#I think there’s some holiday hours in between and that would be fantastic to have

[chika-nyan]

Just two more months (plus 3 days in April that I left after vacation for saying goodbye forever to coworkers plus maybe hustling for some “hey we’ve been friendly, can I use you as a reference for a future job”s) to go!!! And honestly not a moment too soon as things continue to get worse :)

[multch]

Accident.

No outbreak! Joel Miller x Reader [18+] CW: Unspecified age gap \ touching \ suggestive content\ afab Reader

After a wardrobe malfunction at the beach, Mr Miller decides he’s gotten too close- enough is enough- but he couldn't have anticipated the constant teasing that would follow suit..

Sand, sun and some eye-candy, Nothing could be better than this!

Finally coming back home felt fantastic after months away at college. Not only would you get to crash on the much larger bed of your old room but you would also be around for the elaborate summer holidays your parents would take.

Your family was enthusiastic.. To say the least. They were always ecstatic when it came to organizing what annual ‘event’ they would host. You hoped it would be just a simple trip with you and your siblings like last year- maybe someplace where you wouldn’t have to suffer the sweltering heat waves that summer kept offering- Like England or Newzeland!

Unfortunately, your parents had something else in mind:

The beach.

With people you hardly know.

With THE Joel Miller practically babysitting you while they organize it.

Fuck.

Joel Miller has been a friend of both of your parents for a few years now. Having first met him as a helping hand while officially moving out of your parents’ house, he’s proven himself exceptionally helpful. You almost feel bad- You know your dad always makes sure he’s paid for his work, however; you felt like you, personally, had never thanked him properly.

Heck- You’d be happy to thank him quite thoroughly if you know what I mean… 

You could never shake the thoughts you've had since you two first locked eyes. A simple gesture sparking many moons of passionate yearning. Thinking about his muscular arms, his sculpted face and the dark tone of his restless voice. Perhaps even the sounds it would make if your hands wandered achingly slow down his solid chest and towards his big, hard, throbbing…

You wish! Your little crush on him was absolutely trampled on 2 years ago by the sly comment you heard him tell your parents one night. Apparently he had started dating again- probably found someone already, afterall, it has been 2 years..

Still… you couldn’t help but wonder if a beach party could be your chance- maybe not to do.. anything… but you could at least muster up the courage to ask him if he's taken or not.

Right?

You felt butterflies in your stomach, swearing this was a make or break decision.

It took hours of pacing and rapid texting-the night before- but finally you had picked out the perfect bikini for tonight.

It was baby-blue in a gingham print. The bikini itself tied together on both hips and one in-between your breasts- joining in a dainty little bow you had spent ages worrying if it didn't look “effortless enough.” It was cute enough to be semi casual while being mature enough that your relatives wouldn't keep acting like you were an actual child.

You couldn’t help but second guess yourself… Was the effort really worth it? It's just a small get together after all, why would you need to impress anyone?… 

Would you actually impress him?

Could you ever impress him?

*

In the blink of an eye, you gasped at the sudden grasp around your tits. Those hands were large and powerful. They were panicked- almost hesitant however he didn’t seem too keen on letting go. As the wave finished toppling over you two, Joel swiftly pulled you around to face him.

The sight was mouth watering.

Flushed bright red, Joel was quick to glare into your eyes- His were brimming with concern yet crystal clear with honesty and the determination to protect your honor. His hair was wet and sat tousled over his eyes. You couldn’t help but gaze at his bitten lip as he concentrated so deeply between the valley of your breasts- almost as if he was staring directly into your heart. 

It thumped as if it were about to explode.

It might have taken you a few moments to realize but before you could react, Joel was already bent down and trying to re-tie the center string of your bikini top. Being so far out- the waves were ruthless. They crashed over the two of you like an avalanche.

It felt near impossible to keep your balance with Joel tugging you towards him- all the while, the moving sea pulling you-two away from shore.

Instinctively, your hands steadied yourself on Joel’s shoulders. A pink blush spread throughout your face as you began to realize how truly naked you were.

His tanned, bare shoulders were strong and toned from years of strenuous work in the blistering sun. Your exposed stomach fluttering with a flight of butterflies. The memory of his careful touch against a place so sensitive…

His motoring hands slowly came to a stop. As soon as he went to stand up, you quickly dropped your arms. Not knowing where to place them, your hands checked the tight bows around your hips. Luckily, it seemed like your bikini bottoms were secure; however, your top was another story.

The look you gave him was less than impressed…

“Shut up.” He growled without hesitance.

Oh.

It was painfully obvious he was embarrassed.

Cute, you thought.

You shot him back a sly smirk

For a man who spent so long hovering over your bust, his ability to tie the knot was sheepish. Joel had fixed a simple double knot, causing the remaining rope to dangle over your naval.

Letting out a quick sigh, you decided you had enough of the ocean for today. His eyes widened as he felt your brisk grasp on his arm- dragging him back to shore to the best of your ability.

*

Staring at your phone was useless. The mere thought of today's “incident” was enough to keep you running in circles. You sigh as you fall further into the plush cushions that lined the small sofa. Like many family functions, You've sought refuge in the same old fashioned living room. It was a cramped room tucked far within the back end of the house cluttered with old furniture. Fortunately, the abandoned room was silent compared to outside’s blaring ruckus. It was yours.

… at least, it was.

There in the door frame stood a familiar sight;

“Hey… can I speak to you,” Joel sighed, “about earlier today… I'm sorry for-”

“Groping me?” You snarked.

“God, give me a break would ‘ya,” His brows furrowed as his face slowly turned a light shade of pink, “It was either I did that or else you would’ve flashed everyone!”

For a moment, you get lost within the passionate emotion of his southern drawl. He’s so flustered; it almost seems as if he’s annoyed by you too. Maybe you were too calm? Maybe he was too embarrassed. Regardless, His outrage humored you more than you would like to admit- forcing a chuckle to erupt from within you.

“What? You think this is funny?” He spat- rolling his eyes.

"A little…”

…

The room sat still in deafening silence until…. “BAAHAHAHHAAHAAHAHA- oh my god, ok so maybe a lot,” you giggled, “I'm so sorry but really I don’t see why you care so much?”

Joel was practically fuming. Hot pink- he was humiliated “Get a grip!, damn you little-”

“Did you just tell me to get a grip? I would but it seems you’ve grabbed enough things today for the two of us-”

Before you had the chance to laugh, your eyes widened at the sight of the one and only Joel Miller rushing towards you with a salty smile and a couch pillow hurling towards you.

HWACK! You squealed at the sudden collision. Despite being a pillow, when punted hard enough at a victim, it proves itself as an effective weapon.

“GOT ‘YA!” He gasped- now standing over you. As you opened your eyes, they locked with his. 

Your mouth sat smug, readying yourself for a moment to strike back. His eyes! it was for a brief moment yet you were lucky enough to catch them darting down to your lips. 

Ha!

Your tactic: the element of surprise. When his gaze returned, it took all your power to summon the courage to muster out the question plastered across your heart for so long.

It was now or never, you assured.

“Jo- Mr Miller,” you stated, “this is so awkward but… I was wondering if you were in a relationship?”

“What's it to you?” He chuckled, shifting to rest his palm on the armrest beside you.

“I… um..” you tightened your grip on the pillow.

The look in his eyes was enough to tell you.

Fuck.

“Ah… shit.., look ‘sweetpea, y'know your daddy and I are buddies…” he tried telling you but he knew he couldn't steer you away.

“And? So what, I'm an adult,” You barked, “C'mon Joel- I really like you!”

The truth came bubbling out, you didn't expect to actually tell him. Not tonight. Not ever. Happily watching from the sidelines was a hobby- you imagined him in your future. Confessing to him; however, was never foreseen. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

With your vision glossing over, this wave of dread was suffocating. Before you could excuse yourself, you felt his familiar grasp on your hand. Unlike before, his touch wasn't hesitant. Instead, his grip was determined, driven yet caring.

He grazed his thumb side to side across the back of your hand. His fingers kissing yours with each rough callous and soft intention.

The surprised action made your eyes widen, you raised your head up high only to see the sight of Joel Miller looking back at you like how one looks at a puppy- as if his heart had melted.

A bright pink flush and bitten lips, it was clear he had something to say stuck on the tip of his tongue. 

“Y/N.” 

“Joel.”

He bent down and held the side of your face. Dark and hazy, his eyes glazed over with ambition. “You're so pretty, y'know that?” He kissed onto your lips.

With that said, you stretched your arms up and placed them on his broad shoulders, merging your mouth with his. He nipped at your bottom lip, asking for entry. You gave in, allowing him access to explore each and every crevice with his tongue. 

Was it mere minutes or years you had been kissing for? You couldn't tell. Regardless, at some point you had to pry yourself apart in order to grant yourself a moment to breathe. Your lips felt so tender and bruised- God, how you missed his touch.

He fell to sit beside you, the old couch creaking as he sat down. “Do you normally make out with men twice your age?” He teased.

“Oh, Shut up!” you said before chucking the pillow at his chest with a loud thud.

[aziraphales-library]

Helloooooo again! Hope you are doing well! I have a request for some fics and I was wondering if you happen to know if there are any where Aziraphale and Crowley get married in Vegas after a drunk night (this is a very specific niche so if you can’t find any that is perfectly ok!) and it doesn’t even have to be in Vegas, just accidental marriage fics are cool too. Thank you!

Hi! Here are some drunken Las Vegas marriage fics...

to have and to hold, probably by seventhstar (G)

They have long, drawn out arguments about this, if they can even be termed arguments; onlookers inevitably describe their tone of voice as 'fond' and their mode of communication as 'bickering'. The wine is passed back and forth between them. Marriage, Aziraphale argues, is divine. It's about love. It's about making promises, and keeping them. It's about faith and hope and devotion. Marriage, Crowley replies, is infernal. It gives two people who love each other endless opportunities to ruin it. It's about power and money and pain; it's caused more evil than it ever has good. Or, the one where they get drunk married in Las Vegas.

Waking Up In Vegas by Supergeek21 (T)

Crowley and Aziraphale wake up hungover after a night out in Vegas.

Ouroboros by FriendOfLoki (T)

“We should get married!” Crowley blurts out. His face is burning the moment the words leave his mouth and enter into the night. He’s not quite sure how he got here. Or, the story of how Aziraphale and Crowley drunkenly marry each other one night in Las Vegas.

Oops! by Mimsynims (E)

This must be a dream. A fantastic, soul-crushing dream. That’s the only explanation. Right? “Aziraphale, did you hear me?” Bugger. Not a dream. “Pardon, what was that?” Aziraphale reluctantly dragged his eyes from the simple yet perfect ring on his left hand. A ring that matched the one on Crowley’s left hand. His friend, Crowley. Best friends Aziraphale and Crowley are on holiday in Las Vegas. After a getting a bit too drunk the night before, they wake up with wedding rings on their fingers. Sounds like it should be easily dealt with, or is it..?

Veni Vino Vegas (I Came, I Got Drunk, I Got Married) by A_N_D (T)

After a whirlwind drunken evening, author Az Fell came home from Rom-Con without his heirloom pinkie ring – but with a wedding license from a 24-hour Las Vegas chapel. Elsewhere, book fan Tony Crowley woke up with a hangover, vague memories, and a brand new ring he’s only seen in author photos. Mutually attracted, mutually terrified the other one thinks it was all a regrettable mistake, they turn to their dear but anonymous online friend to vent and ask for advice. …Maybe they should tell each other their screennames someday.

Waking Up Married by Caedmon (E)

"So you’re telling me that my options are either to convince this man I just met and drunkenly married to stay married to me for six months or lose two thirds of a billion pounds?” “That’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Fergus said. “Fucking shit,” Crowley spat. He hung up the phone and stared at it for a moment before rubbing his eyes with his fists. Now his job would be twice as hard. He needed to talk Aziraphale into staying married for six months. Should he try begging or bribing? This was a huge ask, and Aziraphale would be well within his rights to tell Crowley to fuck off. But Crowley was prepared to offer him pretty much anything, up to half of the trust, if that’s what it took. He didn’t care. But that was only part of his concern. Even if he got insanely lucky and Aziraphale agreed to stay legally married to him for the next six months, how the hell was he going to talk Aziraphale into dating him during that time? And was it foolish to even try? One thing at a time, he decided. First, he needed to convince Aziraphale to stay legally married to him. Then he could set about wooing his husband. He hoped.

- Mod D

[redheadspark]

Hello! I hope it's not too late but can I request dialogue #2 and scenario #2 from the June prompt session with Oliver Wood, please?

A/N - You requested just in time! I hope you like this, thanks for requesting!

Old Times

Summary - Oliver stays at your house for the weekend. It's nothing new...or is it?

Warnings - Just Fluff

“Thank you again for lettin’ me stay over for the weekend,”

“It’s okay!  Think of it just like old times,”

Oliver had to laugh as he placed his bag on the spare bed that was across from you in the guest room, you sorting the towels for him and an extra blanket.  The sun has already set and the moon was climbing up over the countryside near your little home.  Your folks were downstairs and getting ready for bed themselves after a hearty dinner and an hour or two of catching up in the living room with you and Oliver.  It felt like old times for you two, since you two were neighbors and used to have these sleepovers all the time.

Both of our parents were old friends, even as far back as going to Hogwarts at the same time when they were young.  Your father and his father were massive quidditch fans, they would always talk about the sport when they were together and would spend hours and hours in stats and teams. It made sense that their children would end up playing the sport in school on the same team, but even before that, your dads got the pair of you into the sport very young.  You remembered your first game at a professional match, Oliver coming along as the pair of you and your fathers were watching an intense game between Puddlemure United and Chudley Cannons.  It was a fantastic game, one you would never forget.  

Because of your parents’s jobs that would sometimes have them unavailable for a weekend or two, you and Oliver would spend the night, and at each other’s homes.  Mostly because it was fun and you two were close friends, but the times it was a last-minute choice if your folks needed you to stay somewhere.  That was rare when it happened, but both families were close enough to watch each other’s children within a second. 

It rarely happened when you two got older and went to Hogwarts, but that wasn’t a big deal since you two were in the same house and were still hanging out together in and out of the classrooms and on and off the pitch.  You two became a packaged deal, whether it was being on the Quidditch Team together for Gryffindor House or studying together for your academics, you both were always together.  But it was something that neither you nor Oliver really thought about, it was a familiar feeling that you both liked and didn’t want to erase or remove.  

Christmas Holidays were spent together along with some summer vacations as well.  Perhaps it was the long days you two flew together and the deep talks that you both had and confided in one another or maybe it was just the fact that you knew Oliver far more than anyone else in his friend circle. Of course, he would be teased by Fred and George in how you two were merely friends yet Oliver would look at you as if he wanted to jump your bones. Oliver felt embarrassed by those comments. But deep down, without Oliver realizing it, he was falling for you. 

He never had a clue it was a mutual feeling.  

Oliver had to stay over at your house during the Christmas Holiday in your 7th year, both of his family received owls from his grandmother who was in bad health and they were summoned to help her at her home.  Oliver, not wanting to be at his home alone though he was well old enough to, asked your parents if he would stay for the weekend when they came back.  There was also a nasty storm that came through the area, and his own mother didn’t want him home alone if something were to happen.  Of course, your parents agreed with no hesitation, they too didn’t want anything to happen to Oliver if he was alone at their home.  You were only telling yourself that this was just like old times: a basic sleepover with Oliver and nothing beyond that.  But then again, it was not helping that he became more attractive over the years and he was sinking more and more into your heart as the days passed.  

This time, it was going to feel different.  Very different. 

“I got extra stuff for you in case it gets too cold since it’s still snowing pretty hard outside,” You explained as you handed him a blanket, “And if you don’t mind, I might bunk in here with you since my bed is too small for me now.�� Plus this end is more comfortable,”

Oliver’s eyes went wide briefly from you mentioning that you were going to sleeping the opposite bed of him.  It shouldn’t be a big deal since you two even shared beds when you two were kids, being able to fit into a bed together and read books until you both fell asleep or chat for hours into the night.  It seemed strange now that you two were teenagers, raging on hormones and harboring unsaid feelings for one another.  

“Are you sure that’s okay?  I mean, with your mum and da and all..” Oliver was about to say to you, but you shrugged.

“I don’t think they’re gonna care,” You replied, then pointing back to the door that led out of the guest room, "I’m gonna grab my pajamas and I’ll come back in,”

Before you could head out the door though, Oliver once again found his voice, “I wanted to tell ya something.  Somethin’ that’s been…I’ve been…thinkin’ about a lot,”

You looked back at him, seeing him with you with his big brown eyes and how his fingers started shaking in front of him.  Wondering what was going on in his mind, you walked over to stand in front of him, seeing how worried he looked and not himself.  He must have had something heavy and very concerned to tell you, making you reach over to take his hand in your own.  It felt clammy in yours, which was worse since Oliver was never one to show any nervousness or worry.

“You know when we were younger, we would tell each other we loved each other?” He asked you, you pausing for a moment before realizing what it meant.  You two would say that to one another, but that was when you were children and extremely close.  It was something that seemed nice to say to each other since you were each other’s safe space, comfort in dire times, before half.

“Bye bye Oliver!  I love you!”

“Love you too, Y/N! See ya soon!”

“I do remember that,” You replied, smiling from the memory of you two being so young and not realizing the gravity of the words you would use on one another.  It was then that you felt Oliver squeeze your hand in his own, you feeling that tender push of pressure.  Something inside of you shifted then, almost like a new heartbeat was felt under your pulse and your eyes widened from the simple yet powerful squeeze of your joined hands.  Oliver kept his gaze on you, strong and true, and he took in a long inhale and stoke.

“You know I love you, right?” He asked, you standing so still like a statue as he gulped and kept talking, “But maybe in a different way than you think…”

Everything in your mind was slowing down to the point of time almost freezing. Hearing that from your best friend, your one true friend for so long, it almost felt like you were hearing different voices or daydreaming of this moment.  You heard nothing but the soft snow falling just outside the window and the flame flickering on the candle that was lit on the dresser beside you, you felt Oliver’s hand in your own and the heart radiating off your cheeks.

But you saw Oliver, the same boy you grew up with, that you fell in love with.  And he loved you too.

You pulled him towards you, Oliver coming to you willingly as if you were a siren calling him out to sea, and you both kissed in the guest room.  Childhood was gone, it was a thing of the past, and this new blossoming sensation of your future was now unfolding like the morning flower in the rays of the morning sun.  His warm lips were on yours as he cupped your face, kissing you like he’d dreamt about it for years.  Has he?  You have yourself, wondering what his lips would taste like or how it would feel to have his muscle arms around you to pull you in close.

His arms were strong and powerful yet gentle, whereas his lips tasted like mint from his toothpaste and something that was distinctly Oliver.  

You both ended up pushing the two ends together to be in the middle, snuggling together under the covers as you both fell asleep in each other’s arms blissfully happy.  Your mother would poke her head in during the wee Horus of the morning, her heart warm at the sight and inwardly she was happy you two finally got together.

The End

[becomingkatie]

Eclipse Trip 2024 || Burlington, VT

Burlington is one of the few places I think Ken and I could agree to move to. (I love Atlanta and would move back in a heartbeat but Ken won’t go south of here; I don’t really want to move time zones and go west.) My uncle and his husband live here (I always say “my uncles” but then people think it’s a big chunk of my family, but no it’s just the one couple) and we visited them once pre-pandemic. They showed us around and I talked for ages about moving up there. I still love it.

We originally planned to go to Ohio and do Cedar Point, but it’s not open this early in the year. So last April, a year out, we paid like $300 a night for a holiday inn express in south Burlington. It was completely booked, along with everywhere else. It was hands-down the busiest I’ve ever seen a hotel breakfast. Every seat at every table full!

I convinced Ken to agree to a glass blowing class and it was a highlight for sure! We made cups! It’s one of those crafts that I just don’t know how anyone gets into unless they have a family member who does it. Like, the entry into it just seems so tough. But a one-hour class was a really good insight into it.

On Sunday we scoped out potential viewing spots. We picked a park on the lake 3 miles from our hotel so we could walk there and back and not deal with parking. We were there around 4:30, so later than the eclipse would be the next day, but could still get an idea of where the sun would be in the sky when thinking of potential spots to sit and watch. It was funny, us and everyone else walking around, whispering because we didn’t want to share our thoughts about where we planned to be.

Ultimately, it was busy but not insane. We were still quite a bit south of downtown and the university campus, which I think was much more packed. We picked up bagel sandwiches to bring with us and had little portable camp chairs. We got there a bit before noon, and totality was at 3:26. I loved seeing all the dogs. The feeling of community during totality was really cool.

Now that we’ve experienced it, we both say we’d travel under 3 hours to see it again (not the 10 hours we traveled this time), or further if it was somewhere we had family or otherwise already wanted to visit. But we wouldn’t plan more eclipse vacations just to see more eclipses. We’re both really glad we did this one though!

The drive home took 12 hours instead of 10. Since the eclipse was a Monday, travel in was spread out between some people coming in Saturday and some on Sunday, but basically everyone left Tuesday and it was bad traffic. Then we stopped at Panera and discovered they changed the menu and no longer have any of Ken’s favorite items!

Overall a fantastic trip, even with the tough journey home. I’m not allowed to send Ken Zillow links to Burlington homes for a month - he’s convinced the vacation excitement will wear off, and with it my desire to move. But I have a vision of myself in Chelsea boots boiling sap from a tree in my yard to make maple syrup and I will not let go of this imagined Vermont Katie.

[pintsizemama]

Blizzard

Day 29

Summary: You get stuck at Maxwell’s after Christmas.

Pairings: Maxwell Lord x You, Maxwell Lord x Named Reader (Maggie Stark)

Fandom: Marvel & DC

Rating: Mature

Warnings: language, pining

Word Count: 697

Little Stark Masterlist

Day 28 Day 30 Christmas Masterlist Main Masterlist AO3 Join my taglist

Maxwell watched you napping on his sofa. You were so goddamn gorgeous. He had kept his word on Christmas Eve and had been the perfect gentleman. It had been a fantastic night. He was utterly charmed by you. His own charm must have worked on you as well, because you had agreed to stay the night. He couldn’t remember the last time he spent Christmas with someone. It was really nice having you here to share the holiday.

Unfortunately—well, actually very fortunately for him—a blizzard blew in late Christmas afternoon. You had no choice but to stay another night, then another, and another. The storm was still going strong, and Maxwell wished it would never end. The last few days had been bliss. You’d both agreed on a temporary truce. The storm, combined with the isolation of the penthouse, made you both feel as if you were the only two people on earth. Walls had come down, and you were getting to know each other. Maxwell was pretty sure he still pissed you off, but you were warming up to him. And he was more enamored with you than he had ever been.

It drove him insane that his power did not work on you, and he really wanted to know why. He had never had to work so hard to make a woman interested in him. While he never used his gifts to attract women—he found it morally repugnant to coerce a woman into his bed—women usually threw themselves at him. Between his good looks, money, charm, and intelligence, he never had trouble finding a bedmate. You were completely unfazed by all of it. Considering the company you usually kept and the fact that you yourself were also beautiful, rich, charming, and intelligent he wasn’t surprised you were unimpressed by him. He had to actually try with you. Something he was entirely unfamiliar with. He noticed you stirring slightly on the couch, and he walked forward to sit. You blinked before your gaze landed on him. You gave him a beautiful, sleepy smile, and he felt his heart flip.

“How long was I asleep?” You asked in a raspy voice.

“A few hours,” he replied. Your eyes widened in surprise.

“Wow,” you said softly. “I don’t usually sleep well.”

“My couch is very comfortable,” Maxwell said with a shrug. He saw something on your face he didn’t quite understand…as if the deep peaceful sleep you just experienced was rare.

“It’s still coming down out there, huh?” You murmured as you looked out the window.

“Yes,” Max answered. “It should clear up in a day or so.”

“Oh, that’s good,” you said. The slight furrow in your brow puzzled him. You looked almost disappointed. He hoped that was the case. He enjoyed having you in his space.

“We have a lot of work to catch up on,” you said.

“Not really,” he countered. “Most of my staff—and yours—has this week off.”

“Well, I usually work through the end of the year,” you replied.

“You work too much, Maggie,” he said. It was a bit hypocritical coming from him since he was also a workaholic, but he hated to see you run yourself down.

“I like working,” you said, jutting your chin out defiantly.

“I know. But you are allowed to have some fun too.”

“I have fun,” you argued petulantly.

“When?” You racked your brain. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had fun.

“It’s been a while,” you answered honestly.

“Then just relax,” he insisted. “There is literally nowhere for you to go, so enjoy the downtime while you can.” You looked at him a long moment, and he wondered what you were thinking. Finally you nodded.

“Good,” he said with a smile. “Now, about that fun. I have a bowling alley—it’s small, just two lanes.” he cut in when he saw the look you shot him. “So, what do you say, Miss Stark? Think you can beat me?” He saw the glimmer in your eye and knew he had you.

“I’m gonna kick your ass Mr. Lord.”

“I look forward to it,” he said with a grin.

Day 30

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[randombtsprincessa]

Bantam & Alabaster

All Rights Reserved. © RandomBTSPrincessa, Tulips98.

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Min Yoongi x Reader (2nd POV)

Words: 3k

Genre: Smut

Rating: Mature (18+)

Summary: A private bid. A Christmas party. And an irresistible but infuriating man...  

Content Advisory - Rivals to lovers, auction house! setting, rich people lifestyle, private bidding on unnecessary but beautiful historic artifacts, non explicit smut

A/N:  I know I know! I promised another smut soon! but this is a present for my gorgeous and sadly a bit neglected @sugarwithtea​ (HI BUBBLEGUM TIS I SNOWDROP AND I AM VERY SORRY FOR BEING A LESS THAN PERFECT SECRET SANTA!) I hope you had a fantastic holiday and that you can bring yourself to forgive me for bailing but life got in the way! Your present is a little less smutty for now because I wasn’t sure how ok you’ll be reading that from a stranger on the get go! I still hope you like it tho! and if you want a long drawn version of this just lemme know! Love you bubblegum!

The conference room was quiet - empty when you were led into it. The ever respectful Manager bowed low when you walked past him to deposit your things on the table, turning to look at him.

“You said you had news.” You said, removing your gloves.

“I do, ma’am. Please get comfortable, I will have some refreshments sent; what would you care to have?”

“Water would be nice, thank you.” You moved to the far end of the room, looking out the window at the thick snowfall. With another bow, the Manager left you in there with your thoughts. Most of them being why on earth were you invited when you could just have been reached at your work or residence.

You pulled your coat tighter against your sides, a sigh fogging the window pane when the door swung open again. A younger man stood with a tray holding…two glasses of water and as he entered, placing the tray on the table; the Manager reappeared with another figure following him.

You inhaled sharply, posture stiffening. The sound caught the other person’s attention, the man’s head jerking towards where you stood before looking at the Manager askance.

“What is the meaning of this?” He asked.

“Forgive me for all the fuss, Sir - Madam. You see, the item the both of you privately bid on is well - tied between the two of you - again.”

“That makes no sense. It was a private bid.” You circled the table to get closer to the men.

“Hence the privacy.” The Manager motioned towards the conference room. “The two of you are our most respected and most keen clients. We rely on your patronage and would like for things to be polite and sorted calmly. So we leave it up to you to mitigate the rights to the purchase.”

“Preposterous; you can’t expect a customer to give up a buy to another. What do you think we do with our money, flush it down the drain?”

“Is that the purpose of the toilet you got just last year?” You asked quietly, trying to be rhetorical. Only, you were heard.

“It was a chamber pot, one that was used by royalty - unlike you with that roll of toilet paper you got -”

“It was a hand painted scroll from the 15th century you assho-”

“Please calm yourselves!” The Manager spoke up, a clap resounding in the domed room. He delved into his jacket pocket and fetched an enameled box, possibly holding the pin you had bid on. He placed it at the center of the table, going to the door.

“We have about three hours before the next auction. The room is yours till then. Please try not to break anything.” He shut the door on the two of you without another look back.

The two of you stared at the closed doors before glancing at one another. You didn’t speak again, migrating to the two opposing chairs at the ends of the conference table and sitting down, eyes fixed on the enamel box.

Gorgeous, clever and twice as rich as you, Min Yoongi was perhaps the only person you would claim as a rival. In matters of collecting antiquities only, of course. You and Yoongi belonged to very different circles in life to be considered even acquaintances.

For one, he came from old money - old money. He had an estate measuring in several acres that had been in his family for ages and he grew steadily richer with each passing year due to his intelligent investments.

You were new money. You had worked your own way up the investment hierarchy and your existence in the elite circle only caused news because you were a woman who had hit it big without a ‘daddy.’

It was perhaps pretty clear to everyone that the awkward way you mingled in the country club parties and yacht meets meant that you weren’t born to this life. But you had earned it. So you were there. As was Min Yoongi. While you relished the fact that he had had a ‘daddy’ in his life, you hated the fact that he was smart enough to earn his keep as well.

And that was probably what kept you two at each other’s throats about ownership. 

He felt you didn’t have the merit of owning these relics. You felt that he didn’t have the taste.

The first time you’d met had been an office party for young and upcoming new ‘talents’ in the market. In your freshly laundered black pants and white top, you’d feel reassured of your place when you were introduced to the Mogul’s prodigy, Min Yoongi. You had held out your hand to be shaken but Yoongi only grasped it lightly, almost as if repulsed by the touch of you. You’d snatched your hand back from the lukewarm greeting, grimacing when Yoongi spent the rest of his time ignoring you.

There was a small part in you that whispered that Min was probably just shy or wasn’t in the mood to be meeting people. That didn’t stop you from swiping up the antique hourglass that was the auction piece for the charity part of the event. Paying in the leagues of thousands and thousands, not only did you make sure the money went where it was supposed to - with cuts to specific people, of course - you also made a big show of simpering at the fact that Min Yoongi had his eye on the thing and had failed to win from you.

That must have bothered him because the next time you were at a charity gala, your mind made up to get a nice hand carved chair for your vanity, Min Yoongi was there too - simple but beautiful in a classic suit and bidding aggressively on the same piece.

You credited your defeat to him to shock mostly - because you hadn’t expected him to be there, and hadn’t thought he would care about a chair of all things.

You’d clinked your nails against the champagne flute, meeting Min’s eyes as he signed the check, his face emotionless but eyes deep and dark.

Touche, Mr. Min.

The last time you’d faced him in another auction had been a loss too, but then you hadn’t been as interested in a pocket watch as you’d been in simply showing up at an event Min had planned.

You took great pride in him choking on his whiskey when he caught you, your sheath dress fluttering against your legs as you bid him hello. He’d bid on his own damn watch out of sheer ego and you’d enjoyed the sight of him looking nervous as he paid the bid, returning the watch back to himself because he was afraid you’d win.

As ever, you found greater pleasure in ruffling the man’s feathers than you did in hoarding up treasures.

This though…

The pin was a wonder of silver, diamond and quartz. As ethereal as it was light, you wanted that pin and you were going to have it - you’d known it since you saw the listing in the online auction brochure.

But it seemed…so had Min Yoongi.

You glanced up at the man once, studying his posture. Min had carefully brushed his dark hair back, now long enough to kiss his nape. His glasses lay midway on the bridge of his nose and he had unbuttoned the black suit jacket of his. His shirt underneath was black silk and you could only wonder how heavenly the fabric would feel in your hands. His legs were crossed, one hand on his knee. A heavy signet ring, embossed with a heraldic ‘M’ adorned the finger mindlessly tapping a rhythm against the bone.

You watched him watch the snow for a while, before his eyes flicked to you.

You looked away quickly, clearing your throat to dismiss the unhealthy arousal Min Yoongi flamed in you.

Yes, as much as you considered him to be somewhat of a rival to your position and standing, you also wholeheartedly admitted that he was one very attractive person. And while it wasn’t necessary that every attractive person had to turn your stomach in waves at their proximity, sadly Yoongi was one of those people.

You were noble enough to admit your attraction to him. You were also smart enough to avoid those feelings.

“Do you really want the pin?” 

You looked up from your phone at the man. 45 minutes had passed since the door had closed the two of you inside and as none of you had decided to break the silence first, you’d set up a little work station. Unlike Yoongi, you had to be on top of your own businesses.

But it seemed that Yoongi had finally decided to cut to the chase. His own phone was out and while it was perfectly likely that he was working as well, you refused to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Do you?” You shot back.

Yoongi snorted. “I don’t waste effort on things I don’t want, Y/N.”

You licked your lips at the possible double meaning of his words, looking down at your emails again. “Well, neither do I.” You mumbled, sighing. “It’s a pin and I mean to wear it, why are you interested?”

Min shrugged. “I was hoping to give it to someone.”

Oxygen escapes your lungs in a huff. Your eyes rushed to meet his face while you internally scoffed at yourself. Of course, he must have someone. He was rich, beautiful, and intelligent. It wouldn’t be ridiculous that someone would want him. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize you were attached.”

“I’m not.”

Your gaze sharpened and your previous doubts of his character bubbled to the surface again. “Of course,” You clipped back at him. 

It was at your tone that Yoongi let the phone clatter to the desk as he crossed his arms. “Why do you dislike me so, Miss ___?” 

“I don’t dislike you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I could ask you the same question.” You stood up from your workstation, moving to stand midway from your seat and his. “The first day you met me, you shook my hand as if I was giving you a snake. You didn’t even properly look at me and you’ve been dickish ever since. I get it! I get that I'm not from your country club or a yachting member that was born with a silver spoon in my mouth. You don’t have to be such a snob about it. Also all that crap about not wasting effort on things you don’t want? I don’t believe you. I saw the whole fiasco with the pocket watch.”

Yoongi stayed leaning back in his chair, arms crossed while he waited for your pent up tirade to ease.

“You’ve been keeping all that in for a long time.” He smirked, getting to his feet as well, meeting you in the middle.

“I was having a bad day the time I met you. I was sick of people and all I wanted was to be with my mother while she was sick. However, being who I am, I am expected to show up. I realized very soon that I rubbed you off the wrong way and I regret it. I agree that I can come off as ‘dickish’ a lot of times but please know, I wasn’t actively trying to be that way with you. Also, I am not snobbish about your origins. If anything, I respect the fact that you work so hard. It’s rare to find that in my country club or yacht members. I like you because of the fact that you never had a silver spoon in your mouth. And of course I wanted the pocket watch back, it was my mother’s.”

He leaned his hand on the table, light catching his ring.

“You like me?” You asked, suspicious. “You respect me?”

“Of course, I quite enjoy watching your way about the market. It’s refreshing.” He smiled fully now, sincerely.

“Oh,” You loosened your arms, awkwardly looking out the window. “Listen, if you want the pin you can have it. I mean, it’s nice that you’re going to give it to someone. Your mother?”

His smile turned sad. “No, my mother passed away some months back. I kept it out of the news.” 

“Oh.” The final nail had been hammered. You couldn’t take away your sinking feeling of guilt at having misjudged him. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. So, were you serious? I can have the pin?”

You looked over at the enamel box wistfully. But you supposed you could give it over…waving the white flag as it were…

“Sure.”

“Fantastic,” He swiped the box from the table, stepping away from you. You watched him collect his things, a little empty on the inside. At the door, he turned back to give you a smile. “I’ll let the Manager know of our agreement. Also, ___, I have a Christmas party next week at my mansion. I would love for you to be there; I’ll have all the information sent over to your secretary.”

And then he was gone.

Min Yoongi kept his word.

The next weekend, you entered his mansion in a sleek, silk white gown. The dress fitted you closely, reminding you of the silk shirt you had seen Yoongi wear the last time you had been in the same room with him.

“Miss ___, welcome, may I take your things?” 

You smiled at the woman greeting you, handing over your shawl and coat. Free from the heavy whatnot protecting you from the outside elements you stepped further into the warm home, a small amount of people already crawling about the marble floors.

Most of them were old men, some avuncular and others leery. You sighed, preparing to rub customary elbows with them, hoping that their wives would keep you better company. It was when you fetched some champagne to give you a boost when you felt his gaze.

You glanced up at the swirling grand staircase instinctively, catching the man’s eyes. In a stunning tuxedo, Yoongi sipped at the glass delicately, watching you closely. You gave him a small smile - a sign of you willing to behave yourself tonight and his own lips quirked around the edge of his flute.

Even as you watched, Yoongi placed his ringed hand on the banister, beginning to climb down to where you stood.

“Miss ___?”

You turned to see one of the kinder old men, smiling as he held his hand out. 

“I’m Mr. Jung. I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself yet.”

You quickly reached out to shake the man’s hand, smiling. “Mr. Jung, I have heard of you, of course!”

He chuckled. “Well, yes, and I you…I wasn’t expecting you to be at the Min Estate.”

Your smile faltered.

“And why is that?”

“Well, it’s common knowledge the two of you are rather at odds.” The man raised his glass to take a sip before changing shades as he caught something over your head.

“___ and I are taking a little break from the rivalry, Mr. Jung.” 

You felt him before you heard him, turning a little to give Yoongi a relieved smile. “Yeah, we’re trying to be friends.” You shrugged, playing along.

“Please, excuse us.”

Yoongi caught your elbow, leading you away from the party and into a long hallway below the staircase.

“Where are you taking me, Min?” You asked when he stopped at some double doors. He fished out a key to open them, pushing them in and letting you enter first.

“I have something for you.”

Yoongi flicked lights on, a chandelier and bracket torches lining the walls of the luxuriant study. “I took over my father’s study when I took over the business. I don’t like to come in here unless I’m looking for quiet.”

He went behind the desk while you moved to the windows, looking over the grounds.

“Thank you for inviting me to the party.” You said politely.

Yoongi hummed, studying you from his chair.

“So, why did you bring me here?”

“I told you; I have something for you.”

“Ah,” You clicked your fingernails against the glass you held, “What would that be?”

He smiled slightly. “Are you always this impatient?”

You smiled right back. “Are you always this cryptic?”

The smile widened as he stood up. “Only when I need to be.” Yoongi walked around the desk and held out a familiar enamel box. “Here, this is yours.”

I stared at the box holding the pin. “Yoongi…I thought you said you wanted to give this to someone.”

“True. It was you. I wanted to give it to you. So you can imagine my surprise and frustration when it was you who was the competing bidder. I can’t even surprise you with something in peace.” 

You stared at him for so long he had to open the box himself, bringing out the length of quartz and pin it to your updo carefully. You reached up to touch the edge when he was done, the diamond cluster cold against your fingers. “What am I to understand from this? This is a very expensive apology.”

“I don’t expend effort on things I don’t want, Miss ___.” He smirked when your breath hitched at the reminder. “So you can consider it an apology. Or you can consider it a Christmas present. Or you can shut up and fuck me like I know you’ve been dying to. I certainly haven’t thought of anything but getting you out of that dress since I saw you walk in.” 

Yoongi reached for your wrist with a bracing strength, pulling you into his body. You didn’t gasp, you didn’t even blink at his overture. You knew he was right, there was no way either you or he was walking out of this room without losing one or more articles of clothing.

You pushed Yoongi back till he was against his desk, hands shoving off his suit jacket. His suspenders went next, then his belt and your shoes.

In the end, Yoongi took you against the windows. Your dress lay forgotten on the floor of his study and only his shirt stayed on, balled into your desperate fists as he moved inside of you, lips too close and panting but never kissing.

Yoongi and you spent over an hour in his study, his mouth making intimately good friends with your body as he brought you pleasure twice more. You never kissed, your lipstick pristine even as you put your dress back on, covering the bruises from his passionate fucking in silk.

“We should do this more often.” Yoongi grinned, hair bedraggled from your hands and in no hurry to put it right.

You snorted. “I expected more from you than a paltry apology fuck, Min.” You slipped on your heels, feeling him behind you.

“Oh you’ll get more, ___. Maybe next time I can interest you in a kitchen fuck where I cook you dinner? Or maybe a yacht fuck, to an island getaway of your choice?”

“Tempting,” You wrapped an arm around his neck. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we?” You smiled mockingly at each other as you exited back to his alabaster ballroom, knowing that you were going to take him up on his offer soon enough.

[michaelstatham]

40+ Funny birthday wishes for wife from husband

1. Happy Birthday to my amazing wife! I was going to get you something fabulous for your special day, but then I remembered you already have me. So, you’re welcome!

2. Happy Birthday to my one and only love! I would’ve gotten you a gift as incredible as you are, but then I realized you already have me. So, this year, you just get my eternal love and an extra slice of cake!

3. Happy Birthday to the woman who puts up with my quirks and still loves me anyway. If you can handle my jokes for another year, you deserve a medal. Or at least an extra slice of cake!

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4. To my beautiful wife: I’m so glad you’re getting older with me. Let’s celebrate your special day by pretending I don’t forget anything and don’t accidentally break something. Happy Birthday!

5. Happy Birthday, sweetheart! I’d say you’re like a fine wine, but we both know you’re more like a fantastic cheese—getting better with age and always making everything more delightful. Enjoy your day!

6. Happy Birthday to my amazing wife! I’d make a joke about your age, but I’m not sure I’m brave enough to face the consequences. So, let’s just say you’re 25 and leave it at that!

7. To my wife on your birthday: I’m not saying you’re getting old, but if you were a car, you’d be a classic. And classic cars are worth a lot more, so you’re definitely valuable!

8. To my true love, happy birthday! I was about to give you something truly unique when I realized you already had me. I’m a pretty good deal, right? Cheers to you putting up with me for another year!

9. Happy Birthday, my love! If I had a dollar for every time I’ve been told how amazing you are, I’d be rich. But since I don’t, let’s just say I’ll give you all my love and a day full of laughter!

10. Happy Birthday to the woman who stole my heart and hasn’t given it back! I guess that makes you a heart thief—and a really good one at that. A day as amazing as you are is ahead of us!

11. Happy Birthday to my wonderful wife! Recall that age is merely a number, albeit a very high one in your case. Just kidding! You’re as young and beautiful as ever—especially after a few glasses of wine!

12. To my beautiful wife on your special day: I’d say you’re like a fine wine, but let’s be real, you’re more like an espresso—always full of energy and capable of keeping me awake at all hours!

13. Happy Birthday to my fantastic wife! I’d write you a love poem, but I’m no Shakespeare. Instead, I’ll just say you’re the queen of my heart and the reason I smile every day. Now let’s eat some cake!

14. Happy Birthday, sweetheart! They say wisdom comes with age, but I think we both know that you’ve been wise way before today. So here’s to another year of your brilliance—and my questionable jokes!

15. Happy Birthday to my incredible wife! I’d like to give you a perfect day filled with everything you love. Unfortunately, that means I’ll have to do the dishes for the next week. Deal?

16. Happy Birthday to the woman who makes every day feel like a holiday. If anyone asks, I’m totally not bribing you to stay with me by promising cake and presents!

17. Happy Birthday to my lovely wife! I was going to get you a gift that’s as amazing as you are, but then I realized that’s impossible. So, I’m just going to give you my undivided attention and a lot of love!

Must Read And Wish: 10 Best ideas what to do for wife’s 40th birthday?

18. Happy Birthday! If I could give you anything, it would be a lifetime supply of laughter, joy, and patience. Since I can’t, I’ll settle for a birthday card and a promise to try not to mess up the cake this year!

19. To my gorgeous wife: Remember, age is just a number. It is a very high amount in your situation! But don’t worry, you still look fabulous and you always will!

20. Happy Birthday to my wife, who still looks amazing even after all these years! If I had to choose between a million dollars and you, I’d choose you. Mostly because you’d make sure I don’t spend all the money!

21. Happy Birthday! They say that with age comes wisdom, but I’ve noticed you’re just as charming and witty as ever. Maybe it’s all that practice putting up with me!

22. Happy Birthday to the love of my life! If I had to spend a lifetime with anyone else, I’d probably just choose to be single. So, here’s to another year of putting up with my nonsense!

23. To my amazing wife: Every day with you is like a celebration, but today, let’s make it official. I promise to not mess up the birthday cake this year… well, I’ll try my best!

24. Happy Birthday to my beautiful wife! I thought about getting you something really extravagant, but then I remembered that I’m already a pretty great gift. Enjoy your day!

25. Happy Birthday! If you ever wonder how much I love you, just remember that it’s enough to tolerate your occasional bad puns and your obsession with reality TV. Have a fantastic day!

26. To my fabulous wife: Aging gracefully is an art, and you’ve certainly mastered it. Just remember, no matter how old you get, I’ll always be the goofy guy who’s madly in love with you!

27. Happy Birthday to the woman who stole my heart and still has it locked up somewhere. I’d ask for it back, but I’m way too happy to have you around to care!

28. Happy Birthday! Let’s celebrate with cake, laughter, and maybe a little bit of me trying not to burn down the house with my cooking. Cheers to you, my love!

29. Happy Birthday, my love! I was going to get you something truly special, but then I realized that’s impossible because you already have me. I hope you have as equally amazing day as you do!

30. To my amazing wife: Another year older and wiser, but don’t worry—I’m still here to make sure you never take life too seriously. Let’s enjoy ourselves as though we’re still in our twenties!

31. Happy Birthday to the woman who is always right—except when it comes to picking the right TV show. Let’s celebrate your special day with a marathon of your favorites!

32. To my wife on your birthday: I’d say you’re like a fine wine, but we both know you’re more like a great cheese—getting better with age and always bringing a smile to my face!

33. Happy Birthday! I was going to get you a present that shows just how much I love you, but then I realized you already have me. So, here’s to another year of tolerating my jokes!

34. Happy Birthday to my beautiful wife! I was going to write you a heartfelt poem, but then I realized I’m better at making you laugh than at poetry. Here’s to a day full of joy and terrible puns!

35. To my wife on your birthday: You’re like a superhero to me—saving the day and making everything better. The only difference is that you don’t wear a cape, but you totally should!

36. Happy Birthday, my love! I was going to get you a gift that reflects how amazing you are, but then I thought, ‘Why bother? She’s already stuck with me!

37. Happy Birthday to the woman who makes every day brighter! If I could give you anything, it would be a lifetime supply of laughter. Since that’s not possible, I’ll just keep telling bad jokes!

38. To my wonderful wife: Here’s to another year of pretending I know what I’m doing. I promise to continue being your personal comedian and biggest fan. Happy Birthday!

39. Happy Birthday! I wanted to get you something that shows just how much I love you, but then I remembered that you already have me—and that’s priceless!

40. To my amazing wife on your birthday: I’d like to thank you for always being there to make me laugh. Your presence is the best gift I could ever ask for—plus, it’s way cheaper than a new car!

41. Happy Birthday! You’re still as fabulous as ever, even if your age now requires a little more maintenance. Don’t worry, I’m here to help with that maintenance—starting with cake!

42. To my beautiful wife: Another year older and still fabulous! I’m so lucky to have someone who makes getting older look so good. Here’s to a day filled with everything you love!

43. Happy Birthday to the woman who’s always been my rock and my biggest cheerleader. If you can handle me, you can handle anything—so this year should be a piece of cake!

44. Happy Birthday! I was going to get you a gift that matches your beauty, intelligence, and charm, but then I realized nothing could top having me. So, enjoy your special day!

45. To my amazing wife: Age is just a number, but your awesomeness is limitless. Here’s to a birthday filled with fun, laughter, and only a minimal amount of my bad jokes!

[partyglimpse]

40+ Funny birthday wishes for wife from husband

1. Happy Birthday to my amazing wife! I was going to get you something fabulous for your special day, but then I remembered you already have me. So, you’re welcome!

2. Happy Birthday to my one and only love! I would’ve gotten you a gift as incredible as you are, but then I realized you already have me. So, this year, you just get my eternal love and an extra slice of cake!

3. Happy Birthday to the woman who puts up with my quirks and still loves me anyway. If you can handle my jokes for another year, you deserve a medal. Or at least an extra slice of cake!

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4. To my beautiful wife: I’m so glad you’re getting older with me. Let’s celebrate your special day by pretending I don’t forget anything and don’t accidentally break something. Happy Birthday!

5. Happy Birthday, sweetheart! I’d say you’re like a fine wine, but we both know you’re more like a fantastic cheese—getting better with age and always making everything more delightful. Enjoy your day!

6. Happy Birthday to my amazing wife! I’d make a joke about your age, but I’m not sure I’m brave enough to face the consequences. So, let’s just say you’re 25 and leave it at that!

7. To my wife on your birthday: I’m not saying you’re getting old, but if you were a car, you’d be a classic. And classic cars are worth a lot more, so you’re definitely valuable!

8. To my true love, happy birthday! I was about to give you something truly unique when I realized you already had me. I’m a pretty good deal, right? Cheers to you putting up with me for another year!

9. Happy Birthday, my love! If I had a dollar for every time I’ve been told how amazing you are, I’d be rich. But since I don’t, let’s just say I’ll give you all my love and a day full of laughter!

10. Happy Birthday to the woman who stole my heart and hasn’t given it back! I guess that makes you a heart thief—and a really good one at that. A day as amazing as you are is ahead of us!

11. Happy Birthday to my wonderful wife! Recall that age is merely a number, albeit a very high one in your case. Just kidding! You’re as young and beautiful as ever—especially after a few glasses of wine!

12. To my beautiful wife on your special day: I’d say you’re like a fine wine, but let’s be real, you’re more like an espresso—always full of energy and capable of keeping me awake at all hours!

13. Happy Birthday to my fantastic wife! I’d write you a love poem, but I’m no Shakespeare. Instead, I’ll just say you’re the queen of my heart and the reason I smile every day. Now let’s eat some cake!

14. Happy Birthday, sweetheart! They say wisdom comes with age, but I think we both know that you’ve been wise way before today. So here’s to another year of your brilliance—and my questionable jokes!

15. Happy Birthday to my incredible wife! I’d like to give you a perfect day filled with everything you love. Unfortunately, that means I’ll have to do the dishes for the next week. Deal?

16. Happy Birthday to the woman who makes every day feel like a holiday. If anyone asks, I’m totally not bribing you to stay with me by promising cake and presents!

17. Happy Birthday to my lovely wife! I was going to get you a gift that’s as amazing as you are, but then I realized that’s impossible. So, I’m just going to give you my undivided attention and a lot of love!

18. Happy Birthday! If I could give you anything, it would be a lifetime supply of laughter, joy, and patience. Since I can’t, I’ll settle for a birthday card and a promise to try not to mess up the cake this year!

19. To my gorgeous wife: Remember, age is just a number. It is a very high amount in your situation! But don’t worry, you still look fabulous and you always will!

20. Happy Birthday to my wife, who still looks amazing even after all these years! If I had to choose between a million dollars and you, I’d choose you. Mostly because you’d make sure I don’t spend all the money!

21. Happy Birthday! They say that with age comes wisdom, but I’ve noticed you’re just as charming and witty as ever. Maybe it’s all that practice putting up with me!

22. Happy Birthday to the love of my life! If I had to spend a lifetime with anyone else, I’d probably just choose to be single. So, here’s to another year of putting up with my nonsense!

23. To my amazing wife: Every day with you is like a celebration, but today, let’s make it official. I promise to not mess up the birthday cake this year… well, I’ll try my best!

24. Happy Birthday to my beautiful wife! I thought about getting you something really extravagant, but then I remembered that I’m already a pretty great gift. Enjoy your day!

25. Happy Birthday! If you ever wonder how much I love you, just remember that it’s enough to tolerate your occasional bad puns and your obsession with reality TV. Have a fantastic day!

26. To my fabulous wife: Aging gracefully is an art, and you’ve certainly mastered it. Just remember, no matter how old you get, I’ll always be the goofy guy who’s madly in love with you!

27. Happy Birthday to the woman who stole my heart and still has it locked up somewhere. I’d ask for it back, but I’m way too happy to have you around to care!

28. Happy Birthday! Let’s celebrate with cake, laughter, and maybe a little bit of me trying not to burn down the house with my cooking. Cheers to you, my love!

29. Happy Birthday, my love! I was going to get you something truly special, but then I realized that’s impossible because you already have me. I hope you have as equally amazing day as you do!

30. To my amazing wife: Another year older and wiser, but don’t worry—I’m still here to make sure you never take life too seriously. Let’s enjoy ourselves as though we’re still in our twenties!

31. Happy Birthday to the woman who is always right—except when it comes to picking the right TV show. Let’s celebrate your special day with a marathon of your favorites!

32. To my wife on your birthday: I’d say you’re like a fine wine, but we both know you’re more like a great cheese—getting better with age and always bringing a smile to my face!

33. Happy Birthday! I was going to get you a present that shows just how much I love you, but then I realized you already have me. So, here’s to another year of tolerating my jokes!

34. Happy Birthday to my beautiful wife! I was going to write you a heartfelt poem, but then I realized I’m better at making you laugh than at poetry. Here’s to a day full of joy and terrible puns!

35. To my wife on your birthday: You’re like a superhero to me—saving the day and making everything better. The only difference is that you don’t wear a cape, but you totally should!

36. Happy Birthday, my love! I was going to get you a gift that reflects how amazing you are, but then I thought, ‘Why bother? She’s already stuck with me!

37. Happy Birthday to the woman who makes every day brighter! If I could give you anything, it would be a lifetime supply of laughter. Since that’s not possible, I’ll just keep telling bad jokes!

38. To my wonderful wife: Here’s to another year of pretending I know what I’m doing. I promise to continue being your personal comedian and biggest fan. Happy Birthday!

Funny birthday wishes for wife

39. Happy Birthday! I wanted to get you something that shows just how much I love you, but then I remembered that you already have me—and that’s priceless!

40. To my amazing wife on your birthday: I’d like to thank you for always being there to make me laugh. Your presence is the best gift I could ever ask for—plus, it’s way cheaper than a new car!

41. Happy Birthday! You’re still as fabulous as ever, even if your age now requires a little more maintenance. Don’t worry, I’m here to help with that maintenance—starting with cake!

42. To my beautiful wife: Another year older and still fabulous! I’m so lucky to have someone who makes getting older look so good. Here’s to a day filled with everything you love!

43. Happy Birthday to the woman who’s always been my rock and my biggest cheerleader. If you can handle me, you can handle anything—so this year should be a piece of cake!

44. Happy Birthday! I was going to get you a gift that matches your beauty, intelligence, and charm, but then I realized nothing could top having me. So, enjoy your special day!

45. To my amazing wife: Age is just a number, but your awesomeness is limitless. Here’s to a birthday filled with fun, laughter, and only a minimal amount of my bad jokes!

[partyglimpse2]

40+ Funny birthday wishes for wife from husband

1. Happy Birthday to my amazing wife! I was going to get you something fabulous for your special day, but then I remembered you already have me. So, you’re welcome!

2. Happy Birthday to my one and only love! I would’ve gotten you a gift as incredible as you are, but then I realized you already have me. So, this year, you just get my eternal love and an extra slice of cake!

View Original

3. Happy Birthday to the woman who puts up with my quirks and still loves me anyway. If you can handle my jokes for another year, you deserve a medal. Or at least an extra slice of cake!

4. To my beautiful wife: I’m so glad you’re getting older with me. Let’s celebrate your special day by pretending I don’t forget anything and don’t accidentally break something. Happy Birthday!

5. Happy Birthday, sweetheart! I’d say you’re like a fine wine, but we both know you’re more like a fantastic cheese—getting better with age and always making everything more delightful. Enjoy your day!

6. Happy Birthday to my amazing wife! I’d make a joke about your age, but I’m not sure I’m brave enough to face the consequences. So, let’s just say you’re 25 and leave it at that!

7. To my wife on your birthday: I’m not saying you’re getting old, but if you were a car, you’d be a classic. And classic cars are worth a lot more, so you’re definitely valuable!

8. To my true love, happy birthday! I was about to give you something truly unique when I realized you already had me. I’m a pretty good deal, right? Cheers to you putting up with me for another year!

9. Happy Birthday, my love! If I had a dollar for every time I’ve been told how amazing you are, I’d be rich. But since I don’t, let’s just say I’ll give you all my love and a day full of laughter!

10. Happy Birthday to the woman who stole my heart and hasn’t given it back! I guess that makes you a heart thief—and a really good one at that. A day as amazing as you are is ahead of us!

11. Happy Birthday to my wonderful wife! Recall that age is merely a number, albeit a very high one in your case. Just kidding! You’re as young and beautiful as ever—especially after a few glasses of wine!

12. To my beautiful wife on your special day: I’d say you’re like a fine wine, but let’s be real, you’re more like an espresso—always full of energy and capable of keeping me awake at all hours!

13. Happy Birthday to my fantastic wife! I’d write you a love poem, but I’m no Shakespeare. Instead, I’ll just say you’re the queen of my heart and the reason I smile every day. Now let’s eat some cake!

14. Happy Birthday, sweetheart! They say wisdom comes with age, but I think we both know that you’ve been wise way before today. So here’s to another year of your brilliance—and my questionable jokes!

15. Happy Birthday to my incredible wife! I’d like to give you a perfect day filled with everything you love. Unfortunately, that means I’ll have to do the dishes for the next week. Deal?

16. Happy Birthday to the woman who makes every day feel like a holiday. If anyone asks, I’m totally not bribing you to stay with me by promising cake and presents!

17. Happy Birthday to my lovely wife! I was going to get you a gift that’s as amazing as you are, but then I realized that’s impossible. So, I’m just going to give you my undivided attention and a lot of love!

18. Happy Birthday! If I could give you anything, it would be a lifetime supply of laughter, joy, and patience. Since I can’t, I’ll settle for a birthday card and a promise to try not to mess up the cake this year!

19. To my gorgeous wife: Remember, age is just a number. It is a very high amount in your situation! But don’t worry, you still look fabulous and you always will!

20. Happy Birthday to my wife, who still looks amazing even after all these years! If I had to choose between a million dollars and you, I’d choose you. Mostly because you’d make sure I don’t spend all the money!

21. Happy Birthday! They say that with age comes wisdom, but I’ve noticed you’re just as charming and witty as ever. Maybe it’s all that practice putting up with me!

22. Happy Birthday to the love of my life! If I had to spend a lifetime with anyone else, I’d probably just choose to be single. So, here’s to another year of putting up with my nonsense!

23. To my amazing wife: Every day with you is like a celebration, but today, let’s make it official. I promise to not mess up the birthday cake this year… well, I’ll try my best!

24. Happy Birthday to my beautiful wife! I thought about getting you something really extravagant, but then I remembered that I’m already a pretty great gift. Enjoy your day!

25. Happy Birthday! If you ever wonder how much I love you, just remember that it’s enough to tolerate your occasional bad puns and your obsession with reality TV. Have a fantastic day!

26. To my fabulous wife: Aging gracefully is an art, and you’ve certainly mastered it. Just remember, no matter how old you get, I’ll always be the goofy guy who’s madly in love with you!

27. Happy Birthday to the woman who stole my heart and still has it locked up somewhere. I’d ask for it back, but I’m way too happy to have you around to care!

28. Happy Birthday! Let’s celebrate with cake, laughter, and maybe a little bit of me trying not to burn down the house with my cooking. Cheers to you, my love!

29. Happy Birthday, my love! I was going to get you something truly special, but then I realized that’s impossible because you already have me. I hope you have as equally amazing day as you do!

30. To my amazing wife: Another year older and wiser, but don’t worry—I’m still here to make sure you never take life too seriously. Let’s enjoy ourselves as though we’re still in our twenties!

31. Happy Birthday to the woman who is always right—except when it comes to picking the right TV show. Let’s celebrate your special day with a marathon of your favorites!

32. To my wife on your birthday: I’d say you’re like a fine wine, but we both know you’re more like a great cheese—getting better with age and always bringing a smile to my face!

33. Happy Birthday! I was going to get you a present that shows just how much I love you, but then I realized you already have me. So, here’s to another year of tolerating my jokes!

34. Happy Birthday to my beautiful wife! I was going to write you a heartfelt poem, but then I realized I’m better at making you laugh than at poetry. Here’s to a day full of joy and terrible puns!

35. To my wife on your birthday: You’re like a superhero to me—saving the day and making everything better. The only difference is that you don’t wear a cape, but you totally should!

36. Happy Birthday, my love! I was going to get you a gift that reflects how amazing you are, but then I thought, ‘Why bother? She’s already stuck with me!

37. Happy Birthday to the woman who makes every day brighter! If I could give you anything, it would be a lifetime supply of laughter. Since that’s not possible, I’ll just keep telling bad jokes!

38. To my wonderful wife: Here’s to another year of pretending I know what I’m doing. I promise to continue being your personal comedian and biggest fan. Happy Birthday!

Funny birthday wishes for wife

39. Happy Birthday! I wanted to get you something that shows just how much I love you, but then I remembered that you already have me—and that’s priceless!

40. To my amazing wife on your birthday: I’d like to thank you for always being there to make me laugh. Your presence is the best gift I could ever ask for—plus, it’s way cheaper than a new car!

41. Happy Birthday! You’re still as fabulous as ever, even if your age now requires a little more maintenance. Don’t worry, I’m here to help with that maintenance—starting with cake!

42. To my beautiful wife: Another year older and still fabulous! I’m so lucky to have someone who makes getting older look so good. Here’s to a day filled with everything you love!

43. Happy Birthday to the woman who’s always been my rock and my biggest cheerleader. If you can handle me, you can handle anything—so this year should be a piece of cake!

44. Happy Birthday! I was going to get you a gift that matches your beauty, intelligence, and charm, but then I realized nothing could top having me. So, enjoy your special day!

45. To my amazing wife: Age is just a number, but your awesomeness is limitless. Here’s to a birthday filled with fun, laughter, and only a minimal amount of my bad jokes!

[trimont]

Drabble: December 29

Trigger Warnings: Overdose, possible suicide attempt, irresponsible dog ownership.

Yesterday

While most people thought of the week between Christmas and New Years Eve as that week where nothing gets done, for Tristan it was always one of his busiest weeks of the year. As someone who got famous for being famous and who was notorious for blacking out at bars in his youth, the week between Christmas and New Years was his time to shine. He was booked to attend multiple parties throughout the week, and don’t get him started on New Years Eve… When he last checked in with his business manager, he was scheduled to attend ten different parties throughout the night. Something he’d learned over the years was to not drink the week between the holidays. He needed to drink a hell of a lot of tea and water throughout the week so he could keep going on NYE.

This also meant that he did a lot of sleeping in during the in-between holidays week, too. Gremlin kept announcing that Daddy was a vampire, and honestly… she wasn’t half-wrong about that. Still, the thing was… most people knew he slept during the day during this week, so his phone going off before noon was not normal.

“‘Lo?” He mumbled out into his phone, not even bothering to look at the caller ID. He’d been asleep for maybe four hours? If he was being generous with his guess. Honestly, he had no idea when he’d fallen asleep let alone what time it was now. “‘S Tris’an.”

There was a beat before a professional voice responded. “Hey, Tristan. It’s Gloria over at MTV.”

Now that got his attention, he rolled up into a sitting position and scrubbed a hand over his face. Princess was curled up on Eden’s pillow, which had more to do with the fact that she was jealous of how much of Tristan’s time his fiancé took up more than anything else. “Hey, Gloria. We didn’t have anything scheduled today, did we?” He yawned and attempted to wrack his brain for something - anything - that was on his schedule. Hell, he was pretty damn good at keeping his schedule in line these days. A perk of getting older he supposed. 

“We didn’t.” She replied, in a tone of voice that made him think she was annoyed. “Lacey was supposed to come in to do some promo reshoots for Sleepless in Seattle. No one has been able to get a hold of her. You haven’t heard from her today have you?”

Fuck, he wasn’t even with Lacey anymore and still people had the audacity of reaching out to him when they couldn’t get in contact with her. It was annoying as hell, but he supposed that’s what happened when you had a kid with someone – you were bonded together for life. “No, I haven’t seen her since Christmas Day. She was supposed to pick up Mer yesterday, but something came up.” He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. “I have a key to her place because of Mer. I can go check on her if you’re that worried.”

Gloria gave a relieved sigh. “That would be fantastic, Tristan.” She hesitated for a moment, as though she was debating with herself about something. “If you get there and there’s something that maybe…” She seemed to be fumbling over what she wanted to say, but Tristan got the drift. Hell, he’s sure over the years someone had gotten the same speech about him.

“If there’s anything the network needs to do damage control on, you’ll be my fourth call.” He promised before hanging up.

++

After knocking on the door for a couple of minutes, Tristan let himself into her place. “Hey, Lace. It’s me.” He called out, toeing his shoes off out of habit more than anything else. “You home? I saw your car outside.” He called. “Gloria from the network called. You were supposed to do some reshoots today. You here?”

The living room and kitchen were empty. He barely got a couple of steps towards where the bedrooms and bathrooms were when Puff came barreling out of the back, barking his little head off. Now that he was looking, it looked like Puff had shit in the living room, which wasn’t normal behavior for the dog. “Hey, buddy. Where’s Lacey?” He asked as he scooped the dog up before heading towards Lacey’s room. “Lace, it’s past noon. Where are you?”

As they passed the bathroom, Tristan realized his feet were wet. Fuck. He popped his head into Lacey’s room and dropped the dog in there when he saw it was empty. After the dog was safely out of the way, he opened the bathroom door and froze. The bathtub faucet was running, and there was a good inch of water on the floor. Lacey was in the tub, but it didn’t look like she was moving. 

“LACE.” He bellowed as he turned the faucet off, and pulled his coparent out of the water. Tristan dropped to his knees, Lacey cradled in his lap. “Lace?!” He frantically felt for a pulse. Her body wasn’t cold, but he wasn’t sure if that was because of the water or if it was because she was still alive. He couldn’t find one, but fuck he didn’t know what he was looking for. His hand dropped to her mouth, and everything in him was weeping with joy when he felt the breath against his hand. If his kid lost her mother again… fuck. 

“Oh thank fuck.” He fumbled for his phone and immediately called 9-1-1. “Hi. Yes. My ex was non-responsive in her bathtub. I don’t know how long she’s been in there or what she took, but she’s breathing. Barely, but she’s breathing. What do I do?”

Today

Over the past year, he’s had to have a couple of difficult conversations with his four year old, but this one was probably the worst one to date. He’d practiced what he was going to say with Eden for hours, but he didn’t feel prepared for it at all. Eden said he was going to be fine, but she also thought it was a conversation he needed to have alone with Merritt. Of course she was right, but that didn’t make this conversation any easier. 

“Daddy?” Merritt crawled onto the couch next to him. “How come everyone’s been so sad today? Mommy E was crying, and Mommy Mommy isn’t here to play yet? I asked Tee, but he said to ask you.”

Tristan gave his daughter a wobbly smile before pulling her into his lap. “Mommy E is a little sad today.” He told her honestly. “You know how I had to leave for a long time yesterday?”

Merritt nodded. “Mommy Mommy slept too much, and needed Daddy to wake her up ‘cause that’s what friends do.” It sounded like something Troy must have told her.

“Your Mommy was really sick yesterday. I had to take her to the hospital, and the doctors had to take care of her. She had a lot of yucky things in her tummy, and the doctors had to take them out with a special machine.” He tried to explain. How the fuck did you explain an overdose that may have been a suicide attempt to a child? “They got all the yucky things out, but Mommy is still really sick. The hospital is going to have to keep her for a week, and then she’s going to have to go to a special kind of hospital that doesn’t allow visitors. But Puff is going to live with us while she's gone. That's going to be fun, right”

She blinked up at him. “Mommy’s sick?” She asked in a little voice. “Can we go visit her?”

Tristan swallowed. “No, baby. We’re not going to be able to see her for a long time, but she’s going to be able to call us in a couple of weeks. She’s just so sick that she needs a lot of time to get better.” He tried to explain. Fuck, how the hell was he supposed to explain a psych hold followed by rehab? Fuck.

“Oh.” She was quiet for a long moment. “Like last time?” She slumped in his arms. “Daddy? How come Mommy keeps going away from us?”

He was going to fucking vomit. Fuck. “I don’t know.” He admitted. “But I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me forever.”

Merritt looked up at him with wet eyes. “Promise, Daddy?”

“Pinky swear, Grem. It’s me and you - always.”

“And Mommy E.” Merritt added.

Tristan glanced up to find Eden standing in the doorway. “Me, you, Mommy E, and Tee. The four of us forever.” 

Merritt snuggled against him. “Kay. We’ll make Mommy a card later. Can we watch Moana?”

“Whatever you want.” He whispered out. “Whatever you want.”

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day.

Wow! Here we are again: Friday! Where did that week go? No, seriously, where did that week go?

First of all, many thanks to everyone that got involved with Throwback Thursday on my page. Yesterday’s word was HOLIDAY and the responses were brilliant! A fantastic set of stories!

A 48-hour strike by nurses in England over the Bank Holiday weekend will be cut short by a day after a High Court judge ruled it was partly unlawful. The walkout in a row over pay by the Royal College of Nursing, due to start on Sunday, will now end on Monday. Strikes are unlawful? See where this is going? As ever, the bullies win again, while some of the most caring people on the planet get shat on! Politicians and bankers get paid two and three times what nurses get paid and are half as useful!

Naturally, many people were appalled by Bank Of England economist Huw Pill’s comment yesterday that the working class should “accept they’re worse off”. According to one of my friends, what he actually meant was that the ‘I’m alright, Jack’ mentality risks causes significant long-term damage, making things far worse for everyone. As we know, ‘I'm alright, Jack’ is a British expression used to describe people who act only in their own best interests, even if providing assistance to others would take minimal to no effort on their behalf. Indeed, Mr. Pill! It definitely feels as if you are acting in your own best interests! Providing assistance to others would take minimal effort, so why not help them?

Before I do my radio show on Saturday, I am being interviewed by a young man named Special K on another radio station, an online station down in Brixton called juscoolradio.net. I am on between 10.00 – 11.00, then I have to scoot off down to Deptford.

Really hope you can join me tomorrow at 1.00 p.m. for ‘The A-Z Of Mi-Soul Music’, The Letter M (Part Eight). Executive Producer: little old me! You know to expect some back of the stack business!

Looking forward to Sunday night at ‘Let The Music Play’ at Cinnabar, 55-58 High Street, Stevenage SG1 3EF. 7.00 – 3.00, with a top line-up of DJs. Lovely people up there and always a good evening.

Have a fabulous and funky Friday! I love you all. You’re probably thinking, “You don’t even know me!” but, if people can hate for no reason, why can’t I love?

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (306): Mon 16th Jan 2023

Used some of my carryover holidays to go home from work three hours early today because tonight I was seeing my first music gig since before this shitty pandemic started: Dropkick Murphys. I’ve seen Murphys before but it was in London in 2017 and I was knackered by the time I got there and now I had a chance to see them perform 45 minutes from my house. I got to the venue at 7 and the ticket taker told me that Murphys would be going on until 9:20 and that if we went in then left we wouldn’t be allowed back in. If I’d known they wouldn’t be going on until after 9 I would have just finished my normal shift instead of using carry over holidays. I wish every gig listed the times that the bands are likely to go on, though is suspect the reason they don’t do this is because if they did most people would avoid turning up until after the support act were advertised to finish and the support act would end up playing to seven people. To kill some time I went and had a coffee then popped over to Five Guys for some food. I ordered the “Veggie Burger” and what I got was some mushrooms and cheese in between a couple of burger buns. Call me old fashioned (and since I shop for clothes mainly at charity shops this would be metaphorically and literally true) but I thing that a veggie BURGER should probably contain a BURGER. I also got a large portion of spicy fries which were really nice but after I finished the burger I was full and didn’t have room for the remaining half a cup of fries. As I walked out of the restaurant here was a homeless guy sat across the road from me and I wandered over and asked him if he wanted the fries since I couldn’t finish them. He lifted his hand to accept them and for some reason I said “They’re a bit spicy, do you mind?”. Why did I say this to him? As if there was a chance this guy living on the streets was going to go “Oh in that case just keep them. I’ll keep rooting around in this bin for some plain fries”. Finally headed to the gig and caught the end of the support act Pennywise who did a great rendition of Blitzkrieg Bop. During the interval I went to the merchandise stand and bought a Dropkick Murphys baseball hat. When I returned to my seat wearing the cap the woman next to me asked: “Have you changed your clothes?”. I didn’t realize a baseball cap could alter one’s appearance so much that someone will literally think that you’ve swapped your entire outfit. Does this lass think that I take two sets of clothes with me to every gig? One for the support act and one for the main act? Anywho Murphys finally took to her stage and kicked fucking arse as only they could. Within seconds there were people moshing and crowd surfing. I remember I first got into this group when I heard I’m Shipping Up To Boston in an episode of The Simpsons and loved the unconventional mixture of punk vocals, fantastical lyrics and Celtic instruments. I was hooked and bought many more of their songs that I still enjoy listening to today. They didn’t play that many of my favourite songs of theirs but I did like a few songs from heir newest album (that has more of a rockabilly sound to it) that I’ll be downloading when I get home. The main event was their most famous song I’m Shipping Up To Boston and I dare say from t he moment everyone in that crowd bought their ticket they had been picturing the moment when they would sing along to the final lyric “I’m Shipping Up To Boston…To Find My Wooden Leg!”. It’s one of those perfect songs that it’s impossible not to sing along with. The pandemic sucked (well not for the virus. If you’re COVID the pandemic kicked ass) and going to see Murphys was the perfect way to hold up the middle finger to the fucker. I’m aware that the pandemic isn’t over yet and the threat of further mutations is a very real one but for the time being it looks like we’re in a position where we can say “Fuck it, whatever happens, happens”. Things seem to be under control for the moment and so I think everyone should treat what we have now as if it’s a little window of opportunity where we can cram in as much fun as possible just in case another fucking pandemic is just around the corner.

[mrschwartz]

Arctic Monkeys’ Alex Turner: ‘I’m comfortable with the idea that things don’t have to be a pop song’

The most influential frontman of his generation is also the least at ease with it. He discusses abandoning rock norms, singing from the gut and treading the fine line between cryptic and gooey on new album The Car

Not for the first time, Alex Turner has lost his train of thought. In a booth of a downtown Manhattan diner, the Arctic Monkeys frontman is hunched forward, grasping for words to describe their new album – a black-tie orgy of cinematic soul, lurid funk and perfumed 60s strings. A waiter swoops in to save him. Would Turner like some milk for his coffee? “I’ll have a bit of milk, yes please,” he says. She returns a minute later, and Turner, having strung together no more than half a sentence, eagerly tops up his mug. “OK,” he says, rubbing his hands. “OK. Now we’ve got it.”

During our two-hour conversation, the affable introvert is determinedly, delightfully animated: he bashes imaginary woodblocks, sprawls across his moulded seat, clasps thin air and shakes it like a Magic 8 Ball. His turquoise jumper’s V-neck reveals a thin gold necklace, which he fondles while digressing into monologues on the genius of composer David Axelrod. Turner has been portrayed as aloof and evasive, but he is a man of pensive silences – an ambivalent overthinker trapped in an eccentric entertainer’s body.

He tries to describe orchestrating that new album, The Car. “Rather than strings on top of rock,” he says finally, “I was interested in switching the ‘rock band’ bit on and off.” He tweaks levels on a mixing desk in his mind’s eye. “With the Sculptures song” – the dizzyingly gorgeous Sculptures of Anything Goes – “the ‘rock band’ fader comes up for two bars here and there, and then it’s switched back off.”

He inspects this thought, then ​​flings out his arms and freezes. He looks like a magician alarmed the rabbit is missing from his hat. Slowly, he reboots. “And I don’t remember doing that quite so … deliberately before,” he concludes. A boyish smile. “Phew!” He clutches his chest. “I didn’t think I was gonna get to the end of that sentence.”

But Turner, 36, is nothing if not acutely self-aware and very funny with it. But surely this superstar, whose new haircuts trend on Twitter, is too famous to be such a brooder. Each of his eight albums, including the two with the Last Shadow Puppets, his project with friend Miles Kane, has debuted at No 1 in the UK. Since its 2013 release, the Monkeys’ juggernaut of a fifth album, AM, has taken just one week’s holiday from the UK Top 100. It spent most of September back inside the Top 10, after the band headlined Reading and Leeds festivals.

The AM era lasted a couple of years – long enough for the Sheffield boys’ image as pomade-slick, leather-jacketed Los Angeles dirtbags to stick in the public memory for good. So when Arctic Monkeys got back to mischief, with 2018’s fantastically strange Tranquility Base Hotel & Casino, fans were confounded. Turner had assembled a cast of distractible narrators to interrogate modern society – technology, politics, hyperreal LA – in a retro-futurist concept album set in a lunar colony. On stage, dressed like a 70s geography teacher, he now addressed crowds with comical formality. Sceptics said he had lost the plot, calling it an act of self-sabotage – or worse, a class betrayal. In Sheffield, somebody graffitied a coffin on a gate at Hunter’s Bar – the area immortalised in Fake Tales of San Francisco. “Hey Alex,” the caption read. “How’s California?”

While tighter and grander than its predecessor, Arctic Monkeys’ seventh album is blissfully unconcerned with correcting the record. It swings from a louche, movie-soundtrack intro to Portishead-stark noir, improbably catchy yacht-funk and the poppy bombast of Elliott Smith’s LA era. At times, Turner dips into a slick, syrupy croon, though he recoils from the word’s stuffy baggage.

“You sort of wish there was a way around the things attached to that word [croon],” he says. “But yeah, everything’s come down a little bit. And I like that, because if it’s come down here” – he runs a finger from his forehead to his ribcage – “it’s out of your head. It’s more coming from …”

He hunts for the word. The heart? I suggest, as he flings invisible confetti from his chest.

“The heart,” he agrees, sounding a bit uncomfortable. “Or even better: the gut.”

Turner is not all the way out of his head just yet. He sings much of The Car in a falsetto that trapezes between Sly Stone and David Byrne. The anxious melodies strike a delicate balance with the sumptuous strings. “You don’t want it to get gooey,” he reasons. “But it’s nice to get to the perimeter of that. There may have been discussions about where that line is, and how many times you can get close to it.”

Still, Turner’s bamboozling lyrics preclude slushiness. Traces of Yorkshire chansonnier Jake Thackray and punk-poet John Cooper Clarke remain, but Turner’s bon mots are now elaborately encrypted. Struggle though you may to picture festival crowds bellowing some of the lyrics here (Hello You opens: “Lego Napoleon movie / written in noble gas-filled glass tubes / underlined in sparks”), you can never rule it out. The similarly inscrutable 505, an album cut from 2007’s Favourite Worst Nightmare, recently caused a sensation on TikTok.

Maybe tackling impenetrable lyrics helps bring us deeper into a song, I suggest. Turner laughs. “I like the idea of you putting that in here and everybody going: ‘Ah, I dunno, sounds tough. We won’t give it a listen after all.’” He admits to scribbling notes in his printed lyric book, teasing out themes mysterious even to him. “The Annotated Lyrics,” he jokes, imitating a 1950s ad man. “Get that stocking filler out for Christmas.”

From the moment in the mid-00s when Arctic Monkeys blew up, Turner has longed to go incognito. He strode undercover into his new public life, a frightened teenager hiding inside a big swagger, collecting shiny awards for songs he had written for mates of mates in pub backrooms. In 2006, the band released what was then the UK’s all-time fastest-selling debut album – a death sentence for his man-of-the-people, kitchen-sink writing style.

On 2009’s Humbug, co-produced by Queens of the Stone Age’s Josh Homme, Turner escaped into a rock archetype. The band’s hairier second phase amped up the sleaze and elliptical lyrics, culminating in the darkly spectacular AM. By this point, the bequiffed Turner was harder to read, particularly in his divisive speech at the 2014 Brit Awards. “That rock’n’roll, eh,” he drawled with indeterminate sincerity. “It’s always waiting there, just around the corner. Ready to make its way back through the sludge and smash through the glass ceiling, looking better than ever. Yeah, that rock’n’roll …”

At the mention of the speech, and its concluding mic drop, Turner winces, sucking air through his teeth. But, I say, since Tranquility, the moment looks more like performance art – perhaps it anticipated his scepticism towards the rock construct. He listens intently, then, on the last point, springs back as if harpooned to his seat. “That’s interesting, yeah, yeah, yeah,” he says, head bobbing vigorously. He chews it over, talking half to himself. “So we’re saying it’s tied to AM, because of the haircut and … that performer …”

He seems unsure just how much of himself was in the mic-dropping rock star.

“When you think about that, and the clothes,” he continues, “I wasn’t doing that with [fourth album] Suck It and See or [third] Humbug. It wasn’t grease in the hair.” He pauses again, considering each album’s “performer” – always a fractured reflection of himself. “Normally, the record you make encourages a certain style of performance. But thinking about the performer in relation to Tranquility, or even this thing” – meaning the new album – “I have considered that you can invert that. The performer can influence the music, rather than the other way around.”

The Car’s performer more closely resembles the Turner I meet today: brilliant company but palpably self-scrutinising – a far cry from the headstrong Brits character. Turner wrote most of the album at the piano, souping up Tranquility’s vanquished lounge singer with a spritz of Rat Pack razzmatazz. Turner and the band’s producer, James Ford, separately drafted string arrangements that the composer Bridget Samuels simplified and edited.

Turner seems mildly embarrassed by the prospect of using strings live (a proposed orchestral TV special was deemed too predictable), but the album sounds just as exquisite without them. During a stunning show at Brooklyn’s Kings theatre the week of our interview, the band premiere three songs: the resplendent There’d Better Be a Mirrorball, a fingerpicked heart-warmer called Mr Schwartz and soon-to-be staple Body Paint, whose gnomic chorus crowdsurfs along a festival-slaying melody: “Straight from the cover shoot,” Turner coos, “There’s still a trace of body paint / On your legs and on your arms and on your face.”

As with 505 or Crying Lightning, it is a head-scratcher fated for mass seduction. “Not exactly what you’d imagine singing over the loud bit,” Turner concurs, chuckling. The body paint could represent almost anything: a literal costume; a stubborn artistic persona; or in a spunkier reading, the residue of an illicit affair. “But it’s as much about the musical ideas as the lyrics,” Turner says. “On Mirrorball, before the words even come in, that instrumental piece [establishes] the feel of the record”: wistful, enigmatic, acutely reminiscent of 70s European cinema. “All right,” Turner recalls thinking after writing it in 2020. “This feels like how the next record starts.”

Turner now lives between London and Paris with the French singer-songwriter Louise Verneuil. He composed most of the album alone, using the technique he road-tested on AM and adopted wholesale on Tranquility: compose, demo, inspect, tweak and re-record, repeat the process to death and eventually add drums and vintage keyboards. Finally: bring in the band.

In the summer of 2021, Arctic Monkeys convened at Butley Priory, a wedding venue and makeshift studio in Suffolk. On a whim, Turner brought his 60mm video camera to document the sessions, later compiling his footage for the impressively chic There’d Better Be a Mirrorball video. “That gave everybody a bit of room,” he says. “James [Ford] definitely didn’t mind that I had something to play with.” During downtime, the band watched the Euros and nipped outdoors for kickabouts. “I do get caught up in those tournaments. Something about that feeling connects you to when you were a kid. You find yourself thinking about Euro 96. And then it ends, and you almost feel a bit mad for feeling like that.”

That proximity to yesteryear haunts the record, not least in the creeping jazz element, which evokes his jazz-musician dad’s records and saxophone noodlings in Turner’s childhood home. “It came out the front in Tranquility, and there’s definitely a bit more this time,” he says. “It’s one of those things that you try to fly quite close to without [crossing over]. That music you’re around when you’re a kid always has a special power.”

Strikingly, the more sentimentality creeps into the music, the less forthright emotion surfaces in Turner’s lyrics. I ask if he is equally withholding in private – does he find it harder, as he gets older, to tell people he loves them? He laughs. “No, no, I don’t think so. I like to think that outside songwriting, I find it more straightforward to be direct.” He is prone to embarrassment by lyrics from bygone years. Perhaps the more elemental style, with fewer obvious footholds, helps minimise the cringing? “I like the idea that I’m getting better at the … I sort of want to say distillation.” He handles the word cautiously. “I think I’m better at picking the moment to expose the idea behind the song. But you have to be comfortable with the idea that things don’t have to be a pop song.”

What has remained constant since the beginning, he says, “is the instinct of it all”. Even the meticulous experiments of Tranquility and The Car stem from his faith in his bloody-minded intuition. I remind him of something he said, aged 19, about the perils of fame: “When you want it and you get obsessive, you mould yourself to be whatever they want you to be.”

He laughs. “It’s a heck of a time to drop a quote from 2005, when we’re talking about stuff to be embarrassed about.” But he agrees Arctic Monkeys’ instincts and gang mentality insulated them from industry games and greed. “The name of the band seems to allude to how limited the expectations were,” he adds. “If you realised you were gonna be doing this 20 years later, you might’ve had another hour in that meeting.”

Fatalistic fans have already forecast the band’s demise based on the single’s valedictory lyrics, but while the album abounds with goodbyes, Turner seems full of optimism about the future. His bandmates are, too. “You can tell when they’re excited and when there’s that palpable indifference,” he says, grinning. Does he still get much of the latter? “Surely. Intermittently. I’m grateful for it sometimes.” He drifts off again with a dreamy look, zeroing in on the right turn of phrase. “Between the band and James Ford …” he begins, unhappy with the imperfect words he has found. “I can’t do it on my own, I guess is what I’m trying to say.”

[endivinity]

i just had the most fascinating doctor appointment (warning: it gets a bit mental health heavy. a lot. i’ve been having a rough time but that’s not the main point of this, just that it’s There)

started out fantastically by the doctor not being my usual one. temp replacement doctor was also late, which didn’t bother me because i started mentally charging her $200 for every minute she was late. at one point the receptionist disappeared so i started charging her the same amount too. there was speculation in my dms that they were having an affair

31 minutes after my 15 minute appointment was scheduled to start, the doctor showed up, by which time she and the receptionist owed me a very crisp $7000 between them

i was then left in the doctor’s office bc she was unfamiliar with the system and couldn’t find the right form i needed her to fill out so i can continue not being destitute and homeless. she brought the receptionist in and also had to consult another doctor. i’m there thinking this is a very weird orgy, i didn’t want to be included in their affair, i’m doubling the amount they owe me.

while alone in the office i notice there is a urine sample. it’s just There. ive been left in a room with a cup of piss. there was a little color grade beside it. congratulations to whoever’s piss that was on having very healthy kidneys.

the doctor comes back with knowledge of where the form is. she then spends the next 20-ish minutes filling out three boxes in the form, because she makes several typos per word. i’m not even mad about this, just mildly bewildered. i keep making eye contact with the piss cup. it is my partner in solidarity.

she can’t find my client number. i have been at the clinic for a solid hour at this point, having arrived early to wait. she sends the form without my client number, to review on december 23rd. the clinic closes for the holidays long before that. she asks if there’s anything else I needed to discuss. I mention my mental health has been Bad over the last month, very sudden onset. My regular doctor would take this into account, because I have a history of bad mental health and new patterns need to be watched carefully. This one doesn’t even write it in my file. She asks what kind of issues. I tell her that it’s severe fluctuations in good and bad mood but not enough to be manic/depressive. It’s neither mania nor depression. It feels bad, but it’s manageable, but managing it takes up almost all of my time and energy. I get something I also couldn’t call suicidal ideation, but rather the preference to Not Exist Right Now, Come Back Later. you know the one. 

She immediately latches onto the word ‘suicidal’ even though I was quite clear that it wasn’t correct. Asks if I’m at risk, and if I have support or ways to ground myself or pull myself back from that sort of low mood. Asks if I would like some strategies, or if I was looking for any way for the clinic to help me today. I say I already have a lot of strategies in place, but more couldn’t hurt.

Her only technique she can ask if I have is if I have any goals I’d like to work towards, so that I would decide to keep living instead of trying to off myself (again, not correct), maybe I would like to visit my grandparents? I politely don’t mention that my grandparents are in the UK and also very dead. I just say no.

And that was it. She just goes okay well that’s all for today then :) I’ve been in the clinic for almost an hour and a half, for what’s usually a five minute assessment. we both said ‘okay, thank you’ at the same time. i don’t even know what she was thanking me for

[firstdegreefangirl]

Deck the Halls (with boughs of holly)

Theme: Day Eight - Decorating @12daysofchristmas

Fandom/Character(s): Tim Bradford/Lucy Chen (The Rookie)

Word Count: 1155

Ao3 link here!

“Today, we are in the unique position of being overstaffed. Sergeant Bradford, you and Officer Chen are being reassigned to a special project, right here in the division. Hang back for the details. Everybody else, clear out.”

The rest of the officers file out of the bullpen, leaving Tim lingering beside the podium and Lucy at her regular seat in the second row.

“Sarge?” Tim asks, as soon as the door swings closed.

“We get a special assignment?” Lucy is either eager or nervous, fingers jittering against the table. It’s hard for Tim to tell which sometimes, but he wishes that Grey would get the announcement over with so she can start working through whichever emotion it is.

“Yes. The maintenance team brought the holiday decorations down from storage last night, but they didn’t have any time to put them up. Given our staffing situation today, I told them that we would take that off of their plates. I’m appointing the two of you to the task.”

“We get to decorate the station for Christmas?” Lucy’s eyes light up. Excited. Definitely excited.

“We have to decorate the station for Christmas?”

“Everything is in Briefing Room One.” Grey nods solemnly. “And remember, the holiday spirit of Mid-Wilshire rests in your hands.”

He takes two slow steps toward the door before he starts laughing.

“I’m sorry, it’s not that serious. Have some fun with it. I look forward to seeing what you two come up with.”

An hour and a half later, they’ve gone through three potential schematic drawings, five lists of decorations to find in the briefing room, and half a dozen large tote boxes filled with fake pine branches and metallic something-or-others, fluffy sheets of plush “snow” and strings of lights.

Or, more to the point, Lucy has gone through those things. Tim has gone through three cups of coffee and countless reassurances that whatever Lucy comes up with will look fantastic. He means it. He’s never had an eye for decorating but didn’t need more than a couple visits to her apartment to know that she’s got a knack for knowing what will look best where.

"Alright,” Lucy murmurs. “I … think … that’s just about everything. We’ll figure the snowflakes out later. Doorways, maybe? Ooh, or maybe the cabinets in the breakroom?”

“We’ll find somewhere,” Tim promises. “What’s first?”

She shoves a handful of fluffy fake snow in his arms and directs him toward the windowsills at the front of the bullpen. He takes the instructions, refraining from offering her a mock salute, and gets started.

And if he makes sure to position himself where he can see Lucy working across the room? Well that’s nobody’s business but his own. But her joy and enthusiasm are contagious, and he just wants to bask in it a little bit longer.

He positions the snow carefully, using clear tape to hold the back sides of the fluff to the window, just like Lucy had directed him.

She’s halfway up a tall ladder, hanging tree-looking garland in swoops at the bottom of the mezzanine. Every so often, she backtracks to add dark red bows at the tops of the loops. By the time she’s halfway across, Tim has figured out the pattern: two swags, then bows. Two more swags, two more bows.

Tim’s focus is divided between watching Lucy and arranging the fake snow. That’s the only reason he doesn’t notice sooner, when Lucy checks her handiwork.

He looks up again, and what he sees has him jumping away from the windowsills faster than he’s moved in weeks.

“Lucy!” Tim shouts from across the room. She jerks her head around, and he immediately realizes that shouting at someone who’s standing on a ladder probably isn’t a great idea.

But it’s too late for that now, and he hadn’t thought about it in time.

All he’d thought about was Lucy. And the way his heart had plummeted when he watched her lean backward. She’s got her hands braced on the sides of the ladder, but only the very tips of her toes are balanced on the rungs. And she’s leaning as far back as she can, craning her neck so she can see better.

All he can picture is the slightest wobble, and then Lucy, lying on the ground in front of the ladder.

None of that happens, of course.

Lucy sees the look on his face and climbs down, hurrying to meet Tim where he’s moved to the middle of the room. She looks terrified, worried about him, even though she’s the one who was trying to throw herself off of a ladder.

“Tim? What’s wrong!?”

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” He’s holding her by the shoulders, looking her up and down, even though he knows she wasn’t injured.

“I’m fine, what happened?”

“Nothing, if you’re alright then it’s fine. But I looked up and you were tipped back on the ladder and …"

“And you were worried about me.” Lucy fills in the words he can’t say.

“Yeah.”

“Tim, I’m OK. I didn’t fall. I was holding on. I just needed to see if the garland was even before I pinned the last bit up.” She turns around, but doesn’t step away while she surveys the garland. It’s not half as close as Tim wants to be holding her, but their coworkers are milling around, so it’s the best he can get for now. He squeezes his fingers, applying gentle pressure to reassure himself that she’s still here and solid in front of him.

“Well? How’s it look?”

“Except for the bit at the end …" Lucy points to the section she’d been holding when Tim startled her.

“I’ll get it.” He steps around her.

“Tim, you don’t have to –”

“I know. But this way, you’ll be able to see if it’s even without risking your life.”

Lucy relents, and Tim climbs carefully up the first three rungs of the ladder. He reaches for the dangling piece of garland and reaches up until the end looks like it’s in line with the sections Lucy had hung up earlier.

“How’s this?” He turns and looks over his shoulder, nodding when Lucy gives him a thumbs up. He fastens the end to the wall, and even attaches the bow that’s sitting on the top of the ladder.

“It’s perfect,” Lucy says, when he gets down and makes his way back across the room. “What do you think?”

“I think … this is a pretty alright waste of a shift.”

“Tim!” She swats his arm.

“The city didn’t hire us to be decorators, Lucy. But if I have to be on tinsel patrol this year, I’m glad it was with you.” Tim takes a look around the bullpen; no one is paying them any attention, so he takes the chance to drop a quick kiss on the top of Lucy’s head. “Now, didn’t you say something about decorative pillows in the waiting room?”