#so there’s this really old lady trying to get on

[bucketbueckers]

LAYUPS & LAYOVERS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader wc: 2.9k content warnings: language, fluff, author is southern and doesn't understand how snow or marketing works, plot where there doesn’t need to be plot synopsis: It’s Christmas Eve and you’re in Connecticut, exhausted and just trying to get to Minnesota for a work conference. You could cry when it’s announced that all flights are being halted due to the incoming blizzard. Irritated, tired, and overworked, you pray for a miracle, although it takes an unnatural shape in the form of a six foot blonde athlete who’s just trying to make it home, too. Late night airport conversations lead to something more. notes: merry christmas eve from my delusions to yours! the last chapter of irp was super heavy so here's my apology and christmas gift (do i drop another one tmr...i really dont wanna write chapter 8 😩). i hope you all enjoy this short n sweet lil ramble i threw together and happy holidays 🫶

This can not be your life right now.

It’s actually kind of impressive how all of the stars aligned on this one particular night to fuck you over. You’re not a terrible person. You hold the doors for everyone, give up your seat on the bus for sweet old ladies, and you always allocate a portion of your paychecks to donate to Wikipedia. By all accounts, you should be overwhelmed with good karma, although it seems your luck has depleted on this night and this night alone.

It all started on the 20th when you flew out to Connecticut. You work a cushy job as a marketing consultant for the WNBA, which means you spend a lot of time in the air and across the country trying to unfuck – sorry, trying to optimize and rejuvenate – the state of the league and its teams. It’s a task easier said than done. Nobody seems to want to listen to you until they realize that your master’s degrees in marketing and business analytics actually mean something and aren’t just really expensive pieces of paper that you hang in your office. You spend a couple of days in Uncasville talking strategies to boost ticket sales and to gain more traction; they’re the only professional team the state has – it should not be hard to get people to show up if you can market it right, but here you are.

Connecticut is nearly a bust. It’s cold and you spend two full days in meetings getting talked over by men who think they understand numbers and branding. Then, on the third day, the front office suddenly realizes what you’ve been talking about (this shit was covered in your sophomore year intro to marketing class, but hey, the less people know, the more you get paid, so who’s really complaining?) and the trajectory of your trip makes a sudden turnaround. On the 23rd and early on the 24th, you help the Sun roll out the new optimizations, and what do you know? Ticket sales surge by 17%, including some season tickets, all is well in the world and it’s a goddamn Christmas miracle.

Then, all is suddenly not well and you remember that Christmas miracles are for people not surrounded by idiots. Your boss emails you just before you leave for the airport: The Lynx need your help. I’ve sent you tickets for the first flight out of Connecticut. Meet with them on the 26th. Said “flight” departs from Connecticut at 8:30pm on Christmas Eve, which means you’re not even in Minnesota until 12am if you’re lucky, which means you have to figure out hotel arrangements so you can take a nap because you’ve barely slept in five days, which means you have to figure out how to be nice to people again because the Sun front office has you pissed all the way the fuck off.

So, you’re tired, overworked, extremely irritated, and hungry, although that last problem is solved by airport Subway. You just hope that doesn’t come back to bite you in the ass, either – you firmly believed that you were better off betting all of your money on black rather than taking the chance on airport food, but you didn’t have much of a choice and your stomach was growling. You eat, settling in a chair at your gate, and patiently await for your plane to arrive.

Then, the overhead PA clicks on with some static noise, announcing, “Flight 932 to Minneapolis and all other flights exiting Hartford will be delayed due to inclement weather. I repeat–”

The blood rushes to your head. Your eye twitches. There’s a crying baby somewhere in the airport and you can’t take it anymore. Honestly, what’s stopping you? Flying a plane cannot be that difficult. You’re pretty persuasive. You can tell TSA you’re just young for a pilot and you’re not wearing a pilot’s uniform because it’s Christmas Eve and what are you, the feds? All you’re really asking for at this point is a nap but there’s no way in hell you’re making it to a hotel in these conditions and the chances of you sleeping in an airport with all of your belongings out for someone to grab are even lower.

A commotion towards the check in counter commands your attention. You turn, dreading the eventual crash out of an airport Karen, but it’s better than the crying baby who still hasn’t shut the fuck up.

“Please, there’s gotta be something else you can do,” a tall, broad-shouldered blonde is begging, her hair pulled into a loose ponytail. “It’s Christmas Eve, I have to get home.”

The lady at the check in counter sounds sympathetic when she responds. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but our hands are tied. We can’t send our planes out in this weather, but if it eases up, the next flight out should have you arriving in Minneapolis by tomorrow afternoon.”

You hear the blonde groan, her tone sounding something like, I can’t fucking believe this is my life, which is a sentiment you whole-heartedly agree with. “Can you please lemme know if there’s anything earlier?” she pleads. “Like, if by the grace of God this weather clears and we can leave sooner.”

“Of course, ma’am. All updates will be announced.”

The response is almost robotical, but you can tell the receptionist is trying her best, too, and the last place she wants to be is hanging out at the airport on Christmas Eve. The blonde sighs, thanking her, and from the corner of your eye, you watch her hike her bag up over her shoulder and she moves to sit directly in front of you. That’s when you truly get a good look at her, at the dejected blue of her eyes, the chisel of her jaw, the logo on her hoodie. Paige Bueckers is no stranger to you. You grew up watching ball, so obviously you’re familiar with her game – any self-respecting basketball fan is. But by virtue of your job, Paige Bueckers is a name that makes your marketing heart beat just a little faster. Ever since Dallas won the lottery, you’ve been all over their marketing team. Paige’s entire existence and the chance she gets drafted to Dallas is the sole reason the Wings’ tickets are flying off the shelves. She’s the most marketable college athlete there is right now, one of the top rookie prospects for the league, but one look at her face in person and you’re forgetting all about your job. Her jaw is tight with a simmering anger, and honestly, you feel terrible for her – she already spends so much time away from her family and here she is trying to get out of Bumfuck, Connecticut, so she can be home in time for Christmas.

You find a little bit of bravery when you raise your voice slightly to ask her, “No luck?”

She looks up, glancing at you and taking in your features, and laughing slightly when she realizes you’re genuinely just trying to make conversation and not trying to get a soundbite out of her. “You heard that?” she asks sheepishly, sinking a little in her seat to get comfortable. You pretend to not notice her manspread.

“Well,” you begin, glancing over at the receptionist. “The desk is like, ten feet away.” She laughs again and nods, murmuring touche under her breath. “932 Minneapolis?” you ask, referring to your flight.

Paige nods again, quirking a smile. “You stalking me or sum’?”

You shrug your shoulders, a coy smile on your face. “Just observant,” you quip.

Paige grins fully. “What about you?” she asks. “You work for the league?”

At that, you can’t help your surprise, raising a brow. “How’d you know that?”

“Just observant,” she throws your words back at you. You laugh. “Kidding. I see your ID pokin’ out of your bag. You from here, or they got you workin’ on the holidays?”

“Work,” you respond. Paige whistles lowly. “I’m a marketing consultant. Been up here for a few days working with the Sun, then I’m heading to Minnesota to fix the Lynx’s bullshit.” You blink, registering your words, blushing as Paige laughs. “You did not hear that. I’m usually nicer to my employers.”

“They got you workin’ and flyin’ out on Christmas Eve,” Paige points out. “You should be meaner.”

You incline your head in a nod, huffing. “All of this for office potlucks and dental coverage,” you joke. “Don’t quit basketball.” Paige grins again and you’re suddenly reminded of your manners. “Sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself.” You do as such, only mildly surprised when she stands to shake your hand and introduces herself, too, which is honestly kind of endearing. Then, she plops into the empty seat next to yours, smiling widely.

“So, marketing consultant,” she says, her tone nonchalant as she gets comfortable next to you, extending her long legs across her suitcase. “How often will I get to see you?”

You glance at her, raising a wry eyebrow. “Are you flirting with me?” you ask.

Paige shrugs a shoulder, smirking. “A little. Is it working?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit. You can see the pride that shines in her eyes. You roll your eyes in amusement, still in slight disbelief, but you redirect back to her question. “Honestly, probably a lot. The league is super messy from a business perspective and their actual marketing sphere isn’t that great, either. As soon as you get drafted I’ll probably have to fly down to whichever poverty team you land at and teach them how to market you.”

“Yeah?” she asks, and despite the tease in her tone, she does seem interested. “How would you market me?”

“How much time do you have?”

“Well…” Paige glances down to her watch, then out the windows where snow falls in heavy sheets. “Looks like a lot.”

You snicker. “Alright. Bear with me, okay?” Paige nods in earnest, her attention fully on you as you begin to ramble. Truthfully, you did like your job when you were able to do it. The issue is and always will be the idiots you have to work with who overlook your credentials. “So, I’m not thinking about your personal brand at all. Like, that one’s already incredible. Your PR team did their big one with you. But the issue with athletes like you, wide-eyed and fresh out of college with an insane resume of endorsements, followers, deals, whatever – the issue is that whatever team you get drafted to is gonna want to rebuild their entire image around you. Think Clark, Brink, Reese, Jackson, Cardoso. It’s textbook – you advertise the person who’s gonna get you the most clicks, the most sales. So, how can we use that to actually grow the game, the league? I’m talking about longevity. There’s so many people tuning in for you that don’t know shit about basketball, and honestly, they’re gonna be scared to ask questions.

“So we push something corny. Social media segments with a catchy name like Ball With Bueckers or some shit where you break down basketball plays, rules, the stuff you’re gonna see and hear when you watch a game. What’s a pick and roll? A screen? Why is she getting fouled for blocking that shot, isn’t that what she’s supposed to do? Education, interest, loyalty, and competition sells. Stories sell, too, which is why the league is still trying to push the Clark/Reese rivalry. That’s old news, though. A more compelling story would have been the Fever/Sun rivalry, especially after the Sun beat the Fever and the Fever hired their coach. Or Fever/Wings, for reasons I’m not gonna ruin your night with.” Paige laughs at that, and you smile, clearing your throat and trying to find your train of thought. “So, when I’m undoubtedly called in to fix your team’s mess, that’s what I’d be suggesting. People already love you. Using that connection to get them to love ball, too, is my goal.”

“You’re really passionate about this,” Paige comments, her lips quirking into a slight smile. You can’t help but preen a little, flushing. “Like, about basketball. You really care about the sport. Feels like that’s harder to find lately.”

“Well, I was too short to play it, so gotta settle for something, right?” you joke.

Paige looks you up and down. You’re wearing sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt from college, but her gaze is shameless, appreciative despite your casual airport wear. She chuckles, a disbelieving noise building in the back of her throat. “Nah. You’re what, 6’5?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes. “Try a foot less. But I appreciate you for believing in me.”

Paige smiles, nudging you a little. “I was serious, though. You’re super passionate. I like that.”

“Still flirting?”

“S’not everyday you get snowed in at the airport with a pretty girl,” Paige says, her gaze warm, and you can’t help but blush again. “Gotta shoot my shot, you know?” She mimes throwing a ball, her wrist bent, and you shake your head fondly. Admittedly, she did have you – hook, line, and sinker. You enjoyed the conversation, her company. There were certainly worse people to be stuck with, but you’re glad it was with her.

You shrug your shoulders. “Shoot away,” you say. Her subsequent grin is wide and you find yourself drawn in just a little further.

She asks you virtually everything under the sun – where you grew up, where you went to college, the team you were rooting for, and you answer. You tell her you’re an Atlanta native, born and raised, although you moved up north to study at Columbia. You were 8 when the Dream was founded and that was your team, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. At 10, you watched them win the eastern conference finals on your birthday and that was easily the moment your life changed. Basketball was your future and that much was certain. She asks how you landed the league job (connections, a thick resume, and lots of persuading), how you adjusted to the constant traveling (lots of caffeine and really good concealer), and the hard-hitting question of, are you satisfied?

For that, you really had no answer. Sure, you’re always busy, and that’s better than the alternative of sitting in your office and watching the seconds tick by. You’re good at what you do and your job makes a positive impact on the league. Your colleagues will be who they are; your work speaks for itself and that’s what you pride yourself on. But there’s always going to be a small part of you that yearns for something more, like someone else to share your life with. Someone who sits, and listens, and engages with you; someone who loves basketball just as much as you do (even if it’s a different type of love), someone who’s steady and spontaneous and adaptable.

Then Paige is smiling at you, her gaze warm and soft despite the below freezing temperatures outside; she’s listening, and engaging, steady, spontaneous, adaptable, and probably the only person in the world whose love for basketball could rival your own. You’ve known Paige for all of three hours and it’s nearing midnight in an airport in Connecticut, but it’s Christmas Eve and she feels so right. You would really like to see where this goes, and judging by the way her fingertips brush your knuckles, you think she might like to see that, too.

The two of you talk all through the night, waiting for the weather to ease up. The conversation never slows and you’re certain you’ve never smiled or laughed this much in a long time. It takes you twelve hours of delirious conversation to realize that your luck never depleted. Paige was your overwhelming karma, sent by some sort of Christmas miracle to answer all of the wishes you’d kept to yourself for years. The stars aligned not to fuck you over, but to trap you in an airport with Paige Bueckers, and you find that she’s possibly the best Christmas gift you could have ever gotten.

When the weather finally clears and your plane arrives, you find that your seats are right next to each other – and, well, fate works in funny ways, doesn’t it? You’re both exhausted, but when she lowers the armrest and wraps her arm around your shoulders, pulling you into your side, you can’t help your relieved sigh, leaning into her chest. You and Paige sleep through the entire flight. You dream of soft blue eyes, the lingering scent of her cologne, the promise of how this could last.

You land in Minneapolis and you eventually have to go your separate ways. The two of you exchange numbers, saying your goodbyes, although Paige doesn’t let you get anymore than three feet away from her before she’s catching you by the wrist and pulling you into her. Her hands are cold against your cheeks as she kisses you gently, something deep and lingering and a confirmation that tastes like ‘you and I aren’t done here.’ The falling snow lands gently on your cheeks, melting under the heat of your blush, and you can’t help your smile, interrupting your kiss as the both of you dissolve into laughter. Paige kisses you again, something softer that leaves you feeling warm all over despite the chill, and you thank your Christmas miracle for leading you here.

[starlighttsv]

Day 5

Merry Christmas Baby - p.b

Sum: reader surprises Paige for Christmas during Christmas break

Warnings: just fluff

Note: Merry Christmas Eve to all who celebrate 🫶

Pair: Paige x longdistancegf!reader

Wc: 1.2k

Requested by @rosemariiaa lmk if there is anything you want added or changed

My masterlist

“Ma’am, Ma’am we’re landing ” you’re shaken awake by the sweet old lady sitting next to you “mm thank you ma’am” you groan out sleepily starting to sit up and stretch “is this your first time flying?” She asks you while you’re situating yourself in your seat. “No. Me and my girlfriend are long distance so we always fly to each other when we can.” She nods “is this your first time?” You ask back while the plane starts going down “No. just my first time without my husband, he’s already in Minnesota with our family” you nod and before you can reply she asks another question “Does your girlfriend know your coming? Or is it a surprise?”

“It’s a surprise. Her dad and step mom are helping me pull it off” she nods saying “that’s so sweet, I remember when me and my husband were young and doing long distance. It is hard and challenging but if you both really want it then it’s not impossible.” “Thank you, we’re trying.” She nods and gives you a pat on your arm, starting to stand up as the plane has landed “it was nice talking to you, I hope you and your girlfriend have a very merry Christmas!”

“You too! Merry Christmas to you and your family!” You replied back also starting to stand up so you can get your carry-on, she smiles at you and says thank you. You both eventually end up walking off the plane and making your way to baggage claim. You’ve been texting Bob since you got off the plane as he was gonna be the one to pick you up, he said Moe took Paige to the mall so they could do some Christmas shopping

Once you got your luggage you started making your way to the area bob said he was. When you see him you immediately start walking a little faster, hugging him once you reached him

“Hey! How was your flight?” He questions while hugging you back “good, long though.” He laughs “well yeah, you just flew from Boston to Minnesota. Figured we could go get some food and then take you back home, Moe just texted saying they’re just entering the last store for today.”

You nod agreeing to what he just said “I’m starving so I’m good with this plan.” He just chuckles and takes your suitcase from you, leading you out of the airport and to the car

You guys have just gotten back to the house after eating and now are trying to hurry and figure out the best way to do the surprise. “What if I left my bags out in the living room or by the front door and went up to her room, and you told her a guest made it a few days earlier then Christmas and that she’s sharing her room with said guest, and then ask her to bring my bags up to her room and then she’ll see me?”

“Yeah that could work-“ he gets cut off hearing a car pull into the drive way “go hide!” He tells you making you run up the stairs and into Paige’s room. You lay down on her bed and go on your phone, you hear the front door open and then some talking - when you hear Paige start coming up the stairs you put your phone down and look at the door waiting for her to come in.

When she knocks on the door you don’t answer making her think the guest that her father would not tell her who was asleep, giving her the go ahead to open the door and put the bags against the wall. She starts walking out of the door so you quickly knock down her water bottle that was on her nightstand to make her look in your direction and when she does she gasps and her eyes widen

“Wait-“ she cuts herself off “hey baby!” When you say that it’s like her brain unfreezes cause she’s immediately running towards the bed and jumping on you. You laugh hugging her back.

“How’d you get here? When’d you get here? What?” She says fully shocked that you’re even here “Bob and Moe helped me pay for my flights, and we had just gotten to the house when you and Moe pulled in.” She just looks at you surprised “she’s one of your Christmas presents by the way. Flights during Christmas are extremely expensive” Bob says in the doorway of her room jokingly

She just turns her head still laying on you “ that’s fine, she’s the greatest gift I could’ve gotten” Bob just shakes his head amusingly and leaves the doorway heading back downstairs.

“How long are you here?” She asks turning back to you “3 weeks” you can tell she’s confused but excited that your gonna be here that long “two of the weeks are my winter break and I’m taking a week off of school so I can see some of your basketball games” she doesn’t say anything and instead just hugs you shoving her face in your neck “I love you so much” she mumbles into you

“I love you more” you say kissing her on her forehead. She shakes her head and lifts her head away from your neck so it’s hovering over your face “not possible” she mumbles over your lips, immediately kissing you after saying that

It’s now Christmas morning, Paige had woken up a few minutes ago and started playing with your hair and kissing you all over your face trying to wake you up.

Now you’re laying your head on her chest with one arm draped across her stomach drawing random shapes on her stomach while she fiddles with the ends of your hair

“I can’t wait to spend these 3 weeks with you.” Paige mumbles into your hair. You just lean up and give her a few kisses “I love you” you mumble against her “and I love you” she pulls you back in to the kiss

You both pull away after a few seconds “Drew’s gonna be storming in here in about 3 minutes” Paige says making you laugh a little bit “then I guess we should get up” you say looking at her making her groan out and pull you into her more “I just want to lay in bed and cuddle with you” she pouts “well we can cuddle on the couch?” She just groans but starts getting up from the bed

She helps you get up and then you both walk out the door immediately seeing Drew on his way to Paige’s room - making him stop in his tracks for a minute before he runs up to both of you grabbing both of your hands and “pulling” you guys to the living room

You and Paige sit on the love seat while everyone else sits on the couch or the floor, Bob starts passing out the presents with everyone opening theirs. Once the gifts are opened and the food is eaten everyone decided to watch a movie before we all had to get dressed.

Your laying your head on Paige’s chest again with her still fiddling with the ends of your hair, while you focus on the Christmas movie playing right now

“Merry Christmas baby” Paige whispers in your ear

[seat-safety-switch]

There was simply no way we were going to get out of this one alive. Biscotti Alfresco, Italy's number-one pastry chef and number-two assassin, was hot on our heels. It had been so long on the run, that I could barely remember what started this whole thing. Had something to do with pizza, I told my taxi driver, who was too busy trying to run over every moped and scooter in Rome to listen to my story.

In case nobody has ever told you, let me be the first. It is incredibly difficult to enjoy your family vacation when a trained killer stalks you across the entire country. A couple times now, he's gotten close. We were hanging out at the Trevi Fountain when a little old lady in the crowd threw a knife at us. You guessed it: just a normal person angry at our abuse of their cultural norms, but it could have been Biscotti.

Really, the prudent thing to do would be just to leave the country. That's what the embassy told us to do, right before Mr. Alfresco burst in through the window and fought a bunch of security guards. This kind of advice does make sense, but our plane tickets are not refundable and our travel insurance explicitly does not cover "incensing a trained assassin by disrespecting a national dish," which makes me wonder how often this kind of thing happens. Right there in the fine print. I felt like such a dumbass for not noticing it before.

We've only got about seven more days in the country. Even with the extra stress, we're having a lot of fun. I'm pretty sure that by wearing disguises, changing up our train reservations at the last moment, and never going anywhere near a pizzeria for the rest of our lives, we'll be fine. Hey, who are you anyway? Why are you wearing that crazy mask?

[maiamore]

PASS THE SALT, MR MILLER

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!Reader - No Outbreak Rating: 18+ | W/C: 4.5k

Summary: Joel finds out the hard way that leaving a pretty girl with blue-balls isn’t the smartest.

Or, Joel fucks you in his garage.

Tags: christmas-y vibes, fucking on Joel’s car, implied age gap,unprotected p in v, grumpy!joel, lots of yearning, squirting, sexual games, brat taming, outdoor sex, creampie

A/N: merry christmas folks! tbh this is just a game of how many fics can I write that has to do with (a) joel's truck or (b) joel yearning. side note, looped Disease - Lady Gaga track on repeat while writing this oops

MASTERLIST | MAIN STORY

Holidays have never really been something you celebrated. Fuck it, your own birthday even. It just wasn’t a priority you considered worth fussing over. Admittedly, your lack of enthusiasm for these events was probably why you ended up avoiding them. You would do the most for the people you loved but never for yourself.

Take Halloween for example. Your friends from Columbia were begging you for a slutty girls' night out, but you’d opted to stay home to help chaperone your younger brother Oscar’s party. Even so far as to set everything up, you’d made sure Oscar had a shot at being the coolest damn guy in his school. Fret not, jobless big sis is there to help ya. 

Of course, it hadn’t gone unrewarded, to put it loosely. All that really happened was some broody hot middle-aged dad jerking off in front of your face. Nothing out of the ordinary.

You found yourself staring at the pale green piece of paper your younger brother, Oscar,  handed you when he came home from school that evening. Eyeing the morbidly cliche design that screamed of some bored old receptionists' handiwork, you tilt it to get a better read.

Oak Ridge High School Annual Christmas Potluck.

Great. Another one. You were often the stand-in for his PTA Meetings in place of your ever so busy parents. While you had your fun with the free buffets and whatnot, you were getting tired of people asking how old you were when you “had” Oscar. 

*Calling all Parent Volunteers. Please Contact Joel Miller at +1 (512) 555 XXX for details. 

Now that got your attention.

Joel Miller. The man who, after that night, weaseled his way into your glorious collection of mental spank bank. Evident in the plethora of stolen nudie mags your mom stashed underneath her mattress—you’d gone as far to dog-ear pages of men who had the slightest resemblance to him. 

You couldn’t get him out of your mind. By him, his dick. All eight fuckin’ inches of pent-up old man dick. 

The desperation in the way he thumbed his slit, coaxing his milky cum into your waiting mouth in your bedroom flashed in your mind like post-traumatic-sex-disorder. You were robbed of a good fuck.

The beeps of your dial-pad echoed embarrassingly loud while you dialled the number on the flyer before fully seeing the idiocy in this move. The line connects after a few rings. 

“Miller. Who’s callin’?”

A shudder runs down your spine. His voice hit you like a freight train, low and gravelly, cutting through the faint clatter of what sounded like construction work on the other end.

Fuck. Fuck fuck. Hang up. Hang–

“Hi.” You blurt out, forcing a higher register in your voice in a desperate attempt to disguise yourself. “I’d like to register. For the Christmas…thing.” There was a pause, followed by the clunk of something heavy and the sound of boots against a hard floor. 

“Right. You’re the parent of…?” 

You clutched your phone tighter when Joel’s voice rang clearer than ever, throat dry as you scrambled to speak. “Oscar.”

He repeats your last name when you offer it, slow and deliberate, like he was trying to place it–a flicker of recognition almost.

“Alright then,” he finally says, the faintest edge of suspicion still lingering.

 “Guess I’ll see ya there.”

—

Impulsiveness was something that fucked Joel over most times. 

Messing around with someone he’d consider uncomfortably closer to his daughter's age than his own settled within him like poison. 

It’d been two whole months since the incident at halloween and he was still hung up over you. He was certain that a pretty girl like you had far better prospects than a washed up crotchety shit like him. 

You plagued his mind every time his fist wrapped around his cock. Every time he’d tried to fuck the stress of working long hours of grunt work at the site. Your soft and sweet expression offered him instantaneous, sticky reprieve. 

Guilt, or something he should’ve been feeling over using your face as masturbation material didn’t quite blare the alarms in his head through post-nut clarities. 

He knew he had fucked up the second he had you on your knees that night. 

You parked your sedan in front of a navy chevrolet in the driveway. Hopping out of the car as you looked up at the quaint home, clean white siding, neatly trimmed lawn. 

You figured by the bustling noise from the backyard that a volunteer offered up their home and all. Generous, you thought. And then you catch it. The worn down navy mailbox that sprawled the letters–

M I L L E R

The swirl that was now your mind dragged painful throbs in your head. To be in his own backyard felt stalker-ish even for you. 

With a weary exhale, you click open the boot of your car. Worrying had to come later, you had to formulate a game plan for the boxes of fairy lights you somehow had to haul into Joel’s backyard.

With a heaving effort, you propped up two boxes into your arms when the shuffle of footsteps catches your attention, coming from beside the opening garage. 

“Hey! Sorry, could use a little help...” You call out instinctively. 

Only managing to catch a glimpse of a hand bracing against the rickety garage door to shove it all the way up with a loud metallic clang. 

The sound startles you, but not as much as the sight when one of the boxes lifts from your hold, revealing your apparent savior.

The both of you pause, staring at each other in slight shock. Well–for him at least. You had ulterior motives that came delivered to you all wrapped up in worn-out denim.

Joel’s expression was less than welcoming, which in his defense—he wasn’t quite expecting to see his ghost in his own yard. 

“What are you doin’ here?”

The curtness of his voice throws you, but it’s too late to think of turning tail and driving off.

“I’m…one of the volunteers.”

“Sweetheart,” Joel begins, lifting the last box out of your arms like they weighed nothing. “You signin’ up under your mama’s name just to come sniffin’ round’ me? That it?”

“What? No. She couldn’t make it,” you shoot back, a little too quick, a little too defensive. Joel wasn’t buying it, his unimpressed stare making you shift on your feet.

“Uh-huh,” he mutters, already stepping over to your car. With a grunt, he hefted another box from your trunk, the effort drawing a low sound from his chest. 

The bitterness (and arousal) pools in your mouth at the noise he makes. 

Yes. You’d admit. You sniffed out Joel’s trail like some stray, chasing after the smallest crumb of him. It wasn’t irrational for you to think that you deserved some sort of closure. 

His voice cuts clean through your spiraling thoughts. “If you’re expectin’ somethin’, you best stop right there. I ain’t messin’ around.” You grimaced, fumbling for words. 

“I’m just here to help—” 

“S’enough outta you. Stay out of trouble.” He interrupts, not quite looking at you. 

Joel wills himself to flick his gaze anywhere but at you, one look at your face was enough to remind him of the fact, one look was probably enough to pop a damn boner. He sets the boxes down by the patio, knees cracking as he stretches back up with a grunt.

“Get someone to hang ‘em up. ‘Cause clearly,” he says, eyeing your sweater and skirt, “you ain’t dressed to actually help.”

He gives you a short, dismissive nod before turning away, leaving you standing there. Warmth pools your cheeks, feeling foolish to have gone this far for the attention of a man who made it clear that he didn’t seem to give a fuck whether you were here or not.

—

Joel spends the better half of the afternoon hovering around you. 

Approaching you normally was out of the question now that Sarah and the other kids began to flitter into his backyard to help with preparation. His daughter’s presence acted like a highly effective cock-block–not that he had any business entertaining those kinds of thoughts in the first place.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Risky didn’t begin to describe it, so he kept his distance. That resolve went straight out the window when he spotted you, half-balanced on a ladder, hanging Christmas lights along the edge of his roof. Candy cane printed panties peeking out from under your skirt–god almighty, Joel nearly doubled over.

You could feel Joel's eyes on you while attempting to hang the lights over the siding. Purposefully going against what he said, purposefully giving everyone a goddamn show. 

"You ever learn how to listen?" 

“I can do it myself.” You shot back. Coyly soothing the back of your skirt. A proper fuck you to him at his insinuation that you’d been here just to man-trap him. Not that the notion did much. 

You felt the ladder steady with Joel’s hold. Effectively blocking everyone else from seeing what you were flaunting. 

"For the love of christ, darlin’, get down." 

“For the love of christ, I’m almost fuckin’ done.” You parroted his words back to him with an annoyed huff. It was hard not to let Joel infiltrate your mind but lack of his attention was eating you up–making you do crazy things, evidently.

With a satisfied huff at the placements, you brought your hands down. Why did that feel heavy?

A sharp crackle and metallic clatter fills the air, the chains of lights came tumbling down. You froze. Lowering your gaze to see the single goddamn twine snagged onto your sweater that you’d effectively yanked down with you. 

The bulbs burst into chaotic pops as they hit the ground, shards of glass scattering like tiny fireworks across the patio.

Joel doesn’t hesitate, his hands found your waist as he lifted you off the ladder and set you firmly on the ground to safety with a grunt, his eyes snaps to the shards of glass glinting in the light and the fresh scratches marring his freshly varnished patio.

"You gotta be shittin' me..." He mutters, the irritation sharp in his drawl.  

“Mr Miller…”

Joel held up his palm as a sign to get you to be quiet so he could speak. Damn if you calling him Mr Miller now of all times didn’t make him want to haul your ass up to his bedroom. Which he might add, seemed conveniently close.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds, pinching the bridge of his nose. "D’you think before you do anythin’ at all? Or do you just act on impulse?" He asked in a sharp and biting tone, looking directly at you as he spoke.

You cock your brow at his words. Surely he wasn’t seriously reacting this way to a couple of broken lights. To mention, your lights.

“What? Think about being a decent person to help?”

"A decent person would've listened the first time when I told you to leave it the hell alone," he snapped, stepping closer. "A decent person wouldn’t have shot me attitude n’ thrown a damn temper tantrum when I told you to get down."  

“What are you getting so bent out of shape for?”

“For starters, you wrecked my patio, darlin’.” He grumbles. Rubbing the back of his neck in the slightest amount of awareness that he’d overreacted, though he’d rather chew rocks than admit it. 

You don’t answer him. But your pouty-ness showed in the way you stomped over to get the broom that lay in the corner. He watches you regardless, arms folded taut.

“Goddamned train-wreck.” He mutters under his breath after a long pause, not even giving you the chance to let an apology leave your lips before he turns his heel to leave.

—

You didn’t take it well when people spoke to you like you were stupid. 

An Ivy League degree hung the walls of your room for fucks sake. Who the hell did Joel think he was? As if that wasn’t humiliating enough, you’d tucked your tail between your legs to sweep it all up without a word. The embers that lay dormant were further fanned as time passed. You were pissed.

Joel, on the other hand, begins to feel guilt at the way he’d reacted. Even in the corner of his eyes, he sees you helping set up with the rest of the parents. It wasn’t the behaviour of some reckless nympho he imagined you to be when you stepped foot into his yard. 

You didn’t have to stand there to stand under the sun in the unforgiving Texas heat, refilling lemonade for the parent’s committee. Entertaining Sarah and the rest of the kids. Turning his backyard into a damned Christmas Wonderland.

You were a good girl, he figures after a long while of brooding.

And he tries. He tries to approach you to apologize but you didn’t seem to be having it. Going out of your way to swerve at the slightest sight of him near you. Which he gets.

You were over it, really. Chalked it up to his personality being generally the way it was. But what really helped you get over your humiliation? Seeing Joel Miller fucking grovel. 

Which you were acutely aware of with the way he lingered around you, waiting for an opening that you deprived of him.

—

The skies grew to a dusky violet, the backyard gently lit up with the soft twinkle of the fairy lights you’d painstakingly hung up (and re-hung). Lull of familiar Christmas classics playing by the speakers. 

The warmth of the chatter and laughter surrounding the table tugged at your edges, coaxing a reluctant smile to your lips. You weren’t ready to admit it, but the festive mood was infectious.

You sat near the end of the committee’s table, the seat next to you conspicuously empty. The kids–Oscar, Sarah, and their friends were huddled at their own table. You briefly wondered if you should join them instead, given that the current hot topic at your table being mortgage rates.

The thud of a melamine crystal glass landing next to your plate broke your train of thought. You flick your gaze up, your expression hardening the moment you caught sight of Joel dragging the empty chair over next to you and lowering himself into it with a creak.

Without a word, he slides the glass closer to you, taking a sip from his own. His movements were deliberate, careful, like a man trying not to step on a landmine.

Joel wasn’t quite well-versed in apologies, as evident by Sarah’s constant reminders that one of these days he was going to piss a woman he actually fancied. His hand stretches over your lap, unfurling the napkin on the other side of you to drape it over your lap. 

“Could you pass over the salt, sweetheart?” 

You tilt your head, arching a brow, not moving a muscle. Instead, you shot him a pointed look.

With a heavy sigh and a muttered curse under his breath, Joel stands up, his knees popping audibly as he leaned across the table to grab the salt himself. He slumps back into his chair, setting it down with a huff. How could a little thing like you hold so much anger?

“Done torturin’ me yet?” 

A scoff leaves your lips. 

“Who said I was?” 

“I’m tryin’ to apologise, sweetheart.” You shudder at the manner he whispers the words out. As though it was a secret reserved for just you and him. 

You rest your cheeks on your palms, shooting him an uninterested look. His eyes darts down to your plate that you were pushing to him. Joel doesn’t hesitate, reaching over and starts loading your plate up again with generous portions of the dishes spread across the table. The sight of him doing so, quiet and almost reverent, made your chest sing.

Oh this. This you could get used to.

For the next twenty minutes, you’d milked Joel’s newfound contrition for all it was worth. Needed a refill? Joel was already reaching for your glass. Running low on napkins? He was up and grabbing a fresh one before you even asked. You’d even braced yourself for him to snap when you made a fuss over your creaky chair, but to your delight, he stood up and swapped it out without so much as a grumble.

Unfortunately for you, your luck runs out.

The flutter of your napkin onto the makeshift mat spread across the lawn catches his attention, his eyes darting to the rogue square of fabric before slowly flicking back up to meet your gaze. You leaned back in your chair, looking at him expectantly, lips quirking just enough to toe the line between innocent and insufferable.

Joel’s jaw twitches.

“Fuckin’ pick it up on your own, sweetheart.” his voice was laced with just enough irritation to make your smirk widen. Still, you couldn’t resist one last little prod.

Your legs shifted, one crossing over the other, the toe of your shoe brushing lightly against the denim of his jeans. His eyes darted down to the motion before snapping back up, a muscle in his jaw tightening.

“Didn’t you say you wanted to apologise?” 

Joel leaned back in his chair, arms crossing over his broad chest as he gave you a look that sent a shiver down your spine. “Think I settled my debts, crackles.”

You roll your eyes at his taunt, the warning laced in it only served to burn in your gut like uncontrollable lust. You felt yourself grow bored now that he’d ruthlessly cut you off from your only source of entertainment. 

The thrill begins to wane, you’d grown impatient at Joel’s lack of well, giving in. Though the idea, a possibly stupid one, that you might’ve needed to give him a little push crosses your mind. 

With a deliberate stretch, you rose from your seat, leaning over the table to reach for the salt shaker resting comfortably on Joel’s side with a hand placed on his thigh. It was perfectly positioned for him to hand it over to you–if you’d bothered to ask. But that wasn’t the point.

For a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t speak. His jaw clenched so tight you could see the faint tick of his pulse. Slowly, you eased back into your seat, dragging your fingers in a slow deliberate curve as you went.

The sharp grip of his hand on your wrist came next, firm enough to make you gasp. Joel’s dark eyes locked on yours, his nostrils flaring as he tried to keep whatever storm was brewing behind them at bay.

You pressed your tongue against your cheek, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. He’d taken the bait all right. The unmistakable rise against where your hand was placed told you what you needed to know. Hook, line, and sinker.

It doesn’t quite matter to him whether you’d forgiven him anymore. 

With a sharp tug, Joel pulls you up with him. “S’cuse me. This one isn’t feeling too well.” 

The protest dies in your throat when Joel practically hauls you across his yard, away from the nosy glances from the rest of the parents. 

You frown at the dusty old garage he leads you to up front where you’d parked your car. A hand comes up the back of your head to force you to duck underneath the half opened door, cringing at the loud sound it draws. 

You tip your head up to watch Joel grab the edge of the half-opened garage door to full slam it down shut.

Fuck. You felt your cunt clench with the way his sleeves tighten around his forearms, wetting your lips subconsciously at the sight.

“This where you murder me, Mr Miller?”

His jaw ticks at that. There it was again. Mr Miller.

“Shut up.”

You mouthed the words wow as you looked to the side. As though there was a camera you were monologuing to. Joel approaches you tentatively. Backing you up until you feel sturdy metal stop your path. 

A firm slam against the hood causes you to jolt. 

“You’re fuckin’ with me.” He begins. Shifting closer until he had you snug against him and the truck. “You’ve been fuckin’ with me.”

You tilt your head up. Neck stretched uncomfortably to its limit. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Joel sighs. Looking towards the side, as though he might back off and run away again. 

“This ain’t right.”

You frown. Why was he getting cold feet now? You gaze darts to the side, following his line of vision. A frilly pink bicycle parked in the midst of the dusty old boxes stacked up against concrete walls. Some labelled with years of mementos of his daughter growing up. 

Joel groans when he feels a much smaller, soft hand cup against the growing strain on his jeans. “Judging by this, I think you’re full of shit.”

His restraint teeters on the edge. “Don’t.” He grasps around your wrists to stop you, though, he half asses it, barely with the amount of strength he could’ve used if he’d really wanted you to stop.  

You palm against his erection, feeling it quickly harden beneath. You suck in your breath at the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the slight twitch of his lips. A whimper leaves your lips at how receptive he’d been to your touch. 

“You’re trouble.” He manages. Finally meeting your gaze. You can tell he’s conflicted, but the way you cupped around his balls through the denim has him keeling over with a rough exhale. 

He finally gathers enough strength in him to force your hand away from his cock. Just as you were about to whine about it, he flips you over. You steady your palms against the hood of his truck. 

“Gotta be quiet. You understand me?” You nod quickly. Not daring to speak considering how his voice already echoed in the garage even at its softest.

Your elbows move to rest against the dirtied metal. Folding it so you could comfortably rest your head on it. 

Joel lets out a low whistle at the way you bend your hips. Hiking your skirt up slowly. “Fuckin’ hell sweetheart.” He mutters. Thumb swiping against the growing dampness of your panties. 

A dull noise from his zipper is the only other thing you hear when you feel him grind his clothed cock against you. 

“Mr Miller—please.” You breathed out. Your thighs tenses, wiggling your hips higher to relieve the ache you felt. Feeling his hardness prod against your folds. 

Joel sighs softly, thumbing against your clit before you curl into yourself. “Don’t need it.” You breathe out quickly. There’s a pause in his movements before you feel a thumb hook around the waistband of your panties. Dragging it down to your ankles. 

The sound Joel makes at the sight of your slick stringing down the gusset of it makes him wince out audibly. Two fingers gather the slick of your folds, messily dragging it up and down your clit in a repeated notion. His fingers dipping in and out of you with a squelch. You groan out. Hips stuttering at the sensation. 

“Hurry.” You urged.

You feel his other palm carefully twirl around the back of your hair. The breath knocks out of you when he heaves you backwards into his chest with a sharp tug. Fingertips entwined with your locks.

“Been patient with ya all fuckin’ day and ya think you got the right t’rush me now?”

Tears threaten to prick in the corners of your eyes at his tone. You grip around his wrist where he holds your hair. “…hurts” , you whisper, guiding his other hand back to your clit, “..here.”

Joel swallows thickly. He clenched his jaw so damn tight you audibly heard just how hard he ground them. How could he deprive you further when you were begging so sweetly? 

He shucks his jeans down further, guiding his twitching cock out from his boxers. A drawn out groan leaves your lips when he nudges the head of his cock against your soaking pussy. Your moan echoes loudly into the space around you both. 

He growls into your ears. Before you could apologise, your voice gets muffled around the heavy palm that comes to cover your mouth. You whine against it. “Told t’be fuckin’ quiet.” He grits, voice hushed against the side of your head. 

Your eyes nearly roll back at the way he begins to thrust into you with the tip in an effort to get you used to his size. But it didn’t matter. The way his cockhead stretched your pussy out stung. But it was quickly replaced by the nauseating need to be fucked full. 

Joel leans down to trace kisses up your neck before he fully sheathes himself into you. The muffle around your mouth grows tighter to suppress the loud moan. “Shh shh…you’ve got it.” He praises, breathing heavily into your ears. 

The tears trickle directly over his knuckles. He releases the grip he had on your hair, looping around your abdomen. Snapping his hips into you at a punishing pace. You babble incoherently, practically slobbering into his palms, whining about how deep his cock was pounding into you. 

The obscene slaps of where the two of you connected fills the garage, only spurring his need to fill you deep with his come. 

Joel lets out a groan when you clench around his dick like vice. “Fuck. Pussy’s chokin’ me.” His head drops to the dip of your neck. Pressing kisses onto your pulse point. 

“Don’t think I can last much longer.” He admits, dragging his hand–slick with your saliva down to your throat. His head flush against your shoulder blade. He takes a moment to breathe you in. Joel isn’t quite the man he used to be and coming this embarrassingly fast wasn’t on his docket. Least of all tonight. 

You squirm a little at the sensation of Joel’s stubble against your shoulder. A deep exhale leaving your lips. 

“M…me too..” You pant out heavily. Resting your head back against his chest. Joel’s free hand slides underneath your sweater, yanking your bra down. 

A rough palm kneads the softness, tweaking your hardened nipples in a circular motion. “Shit. Mr—…Miller.” You manage. Squirming at how his palm gropes your tits clumsily. You give yourself the final push you needed, your fingers coming down to rub against your clit. 

Joel’s hips stutter at the sensation of your pussy convulsing around his cock, following your orgasm soon after. But he doesn’t stop. He fucks you through it. Both his hands firm around your hips. 

Your hands hastily come up to grab around his wrists. “Wait—stop—…stop.” You gasp out. Joel doesn’t quite register your pleas with how his mind was whirring around wanting to fuck his come deep into you until he feels a warm splatter of your release trickle down his thighs. 

Your bated breaths fill the garage. Mortified, you watch the liquid drip from the radiator grill of Joel’s truck. 

“I’ll be damned.” He muses, earning a warning look from you. Joel shakes his head, a low rumble from his chest makes you feel a little less embarrassed about squirting onto his truck. He turns you around to press a kiss onto the apple of your cheeks. 

“Been meanin’ to get er’ washed. Guess I don’t gotta anymore.”

[vaultedoverthehorse]

Soda was five years old the first time he realized he was behind. His classmates were all taking turns spelling words - like cat, rat, pat - and he couldn’t do it. He remembered his teachers scoffs and hostile looks, but he just couldn’t get the letters to make sense in his head. He remembered he started crying so hard the lady at the front desk called his mom. She brought him to get ice cream and assured him that it was okay, he had time to learn it all. He didn’t have to rush.

Soda was seven the first time a teacher outwardly gave up on him. He had been trying to read the same sentence for five minutes, and even with the teachers guidance he couldn’t figure out what the words were supposed to be. They looked too jumbled up to mean anything. Sometimes when he doesn’t understand what he’s reading, he can hear the sound of his teachers sigh as she snatched up the paper from him and told him he should’ve been able to do this, it was easy, what’s wrong with him?

Soda was twelve when he gave up on himself. He still struggled with reading, and he was barely passing his classes. It was a common occurrence for him to cry by now, a common occurrence for his class to laugh at him, and a common occurrence for his teachers to yell at him in front of everybody. His parents tried to help him, but it was no use. Darry tried to help, but he’d eventually end up having to comfort a sobbing Soda. His little brother was already a super genius. Soda decided it wasn’t worth trying this hard.

Soda was fourteen the first time he was really jealous of Pony. When Pony would come home talking about how much fun he had, how easy school was. It made him feel guilty, why couldn’t he just be happy for his brother? Darry assured him it was fine, it’s not his fault. But Soda still felt awful about it.

Soda was sixteen when he finally dropped out of school. Sixteen when he finally couldn’t take it anymore. He’d gotten made fun of one too many times. Called a last cause one too many times. He could never explain how much it hurt to see the unsurprised look on the office lady’s face. But he handed her the form and walked out of that school. And as he did so, he felt the ever-present weight he’s had on his chest since he was five lift off of him.

[rita-repulsa-ke]

The Coven (and others) Read Your Thirst Tweets

Part of the ongoing thirst tweet series, read the others here: 1 2 3

"Lilia has made realize how hot old ladies can be, where can I find a hot, witchy cougar of my own. …Listen, junior, you keep calling people old and a real cougar is going to find its way to your door, catch my drift?"

"I would let Jennifer Kale order me to get down on my knees and bark like a dog. Okay, then do that. Right now. Bark for me."

"Alice Wu-Gulliver seems like a mess, I just want to take care of her, maybe make her dinner and give her a foot rub. …I don't know if you're aware, but writing things like this online makes you sound like a serial killer."

"Billy Maximoff is the cutest, sweetest boy alive—oh, this is from my boyfriend. Hi, babe!"

"Of course she's an amazing superspy, I would sell out my country in an instant if Natasha Romanoff so much as looked at me. ...You know, you really shouldn't say things like that. If some men in suits show up at your door, please cooperate."

"Wanda Maximoff is—…You know, this concept really isn't working for me. Let's try something else."

masterpost or click this link to go to a random post on this blog, which will probably be a fic of some kind

[lightlycareless]

Merry Christmas y'all!! I hope you had a wonderful time with your loved ones ❤️

I didn't get to enjoy this holiday that much because of... women issues. iykyk But still, I got to finish this and play some games so it wasn't all that bad :)

There's another piece that I also intend to upload soon, probably tomorrow lol but the bottom line is we getting two Christmas specials :> which I hope you enjoy!!

warnings: none. fluff. you and naoya are married and naomi already exists, however, it's not entirely centric on them. Mai and Maki's mom is the protagonist here :')

Happy reading!

“If you go through with that change, you’ll be over the budget.”

Junko doesn’t know why she even bothers warning you so when it always ends up the same way: you go over your pre-approved spending limit, the elders question you about it, Naoya covers for it—or more like demands them to back off and pays for the difference.

In fact, he seemed to encourage it too, given how he never reproached you about it and even admired your ill choices—certainly unbefitting of your responsibilities as the future Lady of the House.

More so since there’s a new motivator behind your actions this time around.

“But it’s going to look so pretty, right?”

If she already thought the enthusiasm you had for your first Christmas at the Zen’in estate was too much, preparing everything for your daughter’s first celebration was beyond her expectations.

“It’s Naomi’s first Christmas, surely you must understand why I need to make this extra special for her.”

No. she doesn’t. She didn’t even do it for her own daughters, did you really expect her to suddenly grow empathetic to your cause?

The best thing you could do for everyone was stop, at least then she wouldn’t have to deal with complaints about the bad job she’s supposedly doing by guiding you through your new responsibilities.

But you’d become stubborn, just like your husband, marking this as the newest bane of her existence for all eternity to come.

“Hurry, Naoya! We’re just waiting for you! I already have everything set up so let’s go!” you urged whilst holding Naomi with one arm, pulling Naoya onto the main garden with the other—and he laughs alongside you while doing so, after days of endless teases, how could he not be thrilled by your surprise too?

“Careful, my love. I’m not confident our dumpling enjoys being jolted like that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You lament, immediately glancing down at your precious baby —just short of a year old— dressed up in a cozy polar bear fleece onesie that made her look even cuter. Alongside her big, round, golden eyes that told you there was nothing to worry about, for she was equally excited to see what you had in store for her. “My adorable princess, are you ready for your first Christmas?”

The baby gurgles, giving the two the most adorable sound capable of curing all ailments in the world, if possible.

“It’s our first Christmas as a family too.” Naoya notes, and your heart flutters at the thought.

“It is.” You respond, looking up to him with pure adoration—unconditional love. As well as partial disbelief, like you were still trying to wrap your head around the fact that one of your biggest dreams had come true.

A family.

Composed of a baby girl who couldn’t be any more perfect, a beautiful, sweet little thing that wholly compasses your love for Naoya.

And a husband, loyal, dedicated, protective—who wants nothing but your well-being, and of course, your love. Which he has more than enough to return.

You didn’t care for what Naoya had gotten you this year, not even dared to wonder, because the best gift you could’ve obtained was already in your arms.

“You’re making me cry, Naoya, that’s not fair!” You pout, he chuckles.

“Then don’t, just think about how happy Naomi is going to be when you reveal her surprise.”

Alongside the gathering crowd composed of Mai and Maki, whom you promptly invited the moment this idea crossed your mind, eagerly tugging at their mother’s sleeve as they wished to keep up with you.

“Come on, mom! We’re going to miss it!” Maki insisted. “I want to be there when it happens!”

“You two should be in bed by now!” Junko scolds, gently fighting back against their daughters, but ultimately failing against their unparalleled enthusiasm.

“We’ll go to bed as soon as we see it, we promise!” Mai quickly arranges. “Please, mom? I’ve never seen anything like this before!”

At her unwanted impotency, Junko naturally stretches to find a culprit behind their erratic behavior and make them responsible!

Or more like she wants to directly confront you for being their obvious prime instigator and demand you to stop filling their minds with senseless ideas, less you desired to suffer the consequences!

But of course, it all takes her back to the initial point. There is no use in her frustrations if by the end of the day she’ll just get the same result: you’ll promise to be more careful with your actions, ask the twins to be more obedient towards her… and let your enthusiasm get the best of you once more, completely disregarding the Zen’in’s inner workings.

So instead of wasting her time, she simply makes them promise to go to bed soon after you do whatever it is that you have planned and move on; arriving just a few seconds after you and taking their respective positions, the best seats as you’d put it.

And once ready yourself, you’d look over to your staff, signaling them to begin.

A wide smile on your face as the results of all your careful planning comes to life, bright colored lights decorating the garden, from the flowers to the trees, in all its festive glory—in such hypnotizing manner that those present could only gasp in awe at its beauty.

But if that wasn’t enough, you also made sure to pace everything correctly; a combination of dazzling entertainment that proved to be a complete success given the way your enthralled daughter bubbled whenever her favorite color appeared, or when encouraging her to do so.

“I think our little princess likes it.” Naoya declares, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“I knew she would.” You murmur proudly while resting your head over his shoulder. “And you? Do you like it?”

“I love it, just like everything you do.”

Junko looks away the moment two lean in for a kiss, just in time to avoid any further embarrassments—as if she wasn’t struggling enough with her unruly daughters and your senseless spending.

But even amongst all these inner conflicts, a part of Junko cannot keep her away from looking at your work. The one she previously disregarded as unnecessary, but now, before it’s intricacy… she can’t help but feel calm. Nostalgic even, though this sentiment wasn’t uncommon during these festivities.

Yet, to her it was. Almost intriguing that someone like her, that has never taken interest in commemorating such things in the past, less so after getting married, could feel such a way.

Though one quick glance at her daughters, the beaming, wide-eyed children that were equally enthralled as Naomi in the face of your celebration, would provide the answer. Because just like your child, they too were essentially celebrating their first Christmas together. As a family.

After brief consideration, perhaps finding it unnecessary to cut short this harmless moment, Junko decides to let her guard down and enjoy the rest of the evening. Soon captivated by the following fireworks, courtesy of the nearby village, which she was never aware could be seen from there.

Not that it mattered to ponder about such a possibility now, not when she allowed her mind to diverge instead into a universe where enjoyable moments like these were an everyday norm—and not an example of defiance.

ugh I needed to give them the spotlight :') idk why it just came to me; but omg hahaha I'm sorry if y'all were expecting something a bit lighthearted but I promise the other oneshot I'm working on is 🙈 just needed to get this one out of my system.

Now, without anything else to add, I hope you have happy holidays!! Thank you so much for your support 🥺❤️ really, I could not be here without you guys.

Take care and hope to see you soon!!!

[sarahcmarie]

On Christmas Eve Cass Steph and Dick all break into Tim’s apartment to bring (kidnap) him to the manor for Christmas and see the usual stuff the ungodly amount of coffee and paper work for WE minimal decorations which they expect what they didn’t expect was the mountain of presents which isn’t a total shock Tim is a rather prominent socialite but at closer inspection half the gifts are from different villains/rouges some of the names include

:Ra’s Al ghul

:Edward nigma

:Harley Quinn

:Lady shiva

And MANY more names for obvious reasons they are concerned and when Tim is opening his front door and Steph starts demanding answers from him and dick starts begging him not to turn into a supervillain (cass is drinking tea on the couch ready to enjoy the show) he is confused and and then the rest of the bats show up and start trying to talk him out of becoming evil (except Jason who thought this was hilarious and just a little terrifying) and now he is just trying to figure out what the fuck is going on until dick let’s it slip and they ask why Tim has presents from supervillains laying around and Tim just doesn’t know how to explain that he and said supervillains have exchanged gifts since his YJ days and pretends he doesn’t know why the gifts were there

So the bats start saying that they are gonna confront the supervillains cause this means that they might know secret identities until Bruce see’s an open card on the kitchen counter from Harley that is actually a invitation to a villain Christmas party which appears to be a few weeks old and a photo with Tim in his Red Robin suit hanging out at the party with all the rouges and Tim has to figure out a way to get out of this but he is Tim fucking drake so he can’t just admit it so somehow now everyone thinks there is a clone of Tim running around with the rouges which is why they send him cards gift etc and Tim goes along with it but so do the rouges (Tim to this day doesn’t know why but just thanks the gods they did) so Batman looks but can’t find any evidence anywhere eventually it goes to the back burner when joker escapes and they didn’t pick it up again and nobody figures out the truth until Harley invited Steph and cass to the same villain party and they see Tim discussing science stuff with ivy and now cass and Steph know but they don’t tell the rest of the bats and this doesn’t come up again until YEARS have passed and Tim is on really strong pain meds and felt so bad he admits it half of the bats think it’s the funniest thing ever the other half are concerned/upset Tim didnt tell them

(Tim still goes to the Christmas party’s ever year without fail)

( i wrote this at one in the morning it might not make any sense so…. Sorry?)

[rosaemoux]

part two of my magic batman magical au, here's part one:

Ok so we last left off with Bruce grieving Jason Todd, swearing he'll never take in another apprentice and isolating himself from his clan, substantially weakening Gotham's defences against malicious mages while Barbara desperately tries to get a hold of the city. Dick is currently in between getting his life together in the sister city Bludhaven after helping his friends during multiple travels around the world when suddenly Haley's Circus comes into town.

That's where Tim Drake decides to do something. The only heir to a new money family, Tim's parents weren't mages, his dad had a basic understanding of time magic while his mom was relatively good with ilusory magic but they never pursuit it over the passion of their life, archeology. Tim, however, always loved magic, loved the way mages would make miracles out of the ordinary and loved the way it tested the impossible. Tim loved the Clan of The Bats. He always did, ever since he was a child and first saw the beauty of Haley's Circus, when he saw The Flying Graysons for the first time.

A Lonely Place of Dying goes about the same way, the same with Rite Of Passage, except when Bruce screamed that the water was poisonous, Jack managed to reverse time around him for a few seconds in a powerful fit of desperation to save Janet's life, not caring about actually reversing time for himself though. So, both of Tim's parents end up in coma, Tim, now accepted as Bruce's newest apprentices, moves into the manor and formally starts training.

Unfortunately, Tim doesn't have the early training of Dick, nor the raw talent of Jason, so he struggles finding an affinity. Bruce decides to send him on a three week trip to Paris to train with his old teachers, The Rahul Lama, hopefully to get a new perspective and find what he's comfortable with. He does spend two weeks trying his best but ultimately failing before he gets pulled into a full blown conspiracy.

Lady Shiva decides to train him while they're at it, and for some reason, something just clicks. Her methods and way of seeing magic just works really well with Tim. When their manhunt against Edmund Dorrance is done, Shiva finally gets a lead on something she's been searching for a while, and Tim tags along with her mission while she teaches the path of ilusory magic, of perceiving into someone's mind and changing it to your will. It just turns out that the something was actually someone...

Flash forward, we have exact the point in which the story starts, with Tim arriving into Gotham Harbor, two months late with a girl, apparently Lady Shiva's daughter who currently doesn't have a name. Bruce almost has a heart attack, both extremely relieved that Tim is safe but also it's been two months who is this-

Cassandra – as Barbara would go on to name her – was a mage prodigy, being trained since the moment she was born to be a perfect weapon by her father. She had a very good understanding of all attributes of magic, with amazing spatial awareness and downright telepathic intuitive perception, at the cost of no understanding of language. Shiva mentioned something about a League of Shadows, but Tim isn't really sure what it is exactly, just that they wanted Cass to join them, but after killing someone for the first time and accidentally stealing their soul, she started to run away from them, mostly living in the streets before a friend of Shiva's found her in Hong Kong. Her and Tim are mostly attached at the hip to each other, inseparable.

Bruce and Barbara decided it would be safer and less stressful for Cass if she lived in the Clocktower instead of having to live in the manor. Time mostly passes without many events after that, with most of their focus being to make sure Cass adjusts well to Gotham and find ways to communicate with her. That is, until Tim stalked one of Bruce's missions despite being benched and met – promptly being hit in the face by a brick – Stephanie Brown.

She was a self taught prodigy of time magic, daughter of a lesser death mage, she was hellbent on spoiling all of her father's plans. Bruce didn't really like her motivation to practice magic, and did his best to try to get her to give up.

Tim and Steph quickly became close to each other, and as weeks passed it became clear that she wasn't going to leave the streets of Gotham no matter what. Bruce was peer pressured by everyone in his life to also accept Steph as an apprentice and actually train her before she got really hurt.

And so, The House of The Bat got three new mage students from very different backgrounds. (I like to think the vibes of the story sometimes are very much like Witch's Hat Atelier) Considering that Barbara has a litteral wizard's tower, she's usually the one who's trying to make sure each one of them goes though their mage's journey safely. She's helping them get a understanding of magic and of their affinity, her classes are very challenging, but not impossible.

Tim leans into Ilusory magic – I think him and Bruce should get pretty similar magic, but while Bruce leans into deceiving, Tim likes to perceive and understand other's mind – Steph gets better and better in Time magic, and to complement the two, Cass starts to study Physical magic.

Just thinking of three mage apprentices running away from rogues, getting into trouble and taking down magical mobsters during the night and having to study grueling hours of torture with Barbara. Thinking of Dick abducting them to a impromptu practical class (Babs is going to murder him). Thinking of Bruce having to deal with three children and messing up so much.

Thinking of Stephanie's death and how hard it would affect Tim and Cass. Thinking of Tim finding a mysterious book in his birthday presents, one that's written in some parts in a cypher that uses a combination of mandarin and arabic he spends months trying to solve. It is a necromancy guide, gifted out of indulging the question of what the little bats would do with it. After all, you only need a basic ritual and a death mage with a soul under their name.

A soul for a soul, an equal exchange.

[jamespotterswandonthecouch]

ok but imagine regulus and james meeting for the first time, both alone, in a train at 11pm, and it’s snowing outside. at first they don’t meet, they are sitting in different compartments, they are in the 80s so no phones, imagine the old cozy trains, etc. James gets bored and starts wandering, probably thinking he's alone since all the compartments are empty, when he stumbles into Regulus. He startes chatting with him, even tho Reg seems quite grumbled at the beginning, and James is sooo oblivious to this, he just goes on chatting. Regulus finally shuts him up, telling he wants to go to sleep, when the train comes to a sudden stop. After some time passes, they go to the driver, and find out that there's been some problem and they can't go on. So here they are, at a random train station and it's 1am now. Regulus wants to go on alone at first, wait for the next train there, except the next train ain't coming anytime soon, and it's a really shady area, there are some people looking at them. James notices this and is very, very hesitant to leave this beautiful stranger alone, so decides to stick around and convince Reg to stay together and wait together. They decide to search for nearby hotels, and finally find a quite shady looking place, but oh well, it's so fucking cold so they couldn't care less. They enter, and even tho it's literally 2am the receptionist welcomes them warmly, mistakingly addressing Regulus and "his quite handsome boyfriend" as a couple. Regulus blushes at this, trying to correct her, and being completely ignored by the lady, who turns to take out the register to write their names, while James just turns to Reg with a lopsided grin, saying "did you see that? she called me handsome". They finally get a room, and guess what? There's only one fucking bed. James, not wanting to discomfort regulus, offers to sleep on the floor, even tho it's fucking freezing, but reg feels way to guilty, and hey, he's never been one to say no to sleeping in a bed with a beautiful man (even if said beautiful man is a total stranger) so he tells James that they can sleep on the same bed. They are supposed to fall asleep, but neither of them can, so they start talking about everything and nothing. Regulus starts finally talking a bit about himself, opening up a bit, telling james how he was trying to escape from his abusive family, how his older brother had left a long time ago and he hadn't been able to follow. How he had regretted his decision so much, and was now heading at his brother's house, hoping not to be turned away. James tries to comfort him, and tells his way less tragic side of the story. He had to be out of his town for work, and was now going back in time for Christmas. He'd be spending Christmas with his bestfriends and his family. Suddenly James falls silent, noticing the small distance between them, and hesitantly moves a bit forward. Regulus' eyes fall onto James' lips, and he too moves forward. Their lips meet, sending a jolt down their spine. They start kissing passionately, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door. That's their cue to starts getting ready to catch the next train, so they awkardly get out of bed, without saying a word. They reach the train, and spend the rest of the ride in different compartments. James wants to go to Regulus, ask him more about himself, ask him tomeet again, outside of here, but he's hesitant to do so, because what if Regulus hates him after last night? Regulus on the other side thinks he's messed up, that James didn't like the kiss at all and was now trying to avoid him. When they come to their destination, they get off the train, and James hopes to find a glimpse of Reg, anything, just to ask him a way to meet him again, but is quite dissapointed when he finds noone that resembles him. He waits for a bit, but when the station starts to clear out, he takes is as a cue to leave, wondering if he'd ever meet that beautiful stranger again.

[gatheryepens]

Okay I just realised I never actually talked about the bus story in nyc…..

[xxplastic-cubexx]

Before I had Sunny, I had a rabbit... His official name was Eddy, but he went through many names in my friend group

The names were: Kirishima, Springtrap and lastly Springkiri

Some pictures of him and a funny pic of Sunny

(A sad thing from here on)

So Eddy sadly passed away on 16th May 2022 while I held him. I bawled my eyes out when I realized he passed and literally couldn't go to school the next day because I was grieving so much. He was my childhood pet. He was 12 years old! Also he decided to pass before my birthday (21st May). I miss him very much

Now let me tell you, in February, the year (2022), he decided to jump from my arm because he was not happy about him getting his nails trimmed and fell on his side! He broke his fucking leg and was too old for operation because he wouldn't handle the amnesia. His leg was fully healed in April. You know he ran around, had fun with his toy, and played as if he was young again... Just to pass in May.

Now, to cheer you up, Sunny has the SAME sleeping spots as Eddy did. She also has similar running habits and such things as Eddy did. Now I think here Eddy's ghost was like 'Let me teach you cat' when she arrived at home and I like that!

Sorry for the kind of sad ask :(

AWWW eddy has such a lovely pelt pattern 🥺 and no worries about this being a Sad Ask: it'd be even more sad if you werent willing to share memories of him- he was still a little darling in your life, so i'm happy to hear bout both the good and bad bout him! so sorry to hear he passed right before your birthday tho.. 😭 at the very least, im sure he passed knowing how loved he was- and still is :]

ANND that's so cute sunny sleeps in his old spot now 🥺

[popcorn-plots]

long rant incoming, I'm just fed up with a certain person right now

OH MY GOODNESS is it too much to ask for just a LITTLE respect?? I drive this girl to and from school, every day. I'm going to call her Laura. Laura is an only child and the only reason I'm taking her to school is because she refuses to bike to mile and a half from her place to the school in the cold. Which is fine. The arrangement was that I drive her and she pays gas money. The problem is, she's been super annoying about it. Every morning for about a month, she would text me "are you picking me up today". every single morning. Until I snapped one day and told her that I have been picking her up every morning for the past month, of course I'm picking her up. not my proudest moment, but it works. Now, however, I have to text her every time I'm at her house and she still takes maybe 4 minutes to get out the door. Which, okay, I can understand the texting thing, but I would like her to be ready. and then every afternoon, she tells me that she can't find my car, so I have to tell her where I parked it in the morning. or she won't text anything and I'm sitting in my car for five or ten minutes after I text her for a response that's lik "oh I was with friends" or "I thought you were still in the school, I'm coming out now" which. okay. I understand, I like talking to my friends, but we all leave pretty quickly because no senior wants to stay at school longer than they have to. But there have been more than a few times where I'm sitting in my car for OVER HALF AN HOUR waiting for her to text back with "oh btw I forgot to tell you, I have a club meeting" or "i went home with a friend" or some bs. So every day I have to text her "do you need a ride home" because I'm waiting, in my car, for 15 minutes after school, waiting for this girl. And today, I'm sitting there for 25 minutes. and I'm like, okay I can wait, because I have some fics to catch up on. But then I'm finished with my fics

and I text her because she's still not there and it takes another five minutes for her to respond, word for word, "oh, sorry, I thought you would text me when you got to your car" after I've REPEATEDLY said that I typically leave school as soon as I can. I'm willing to wait for her, but I'm usually gone within five minutes of the bell. I waited half an hour for her to tell me that she was waiting for me to text her, informing her of my location, after I've told her that I'm always at my car. I even text her when I have something going on! Club meeting? I pick her up and before we get to school "I can't drive you home because I have a club meeting." If I have somewhere to be, or if I have to stay after school, I tell her before school or during lunch. Every single time, without fail.

not to mention the fact that the original arrangement was that she would pay me 10 dollars every 2 weeks for gas. I've only gotten 20 dollars in the past three and a half months. she keeps asking if I have venmo, and then never bringing up payment when I say that I don't. and she always complains about being too broke to afford anything, then goes and buys pizza and donughts during lunch. she's been flaky for everything else, too and it's so annoying. I've been trying to be a nice friend, because I didn't have friends, let alone kind friends growing up, and I've becoming known as the rich friend who's always willing to help in my friend group. I try to set boundaries, but then people stop talking to me the moment I do. and this has gone on throughout my entire life. Laura's behavior is even what happened in all of my previous relationships, I'd be giving 100 percent and they're giving 50, at best, until I wear myself out just trying to spend time with them and make it work, including talks where I set my boundaries and tell them, literally say "I would like it if you could just do this". If you could just get work off for a single evening or just look away from the computer for half an hour during lunch so we can have an actually conversation, then they never even try and don't understand when I'm all out of juice and can't keep going, then are confused when I stop giving my all

it's infuriating and I hate it. I really want to set boundaries, but guess what. I was raised to walk on eggshells around my mom and let people walk all over me because that's the only way that I would ever get attention from my PARENTS. because I was told to shut up and do what I'm told so that my siblings could get the help that they needed.

[hauntingblue]

ARCANE DAY

Episode 4 and 5 in the tags and:

SALO BEING A VIKTOS FOLLOWER??? CRAZY. ALSO BOTH VIKTOR MISSING JAYCE AJDHSKSJ also cait has kinda calmed down... and I am sure she misses vi so I KNOW this is going to happen to her soon.... we aren't getting much of her feelings yet... she's still too onto Jinx to catch up on where ambessa is going...

DID JAYCE JUST KILL SALO??? WHAT HAPPENED IN THERE

Also vander not recognizing vi at first until she gives up fighting.... incredible ALSO vander and silco being miners and vi wearing her gauntlets that were initially thought out for miners.... damn

This is my favourite episode so far....

Episode 6 here:

Sky really being there..... of course she is....

Ambessa training caitlyn.... of course thats her new daughter akdjskms Tunnels in your eyes.... GIRL!!!!!!! THAT'S WHAT YOU DON'T NEED RIGHT NOW also the guy outside is a mage... ambessa is such a hypocrite

Vi and Jinx vs ambessa and cait.... this was always about class war don't get it twisted SINGED!!! TRAITOR!!!!

ARE THEY GOING TO SEE VIKTOR???? I looove how viktors touch on their faces leave "scars" so recognizable

Did isha just take the gem from vi's gauntlets??? Omg I wasn't expecting viktor to build a hippie commune to be honest omg he looks so good.... with the blonde underhairs.... and I do believe that's the same blanket....

And of course viktor knows who vander is.... nvm he diesnt know omg viktor asking for Powder.....

We are getting viktor horsegirl montage.... omg the vander momtage I can't..... omg they wanna stay.... singed is gonna fuck all this up NOOOOO 😭😭😭 they are already there I am going to kms

CAITLYN STOP THIS MADESSS!!! ✋️ CAITLYN!!!!! VI KILL THIS MAN!!! OMG CAITLYN...... mongoose... yeah.... and fuck you too.... CUPCAKE!!!! ABOUT TIME!!!! CAITLYN I SAID STOP THIS MADNESS WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!!! And jayce too 😭😭😭 we're never making it out of the fissures

It's such a shame the spit on here won't work like on challengers.... one can only pray I guess

Jinx experiencing the "there's nothing more undoing as a daughter" moment.... incredible

"Your absence provided a vacuum I was able to fill" TO VI???? I KNEW THAT HAND HOLDING IN THE COMMANDER SCENE WAS SUS AKDHKASJ maddie exists and ambessa knows that and still.... it was not filling her mother's void...

YES CAITLYN!!! YES!!!!! VI is so hot I am distracted... ambessa was right.... now what the fuck will jayce fuck up??? Thats the question... NOT ANOTHER CHILD!!! jayce is a menace... the guys smiling at jayce are viktor... maybe the child even....

JINX KILL THAT MAN!!! NVM VANDER KILL THAT MAN!!! JAYCE YOU FUCKING MORON!!!!! JAYCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE WHEN I GET YOU JAAAYCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Isha what are you going to do omg 😭😭 did she kill vander... another powder... my god another week...

That was such a good fucking episode too.... and caitlyn didn't go insane when finding Jinx that is a step forwards but viktor can't be dead... no fucking way... he was giving himself away for the people and he was going to finally die by saving vander and look at what we got... no wonder viktor hates his guts. Jayce you were so good in act one.... what happened..... alright. Christ.... another week....

[mummer]

i think it’s very interesting that the director of the substance watched the elephant man and then made the conclusion of her movie a sequence that dares to ask the audience “isnt the elephant man sooooooooo gross and ugly and funny?????”

[bumblingbabooshka]

"Everything you went through was meaningless." [St Voyager S3 E7: 'Sacred Ground']