florence stared at him quietly for a moment and then grinned.

"Benny it is…..Captain," she said, before holding out a hand, "Godfrey. Florence Godfrey, but you can just call me Godfrey, whatever suites your fancy." She smirked slightly at his face as he reached out and shook her hand.

"Some of the guys I work with like to yell," and she woefully imitated Lemmons, "Godfreyyyyy!" She then leaned closer to him and smiled up into his beautiful, tender eyes.

"You don't have to do all that though," she whispered, "Flo'll do just fine…..special cases." Benny stared at her for a moment, before breaking out into a wide smile and gently holding her hand in between them like a sacred piece of life.

"Goddess of flowers," he whispered quietly, his voice a soft rumble, "Flo." She smiled up at him.

"Ma thought it was pretty." she offered to him. He smiled at her in the dimmed light of the bar, that Ella Fitzgerald song she was always forgetting the name of somewhere above their heads, eyes warm and simply, only on her.

"Your Ma was right." he said back to her, staring at her with genuineness and fullness in his eyes. She felt her face warm and let out a laugh at his words, covering her mouth as she did so. Looking back up at him, she watched him stare right back at her and smiled as her hand fell from her mouth.

"I've never seen you around in here before," he said softly, "couldn't help but introduce myself, or well, Meatball, for introducing us." Florence looked down to Meatball, sat patiently staring up between them with his ever-caring eyes that dogs always seemed to have.

"He likes you," Benny said, his hand, which evidently was larger than hers, still clasped around her own, with no sign of disconnecting soon, "he's a friendly fella, but he don't just go up to anyone." Florence's eyes softened as she rubbed her free hand on top of Meatball's soft little head and glanced to Benny again.

"Dogs are probably some of the best creatures to ever walk to Earth," she said with a smile, "Sometimes they know us better than ourselves. I like to think sometimes they're protecting us, or….just there to guide us, be with us, give us someone who unconditionally loves you, ya know?" Benny's smile on his face was something that engrained itself quickly in her mind and he nodded.

"Yeah, yeah," he said softly, "I like to think of it that way, too." For a moment, as Ella Fitzgerald sang her part, the gentle thrum of a bass and brass to follow, they watched each other as if taking in the very quiet moment they had there between one another that night. An unexpected chance for Florence to get out of her normal gear and into a dress, to have her hands free of grease for the first time in a while, and to be looked at by a man with the softest eyes she'd ever seen - with a dog named after an Italian meatball no less.

"I'd ask for your hand in a dance, but I'm afraid that French 75 is calling your name and Meatball would take offense," Benny said, his eyes seemingly nervously flitting to the drink that had appeared at her side before meeting hers again, "and I know you're one of the women who works with the ground crews….I'd hate to steal an evening away from a good drink." Florence watched him.

"You know I work with the ground crews?" Benny nodded with a smile.

"You hang around Lemmons a lot," Benny offered, "and you work hard. We all see that. Buck does, too. Mentioned you were the best of the best. Didn't want to be too forward when I heard you tell the bartender your name." Florence watched him, as he gave Meatball a smile and a pet on the head before he looked to her again.

"Ma didn't raise me to be impolite either," he said with a nod, "and you've earned an off night like this and a drink like that."

"And a night getting to talk to a man like you." Florence said quietly to him, her heart starting to pound as he watched her - no one ever really had mentioned her in the way he had, having noticed her before and even made the effort to talk to her like he had. Her palms felt sweaty, and her mouth felt dry. Benny watched her for a moment as she took a sip of her drink and then looked to him.

"I'd be more than happy to spend a night dancing with you," she whispered.

There was something unspoken behind her words - like the realization was still there, they just hadn't mentioned in. In war, moments like this were precious and sheltered and held close in the palms of their hands. A night with someone with tender eyes was worth more than enough money in the world to her, especially in wartime. The thought saddened her heart and her mind as she stared at Benny DeMarco, with that million-dollar smile and those eyes. Benny let out a shaky breath that he looked like he'd been holding in and reached forward to take her hands in his and leaned forward the slightest bit so the only things she could see and hear were him and his voice.

"With you? I'd consider it a privilege." he whispered and then pressed a soft kiss to her hands clasped in his and then gently pulled her towards the open dance floor where only a few couples were left and had made it this late in the night. Wrapped in each other's warm embraces there in the middle of the floor, Billie Holiday's voice singing in the eves, and the gentle sway of their bodies so intimately close there, Florence let herself dance softly that night with Benny DeMarco.

Florence let herself live a bit for once.

[blainesebastian]

celebrating you

words: 1,654 ship: austin x female reader summary: @whoreforbrownies requested: fluffy reader celebrating austin's fragrance campaign. more details in posted q and a :) warnings: none notes: masterlist is here! tag list: @killerqueenfan, @austinbutlermischief, @stylespresleyhearted

You’ve always been someone who likes to celebrate—not just putting up Halloween or Christmas decoration months in advance or throwing surprise birthday parties, but by having this incredibly warm aura that makes sure to praise family, friends and your partner. Admittedly, that’s come with a few downfalls in the past—more often than not, you’re always looking after other people while no one looks after you. It’s not something done on purpose, you know that, yet you sometimes find yourself in this rut of being there for others that you forget to take care of yourself.

That changes with Austin.

He reminds you how good it feels to have someone take care of you, how it should be something necessary, a balance within your relationship. He celebrates you just as often as you celebrate him—there are moments that he’s completely taken you by surprise. Not because there’s some obligation of a holiday or a birthday, but because it’s a Thursday in the middle of the month and he wants to buy you flowers and your favorite latte.

So, in turn, it makes celebrating your boyfriend a lot more organic feeling. It’s not out of responsibility or requirement, but because both of you know the value of the other.

Lately there’s been so much to be excited about when it comes to Austin’s career—first Elvis and everything that it brought with it, Bikeriders wrapping up, Masters of the Air, and now a slightly different turn with this fragrance campaign. You couldn’t be happier for him, not only does it come with a photoshoot to highlight how beautiful Austin is, but an interview to also showcase that same beauty on the inside. It’s really what you love most about him, something that drew you in in the first place. Austin’s kind, thoughtful, considerate, and a hundred other things that make you feel warm from the inside out.

Pretty much why it’s a no-brainer to put together something special for him.

You decide one morning, right before Austin leaves for the day for a handful of different meetings, that you’re going to decorate the entire apartment. It’s gonna involve baking and dinner too but one step at a time. Your friend, Carly, comes over and helps, buying extra tape that she sets on the kitchen counter.

“All this for a fragrance campaign?” She asks, but she’s amused as her eyes rest on the multiple sets of streamers and balloons that still need to be put together and hung.

“Yes,” You grin excitedly, picking up a cup of coffee to take a sip. “It’s not just about the cologne, I’m just proud of him—it’s a new step in a different direction, you know?”

“I know,” Carly smirks, moving to grab the coffee pot to pour herself some more too, “You’re in love,” Her voice is warm and teasing, “I get it. I’d celebrate him too if he was my boyfriend.”

You smile, your stomach doing that flip-flopping thing that is often associated with Austin. You know exactly how lucky you are.

“So you’ll help me with streamers?” You smile prettily at her, purposely fluttering your eyelashes in a teasing plead.

“Yeah,” She laughs, tossing a package of tape at you. It lightly hits your chest and falls back onto the counter, “Wouldn’t want him to come home with you sprawled off a ladder. Not much to celebrate in the ER.”

You gather up all the supplies to take to the living room, “C’mon then, I don’t have a ton of time before he comes home.”

Regardless that it’s the morning and you do have until early nighttime, you want to make sure you give yourself enough hours to play with to bake red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing and chocolate chip cookies. Dinner will be simple enough—it’s the baking that needs timed dedication.

Standing on a small stool in your living room, you take the tape from Carly’s waiting fingers and reach up to put some of the streamers into place. You’re definitely not overdoing it, just enough to make the apartment look festive.

“So…just curious,” Carly starts and you get down off the stool and move it a bit to continue the streamer line…you already know that if she’s gonna start off a conversation like that, it’s going to be something. “If Austin asked you to marry him, would you?”

A laugh startles out of your chest because, “Carly, we’ve been dating for eight months.”

“So?” She crinkles her nose, handing you another piece of tape, “My aunt and uncle were together for six before he popped the question.”

The whole concept has your stomach erupting in butterflies. You’re not saying you haven’t thought about it, because how could you not? But still…feels like something that’s a long while away. You glance back down at your friend, trying to picture what it’d look like for Austin to come home and just—

“I’d say yes,” You reply, fixing another streamer. You can’t picture something different coming out of your mouth, but before Carly gets too wound up, “But we’re far from that being a thing.”

She grins anyways and you can’t help but smile, a fond eyeroll to follow as you set up streamer on the other side of the room so it matches. Then comes the balloons and the handmade sign that goes up a little crooked but…thought that counts, right?

“Do you think I overdid it?” You ask, looking around at the living room.

Carly shakes her head, “Nah, we went through one roll of tape…two rolls would have been overdoing it.” You smirk, bumping shoulders with her for a real answer, “No,” She replies again, “I think it’s just the right amount—he’s going to love it.”

That makes something warm and golden explode in your chest and…good, you really hope so. You thank her a few more times for coming over and promise to save her some cupcakes if there are any leftover, closing the front door after she’s left. You’re hoping it doesn’t take too long to finish things up for tonight.

--

Nothing is exactly going according to plan—and you already know it’s your fault because you’ve got this concept of what ‘perfect’ is supposed to look like tonight. You should really know this by now, it’s better to land on something ‘special’ rather than ‘perfect’. It’s fine—everything is going to work out, you’re determined. So what if the cheese you bought for the chicken parm has mold on it? You can just go with pasta instead. So what if your cupcake pan has mysteriously gone missing? You can make banana bread with chocolate chips in them (a personal favorite of Austin’s).

There’s no reason to freak out over this…your boyfriend is going to love whatever you’ve put together (it only took you three times to talk yourself down off that metaphorical ledge).

Luckily, nothing else throws you off balance. Though you do wish you’d been paying closer attention to Austin’s location because you hear the front door open as you’re taking the banana bread out of the oven. Quickly setting it down on a hot pad, you tug off your oven mitts, putting your arms up and out.

“Surprise!”

Austin’s eyes are bright with surprise, a soft laugh tumbling out of his mouth as he sees the put together dinner, the banana bread, the streamers and balloons just past the kitchen in the living room. He sets down a bouquet of flowers he’s picked up for you (just because).

“It’s uh, it’s not my birthday.” He says teasingly.

Rolling your eyes, you grin as you move to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Austin leans down to hug you back, squeezing, pressing his face into your hair to breathe you in,

“I know that,” You huff playfully, shaking your head, “Just wanted to do something nice for you.”

You pull back out of the hug a little bit, Austin’s arms still around your waist. He presses a kiss to your lips, your hand lingering on his cheek. Your stomach does that familiar fluttering that you’ve easily associated with being around him, running your thumb along his lower lip.

“For the fragrance campaign?” You offer, as if it’s obvious.

Then his face kinda does that handsome thing where he flushes, his cheeks kissing pink. Apparently it wasn’t so obvious and he’s genuinely surprised. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

You crinkle your nose, taking a look at the decorations, the dinner, the dessert—feels fairly apparent to you because what better way to celebrate him? This is actually pretty low caliber compared to what you could have done but…the key was really not to overdo it.

“Are you saying you don’t want the banana bread?” You ask, taking a playful step back from him, “Because I’ve been known to eat an entire loaf in bed before, so—”

You act like you’re about to reach for the pan but Austin doesn’t let you get very far, lifting you up and gracefully setting you down on the kitchen counter. A soft laugh leaves your lips, your arms resting on his shoulders as he takes a step forward and settles between your legs. One of your favorite positions with him because you’re nearly eye level now.

“I mean, there’s chocolate chips,” You grin, “I really don’t need to share any part of it with you—”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his hand moving to cup your cheek. You lean into it, can’t help it, would gladly fumble off the kitchen counter if it meant keeping your lips locked. Eventually though, oxygen wins out. He presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth, pulling back a little,

“Thank you,” He whispers.

You hum a soft reply, wrapping your fingers in his shirt and tugging him forward—definitely worth celebrating with another kiss.

[mothwingwritings]

Christmas Traditions with Baki, Retsu, Katsumi, Hanayama, Biscuit, Jack, Doppo, Yujiro, and Motobe <3

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!!! I hope you are all having a fun, nice, peaceful holiday! I wanted to write a little something for the day (I actually started a full on Christmas fic but very quickly realized I would run out of time oops) so here’s a little blurb I whipped out during down time at work. It’s nothing huge, and it’s basically unedited, but I wanted to give you all a little present of sorts if I could. I know I take forever to update and post things, so thank you all for your patience and being wonderful superb humans. I love you all~

So HAPPY HOLIDAYS! If you don’t celebrate-I hope you have a bitching weekend regardless. B)

(Also this is my first attempt at writing something slightly romantic for Yujiro where he isn’t horrible, so there’s that loooool)

Warnings: None really, it’s very fluffy. Maybe the tiniest hints of sexy stuff?

Your tradition with Baki is opening presents early. He never really had much of a holiday growing up, so the prospect of having a traditional Christmas with the person he loves gets him amped. Though you told him countless times you don’t really need material possessions from him, he approaches the task of gift giving with a sense of childlike enthusiasm. He’s thrilled to act as ‘Santa’ for you, feverishly going over in his head all the things you have ever mentioned wanting or liking in the course of your relationship. You in turn also have fun shopping for him, happy that you get to create pleasant memories for him during the holiday season to replace all the lackluster ones. The day’s leading up to Christmas mount his anticipation-he is as pumped to see and spend time with you as he is to exchange gifts. You’ll be lucky if you can get him to hold out tearing into presents by Christmas Eve, let alone the day of.

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Your tradition with Retsu is preparing a big meal. Christmas isn’t something that Retsu ever really celebrated previously, but he knows it’s an important and fun time for you so he wants to make it special for the both of you. He’s delighted to spend the day with you, and takes great pleasure in cooking a holiday meal the two of you can enjoy. So though he may not go all out on decorations or other holiday activities, you are sure to have a delicious feast in preparation for you at home-a mix of your favorite holiday foods and some of his own favorite recipes. He pours his heart and soul into it, and is sure to shower you in love and affection throughout the day. Seeing your face light up in joy as you take in the food spread before you is the only assurance he needs that he’ll have the honor of being your personal holiday chef many years to come.

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Your tradition with Katsumi is sightseeing. Christmas Eve each year is spent out on the town as you take in all the sights and activities the holiday season has to offer. You look at lights, listen to carolers, go ice skating, grab some hot cocoa/coffee. The whole day you stay linked arm in arm, smiling so hard your cheeks start to hurt. And when it’s time to wind down in the evening you both return home together to spend the remainder of the night wrapped up in each other’s arms, falling asleep to the favorite holiday movie or show of your choosing. He always seems to last longer than you do and considers those moments when you are nestled safely in his arms, right before he drifts off after you, some of the happiest moments of his entire life.

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Your tradition with Hanayama is traveling. It doesn’t matter if you want to go someplace warm and tropical, or cold and frozen. It can be the same place each year or someplace new. As long as he’s able to whisk you away from the hustle and bustle of your daily lives and spend the season in your presence, he really doesn’t give a damn where the two of you end up. He wants to be around you and only you, the best present he can provide and receive being your happiness and love.  Just understand that as soon as your reach your destination, that’s when the real holiday magic begins ~

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Your tradition with Biscuit is story reading. Biscuit’s life is chaotic, and the holiday season does little to lessen this burden. Sometimes it can feel like you barely have time or access to each other at all. That’s why on Christmas he makes sure to dedicate the entire day just for you. Nothing fills him with warmth and peace like Christmas night does, snuggled up together in front of the fire place, taking turns reading each other Christmas stories from an old, well-loved book you’ve had since childhood. When you first suggested it you were afraid he would find it silly or childish, but he was delighted by the idea. He loves listening to you speak, finds peace in the stories your voice weaves for him. He can think of no better way to spend the holiday.

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Your tradition with Jack is a movie marathon. Like his brother, he doesn’t have too many fond memories of Christmas time to reflect on, so when you enter the picture you made it your mission to change this. Appalled that he hadn’t even seen the classics, you suggest a movie night, complete with homemade cocoa and all the Christmas cookies you can eat.  You were concerned he may not like the idea at first, Jack wasn’t one to sit around for long periods of time and you were worried the movies may just bore him. But as he held you firmly in his laps, basking in homemade treats and your silly commentary, you knew this was the right move. Even as he poked fun at some of the films, calling them ‘kiddie movies’ you were ‘forcing him to watch’, you knew the small smile on his lips and the way he held you close relayed what he was truly feeling. This was cemented when he finished the marathon with the question “Same time and place next year?”

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Your tradition with Doppo is decorating. He humored you when you told him you wanted to do up your home for the holidays, and he let you go all out when it came to picking out and purchasing decorations. Unfortunately for him, all those decorations meant you needed help putting them up-and he was your prime target for assistance. Though originally he agreed begrudgingly, he ended up having a lot of fun decorating with you. It warmed his heart to see the smile that graced your lips as you dressed the tree, and he took great joy in the playful banter you shared over what decoration looked best in this corner of the room, or if the star atop the tree was crooked or not.  It was also nice showing off for you whenever heavier decorations needed to be assembled, he lived for the little blush the fell over your face as you laughed, telling him his flexing and posturing was ‘too much’. Next year he’d have to remember to purchase some mistletoe to add to the arrangement, he already knew the perfect place to hang it ~

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Your tradition with Yujiro is skiing. You had never done it previously and were concerned how good you would be at it. It also didn’t help your anxiety that the one who invited you was Yujiro, and he had gone out of the way to clear out the entire slopes for just the two of you. But even with all your nerves the trip ended up being surprisingly peaceful and enjoyable. Yes, Yujiro picked at you and was obviously disappointed with your lack of immediate skiing skill, but he was also shockingly patient and helpful, giving you tips and guidance that made navigating the slopes much easier. Hours flew by without you realizing, and by the end of the day you were exhausted, but had successfully navigated a hill all on your own (albeit it was a beginner one, which Yujiro made sure to make fun of you for, but a slope is a slope in your humble opinion). Thinking this was a onetime deal you thanked Yujiro for the experience, letting him know it was the most fun Christmas you had had in a while. You were taken aback when he busted out laughing at you, explaining you weren’t anywhere near done-he’d repeat this every year necessary with you until you could get on his level.

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

Your tradition with Motobe is to build a fire. It’s a simple thing, and not necessarily a strictly Christmas event, but you both find happiness huddled up together on Christmas night by the fire. You relish in each other’s company, sipping a warm beverage, sharing a blanket, and talking about anything and everything under the sun.  The only time any banter occurs is when you argue over who needs to leave the comforting warmth to go get more firewood. This goes on late into the night until the two of you are too tired to keep your eyes open. The final words to leave both of your lips are affirmations of love and the promise to make the New Year great.

͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

[justmystyles]

Hey, you are literally one of my favorite writers out here. I honestly love every piece you've written, it's just all really really really good. (guess I am not as good with words as you, oops)

Anyway, I am so glad your requests are open. I was wondering if you could write something where the reader comes from a difficult family. emotionally abusive mother, distant father, eldest daughter syndrome, all that jazz.

So she's sort of moved away but still keeps in touch with her family cuz she does sorta love them but it's hard. So it's like she's got some body image issues and she's closed off, pretty funny but likes to use humor to hide her feelings, has a lot of acquaintances but doesn't like sharing herself with people much (why do I feel like I am describing someone specific lol)

And one day it all just becomes too much ig. I don't know exactly how the story goes, guess I am just looking for some comfort. had a weird few days.

Honestly, love you work. You're great. Thank you for reading that bs. Doesn't matter much if you decide to write it or not. You're already perfect. <3

Let's talk about this ask I got a few weeks ago, shall we?

First of all, I am honored to be considered one of your favorite writers on here, your words are so sweet and I love you.

Now, getting down to business, this ask genuinely made me cry because I know this reader. I am this reader and it was truly terrifying that a stranger on the internet described me so well to me. As soon as I read this, I knew it was going to be my next series, and after weeks of taking down notes and ideas, I finally started actually writing it today.

It'll still be a bit before I start putting it out there, this premise means so much to me that I want to really take my time and do it the justice it deserves, but I have included a little teaser for you below the read more so that you can get a taste of what I'm working on. I've also tagged my tag list peeps so that you all can see what I've been up to.

I'll still be working on NYIML and the other asks I have (if you sent me one, I love you and I'm working on it, please be patient, life has kind of blown up over the last week or so).

You would watch on in awe, watching the music come to life, watching Harry work. From time to time, you would meet his gaze, noticing a softness in his eyes that warmed your insides. You brushed your feelings off, reminding yourself that Harry was just a kind person. He probably looked at everyone like that. He would often invite you to join the group for lunch, or drinks after a successful session. You always declined politely, certain he was just asking to be polite. 

But Harry wasn’t just asking to be polite, and those looks that he threw in your direction were different than the way he would look at anyone else. He was fascinated by you, he felt like he needed to know more. When he met you, he thought you were beautiful, and the refreshments that you had laid out showed how kind and thoughtful you were. But he knew there was more to you, and he couldn’t wait to find out all of it.

You truly were the studio mom, always making sure everyone had what they needed. You would bring coffee and breakfast in the morning, make everyone’s lunch orders, or reservations if they decided to go out. But you would never join them. He found that curious, but also disappointing. He understood if you wanted to focus on work while you were all locked away in the studio, hoping to take those lunches and extra curricular times to get to know you, but those moments never came. 

He had asked your coworkers about you, hoping to gain some kind of intel that could help him break the ice. Everyone told him how sweet you were, always asking about them and their goings on, but often changing the subject when the conversation would turn to you. He also learned about how funny you were. He would have never guessed, based on how quiet you’d been around him. He figured some of that was because of his celebrity status, he was used to people being shy around him, but they would typically warm up over time. You hadn’t. 

There was a bit of worry in his mind that maybe you had an issue with him. You weren’t cold with him, you had always been incredibly kind in your interactions with him and that threw him for a loop. He racked his brain, trying to think of anything he might have said or done to upset you, but nothing came to mind. Perhaps you just weren’t a fan of his? Whatever it was, he was determined to figure it out. 

One afternoon, he was coming back from lunch and he overheard you talking to someone in one of the studios. He lingered by the doorway, he knew eavesdropping was wrong, but he was desperate. 

The conversation wasn’t much, you were just talking about a television show, but he heard the excitement in your voice and couldn’t help but smile. You sounded so cute. And then you laughed, and he could have died right there on the spot. You had an incredible laugh. He wanted to do anything to be the reason that beautiful sound came out of your mouth. 

Harry was so distracted that he didn’t notice that you were coming out of the studio. You weren’t expecting anyone to be standing there, so you bumped right into him. 

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry Harry.” Your eyes were wide with panic.

He put his hands on your shoulders to steady you. “Don’t be. That was on me. It’s what I get for zoning off in front of doors.” He chuckled. 

You smiled politely and nodded at him. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?” 

“I was actually hoping to talk–”

He was interrupted by the ring of your phone. You pulled it out of your pocket and saw your mother’s name flash across the screen. “Crap, I’m so sorry it’s my mom. Do you mind if I take this?”

“No, not at all. You should always take calls from your mum.” 

“Right,” you scoff. “You’ve never talked to my mother.” You answer the phone, walking away quickly. 

He noticed your posture stiffen when you answered, and he hoped everything was okay. Once you were out of sight, he left, returning to the studio. “Y/N is taking a phone call, she’ll be right back.” 

When you finally returned, you apologized with a smile on your face, but Harry could see the sadness in your eyes. You took a seat at the computer, and he came up behind you, placing his hand softly on your back. You subconsciously relaxed into his touch. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked. 

You put on your best fake smile, which he immediately saw though. “Yeah, thanks.” 

He wanted to press, but he knew it wasn’t the right time or place. He also wasn’t totally sure you even liked him.

@allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @blueraspberryreader @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @deannaard @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @laurxn-robinson @lexiecamposv @likeapplejuicenpeach @lilfreakjez @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @potterheadandsherlocked @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

[crystallinestars]

Happy Birthday, Kaveh!

Kaveh birthday scenario because I love this man a ridiculous amount. Happy Birthday to one of my favorite Genshin boys!!!

Once again, this is self indulgent and also not proofread, so excuse any spelling/grammar errors.

Contains: Modern AU. Pure fluff and lots of physical affection

Once the clock struck twelve, you carefully lit up the candles on the red velvet cake you had made a couple days prior and lifted the tray to carry it to Kaveh’s office.

Cracking open the door, you spot him sitting hunched over his desk, blueprints and drawing tools scattered haphazardly all around him. A lone lamp lights up the room in a dim, yellow glow, casting long shadows on the walls.

Kaveh scratches his head with a groan, mussing up his pretty hairstyle as he discards another blueprint aside.

Deciding to intervene before the architect loses himself in another sketch for the next few hours, you clear your throat to get his attention.

Kaveh lifts his head and looks in your direction, carmine eyes zeroing in on the cake in your hands.

“Y/N?”

“Happy Birthday, Kaveh!” you say with a smile and present your handmade cake to him. It was a simply but tastefully decorated cake, with the words ‘Happy Birthday Kaveh!’ written in red icing and topped with fresh fruit. Several small candles were arranged in a circle, their flames flickering softly.

Kaveh’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Birthday…?” Kaveh blinked and glanced at the clock. “Oh. Oh! I completely forgot!” he chuckled and shook his head.

“I figured you lost track of time again, which is why I’m here to be the first one to celebrate your birthday with you, and to get you to take a break,” you say with a wry smile.

The blond stood up and made his way over to you, looking sheepish.

“You’re right. I got so lost in my work that I completely lost track of time. I just can’t get the design for this commission right,” he sighed and followed after you towards the kitchen.

“Take a break. Maybe you’ll get better results with a fresher mind,” you coax him to sit on the couch.

Kaveh complies, and his eyes light up when you place the cake in front of him on the coffee table.

“Why don’t you make a wish and blow out the candles? Maybe it will come true.” Smiling, you take a seat next to him.

Kaveh chuckles but does as you say, and closes his eyes to make a wish before blowing out the candles.

“Happy Birthday!” you say again and clap. “Do you want to have some cake now or later?”

“Now, actually. I’m pretty hungry, and I think the boost of sugar will help me get those sketches done,” Kaveh replies.

You take a knife and cut a slice of the red velvet cake before plating it and sliding it over to him. Kaveh gratefully accepts the slice and digs in.

“Mmm, this is so good! Did you make this?”

“Yeah. I made it while you were away for a business meeting with a client. It took a lot of work to keep it a secret,” you say and break off a small piece of his slice, spearing it on a fork. You hold the fork up to Kaveh’s mouth, indicating you want to feed him.

Kaveh blushes and shoots you a look. “I can feed myself, you know.”

“I know. I just want to pamper you on your special day,” you smile at him.

Kaveh is unable to resist your adorable smile, so he caves in and lets you feed him the cake. He grumbles a bit and looks flustered, but ultimately can’t deny that having you feed him warmed his heart. Your care and affection were just what he needed after a grueling day of work.

After feeding him the slice of cake, you clean up the plate and bring over a gift bag that you had prepared earlier for this specific occasion.

“I got some gifts for you, as well. Would you like to open them now?”

Kaveh glances at the bag in your hand curiously.

“You got me gifts too? You didn’t have to, really. But thank you.” He takes the bag from your hands. He lowers his hand into it and fishes out a rectangular object wrapped in red and gold wrapping paper.

“What’s this?” he asks. The architect carefully unwraps the gift, revealing a prettily decorated scrapbook. His fingers trace over the intricate golden patterns hand-drawn on the front cover that remind him of the patterns on the protractor he uses when drawing his architectural designs. The front cover was also decorated with red, green, and gold gems as well as turquoise feathers that matched the earrings and feather he usually wore.

“Did you make this?” he asks in awe.

“Ah, yeah. I had some help from your friends in making it. I know my artistic skills pale in comparison to yours, but I still hope you like it,” you chuckle, feeling nervous about whether he likes the design of the scrapbook or not. You spent a lot of time trying to make it look nice, and you hoped it was satisfactory for your artistic boyfriend’s tastes.

“Don’t worry, it looks beautiful. I love it,” Kaveh grins and eases your concerns.

He carefully opens the book and feels his breath hitch. Inside are photos of him and the people he loves framed by colorful paper flowers, ribbons, and multicolored gems. Every page he flips to has a photo of himself or someone he’s close with, captioned with what the photo is depicting and when it was taken.

There’s a photo of Kaveh grinning cheerfully while raising a glass of wine as if celebrating something. Kaveh remembers that this was taken when he was celebrating moving out of Alhaitham’s house because he found a place to live in together with you.

Another photo was of Cyno doing another one of his dramatic poses while holding some TCG cards, engaged in a TCG battle against Kaveh. One photo was taken when he and Faruzan were tinkering on a gadget for a contest, and he smiles as the image reminds him of how he and his professor won first place because of their invention. Some photos on the following page were of Tighnari teaching Collei about botany, and Alhaitham reading in the library, seemingly not noticing his picture being taken, or pretending not to.

There were many photos of him and his friends in the scrapbook, ranging from pretty to silly, but each and every one made Kaveh smile at the happy memories they conjured up.

Flipping towards the end of the book, Kaveh found pictures of you and him together. There was one taken by Collei while the two of you were slow dancing at the tavern, and another you took as a selfie where you had suddenly kissed his cheek, effectively capturing his surprised face. He swore you looked ethereal in every one of the photos, and his heart raced as he remembered each of the romantic moments shared between you captured on these photographs.

“Y/N… this is the most wonderful gift I’ve ever received. Thank you, I love this so much. I promise I’ll treasure it for the rest of my life,” he said as he pressed the book to his heart, indicating he truly did cherish your gift.

You smile, pleased that he liked the scrapbook you spent at least two months working on.

“I’m glad you like it. There’s one more gift for you in bag.”

As if just remembering about the bag, Kaveh sets the scrapbook aside before taking out the second gift. It was a clear glass jar topped with a cork and a golden ribbon. Inside it seemed to be multicolored paper slips that filled the whole jar to the brim in a pretty pastel rainbow. You feel your heart rate grow faster as nerves set in. You put your whole heart into this gift, and you really hoped Kaveh would like it.

Kaveh inspects the content of the jar, noticing that the paper slips were folded into small squares, and guesses that they must contain some kind of message or drawing. He uncorks the jar and takes out a random slip before unfolding it. Inside it was a neatly written message:

You have the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen. It never fails to brighten up my day and make my heart skip a beat for you.

Kaveh blinks in surprise, not quite sure what to think of the message, but it undoubtedly filled him with happiness. He fished out another slip and opened it.

I love how creative you are. Your mind comes up with so many unique and wonderful ideas, and you have the determination and talent to turn them into reality. I admire you for that. All your creations are so beautiful— just like you.

Kaveh felt his eyes water as he read the message but blinked away the tears. He realized that these messages were your heartfelt thoughts and feelings about him, and it made his breath hitch. Swallowing thickly, he took a deep breath before opening another colored paper.

I love you with my whole heart, and I will never stop loving you. I will be there for you through all the good and bad times, I promise.

You hear Kaveh sniffle and notice his shoulders shake as he tried to control his overwhelming emotions. This gift touched his heart deeply, and he felt so loved and appreciated that he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Y/N…” he croaks out, and you gently wrap him up in an embrace.

“Thank you. I love you. I love you so much,” he whispered as he returned the hug and buried his face in your shoulder.

“I love you too, Kaveh. I always will,” you whisper back just as softly and kiss his temple. Kaveh tightens his arms around you and exhales a shuddering breath. After a few moments he pulls away and wipes at his reddened eyes, but he otherwise looks composed.

“Sorry for this. I just… I’ve never felt so loved before. This gift… it means more to me than you will ever know,” he says softly, a tender yet sad look in his eye as he glances down at the jar.

“I’m glad you like it. I wrote down all my thoughts and feelings about you on those slips with the intention of having you look at a few of them whenever you feel down. I know you go through a lot of struggles, so I wanted to give you something that would hopefully cheer you up. Even if you feel like the world is against you, know that I will always be there for you,” you say with a smile.

“Truly, I can’t thank you enough. Your gifts are so thoughtful and touching. I promise to treasure them forever. And if I thought I loved you before, I now admit that you somehow managed to make me fall for you all over again,” Kaveh says and pulls you into another hug before giving you a kiss and resting his forehead against yours.

You giggle and smile at him warmly. “Good. I’m glad I still have that effect on you,” you tease, causing both of you to laugh.

The architect presses his lips to your face, peppering kisses to your cheeks, nose, and forehead, saying words of thanks and love before taking a moment to just hold you in his arms.

You smile, feeling your heart grow warm from his affections, and let yourself relax in his embrace. You hold him tightly in return, basking in his warmth and pleasant scent.

“Happy Birthday, Kaveh. I hope all your wishes come true,” you say quietly.

Kaveh lets out a soft hum and kisses your temple before resting his cheek on the top of your head. He has many wishes. Dealing with his debt, wanting to see his parents again and have a whole family, for art and artists to be given the due importance and respect that they deserve… the list goes on.

However, one of his wishes did come true. It was right here in his arms, giving him all the love and comfort he desperately needed. The guiding light in this dark world that saved him in more ways than he can recount.

It was you, his darling love.

[bisexual-thoughtss]

Bernard the Elf x Reader

I know it’s a little late for Christmas, but I just love him so much. It’s a little soulmate AU where you have discolored skin where you touch your soulmate for the first time. Call your dentist, it’s tooth-rottingly fluffy!

You snuggle up next to Bernard on the couch, handing him a warm mug of cocoa. Christmas Eve had been successfully executed the night before, and you’re excited to celebrate your first Christmas morning with him. He takes a sip, looking thoughtfully at you for a moment before pulling a gift out from beside the couch.

“What’s this? Is it something special?” You tease, looking over to the rest of the gifts for each other under the tree and wondering what he was doing with this one.

“It is. Do you remember the day we met, pumpkin?” He asks, twiddling his fingers nervously.

“Of course, how could I forget,” you laugh, remembering it clear as day in your head.

***

You truly didn’t want to get out of bed this morning, the snow outside looked good for staying in and reading a book, but you knew you had no choice but to go out. Begrudgingly, you started getting dressed.

~

Meanwhile, Bernard was having a rough day of his own. As soon as Santa mentioned needing an elf to go on an errand outside of the pole, Bernard was volunteering. Any chance he could to get a break from Curtis spouting rules and regulations in his ear he was going to take. Santa had raised a surprised eyebrow at his willingness, but let him know what he needed and sent him on his way with a sparkle in his eye.

Bernard grumbles as he changes into human clothes to avoid calling too much attention to himself when out and about. He glances at his hands, rolling his eyes at the thought of his soulmate marks. How was he supposed to know who his soulmate was at first touch if it was just his hands. Everyone touches people with their hands! He briefly considers donning a pair of gloves but decides against it. He yanks a beanie over his head to hide his ears before he magics himself into town.

Taking another glance at the list Santa had written him, he hustles down the street towards the shops.

~

Walking slowly down the street, you roll your eyes at the frigid January weather. You just know you’re gonna fall on all this ice. You really hadn’t wanted to leave the house today but you had to go to the store. Glancing up, you see a guy walking quickly down the sidewalk. You’re impressed by his speed on the slick street, scooting over as you walk on the sidewalk to stay out of his way. As soon as you changed your stride for him to pass, you were slipping on the ice and bracing yourself for impact with the ground, but it never came. You open your clenched eyes to the same guy, his hands underneath your forearms to steady you. Your skin tingles pleasantly where he touches you, and as you look into his eyes it feels like the world has shifted on its axis.

“Hi,” you breathe out, righting yourself on your feet again and rolling up your sleeves. Perfect hand shaped marks adorn your skin where he just caught you.

“Hi,” he smiles, cheeks turning pink as he stares awestruck at you.

“Would you like to get a drink?” You ask, gesturing to a nearby coffee shop.

~

When you settle into your seats at the shop with orders in hand, you’ve already got so many questions for your soulmate. You both volley questions back and forth, favorite colors, hobbies, jobs. He gets a little cagey when you ask him what he does, brushing you off with “I’m the manager of a large company, what about you?” that only makes you want to ask more questions, but you figure you can come back around to it again later.

“What’s your favorite holiday?” He asks after a sip of his hot chocolate.

“Oh, easy. Halloween,” You answer, swirling the ice in your chai around.

“Halloween!?” He shouts, ducking his head as a couple near you turns to eye him.

“Sorry, but Halloween is your favorite holiday? That can’t be right,” he worries, teeth digging into his lip and you want to kiss him right then and there.

“Why, what’s your favorite holiday?” You ask, beginning to worry that somehow your soulmate isn’t going to like you.

“Christmas, of course!” He says, eyes a little wild.

“I love Christmas, but it’s still in second place,” you tell him, trying to suppress your giggle as his eye twitches.

“Second place! C’mon,” he grumbles, taking your hand.

“Wha- where are we going?” You laugh as he steers you out of the coffee shop and down the street. He pulls you into a little alcove, both of you pressed together in the small space.

“Brace yourself,” he tells you, and suddenly you’re not outside anymore. Christmas decorations surround you, the large workshop leaving you speechless.

“How did you do that? Where are we? It looks like-“ you start before Bernard cuts you off.

“Santa’s workshop,” he finishes, smirking at the awe on your face.

“This- this can’t be real. I can’t believe this,” you breathe as you take in the sight around you.

“Believe it, baby,” he smiles, taking your hand and leading you down the hall. Your mind is racing as you pass rooms of toys being made, cookies baking, people bustling by that you assume must be… elves?

“This is my office,” Bernard tells you as you enter a nicely furnished room, a large desk in the center piled with papers.

“Hold on,” you say as you pace back and forth in front of him, trying to wrap your mind around all of this.

“We’re in Santa’s Workshop,” you state and he nods.

“So we’re actually at-“ you trail off, having a pretty good idea of the answer.

“The North Pole,” Bernard finishes your sentence.

“Oh my god,” you whimper, rubbing your face harshly. He takes a step toward you, gently grabbing your wrists to stop you.

“Are you an elf?” You ask, not believing your own ears as you hear yourself ask.

“Head Elf,” he smiles proudly.

“Prove it,” you say suddenly, catching him off guard. He pulls his hat off slowly, worried about your reaction. What if you think his ears are freaky? Can soulmates not like each other?

His worry calms when you don’t shy away but instead lean forward. You reach out with a shaky hand, trailing a gentle finger from his ear lobe to the pointed tip of his ear. His cheeks immediately flame red as he lets out a quiet gasp, shivering at the feeling. This time you can’t help yourself from pulling him in for a kiss. It’s chaste, just a press of lips, but before you can separate Bernard is pulling you back in.

“Halloween still your favorite?” Bernard pants once you actually separate from each other a few moments later.

“I think I might need some more convincing,” you flirt, giggling as he pushes you onto his desk and pulls you in for more.

***

“I’ve been working on this since then,” he blushes, handing it to you. You tear the paper off excitedly, a smile lighting up your face at you see what’s inside.

“You made this?” You ask in awe, pulling the knitted sweater out. He nods sheepishly as you take the sight in. You know it must’ve taken him forever with how much of a perfectionist he is. You let out a laugh as you finally see the front, a happy little jack-o-lantern proudly wearing a Santa hat.

“Oh, Bernard, I love it. It’s perfect,” you beam, slipping it on immediately before pulling him in for a kiss. The dusting of red on his sparkly cheeks as you pull away is a sight you look forward to seeing for the rest of your lives.

[iamthecomet]

Mushy May Day Two - I Made This For You

Fandom: Ghost (The Band) Rating: Everybody Pairing: Dew/Rain implied polyghouls Featuring: Angst. Summoning day nonsense. Dew has a feeling for once. Angst and mush and idiots in love with each other. Dew doesn't do summoning days. But there's just something about Rain. Word Count: 1.3k+ Read below the cut, or on AO3.

Dew doesn’t do summoning days. Especially not his own. He’ll participate in others, sitting quietly with his pack mates. Curling in on himself as the day progresses. Picking at his food. Cramming himself into the corner of the couch, sitting, knees pressed to his chest on the dock while Rain swims. He’s present, always. But not really there. Participating feels like too strong a word.

He’d like to lock himself in his room on every summoning day. To just forget about them. He doesn’t voice that though—can’t. Not when Sunshine’s face splits into a blinding grin on her first summoning day when Mountain reveals the cake he made for her.

The others have stopped trying to make him celebrate his. It’s hardly a summoning day anymore anyway—he isn’t the ghoul he was when he crawled out of the pit. All the soft pieces of him burned away, left with scars and the occasional ache where his gills used to be.

No one blames him. He felt guilty at first. The way he’d retreated into himself on that first summoning day after his element change. Mountain cooked him his favorite breakfast. He pushed it around on his plate, felt sick to his stomach at the thought. The day didn’t feel like it belonged to him anymore.

But it’s gotten better. Over the years they’ve all gotten used to it. It’s routine for everyone to pretend to forget that it’s Dew’s summoning day. Cumulus always fails, she never say anything outright to him about it—but she dotes on him a little extra. Dragging him into the cushion of her body, pillowing his head on her lap while they watch their nightly movie.  

The only summoning day that makes him feel like something is waking up in his hollow chest is Rain’s. He can’t ever decide if it’s pain or pleasure. But it’s a feeling all the same. He doesn’t know what to do about it. He's been thinking about it for longer than he wants to admit. So when Rain says he wants to go for a sunrise swim, Dew ignores the sea of shocked faces around him and offers to go with him.  Rain wakes him up early—before the sun is even up. He offers Dew a mug of steaming coffee. Dew’s bleary eyed, barely awake. He cradles the coffee in both of his hands and looks Rain up and down. And even though the part of him that this hurts tells him to go back to bed right now—he doesn’t. He follows Rain out to the lake. The dew-covered grass cold under his bare feet.

He sits on the dock, coffee pinned between his plams, sipping on the scalding liquid. It warms him from the inside out. The sun starts to peak over the horizon, slanting pale light over the worn dock.

Rain strips down and dives into the lake just as light starts to sparkle across the glass still water. Dew, drags his knees up to his chest. He aches.

When Rain surfaces, the gills along his neck and ribs have filled out, fanning to life. Paper thin, nearly translucent. Dew slides his hand over his own neck, feeling the strange white scars along the sides. It still seems strange that they’re gone. That he doesn’t feel them shifting against his probing fingers.

“You didn’t have to come,” Rain says softly. He’s at the edge of the dock now, arms folded over it, almost touching Dew’s knees. Dew looks down at him. “I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry—”

“No,” Dew puts his coffee down on the dock, he shifts, stretching out to lay on his belly so he’s face to face with Rain. He puts his warm hands over Rain’s ice-cold arms and squeezes. “I wanted to.”

Rain’s brows furrow down like he thinks Dew is lying to him. Dew shuffles forward enough to presses his forehead to Rain’s, wet hair slipping over his skin, he presses warm dry lips to Rain’s forehead.

Rain tastes like the sea.

It makes Dew want to scream.

“When you’re done with your swim I have something for you.”

Rain pulls back, eyebrows raising. “Dew—”

Dew shoves at his arms, trying to dislodge him from the dock. “Don’t get weird about it.”

“But you don’t—”

“If you don’t shut up I’m not giving it to you.”

Rain watches him warily. Dew doesn’t blame him. Dew pushes at his arms again. “Come on. Hurry up. It’s cold out here.”

Rain rolls his eyes and pushes off of the dock, disappearing into the depths again. Dew pushes himself back up to sitting. He grabs his coffee. He dips his toes into the water. Cold like always. He curls his feet up under his thighs. He finishes his coffee as the sunrises. When Rain emerges the dew has burned off the grass and everything is bright and green and awake.

Rain dries himself off, his gills disappear as he pulls his glamor back in place. Dew mourns the loss of them, reaching up to touch the place where they vanished as Rain pulls his sweatpants back on.

“Come on,” Dew laces his fingers with Rain’s and pulls him toward the Abbey. “Before everyone wakes up and makes a big deal out of this.”

“It is a big deal you know?” Rain says matching Dew’s stride, giving him a sideways glance.

“Shut up.”

“Dewdrop—”

“Rain. Don’t take this the wrong way. I don’t fucking like summoning days. That’s not changing.”

“Then what—”

“Dunno. I like you? I like watching someone else enjoy water the way I used to. I’m not thinking about it any more than that.”

Rain frowns. Propelled—always—by an inherent need to help Dew out. To fix the ever present hole in his chest. To figure out how to patch him up and make this right. Dew waves him off.

“Just let me give you a fucking present. It’s probably never going to happen again.” Rain stands in the doorway to Dew’s room, hair dripping onto the hardwood as Dew rummages through his top desk drawer.

“Satanas, Rainy. Come in here and close the door,” he snaps just as his fingers graze over cool chain and warm stone nestled beneath. Rain listens, closing the door softly, still looking at Dew like something’s gone terribly wrong. Dew curls his fist around the stone, feels the warmth beating through it. Something like nerves crawls through his chest, into his stomach.

When was the last time he gave anyone a gift?

Ifrit.

He bites down on the inside of his cheek, forces that thought out of his mind.

“You might hate it.” Dew says softly, holding his clenched fist out for Rain. Rain opens his palm beneath it. And Dew opens his fingers one at a time. Cool silver chain pooling through his fingers into Rain’s outstretched hand. The stone falls last, trapped between Dew’s fingers for just a second longer than it should be.

Rain uncoils the necklace, lays it out over his palm. The fire opal resting against his wrist. Rain drags his finger over it. It flickers, either in the dim light, or with the magic Dew forced into it to keep it warm.

“It’s warm,” Rain breathes.

“Yeah. Water’s cold. Wanted you to always have something to warm you up.”

Rain looks up at him, cerulean eyes brimming. Dew shakes his head. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Dew did you—”

“Yeah. Made it. For you,” he says voice stilted. “There’s a jewelry conspiracy this year. They’ve been talking about it since you bought those earrings on tour. So, expect a lot of it. I just wanted…” Dew shakes his head. “Saw the opal and I couldn’t—I had to.”

Rain curls the necklace into his fist and throws himself at Dew. He’s cold and wet, and Dew isn’t expecting any of it. They land in a heap on Dew’s bed. Rain pressing his face into the side of Dew’s, lips grazing over his cheek bone. “Dew—”

“Don’t you dare tell anyone.”

“They’ll see it.”

“Make something up. I don’t need them in here throwing a party because I did something.” Dew’s look is withering. Rain kisses him, soft and sweet on his lips.

He holds his fist, clenched around the opal, over his heart as he looks at Dew, a grin tugging on his lips. “Not a word. I promise.”

Dew pulls him down into a kiss.

They’re very late for breakfast.

[wildemaven]

Farmers Market: Saturday Afternoon with Javier

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Words: 585

Warnings: Mentions of food and allusions to death; if I missed something please let me know

A/N: This isn’t beta’s, so all mistakes are my own- oops! I wrote this yesterday and then spent all night debating on whether I should even post it… It was suppose to be just a simple little thing, a few sentences and then it wasn’t. I tend to second guess myself so I’m just going to throw it up and let it be.

Masterlist / Saturdays with Javier Masterlist / Part 2

Javier seeks your hand as the crowd closes in. Pulling you close— the thought of losing sight of you is far too devastating. He tucks you underneath his arm— safe and secure.

His life before you was sorrow and misery..

Feeling of contentment has now settles in his bones. You bring a sense of calm he never knew before.

The warm Texas sun, a beacon of light— he’s home.

The steady strum of a guitar plays a melody he recognizes. It’s the first song you both danced to the night you met in that dimly lit dive bar on the outskirts of Laredo. The mellow chords eliciting a unusual reaction. His chest completely overwhelmed with this unexplained feeling.

The song seems to have the same effect on you, stopping you abruptly in your tracks. Your attention drawn to the band as they continue to play through the chorus.

He thinks you might want to dance like you did that night as you pull him towards you, but instead you look at him. Your face beaming with a sincere sentiment. A smile letting him know you too remember.

He’s never been one for public affection, but you seem to bring out things he’d hidden away for so long. The kiss is tender but packed with intensity and devotion. You convey the feeling right back to him with the way pull him in even closer— he’s safe.

This is the 10th Saturday spent ambling through this Farmers Market with you by his side. It’s the first routine he’d committed to since leaving Colombia.

He traded in his gun and chasing sicarios through alleyways for produced filled canvas totes and over indulging in street tacos from your favorite food truck.

He admires your instant connections with each vendor, they all know you by name now— a local celebrity in your own right.

The afternoon slowly fading into the early evening. The sky painted in hues of pinks and oranges. Your purchases for the day stowed safely over Javier’s shoulder, his free hand resting on your lower back as he maneuvers you both back towards his pickup. Fellow patrons making the same trek to waiting cars are the background noise to you feeding Javier flakey bites of a buttery croissant and sips of his watered down iced coffee— a far cry from the echos of screams and gunfire.

And like the previous 10 Saturday’s before, you spend the drive nestled in close to him, making sure he knows just how appreciative you are that he carves out time to devote to you. A lingering kiss to your temple is his response to convey how indebted he is to you. Unlike the previous 10 Saturday’s before, the overwhelming feeling that’s been burrowing in his chest all day finally makes its presence known— Love.

Looking back he knows he fell for you early on, but was hesitant to acknowledge it directly. Letting his past repeatedly dictate his worthiness. He now realizes his turning point was meeting you in that bar. Everyday since, you’d unknowingly showed him just how deserving he was of your love.

I love you dances off the tip of his tongue with such ease. And you reciprocate it back immediately, zero hesitation. The heaviness of the words now float freely throughout the cab of his truck.

It’s in this moment he knows he’d go through all the hardships and heartaches a million times over if it meant every Saturday for the rest of time was spent with you.