#it was probably just my time of the month i guess?

[sleepyhoon]

BAJA BLAST - S.JY

pairing. religious stepbro!jake x fem reader genre. drabble, porn w plot warnings. virgin perv jake, stepcest, religious themes, brief mention of alcoholism & death word count. 3.5k smut tags. degradation, dry humping (i guess…), handjob, jake sucks reader’s tits thru her shirt, p in v for like 30 seconds.

a/n. hmm trying to get into darker themes to expand my genres a bit more … not too sure how i feel abt it yet but it was interesting to explore a new trope! i understand darker tropes aren’t for everyone sooo feel free to skip over if this isn’t for you!! <3

———

“You’re disgusting, and you’re not gonna find a God-fearing husband if you keep parading yourself like a slut.”

Jake pries your legs open a little wider, further situating himself between your thighs as he smears his precum on the core of your panties. He glances up at you when you scoff, knees digging into the mattress as he drags the tip of his cock along your clothed cunt. “What?” he sneers, raising a brow at you.

“You have a girlfriend and you’re getting yourself off between someone else’s legs; you’re the slut,” Jake’s cock twitches in the palm of his hand at your insult, you take a mental note of this, “and, I don’t even want a God-fearing husband, whatever that is.”

“It means a religious husband, genius. None of them probably want you anyway, so the feeling is mutual.”

Degrading as it may be, this is the shit that gets Jake off; certainly not his prude, preacher’s daughter girlfriend who only allows him to kiss her for a few seconds at a time, because anything longer than that could be “too tempting”.

He didn’t hate Chaeyoung in the slightest, but he likely wouldn’t have made all that effort to court her had he known she was saving herself for marriage in every aspect. No lingering touches, no suggestive comments, and certainly no racy photos; the poor boy would’ve been fine with her sitting on his lap every now and then if it meant he’d get to jerk off from the weight of someone on top of him.

Much like Chaeyoung, Jake was on the treacherous path of saving himself for marriage, but even he allowed himself a bit of wiggle room. Saving himself entirely for marriage was beyond unrealistic, but he was willing to at least avoid shoving his dick in someone before there was a ring on his finger if it meant he could get off in other ways.

Jake didn’t have the heart to break up with Chaeyoung just because she wanted to stay pure until marriage, but he wasn’t planning on waiting that long to finally get his dick wet. Besides, breaking up with the preacher’s daughter for seemingly no reason was a bad look, especially considering that Jake was the youth pastor at the same exact church.

Aside from the pastor and his wife, Jake and Chaeyoung were the only couple treated as royalty in their church community. They were seen as devoted followers of Christ whilst showcasing what an appropriate, God-fearing, young, Christian couple should look like. From the outside looking in (or even just looking from his girlfriend’s perspective), they truly did resemble a perfect couple.

How Jake got into jerking off between his step-sister’s thighs was a long story.

His original plan was to keep his distance when he first met you a little over a year ago, a few months before his father was preparing to marry your mother. Jake didn’t take kindly to you at first, bewildered on how such a respectful, faith-driven woman such as your mother could produce a daughter the exact opposite of her. Your outfits were entirely too skimpy, you had a horrible attitude, and you had tattoos. In Jake’s eyes, you were the definition of sin.

And that’s exactly why he felt disgusted with himself when he realized he was desperately attracted to you.

It was horrible, the countless nights he’d spent jerking himself off to the thought of you sinking down on his cock and riding him until he passed out. He’s certain his stamina is low and would probably finish in under five minutes, but it doesn’t hurt to dream; and that he does.

Until you showed up to his apartment one Monday morning with a large Baja Blast from Taco Bell and a proposition.

“Taco Bell at ten in the morning, seriously?”

You hadn’t greeted him with a “Good morning!” or “Hey, how are you?” and instead jumped the gun and went straight into, “Hey, you know how my dad died?”

Jake held his front door open, running a hand through his messy, morning hair in confusion as he responded, “Wasn’t it from, like, alcoholism?”

You rolled your eyes at him, “Yeah, but I meant like… you know that he’s dead, right? Also, Taco Bell serves breakfast, genius.”

“YN, it’s too early for this.” Jake says with a frustrated sigh, prepared to close the door in your face because it’s way too early to deal with your bullshit.

“I’m getting his inheritance from my grandmother, a huge one.”

Jake tried his best at attempting to hide the look of shock on his face. From his knowledge, your grandparents were loaded; practically rolling in money since the moment they were born. Having your father’s inheritance transferred to you was a blessing, Jake didn’t even want to imagine the useless crap you’d waste that money on.

“Congrats, did you come here to rub it in my face?”

You sighed, slightly embarrassed and a little defeated knowing you’d need Jake’s help. You felt entirely guilty for even coming to him in the first place, the two of you weren’t close and hardly spoke outside of gatherings, the only reason you showed up to his apartment was because you didn’t have his phone number; only his address you had to scroll in your GPS to find from the one time you drove him home.

“No, I’m not here to brag. I need your help.”

Jake hesitantly opened his door wider, allowing you into his home that you nervously pace around in. “Help with what?” he asked, locking the door behind him.

“I don’t get the inheritance until after my grandma dies.”

“YN, are you crazy?! I am not helping you kill your grandmother!”

“What?! Jake, no! God, just let me finish.” An awkward beat of silence passed before you continued, “She says I’m not getting the inheritance unless I get into religion and be involved in church.”

“Yeah, can’t help with that.” Jake took a moment to look you up and down, eyes focusing on the fresh tattoo right under your knee, “You’re gonna need a miracle.”

You followed behind Jake like a helpless puppy as he entered his kitchen, nervously toying with your fingers as you set your drink down on the kitchen counter, “I know we aren’t really close, and that’s partially my fault, but I’d really appreciate it if you could help me out with this.”

“With what, YN? You haven’t said what you’d need me to do.”

“Just, every so often, tell my family that I’m involved in church and help out. Shit like that.”

Jake chuckled, powering on his Nespresso, “As if that’s gonna work. You know your family goes to church, right? What are they gonna think if they don’t see you there but I’m telling them you showed up? They’d see right through it.”

“They don’t go every Sunday! I’ll just check ahead of time and go with them whenever they do go, and on the days they don’t go you’d be able to cover for me.”

Jake sighed with a shake of his head, reaching into his cabinet to retrieve a coffee mug, “It’s not just Sunday service, YN. They also go to bible study and help plan church events. Your family is very involved in the community.”

“Again, they don’t attend every event, right? I’ll go when they go and you cover when I can’t! And, besides, it’s not like they’re expecting me to go to every single event; as long as they think I’m putting in effort I’ll be fine.”

You seemed proud of yourself and your plan, which only annoyed your step-brother even further, because you clearly hadn’t thought this through.

“What’s in it for me?”

You paused, quirking a brow at Jake, “What do you mean?”

“We barely even know each other and you expect me to do this big favor for you for free? Be realistic.”

“Well, what do you want?”

“I want…half of the inheritance.”

“Jake, even you know that’s too much.”

Yeah, maybe he was being a little petty, but it was your own fault for asking for a favor like this and not offering him anything in return. He may not know the exact amount of your inheritance, but based on your reaction, it had to be a life changing amount of money; enough to give him a portion of.

“I’d rather not say what the exact amount is,” you start, looking down at your sneakers, “but it’s a lot, and I’m definitely willing to give you a fraction of it if you help me out. Just not half.”

“How much?”

“For you? Fifty-thousand.”

Jake dropped the ceramic mug to the ground, eyes widening as the cup broke and scattered across the kitchen floor. You flinched, jumping back on instinct while he remained frozen in place. “Fifty-thousand dollars?”

You wanted to tell him it’s truly nothing compared to the amount you’d have leftover, and that you’d offer him more if he insisted on it, but fifty-thousand seems to be enough for him. Instead, you nodded, carefully backing into the living room to avoid accidentally stepping on the ceramic shards.

“Does that work?”

It was too late to pretend your offer wasn’t more than he’d been expecting, but still, Jake had no reason to believe you’d hold up to your end of the deal; even if giving him fifty-thousand dollars would hardly make a dent in what you’d be receiving.

Jake shook his head, “I don’t know you, how can I trust you’ll actually give it to me?”

“You can’t just take my word?”

“The only word I take is the word of God.”

You should’ve seen that one coming.

Jake continued, “I want a down payment that I can receive now; something so that if you don’t pay me, I still got something out of our agreement.”

Intrigued, and a little frightened, you tilted your head at him, “Money?”

Jake shrugged in response, carefully stepping over the shards of ceramic, “Doesn’t have to be, your mom says you don’t have much of it.”

“I have money!”

Jake rolled his eyes, retrieving a broom and dustpan from the hallway closet, “Right, because your part-time barista job pays so much.”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “I really don’t know what else to offer you.”

“Better think of something or you’re on your own.”

The sound of ceramic clicking together as Jake cleans filled the silence, leaving you to brainstorm on what he would accept as a down payment offer. Money wasn’t an option, and you didn’t know enough about Jake’s interests to offer him some sort of bribe.

However, Jake is a man. Yes, a religious one, but still a man. If you’re lucky enough, there’s one thing you could offer that no man, not even Jake, would pass up.

“Chaeyoung is saving herself for marriage, right?”

Jake paused, suspiciously glancing at you over his shoulder, “I don’t see how that’s any of your business, but yes.”

You nodded, “Are you?”

“Again, not your business, but yes.”

“What about loopholes?”

Jake fully turned around this time, narrowing his eyes at you, “YN, where are you going with this?”

You shrugged, defensively raising your hands, “What if I was your loophole? Like, I help you get off however you want without actually having sex, so it won’t count as sinning. And, trust me, I won’t tell anyone.”

Jesus Christ, you seriously wanted the inheritance that bad?

Jake immediately wanted to accept the offer and drag you straight into his room, but he couldn’t; he had to be nonchalant about this or risk you revoking your suggestion.

He faked a look of disgust, a confused, twisted snarl on his face as he responded, “But, you’re my step-sister; isn’t that wrong?”

You shrugged, “I don’t care if you don’t. Plus, we’re adults and we barely even know each other, it’s not like our parents married years ago and we grew up as siblings.”

Fair point, not that Jake needed any further convincing.

“I’m not offering you this again, by the way. You either accept it now or you’ll never get the chance again,” you warn Jake, taking a seat down on the edge of his couch.

After a few long moments of pretending to weigh his options, Jake extended the end of the broomstick in your direction, slowly using the handle of it to lift your skirt. You didn’t react, your eyes following the edge of the broomstick as Jake continued his actions. He lowered his head slightly, confused as to why he couldn’t see your panties, until he realized.

You weren’t wearing any.

He cleared his throat, quickly pulling the broom away before leaning it up against the wall. “Sure, whatever, I guess. As long as you don’t tell anyone.”

Easiest deal of his life.

Jake made sure you kept to your end of the deal, and maybe took some advantage of it.

The first incident occurred a few weeks after the agreement, when Jake had to cover for you upon missing Sunday service due to you being hungover.

“She was up all night designing flyers for the coat drive next week,” Jake addressed your mother’s concerns, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder, “she really wanted to come to today’s service, but I told her she should get some rest.”

Your mother clutched her heart, staring up at Jake in complete awe, “YN? My YN?”

Jake nodded, a sheepish grin on his face as he responded, “The one and only.”

Your mother was skeptical, tilting her head at her stepson with her brows furrowed, “Just doesn’t sound like something she would do, unless there was something in it for her, of course. You’re not covering for her, are you?”

Jake faked a laugh, “The only thing YN is covered in is the blood of Jesus Christ.”

…And apparently Jake’s cum only a few hours later.

“…Now, guess who’s stuck designing flyers for the coat drive? Me!”

“I told you I would do it, you little brat,” your fist tightens around Jake’s clothed cock and he groans, squeezing his eyes shut at the new, uncomfortable, yet pleasant sensation.

You were slightly off-put and a little humored when Jake showed up to your apartment requesting, “A handjob but I, like, keep my boxers on. Like, just do it through my clothes.”

“Wouldn’t you rather…have your boxers off?”

“Are you nuts? I’m not letting you touch me,” he’d said, unbuttoning his dress pants as he lowered himself on your mattress.

You obliged his request, awkwardly rubbing him through his boxers, watching as his facial expressions changed so quickly and constantly. His brows would furrow then relax, lips would twitch before sinking his teeth in them, all while he tried his best not to finish embarrassingly quick.

Which didn’t work.

Jake was already on the edge of cumming when you lowered your head down to his groin, placing a small peck against the head of his clothed cock, the material sticky and wet from his precum.

His body jolts at the touch, arching off the mattress with swears spewing from his lips as his orgasm washed over him. He shoves his boxers down in record time, grinning to himself when you groan in agony when his cum lands on your cheek.

Had you been literally anyone else, maybe Jake would’ve felt bad that he came so quickly and didn’t have the energy nor interest to give you anything in return; but he didn’t. This was an agreement, and as long as the two of you held to both your ends of the deal, there was nothing to feel bad about. He didn’t owe you anything else.

Surprisingly enough, the arrangements weren’t happening as frequently as Jake hoped they would.

You immersed yourself into the church community, showing up to Sunday Worship and Bible Study as if it were a second nature. Jake should be proud, really, that you’re serious about being devoted; even if it was under the premise of obtaining your father’s inheritance, but he’s pissed.

He waited weeks for you to slip up, intentionally scheduling a Bible Study session or some church fundraiser at a time where he knows you’ll be busy and have no choice to skip, but you show up.

To every fucking event. Until you don’t.

Your younger cousin was getting baptized and you missed it, and if it weren’t for Jake making up some lame excuse and covering for your ass, your mother would’ve gone ballistic on you.

Jake’s happy to cover for you, though, knowing he’d be getting something in return not too long afterwards.

After weeks of feigning, that simple slip up was how Jake found him back between your thighs, pumping his cock along the outline of your cunt through your thin panties.

“Whatever,” you sneer, propping yourself up on your elbows, “marriage is the last thing on my mind right now.”

Jake rolls his eyes, pausing and grateful at the fact that he has a better of your tits. For some godforsaken reason, the air conditioner in your home is always on full blast, and despite assuring your guests that you don’t feel that cold, your body certainly says otherwise; if the way your hardened nippled poke through your shirt is anything to go by.

He licks his lips, pumping his dick a little faster as he leans down and traces his tongue along your clothed nipple. You’re saying something, maybe asking him what he’s doing or to keep going, but he can’t hear you; having you like this is new territory for him, nothing else in the world mattered at this moment.

His saliva stains your t-shirt as he continues, moaning against your chest as he flicks his tongue against your bud. Jake lightly traps your nipple between his teeth, tugging on it just enough to sting before releasing it once again, lapping his tongue against it as if to apologize.

Your hand moves to his hair, giving it a tight grip as Jake moans before shoving your arm away entirely. “Are you insane?! Don’t touch me!”

“But-”

“Wait.”

Fuck, that felt good. It wasn’t much but it felt so fucking good.

He needed more of you, fuck all this waiting for marriage bullshit. He tried his best for as long as he could, and he doesn’t want to fucking wait anymore.

“I wanna try something,” he mumbles, wasting no time in pushing your panties to the side. The sight of your glistening cunt is enough to make his mouth water, and Jake swears he can hear a choir of angels singing as he stares down at it in awe.

“Jake, I thought-”

“Fuck that,” Jake is quick to cut you off, already knowing what your next words were, “I don’t wanna wait anymore; show me how.”

“How to what?”

“The one thing you know how to do.”

“Oh, fuck you. You’re such an asshole.” You say, but it doesn’t stop you from maneuvering your right hand between your bodies and gripping the base of Jake’s cock, encouraging him to scoot forward as you guide him directly to your hole.

You don’t move him any further, making the choice of letting Jake decide whether he’s serious about this.

He is.

He presses the head of his cock further into you, squeezing his eyes shut as you wrap around him so snug and perfect. He stills his movements, head dropping to your shoulder with a groan.

It’s already too much and he’s not even halfway in. It feels too good, so wet and warm and tight, better than he could’ve ever imagined.

“Fuck…”, he mumbles into your shoulder, taking note of how none of this barely had an effect on you.

“It’s okay,” you assure him in an oddly sweet tone, “try moving.”

“I can’t, think I’m gonna come if I do.”

“You’ll be fine, just-”

Jake lets out a loud, frustrated groan as he raises his head away from your shoulder, “You wouldn’t fucking get it.”

Jake spent too many countless nights imagining this very scenario, and now that it’s finally happening he can barely even handle it. Everything feels too good and it’s all too much for him to bear.

He pulls his dick out of you entirely, giving himself a few hard pumps as his impending orgasm approaches. It looks almost painful, the way he’s gripping and pumping his cock, how red his tip is, you’re surprised a few tears don’t slip from his eyes when he finally does finish, painting your thighs with his cum as his body trembles.

He rests a shaky hand on your knee, grip on his cock softening as he makes a mess across your panties, thick, white ropes of cum staining your underwear.

“Fuck,” Jake mumbles to himself as he steadies his breathing. He’s never came this hard before, to the point where he feels exhausted and genuinely empty.

“Are you…okay?” You ask, cringing at the sticky feeling between your thighs.

Jake nods slowly, sitting himself up as he tucks his now-softened cock back into his boxers, “Let’s, uh, get cleaned up so we can go.”

His head his spinning as he rises from your bed, a dizzy feeling coming over him as he stands. Fuck, maybe this is why he should’ve waited for marriage.

“Go where?”

“Bible study is starting soon,” he explains, “if we leave now we can stop by Taco Bell beforehand, I need a Baja Blast.”

[lov3gore]

•Frisk, the seventh human soul•

Look at them, I just wanna ruffle their hair and squeeze their cheeks, omg, why tf are they adorable—

==================================

So... Been 2 months since I haven't posted anythin', the reason? Art block. And I guess some events and exams, my back was already aching at this point. Also, I may will post art about other fandoms I'm in, so I'll probably rarely post danganronpa, only IF I got the hyperfixation back. In the mean time... Undertale, and maybe some OCs of mine idk—

[parisiterileymoon]

Hi again! 😊 I hope it’s okay but can you make a Vox catch up like how regular Vox would be with cursed cat reader and how he would react to finding out cursed cat reader was pregnant 🤰

or

can you maybe please do cursed cat Al, luci, Adam, and vox reacting to pregnant cursed cat reader along with how they are around the kittens since PLOT TWIST!!! THEY ARE THE BABY DADDIES?!?! Basically kinda something we joked about in the comments in one of your previous posts

hope you don’t mind and it’s okay if you want to do others feel free to ignore hope you have a good day and take care of yourself out there 😊

Cat Adam, Vox, Lucifer, and Alastor x cat reader

I love this now it’s a series we’re on a roll my dude

~~

Cat Vox

His first instinct is to hiss at it. Makes that “oleoleoleoleoleoleo” noise that cats do at it. Doesn’t smack it or anything just does that sideways hop thing. Later, he is giving it the bath ever. Can’t get the fucker away from him for like an hour. Overall 5/10 dad.

Lucipurr

Picks it up and walks away. It’s his now. Byeeee. Straight up just “lemme take that off your hands, there….” And he picks it up and drags it off. Extremely protective. He only lets you around it for like a month. Overall 10/10 dad.

Cat Adam

Very very VERY hesitant. “You sure that’s mine?” Sniffs it several times before licking it once and walking his ass away for you to bond with it . The kitten pounces on him and he plays dead. Probably one of the only ones there during the labor. Almost forgot this man was the father of humanity, so my guess is he’s a 9/10 dad

Alastor

There during the labor, surprisingly. He was giving you a bath the entire time. Once the kitten is born he jets. Wants NOTHING to do with it. Until it wobbles over to him and does that pathetic little newborn kitten meow like “meeeehhhhw”. Gains soft spot and it’s his accessory now. Carries it everywhere with him. Hisses at anyone but you who tries to come near it. 6/10 dad.

~~

Sososososo sorry it took so long:( I’ve been kinda overwhelmed lately (not by all the requests DW)

[anon-sect]

Pete heard a special contest was being hosted by Chris Hemsworth. One lucky winner would receive a prize from the actor in person. He was a big fan of him and the many roles that he had played in his acting career. He went to the website and saw the contest. All he needed to do was answer some questions and submit the questionnaire. He then would be entered for whatever the prize would be.

It was a month later that Pete received an email stating that he won the contest. He would be receiving plane tickets to meet up with the actor in a couple of days. All hotel arrangements would be made in person once they meet. He was so excited. He really wondered what his prize would be. Yet, the honor of winning out of how many entered was just enough to have him jumping up and down. He couldn't wait to actually meet Chris in person.

Three days later, Pete was in a limo heading out to the actor's actual residents. That was surprising to him. He really wasn't expecting this. Now, he really began to wonder what the prize was. They didn't even bother to make hotel arrangements yet before he was ushered to his house.

Pete was met at the front door by the actor himself. "Come on in, Pete. And congratulations on winning the contest." Chris greeted him. Pete followed him in and sat on the couch in his den. "Want anything to drink? I have tea and water." He was really shocked. The actor was being so friendly with him after just meeting for the first time. "Water is fine." He told him.

He saw Chris come back with a glass of sparkling water. Pete took it and began to guzzle it down. "You probably are wondering what your prize is." He heard him say. He just nodded in response to the actor.

Chris watched as Pete finished the glass of water. He pulled out his phone and opened up the newest upgrade to the TF Pro App. The newest upgrade was TF Max app. He put in the setting on his phone. "Your prize is to help me work out at home. The water you drank has a special ingredient in it. It will make you extremely durable. But unfortunately, it will have a few side effects." He paused. "All of your senses would be heightened by almost 1,000%. All normal feelings will be at the extreme. But this is the only way to make sure you last for a very long time." He added.

Pete was so confused at what was really going on. "How specifically will I be helping you work out at home?" He asked him.

"It's best that I show you." Chris told him as he hit the flash option on his phone. A brand new pair of sneakers were there in front of him. "You will be my special pair of sneakers to wear when I work out. With the new app, I could repurpose you as I please and even turn you back to normal even if your data is deleted." He paused and laughed a little. "I guess it's not much of a prize when I am the one gifted with nearly indestructible sneakers. No time like the present to test you out." He spoke as he gathered his new sneakers and went to change into his workout gear.

Pete didn't know what to think. He didn't know whether to be upset that the act literally made him into shoes for his use; or to be honored, the actor selected him for that purpose. Moments later, he saw two socked feet enter his shoes bodies. The socked feet pressed down on his insole face. It was then he realized the nature of his fate. The pain was so intense that he was going mentally insane. It literally felt like an entire continent was crushing him, but no death. Even though the actor's feet hadn't stink yet, he could smell every pore on his feet with intensity. He could taste the cotton of the fresh socks.

Pete's fate got even worse as Chris worked out over an hour. The pain of being crushed was never-ending. But add on a sweaty and musky pair of socks. He was in a living hell. The intensity of the odor was crazy. The taste of sweaty socks made him want to gag for fresh water and air. The fact that the actor was working out without a single care about how his sneakers were faring made him realize he was literally the actor's property. He admired Chris, but to be his personal pair of sneakers was a little bit too much. He wanted to go back to being human, not an object on his feet forever.

Chris finished his workout feeling good. His feet felt no pain. His new shoes were working out perfectly. He thought about thanking the guy for offering himself, but who really thanks their shoes. It was time for him to get used to his new life. All of his other fan created objects did eventually. His new shoes were no different.

[milk-tea-sakura]

𝐵𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝒮𝓉𝑜𝓇𝓎- 𝒥𝑜𝒽𝓃𝓃𝓎 𝒾𝓈 𝒞𝒶𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒾𝒸, 𝓈𝑜 𝒽𝑒 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝑔𝑜 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓂𝒶𝓈. 𝐻𝑒 𝒽𝑒𝓁𝓅𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑒𝒸𝑜𝓇𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓈𝑒, 𝒷𝓊𝓉 𝒽𝑒 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝒶𝓃𝑔𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒞𝒽𝓇𝒾𝓈𝓉𝓂𝒶𝓈 𝓁𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈.

𝒞𝓌: 𝐹𝓁𝓊𝒻𝒻, 𝓅𝓇𝑒𝑔𝓃𝒶𝓃𝒸𝓎 𝓇𝑒𝓋𝑒𝒶𝓁

Johnny had always been a fan of the holiday season, particularly the Christmas festivities. As a devout Catholic, he loved celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ and spreading the joy and cheer of the season. And one of his favorite traditions was decorating the house for Christmas.

For Johnny, hanging the Christmas lights was always a must. "No one does it like me," he'd say with a grin, patting his chest in pride. But it wasn't just about being the best at it, it was about feeling the magic of the season and creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere in their home.

Every year, Johnny would drag out the boxes of Christmas decorations from the attic, a childlike excitement in his eyes. "It's time to get festive," he'd say with a chuckle, rummaging through the boxes and finding his favorite string of lights.

You, his wife, would watch him fondly as he went about his task. He would hang the lights outside on the house, wrapping the eaves and outlining the windows carefully, humming carols under his breath. And once they were done outside, he would move indoors to string the lights on the tree, the fireplace, and any other surface he could find.

As he worked, Johnny would occasionally turn to you and say, "Can you bring me the tinsel, baby?" or, "Do you think this looks even?" His focus was solely on getting the lights just right, his tongue peeking out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated.

Finally, when the lights were hung to his satisfaction, Johnny would step back and admire his handiwork, a proud smile on his face. "There," he'd say, his chest puffed out. "That's how it's done."

Finally, when the lights were hung to his satisfaction, Johnny would step back and admire his handiwork, a proud smile on his face. "There," he'd say, his chest puffed out. "That's how it's done."

The house would be transformed into a winter wonderland, the lights casting a soft, warm glow throughout the rooms. And as you looked around, taking in the magic of the season, you couldn't help but feel thankful for Johnny's enthusiasm and dedication to making their home as festive as possible.

"Are you going to take all this down after christmas?"

Johnny nodded eagerly, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans. "Of course, baby. Wouldn't want the house to look like Christmas year-round, now would we?"

"You probably wouldn't mind it"

Johnny chuckled, a guilty look on his face. "You know me too well," he admitted, a grin tugging at his lips. "I do love the holiday season, but I guess I'll have to settle for just one month a year."

"Besides," he added, taking a step closer to you and wrapping his arms around your waist. "I think you'd get sick of it pretty quickly."

"I wouldn't but it would take the magic out of this time of year. Plus I wouldn't get to see my handsome military husband use his muscles yearly."

Johnny's chest puffed up at your compliment, a cocky smile on his lips. "You just like seeing me lift heavy things and reach high places," he teased, his hands sliding down to give your hips a playful squeeze.

"Well, it certainly doesn't hurt," you replied with a coy smile, looping your arms around his neck. "But I also like seeing you all festive and jolly. It's a nice change from that tired military man all the time."

"Hey, I can be serious and festive at the same time," Johnny protested, feigning insulted, despite the smile still tugging at his lips. "I can put up the decorations while silently judging your taste in Christmas décor"

"What's wrong with my Christmas decor?"

Johnny's eyes widened in mock shock, as if offended by your question. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe the fact that you insist on putting up that gaudy inflatable Santa next to the front door every year—"

You rolled your eyes playfully, swatting him on the chest. "That Santa was a gift from my grandma! I have to put it up every year."

"Plus she knows how much you love Christmas which is the whole reason she gave me that Santa." You continued.

Johnny chuckled, unable to argue with that logic. "Okay, fine. The Santa stays."

He leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "But the elf collection in the living room is another story—"

"You contribute to that collection every year so don't even."

Johnny's shoulders sagged in mock defeat, a sly smile on his lips. "Guilty as charged. I do seem to have a habit of buying those little elves every time I pass by the Christmas section at the store..."

"Yeah, and I quote "I brought it because it made me think of you." Sound familiar?"

Johnny rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. "Alright, alright, you caught me. But can you blame me? Those elves are adorable."

"You just said that you didn't like them"

Johnny chuckled, wrapping his arms around you tighter. "Baby, I just said I didn't like the elf collection. Doesn't mean I don't adore those little buggers. I do have to admit, they are pretty cute."

"Plus, they do remind me of you," he continued, his voice turning teasing. "Short and feisty."

You slap Johnny's chest playfully "On another note, I have a semi-early Christmas gift for you."

Johnny's eyes widened, a mixture of curiosity and excitement in his gaze. "A gift for me? And early, too? Christmas came early this year, I guess. What is it?"

"How do you feel about kids?"

Johnny's eyebrows shot up, clearly not expecting that question. He paused, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, a thoughtful look on his face. "Kids, huh? Well, I mean, I've always thought it would be a nice idea, you know, to have a little one running around someday. But...are you trying to drop a hint here or something?"

"Stay here, I'll be right back." You say as you disappear into the bedroom

Johnny watched you with a mix of confusion and curiosity as you left the room. He stood there in the living room, his mind racing as he tried to figure out what you were up to.

He waited anxiously, his gaze darting between the empty doorway and the boxes of Christmas decorations surrounding him. The suspense was killing him. "Babe, what are you doing in there?" he called out, his voice tinged with impatience.

You walk back into the living room holding a small box "Here you go"

Johnny's eyes widened as he saw the small box in your hands. A mixture of emotions flashed across his face - surprise, anticipation, and a hint of excitement.

He took the box tentatively, his fingers lightly cradling it. "What is it? Can I open it now?"

"Yes, you can open it now."

Johnny's heart seemed to skip a beat as he looked down at the small box in his hands. He carefully opened it, his movements slow and measured.

When the lid came off, Johnny's breath caught in his throat. Inside the box was a single item that made his eyes widen and his heart skip a beat.

It was a positive pregnancy test.

Johnny's mind seemed to go blank for a moment as he stared at the small stick, trying to process what it meant. He looked up at you, his eyes wide and filled with shock and disbelief. "Is...is this real?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes... and I would like an emotion from you so I know how you're feeling about this."

Johnny's mind was still reeling as he processed the news. A mix of emotions ran through him - shock, surprise, a hint of worry, but also a growing sense of happiness and excitement.

He looked up at you, meeting your gaze with a mixture of awe and joy in his eyes. "I...I don't even know what to say. I can't believe it. We're...we're going to be parents?"

Johnny's words were shaky, his voice thick with emotion, as he began to fully grasp the implications of the positive test. He placed the box down and took a step towards you, his eyes searching your face. "Are you sure? This is...this is real?"

“Yes, it’s real Johnny. We are going to be parents.”

Johnny's heart was pounding in his chest as he heard you confirm the news. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, pulling you close into his embrace. "We're gonna have a baby," he breathed, his voice filled with a mixture of joy and disbelief.

He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your familiar scent. "I...I can't believe it. I'm going to be a father. We're going to be parents." He repeated the words, as if trying to make them real.

"We're going to be parents" You confirm

Johnny held you tighter, his arms almost crushing you to his chest as the reality of the situation sank in. "A baby," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "We created a life."

He lifted his head, pulling back just enough so he could look into your eyes. His gaze was filled with a mixture of awe, love, and a hint of trepidation. "Are you...how do you feel about this? I mean, I know we talked about kids, but now that it's real, are you..." He trailed off, unable to find the right words.

"I'm...I'm a bit scared," you admitted, your voice slightly shaky, but also filled with a hint of excitement. "It's a huge step, you know. It's going to change our lives forever. But...but I think I'm also excited. I want to be a mom, Johnny. I want to have a family with you."

Johnny's heart swelled at your words, a wave of reassurance washing over him. "We can do this," he said, his voice firm and determined. "We're a team, remember? We've been through so much together. We can handle this. "His hands ran up your back, holding you close again. "I promise I'll be there for you every step of the way. We'll do this together."

He pulled back slightly, a smile tugging at his lips. "Plus, you're going to be a kickass mom. I can already tell."

You couldn't help but chuckle, some of the tension from before melting away at his compliment. "And you're going to be a pretty darn good dad," you replied, resting your head against his chest.

Johnny beamed at your words, his arms wrapping around you tighter. "Damn right I will be," he said, his voice filled with determination. "I'll protect our little one with everything I've got. And I'll do my best to make sure they know how much we love them."

"Even with you being away with the military?"

Johnny sighed, the weight of his job suddenly heavy on his shoulders. "Yeah, I know it'll be tough," he admitted. "Being away on missions, especially when the baby arrives...it's gonna be hard. But I promise you, I'll do my best to be there as much as I can. And we'll figure it out together, okay?"

"We'll get through it, baby," he continued, his voice filled with determination. "And our little one is gonna know how much we love them, no matter where I am or what I'm doing. We're in this together. You, me, and our baby. We're a team."

He pulled you close again, his arms encircling you once more. "And when I'm home, I'll make sure to spoil you both rotten."

You smiled into his chest, feeling a wave of reassurance wash over you. "You better," you replied, your voice filled with mock threat. "I'll hold you to those promises."

Johnny chuckled, his hand gently rubbing your back in a soothing motion. "Oh, don't worry," he said, a hint of mischief in his tone. "I always follow through on my promises, especially when it comes to you and our baby."

[ghostgirl-22]

a mistletoe artrick story? 👀

Thanks so much for the prompt my lovely 💜 This ended up being completely SFW so I’m either very sorry or you’re welcome. Either way I hope you like it <3

—-

It happened once last year at the winter formal. Patrick won prince or king or something like that so he already had a lot of attention on him which meant people were watching when he pulled Art to the side to ask about something… Art barely remembers what it was. What he remembers is that they ended up under the mistletoe.

“Guess what? Now you have to kiss.” Someone shouts followed by a lot of laughter and chatting.

Art isn’t used to being the center of attention and as embarrassed as he is there is a small, small distant part of him that likes it. Still he doesn’t want this kind of attention. He wasn’t even going to do it but someone said it’d be bad luck not to. Come to think of it that someone was probably Patrick.

Art doesn’t need anymore bad luck. So he lets Patrick pull him closer, wearing one of his goofy grins.

“It’s the kiss you’ve all been waiting for,” Patrick announces to their classmates. Most people are laughing but some are actually cheering. Patrick’s girlfriend Madison rolls her eyes but she’s smiling.

It’s theatrical, Art knows that. And Patrick knows how to put on a show. Still, Art shivers a little as their lips touch. It’s probably nothing. Patrick has soft lips. But it’s nothing. Everyone laughs it off makes the obligatory vaguely homophobic jokes and they continue to dance all night.

None of that’s the weird part actually. What’s weird is what happens the next month. Patrick does well on an exam he was dreading. “I got a B+” he exclaims and he kisses Art straight on the lips.

Art rubs his mouth idly but Patrick looks like he’s already forgotten about it and he runs to call his mom. So Art forgets about it too.

And then in February. Valentine’s Day, actually. Art got a bunch of Hershey’s kisses from his new girlfriend Christina. Patrick sneaks one off his desk and later says, “I guess I owe you.” And he cradles Art’s head and plants a kiss right on his mouth. He grins after as Art stares at him dumbfounded and shrugs. “Kiss for a kiss.” And without another word he leaves to go wash up for his date with Madison.

It gets to be normal after that. Their first doubles win of the tennis season. Patrick kissing him right on the court. Just so quick you wouldn’t think twice about it. But Art can’t stop thinking about it.

He gets a kiss on his birthday. Twelve midnight Patrick crawls into his bed while they’re finishing homework.

When he gets his acceptance letter from Stanford. “I don’t think you should go but good job.”

When Christina breaks up with him for Tim Lyons because “he’s just a better player.” Patrick’s making a face, “Tim? Really?”

On the Fourth of July. Hidden away in the boat house on Patrick’s family’s estate.

And the kisses are changing too. Sometimes it’s short and sweet. Other times it’s slow and intimate. Sometimes Art thinks he might have feelings all tied up in this.

They kiss like that, in front of Tashi Duncan. Just the most beautiful girl Art’s ever seen. She seems to be into it— the kissing. And poor Madison is history after that.

He hates Patrick a little bit after the junior US Open final. But that doesn’t keep him from letting Patrick kiss him something quick before they go out to search for beer.

By September they’re kissing in Arts bed just because it’s Tuesday.

On Halloween Art can’t recall what it was like before the kissing became normal. Patrick visiting Tashi at Stanford but staying in Arts room and before they all go to some dumb Halloween Party. Patrick kisses him. They meet Tashi for drinks and he kisses her.

Art’s in this weird place where he doesn’t really know who he’s more jealous of.

It’s December when they go out to eat at some themed restaurant to celebrate the end of their first semester. Patrick’s ordering drinks with his fake ID. Art leans next to him on the bar. Tashi taps his shoulder and points up at the feature where wineglasses are hanging and she’s smirking at the mistletoe draped just above them. “Guess that means you two have to kiss right?” She says.

Patrick grins at Art and Art feels his skin heating up. It’s some kind of kismet obviously.

“Oh come on,” Tashi teases, gently rubbing Art’s shoulder. “It’s not that big of a deal. Cause I know for a fact you’ve done it before.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

still believe

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'santa'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated g | 985 words | no cw | tags: established relationship, mall santa, fluff

🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻🎅🏻

The line is wrapped around the building, which is exactly what Steve warned him about.

Steve insisted they go the first week that Santa was at the mall, but Eddie insisted they wait. It didn’t feel right to see Santa before December even started.

Then they got so busy with hockey practices and the baby and-

“How much longer?” Rory asks. She isn’t quite groaning yet, but Eddie knows she doesn’t have much more patience.

Steve is bouncing Sawyer in his arms, raising his brows at Eddie. The I told you so doesn’t need to be said out loud for him to know that’s what he’s thinking.

He tried to time it perfectly between Steve getting off of work, Sawyer’s next feeding time, and their own dinner time, but now…

They’re looking at a catastrophic failure on his part.

Sawyer’s only four months old, and he’s on a very strict schedule. He’s a perfect baby, sleeps almost entirely through the night, only cries when he needs to be changed, and loves when Rory holds him. But if he doesn’t eat on time? Everyone suffers.

They have at least an hour in this line still and they have roughly 20 minutes before Sawyer’s due for a bottle. They have them in the diaper bag, of course, enough formula already measured out for two bottles and a bottle of water just in case.

“Can’t we go to another Santa?” She asks when no one answers her.

“What do you mean? This is the only Santa.” Steve stops bouncing as he speaks, and Eddie feels sweaty all of a sudden. They both thought Rory still believed in Santa. Sure, she was a little old for it, but last year she’d gotten into a fight with a kid at school because she still believed.

“Dad.” Rory gives him one of her be serious looks. “Every mall has one. The real Santa has to stay in the North Pole.”

Steve’s shoulders relax, but Eddie feels another moment of panic. Rory does still believe in Santa. It’s fine, it’s actually great. But a small part of him hoped that maybe she’d just casually stopped believing. Maybe then it would be easier for Steve to accept that their little girl isn’t so little anymore.

“Right,” Steve smiles at her. “But we’re already in line here, so we should just stay.”

Rory sighs, but doesn’t argue.

Sawyer coos in Steve’s arms. Steve smiles down at him and bounces him again.

“You can’t wait to meet Santa, huh buddy?” Steve asks him.

Sawyer’s way too young to understand what he’s asking, but he still gives a gummy smile. He’s got Chrissy’s nose, but it’s a perfect combination with Eddie’s everything else. They all joked that Eddie might as well have carried and birthed him for how much he looks like him already.

“Does Santa already know that Sawyer’s been good?” Rory asks.

“Babies are always on the nice list until they can walk and talk. Then, they have to behave just like all the bigger kids,” Steve explains. “Santa already knows Sawyer’s good.”

“But what if Sawyer was bad?”

“Well, do you think he’s been bad?” Eddie asks, taking Sawyer from Steve to give him a break.

“He did puke on my shirt last week,” Rory’s face twists with disgust. “And he pooped through his diaper that one time and it got on the car seat.”

Eddie’s doing his best not to laugh. “Those are accidents, though. It doesn’t make him a bad kid.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Rory sighs. She looks around the people in front of them as they take a few steps forward. “Maybe we can skip Santa this year? Since he knows we’ve both been good.”

Steve shakes his head. “We wanted to get a family picture, remember?”

“But it’s not even the real Santa!” Rory exclaims, loud enough that the people in front of them turn and scowl at them. Steve sends them an apologetic look and kneels down so he can get on Rory’s level.

“Listen green bean, you remember when you were really little and thought this was the real Santa?” She nods. “A lot of these kids still think that and we can’t ruin it for them. Plus, they’re handing out candy canes, look!”

One of the employees dressed as an elf is walking down the line offering candy canes. A perfect distraction for kids growing impatient in line.

Sawyer gurgles and then lets out a tiny whine. Eddie checks the time on the phone and gives Steve a look.

Steve wordlessly opens the diaper bag to get the bottle ready and Rory rocks on her feet as she waits for the elf to bring her a candy cane. Eddie pokes at Sawyer’s cheek, and his tummy, and his arm, making him let out little bursts of noises that are nearly giggles.

“Not too much longer,” Eddie whispers to the baby in his arms, hopeful that he’s right.

****

Nearly an hour later, they have Sawyer propped in Santa’s lap and Rory standing next to him, talking a mile a minute about her list. They manage to get a great picture– a small miracle considering Sawyer was due for a nap– and head out, not wanting to hold up the line more than it already has been.

As they leave, Rory tugs on Eddie’s jacket and comes to a stop. Steve is too busy babbling at Sawyer to notice.

“Daddy, I lied,” she says and Eddie’s gut clenches. “I know Santa isn’t real. But dad loves Christmas and it would hurt his feelings. And now Sawyer can believe in Santa so I have to pretend.”

Eddie loves this girl. She has always been wise beyond her years, which is why her believing in Santa at this age seemed ludicrous to him.

He hugs her tight and kisses the top of her head. “You’re a good kid, little one.”

[inkedinshadows]

An Angel on the Ice

A/N: happy @acotargiftexchange to you, @duskandcobalt! I'm your Secret Santa, finally here with your gift! I had so much fun getting to know you and your love for this wonderful couple. I'm so so sorry I made you wait till the very end, I've been busier than I expected. BUT!! I have a second little surprise coming for you in the next few days (probably on Christmas day). I came up with the idea while writing this fic, but I didn't know how to include it here, so it'll be a little drabble on its own. Without further ado, here's your gift. Enjoy! And congratulations for guessing what Az's surprise was!

Pairing: Azriel x Elain

Summary: Azriel takes Elain to the Illyrian mountains for a romantic surprise.

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: fluff, fluff, FLUFF

The cold winter air hit Elain in the face as she stepped out of the little art shop and onto the street.

The snow that had fallen during the night still coated the cobblestones, blanketing everything in a thin layer of soft white. It had brought along the cold, so freezing that her wool hat did little to warm her.

Azriel followed her outside, a wing already curling protectively around her, drawing her closer to his side. Except he was carrying the bags full of the presents they'd bought for their family, and she was still walking a couple feet away from him.

“You know, you don't have to carry all of the bags,” she said, reaching out with a gloved hand to relieve him of some weight. “I can hold some.”

He moved his hand further away, out of her reach. “I know you can, angel,” he said with a soft smile. “I just don't want you to. You're cold. You should keep your hands in your pockets.”

“I'm wearing gloves,” she pointed out, though she didn't try to grab the bags again. She knew Azriel wouldn't let her. “I'm not cold.”

A small dimple appeared on his cheek as he smirked at her. Even after months together, Elain's heart skipped a beat at the sight, her fingers twitching at her side with the urge to touch it and place a soft kiss there.

“Then why are your nose and cheeks red?”

She rolled her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. “My sister was right. You Illyrians really are overprotective mother hens.”

Yet even as she said it, her hands slid back into the pockets of her coat. Azriel's smirk grew at the movement, but he didn't comment.

“We have to earn that title somehow,” he said instead. Elain laughed, and his smile became softer. “Let's go home.”

Home. There was a time when she'd thought the Night Court would never be her home. Only three years ago, it had felt impossible. Turned Fae against her will, shoved at a male she didn't know or want, with powers she had no idea how to control, and a broken engagement on top of it all… she'd felt hopeless.

But as she'd learned how to accept and navigate her new life, Azriel had been there to help her through it. Something had slowly changed between them, a feeling that grew inside her until she could no longer pretend it wasn't there. But acting on it had led to a denied kiss in the dead of the longest night of the year. A broken heart, that feeling of hopelessness again, and then the explanation, the argument with Rhysand, the rejection of her mating bond.

Elain stole a glance at Azriel. Just a Winter Solstice ago, he had told her it had been a mistake. And now here he was, carrying their bags full of presents, on their way to the small house they'd bought a few months ago.

“You're staring, angel.”

She couldn't help the smile that blossomed on her lips. “You're just so beautiful to look at.”

She knew the effect the words would have on him, but by the Mother, she would never get tired of the way his cheeks turned a slight shade of pink. It was visible even now, when they were already reddened by the cold. It happened every time she called him beautiful, and it was one of the many things she loved about him.

“How many presents do you still have to buy?” she asked him, changing the topic to make him feel more comfortable. If they were at home, she might have teased him about his blush, but not in public.

“Just a couple,” he answered, the flush already disappearing from his cheeks. “But I know what I'll get them. The only one I miss is Cassian.”

“You can always get him beef jerky this year too,” she joked, avoiding an ice patch on the cobblestones.

Azriel glanced at her. She knew he was making sure she didn't slip on the street. Overprotective mother hen, indeed. Yet she immediately stepped back into the warmth of his wing around her.

“I might, actually,” he finally replied, no hint of joking in his voice.

She turned her head to look at him, her brow furrowed. But he looked completely serious. “You can't gift him beef jerky, Az! Two years in a row at that.”

“Why not? He likes it.”

Elain shook her head in disbelief. “Because he's your brother. You always come home with a new present for me, but you can't think of anything different for your brother?”

Azriel smirked. “I'm not in love with my brother, angel.”

It was her turn to blush now. She knew he loved her, of course. They'd said it before a thousand times. But Azriel had his own way of saying it when she least expected it — reminding her whenever he could, catching her off guard and making her heart beat faster every single time.

“You know that's not what I meant,” she mumbled. She preceded him up the few steps to their front door, her fingers stiff even inside the gloves. She fumbled with the key for a moment before she managed to turn it in the lock.

The warmth of the living room welcomed her inside, the smell of the bread she'd baked that morning still lingering in the air.

“It can be difficult to come up with something new and different after five hundred years,” Azriel said as he followed her in. He set the bags down before turning to face her. “You'll see.”

Elain took off her gloves, then her hat, his words swirling in her mind. “You know, it used to scare me,” she mused. “The thought of having eternity in front of me.”

Azriel watched her carefully. “But now it doesn’t?”

She shook her head, stepping closer. “No.” Her arms wrapped around him, and she rested her chin on his chest, tilting her head up to look at him. “Because now I get to spend it with you.”

His throat bobbed. She was the one who'd caught him off guard this time. At a loss of words, Azriel buried his fingers in her hair, angling her head so he could lean down and capture her lips in a kiss that left her dizzy. The kind of kiss that usually meant they would take things up to the bedroom. Or whatever nearest surface they could find.

But he pulled back instead. Elain's heart was already racing in her chest, and she was rising on her toes for another kiss when he spoke again.

“I have a surprise for you.”

She stopped, lowering herself onto her feet. “Winter Solstice is still a week away.”

With the holidays nearing, he’d stopped getting her little gifts out of nowhere. He said he wanted to wait because everything had to be perfect this year. Their first Solstice together.

“It's not a present,” he replied. His hand slid from her hair to her cheek, and she had trouble focusing as his thumb brushed her lip. “It's something I want to do with you. I wanted to wait till Solstice, but now it just feels like the right moment.”

Elain could only nod. “Okay,” she whispered.

His chuckle was a low rumble that resonated deep in her chest. “What happened, angel?” he asked softly. “Where did your voice go?”

“You're… distracting me.”

It took her a moment to snap out of it, to find the strength to step back and let his hand fall away from her face. But she didn't miss his smug grin at her admission.

She cleared her throat, trying to clear her mind as well and focus on Azriel’s surprise. “What do you want to do?” she asked as she reached for the first button of her coat.

Azriel's hand gently caught hers to stop her. “Keep it on,” he said. “We need to go back outside.” At her curious look, he added, “I want to take you to Rhys's cabin.”

Well, that was certainly a surprise.

“Rhys's cabin?” she repeated, even as she slid her gloves back on. “Why?”

He smiled, offering her the hat she'd hung on the coat rack. “It wouldn't be a surprise if I told you, angel.”

“Right,” she chuckled. She made sure to grab a warm scarf as well this time before silently offering him her gloved hand.

Azriel took it in his larger one, and then they were winnowing out of Velaris and deep into Illyrian territory.

The first thing Elain noticed was the cold, her breath forming a faint puff in the air. Then she took in the snow that covered everything, white and bright under the afternoon sun.

Azriel's hand tightened around hers, and he guided her toward the cabin just a few yards away. The snow reached their calves, and never before had Elain been so glad to be wearing boots.

“I'm starting to question why you brought me here,” she mumbled, struggling to wade through the snow even as she followed directly in the path his footsteps left behind.

“I'm sorry, angel,” he replied, giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “I promise it'll be worth it.”

He glanced over his shoulder at her, sizing her up as if he was pondering picking her up and carrying her to the cabin. But a few more steps finally brought them to the door, and he ushered her inside.

Her breath caught as she looked up.

Every wall was covered in paint, drawings in a style that she immediately recognized as her sister’s.

“Are those…?”

Azriel nodded, a faint smile on his lips. “Yes. Feyre painted them.” He let go of her hand and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head. “Wait here. I’ll get what we need.”

Elain watched him disappear down the hallway, wings tucked tight against his back. She sank onto the couch, admiring her sister’s artwork all over the room, its colors adding warm to the otherwise bare place.

Azriel was back in a matter of minutes, two pairs of shoes in his hands.

As he walked closer and took a seat next to her, she noticed the thin blades attached to the soles. She frowned even as she accepted the pair that he offered her. “What are these exactly?”

He was already working on swapping his boots with the new ones. “You’re asking a lot of questions today,” he quipped with a smile. “Put them on, angel. They’re Mor’s, but they should fit you. You’ll find out what they're for soon enough.”

Elain let out a dramatic sigh, hiding her own smile as she leaned down to take off her boots. “You’re lucky I love you, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel’s eyes softened. “I never once doubted it, angel.”

When she was done, he helped her stand, giving her just enough time to balance herself on those strange boots before he winnowed them again. She instinctively gripped his arm to steady herself as they reappeared on the shore of a frozen lake. She looked around, her eyes searching the snowy expanse, but there was nothing in sight expect the white mountains.

Before she could ask anything — despite knowing how slim her chances of getting a straight answer out of Azriel were — he stepped back. Right on the icy surface of the lake.

Elain gasped, expecting the ice to give way beneath him and send him plunging into the freezing water below.

But nothing happened. The ice didn't even creak under his weight. Azriel simply stood there, a smile on his beautiful face, and extended a hand toward her. “Come join me, angel.”

She hesitated, glancing down at his feet. Though she was standing on the same thin blades, she wasn’t moving, and she wasn’t entirely sure she wouldn’t fall flat on her face if she tried to step forward.

“Why are we stepping on the ice?” she inquired, hoping to buy herself a little more time.

“We're skating,” Azriel explained, finally giving her an answer. To demonstrate, he glided backward a few feet, his wings flaring slightly to steady him before he slid back toward her. He gracefully stopped right at the edge of the lake. “You should give it a try.”

Elain didn't move. He made it look so easy, but who knew how many times he had done this before? He also made wielding a sword look easy.

“You won't fall, Ellie,” he reassured her, as if he had read her mind. He reached out with both hands. “And even if you do, I'll be here to catch you. I promise.”

She might not trust herself, but she trusted him — trusted that he would always be there to catch her if she fell. So she took his hands and slowly set one foot on the ice, then the other.

Azriel smiled at her, his fingers firm around hers. “That's it, angel. We'll take it one step at a time. Just bend your knees a little and follow my lead.”

She did as he asked and when he moved back, he gently pulled her along. Her feet glided over the surface of the lake, leaving faint lines behind.

He gave her a few instructions, guiding her further from the shore, never letting go. Slowly, Elain became more confident, more stable on her feet as she got used to the movements. It reminded her of a dance, one that could be elegant and beautiful when someone was skilled. She made a mental note to tell Nesta about it later.

“Where did you learn to do this?” she asked. Azriel was holding only one of her hands now, and they skated side by side. Still slowly, but they had gained some speed. “It doesn't seem like a typical Illyrian activity.”

Azriel laughed. It was that beautiful, deep laugh he reserved just for her. “You're right. It's not.” His laughter softned, but its warmth lingered in his voice. “It's common in the Winter Court. Viviane taught Mor a few centuries ago, and she taught the rest of us.”

He slowed them to a stop, shifting to stand in front of her. “I never thought I would, but I took a liking to it.”

Elain smiled up at him. “I think I like it too.”

“I thought you might.” He brought her hand up to his lips, placing a kiss on her gloved knuckles. “Want to try skating on you own?”

She thought about it for a moment, then she nodded. “Alright. But don't wander too far, okay?”

Azriel's smile was bright and soft. “Never, angel.”

He let go of her hand and moved a few feet away from her. At first, she faltered without his grip to steady her, but she quickly adjusted, his earlier instructions echoing in her mind.

For every step she took toward him, Azriel moved further back. Elain felt like a child learning to walk, her movements awkward but growing more confident with every push of her foot. Soon, gliding over the ice came naturally. And Azriel was always there, his hands outstretched to catch her if she fell. But she didn’t.

When he stopped and she reached him again, his hazel eyes were bright with pride and love. “You did it, Ellie.”

“Yes,” she replied, already intertwining their fingers again. “But don't let go of my hands again.”

Azriel's brow furrowed. “Why? You did great. You didn't even stumble.”

“I know.” Elain smirked, unable to hide her own satisfaction from her little accomplishment. “I just want to hold your hand.”

His expression softened, and a smile spread across his lips. That adorable dimple appeared once again, and with it came back her need to kiss it. Damn skates, she couldn't rise on her toes with those on.

“I will never let you go, angel,” he promised.

And he didn't.

Elain had no idea how much time they spent on that lake. It was just him and her, lost in the snowy mountains in the middle of nowhere. The silence was broken only by their laughter and quiet words. It felt as though they were the only two people in the world, free from worries and duties, lost in this moment, in each other, in a love born from quiet understanding and gentle touches.

The sun was setting by the time Azriel came to a halt, wrapping his strong arms around her. “We should probably get back,” he murmured, his voice soft as if to preserve the moment. “It's getting late.”

“And cold,” she added. Without the warm sunlight, the already cold air had turned into a freezing bite. Her scarf and hat didn't help much, and even Azriel's warmth couldn't stop her gloved hands from stiffening.

“We could take a hot bath,” she suggested. “Or I could make us some hot chocolate and we can cuddle in front of the fireplace.”

Azriel smirked, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “And losing the chance of seeing your gorgeous body? I think I'll choose that bath, angel.”

Elain's cheeks turned a deep shade of red. “I… didn't mean it like that.”

His face fell slightly as worry creeped into his eyes. “You know we don't have to do anything if you don't want to, angel. I'm sorry if I assumed—”

She cut him off with a soft smile. “Az, I just hadn't thought about it. I'd love to take a bath together.” She cupped his face with her small hands, her voice barely above a whisper. “Take me home, Shadowsinger.”

His arms tightened around her, and he winnowed them away without another word, her laughter echoing in the now-empty glade.

dividers by @tsunami-of-tears

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon

[needanaccount2readarcaneposts]

you seem to have the timeline of arcane down!! do you have the ages and how many years pass between each skip readily available by any chance?

It depends if you want the S1 version of the timeline vs. the S2 version of the timeline!

S1 version of the timeline, where Silco and Vander look much younger in the betrayal flashback, goes something like:

Betrayal (Silco and Vander look to be in their early to mid-20s?)

[general consensus is somewhere around a 10 year timeskip; could be as long as 15]

Bridge massacre (Vi is approximately 10; Powder is approximately 6; Vander is mid-to-late 30s?)

[skip forward about 5 years]

S1 Act 1 starting from apartment heist (Vi is approximately 15; Powder is approximately 11; Vander and Silco are early-to-mid 40s)

[skip forward about 7 years]

S1 Acts 2 & 3 (Vi is approximately 22; Jinx is approximately 18; Silco is late 40s to early 50s)

S2's much lamer version of the timeline is similar to above, but the bridge massacre and the betrayal are more or less concurrent. Silco only marinates in his post-betrayal angst and revelations for five years before turning up to ruin Vander's day, which... Listen, when you are a whole adult, five years is less, "At last... the culmination of all my long-held plans, the fruit of all my bitter labours, the moment towards which I have been patiently building all this time," and, "Oh my god... the sins of my ancient past resurrected to visit terrible consequences upon me!" and more, "Hm, I should re-caulk my windows."

From there, it all gets very loosey-goosey.

S2E1 picks up in the direct aftermath of the Council bombing, but most likely covers a period of several weeks, if not months: Viktor's recovery in the sourdough starter, the commissioning, creation, and unveiling of the statue of the dead Councillors, and the organisation of the memorial service, Ambessa investigating the undercity to discover Renni's grudge against Jayce and plan a major attack against said memorial service, Jayce designing and creating a whole hextech gun for Caitlyn, before the strike team begins operations in Zaun.

S2E2 skips backwards a bit in order to cover some of the same aftermath period in the undercity in the 'Sucker' montage; the chaos in the wake of Silco's disappearance puts enough strain on the Firelights' resources that they are almost at breaking point. It then catches up to the end of S2E1: there is a now a bounty on Jinx's head, which Smeech tries to collect. We see what is probably a fairly early mission of the strike team, investigating a known haunt of Jinx (the arcade) in an attempt to apprehend her. However, the strike team has to have been in operation for at least a little while now, using the Grey in Zaun, in order for Sevika to be willing to team up with Jinx to take out Caitlyn and Vi; otherwise I don't think she'd give enough of a shit.

S2E3 skips backwards a bit once more, to give us the 'strike team gassing the poors' montage. This probably also encompasses a period of several weeks to months, as each raid presumably has various scouting/intel gathering/planning stages, then debrief/intel assessment afterwards, before they plan the next raid. We also have to assume that this montage covers a long enough period that Vi and Loris grow decently close. This period outpaces the end of S2E2, and culminates in the Ashes & Blood uno reverse gas 5-way showdown.

Timeskip between S2E3 & S2E4, mostly covered in montage form: Vi's pitfighter emo phase, Jinx & Isha bonding, rise of the Jinxers , Cait's oopsie fascism phase and growing out of it. IIRC word of god says this is about six months???

S2E4-5: Stillwater heist and finding Warwick, probably just a few days.

S2E6: hanging out in the commune for... god only knows how long. How long do mind palace montages take? Think about how bad Vi's titty bandages and leather clothes must smell.

I guess at this point, it's been... I dunno, let's say nine months? a year? since the start of S2. Vi 23; Jinx 19.

S2E7: lol

S2E8: I don't fuckin' know, man. This is the point at which I started to tune out hard. How long was Vi unconscious? How long was Jinx rotting in a cell? How long did it take Ambessa to sneak all her forces out of Zaun and stage a... naval attack? huh? ok, whatever. We also have Jayce trying to convince the undercity to fight, and somehow having located Sevika and Scar to be representatives at this meeting. 🤷‍♂️

S2E9 occupies the exact reverse pocket of space-time as the adage, 'time flies when you are having fun'.

I guess by the end of S2E9, with Caitlyn's fuckass montage speech, Vi still wearing the same nasty vest, and Sevika assuming a Council seat, it's probably been a few weeks since the battle?

✨FIN✨

[narxcisse]

★ — You have a WHAT— !?

Pairing: Viktor x GN!Reader

CW: OnlyFans (don't do it in irl, have some self-love. 😐), modern au, suggestive, recording with him, implied sex(?

English isn't my native language

You’d been living with Viktor for a few months now, and while you two had settled into a comfortable roommate dynamic, there were still plenty of boundaries. Viktor was, after all, a reserved and intensely private person. You, on the other hand, were a little more… free-spirited.

That’s probably why the revelation hit him like a freight train.

It started innocently enough. Viktor had been borrowing your laptop to work on something after his own device had overheated. You had, of course, told him to go ahead without thinking about the open tabs you’d left behind.

The moment he opened the browser, his eyes widened. Your profile stared back at him—your stage name, the carefully curated content, and the glaringly obvious subscriber count. He blinked a few times, unsure if he was hallucinating.

By the time you walked into the living room, coffee in hand, Viktor was sitting there, your laptop on his knees, looking like he’d just uncovered a conspiracy.

“Care to explain this?” he asked, tilting the screen toward you.

Your blood ran cold as your eyes darted to the laptop. The tab. Oh, no.

“Oh, shit,” you muttered, nearly spilling your coffee. “I, uh… can explain.”

Viktor arched an eyebrow, clearly amused despite the slight redness in his ears. “I certainly hope so.”

You set your coffee down, running a hand through your hair. “It’s not a big deal. It’s… a side hustle. Pays the bills. And it’s not like I’m doing anything illegal.”

He hummed, leaning back on the couch. “A side hustle, you say? Judging by your subscriber count, it’s a rather… successful one.”

You couldn’t tell if he was impressed or mortified. Maybe both. “Look, I didn’t think it was something you needed to know about. It’s just… a thing I do.”

Viktor tapped his fingers on the laptop, his gaze thoughtful. “I’m not judging,” he said finally. “I just… didn’t expect it. You’re quite bold.”

You huffed out a laugh, relieved that he wasn’t outright horrified. “Well, thank you, I guess?”

He smirked, closing the laptop and handing it back to you. “Just make sure to clear your browser history next time. And if you ever need help with… production or branding—”

“Viktor!”

He chuckled softly, standing up and grabbing his cane. “What? You know I have an eye for design. Let me know if you ever need a logo.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands, though you couldn’t help but laugh. Leave it to Viktor to turn your most embarrassing moment into a business opportunity.

---

It started as a joke, one of those late-night conversations fueled by too much takeout and not enough sleep. Viktor had brought up your OF account in passing, teasing you lightly about your "entrepreneurial spirit." You’d laughed it off at first, but somehow, the idea of him being your co-star had slipped out.

He’d arched an eyebrow at the suggestion, his lips quirking in a smirk. “You’re serious?”

“I mean…” you trailed off, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Why not? You’re… well, you know, attractive. I think people would lose their minds.”

To your surprise, Viktor had actually considered it. He wasn’t shy, but he had a reserved, almost clinical approach to most things. “If it’s purely professional,” he’d said eventually, his tone careful but intrigued, “then I suppose I wouldn’t be opposed.”

And that’s how you found yourself here, in your shared bedroom, with the camera set up and Viktor sitting at the edge of your bed, looking almost too composed for what you were about to do.

“You’re sure about this?” you asked, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, suddenly nervous.

Viktor adjusted his position, leaning on his cane with a slight smirk. “I don’t make decisions lightly. You, on the other hand, seem rather flustered for someone who does this regularly.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. “Yeah, well, it’s not every day I film with my roommate.”

His gaze softened slightly, and he reached out, brushing his fingers against yours. “Relax,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “We’ll take it slow.”

The camera started rolling, and all your nerves seemed to dissipate the moment his lips met yours. Viktor’s touch was deliberate, his movements precise as though he were approaching this like one of his experiments—focused, attentive, and surprisingly passionate.

You quickly realized that Viktor’s calm, calculated demeanor translated into an intensity you hadn’t anticipated. He was all in, every touch and movement deliberate, as if he wanted to ensure that this wasn’t just convincing on camera—it was unforgettable.

When it was over, you were both breathless, tangled in the sheets as the camera’s red light blinked softly in the corner of the room. Viktor let out a soft chuckle, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Well,” he said, his voice teasing, “I think that went rather well.”

You laughed, still catching your breath. “You’re a natural. I might have to recruit you more often.”

He smirked, his amber eyes glinting with amusement. “Careful. I might start demanding a share of the profits.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him. “We’ll see about that.”

But as you lay there, Viktor’s arm draped lazily over your waist, you couldn’t help but think that this was definitely one of your better ideas.

— Guys, I found a dubious wifi connection, but I guess I'll use it until I have to go home lol.

[mostlyihyperfixate]

hey remember that wrightworth amnesia fic i mentioned months ago...

I actually have been working on it.

I've outlined several scenes. This one's fully outlined, as are a few others. The whole story's just kind of a giant love letter to the various tropes I've come to love in reading fanfic of this ship. The next scene's got Miles and Franziska being siblings (and overt references to Fran/Maya), and then the next Miles goes home, and then the one after that he goes to his office and Phoenix finally shows up...

...but I got to the part in my outline where I was describing Miles' office, and I got to talking about photographs he's got on his desk, and I realized that while I could probably cobble something together regarding Kay and Eustace from fanon, what with the amount of fics I've read, what with the arrival of the Investigations collection, there's really no excuse for me to not get familiar with these characters myself. And I should probably also know how Miles' story actually goes, if I want to write from his POV.

So that's what I've been doing. Holding off on working on more of this until I finish Investigations. I'm almost done with the first game!

Anyway, the basic idea of the story is that Miles gets magic amnesia due to standard Kristoph bullshittery, and he's reset to his character from the first game. As far as Miles is concerned, Turnabout Sisters just happened. But actually, it's post-Duel Destinies (mostly because Spirit of Justice is kinda difficult to incorporate and also I don't care for Nahyuta). And I plan to not have Manfred von Karma have been executed in the interim time period because I'm using the reality clause, and California hasn't executed anybody in almost two decades!

I'm not sure I'll ever actually end up posting it, to be honest. I've never written canon/canon fic before, and I worry that everyone will hate it. And also I know that a lot of people find amnesia fic creepy. It's just a trope I really enjoy in fiction, and I've never written it before, so...why not? I guess we'll see!

[sketchehm]

[ #my guess if that Serpias wanted to kill the guy much earlier#like. when he asked Sapnap about the numbers there was this sharp clever glint in his eyes and then this dickhead RUINED IT#no one outside the mafia should be able to precieve or talk to Sapnap ever Serpias thinks#Sapnap has been trained to stand his ground and not escalate a situation because in Dream's family everything was like defusing a bomb#cuts had to be precise and you couldn't be picking fights#here Team Mafia *really* wanna see Sapnap kill a guy with his bare hands and teeth#also. aughhhh Sapnap probably hates talking sooooo much.#because Dream also really valued his opinion but he didnt need to *talk*#he would just look at him and Dream would get it#but now he has to explain everything and its clunky and bad. so he talks less ] @rat-rosemary

[ #aaaaa i want to see the rest of team mafia too for their reactions about sapni#i bet they would cheering sapnap if he kill a guy and sapnap is confused af if he messep up or something ] @lazy30

Hello hi guys hehe

SO! The Team did actually call dibs to see who would get to watch Sapnap kill first. They’re excited by it! 

(Shadoune saying he already won cause he’s watched Sapnap beat people to death in some of the underground fights, but that doesn’t count. Shadoune fights with them that it does. No one listens to him lmao)

Sapnap is in… “training”…..with them for about a month, learning how the Team works and getting to know everyone. (That month is all he needs to fall in love with them….) However, actually going out onto the field is a whole different story.

Serpias did end up winning the Team’s gambling match to get Sapnap’s first kill haha. The asshole they’re going out to meet was already marked for dead, they found out that he’s been scamming some of the lower associates and Serpias was already tasked to investigate and take the guy out. Sapnap is just his +1 hehe (None of this is explained to Sapnap…which proves to be the cause of many issues…)

So Sapnap was kinda right in thinking this was a kind of “training”. He didn’t…fail per say. Serpias just got pissed off and couldn’t hold back.(That's /his/ Sapni. Its what he tells the others, he couldnt help himself.) Though, Serpias will report back to the other guys and says that Sapnap was extremely passive for most of the interaction. Which is…not the Sapnap they’ve gotten to know so far. He’s loud and cocky. Yes he’s smart and they know he could take on a more leadership position if he keeps learning under them directly (they know he was in charge of his own division at the least when with Dream, so they know he can hold those kinds of responsibilities). They think maybe just cause it was his first time? (They know that’s not true. Especially Serpias, having witnessed Sapnap speak with the bastard..Sapnap was way more professional than he’d given him credit for. It’s not what they’re looking for in him though.)

After a few times of going out with the guys and Sapnap not…being their reactive aggressive attack dog, they just start putting him in more….dangerous situations. Nothing they know will harm him seriously, but they need to see what actually gets him to /kill/. They’re eager for it, almost desperate. They’re all killers, Shadoune knows for sure Sapnap is one too. But they’re wondering if maybe that’s just not the kind of guy Sapnap might be? There seems to be a kind of switch flipped in Sapnap whenever they go out on business with him…

Sapnap…well he can tell something’s up. And he feels like he’s doing something wrong….He’s still not exactly used to how they operate, he’s not used to tagging along and having to speak up as well too…He assumes it’s them trying to get him to learn Spanish faster, but he’s shy and hates the idea of stumbling on his words and embarrassing not only himself, but whoever he’s tagging along with. And every outing he’s a part off, the other guy is always an asshole, there seems to be no shortage of them. He wonders if it's because the Team’s territory is so much larger and that’s why there just seems to be more idiots they have to deal with…The Team are the only group he’s comfortable talking back to (when the time calls for it) and just being himself. He’s had years of learning on how to act when with dealers and opposing mafiosos. It was always a pain having to tiptoe and figure out what dance each guy wanted. And its even worse here cause he doesn’t even understand what the other party will be saying. He misses Dream the most during this. Dream was always so much better at speaking than him, always knew what Sapnap wanted to say and expressed it for him…..

Sapnap did pick up on the pattern that anytime he’s with someone from the Team and they’re out to meet some other asshole, the guy ends up dead. Maybe it's his fault? Maybe he can’t get his words out correctly and the business deals fall flat cause of it? Sapnap has seen his fair share of corpses, caused many deaths himself, but it feels odd. He feels guilty.

He also picked up on the pattern that he seems to be a sort of punching bag at these meetings. Not a physical one per say… It’s never to whoever he’s with, only he seems to be the target. He can understand most insults and while it seems to be just common to use them every other word, the opposing person always seems to be directly insulting or mocking him. He tries not to mind. Though it does start to get to him, wondering if the Team are doing this on purpose. Maybe he isn’t their beloved guard dog….these meetings are just a reminder he’s only a mutt to them, useless…and then they force him to talk just to add onto the embarrassment…

The Team are slowly noticing Sapnap becoming more reserved even with them. The worst they’ve seen Sapnap do is break someone’s wrist after they tried to take a punch at him, but never kill. (He even refused to leave his room after that meeting too. They all were distressed.) Anytime a gun was pulled on Sapnap, he always managed to disarm the person and asked for the meeting to continue. It was extremely frustrating for the Team.

They decide maybe enough with taking him out. There’s something they’re clearly not figuring out. It’ll be Shadoune and Conter who end up actually speaking with Sapnap and asking about everything. But Sapnap is not….the best with his words in English either…. When with Dream and George, they all just /knew/. It was from years of growing up together. Sapnap doesn’t know how to explain himself and ends up just saying he’s….shy….he won’t tell them about his anxieties, he thinks its dumb, he rarely ever shared them with Dream or George.

“Ah! Espera, yo pienso que está estresado porque cada compromiso ya está marcado a fallar, y él no lo sabe.”

When the two reveal to Sapnap they’re not gonna be taking him out anymore, it's basically confirming his anxieties. They’re gonna kick him out cause he’s worthless. He’s gonna have to return to Dream empty handed too, having failed him as well….Sapnap can feel himself spiraling. He begs for another chance. He’ll practice his Spanish more, he can make a deal go well, he promises!

Conter says something to Shadoune that Sapnap doesn’t understand at all. Shadoune looks like he’s realized something as well…

Shadoune chuckles before saying, “Ya, ya, entiendo. Pues..que vaya con Farfa mañana, no?”

Sapnap recognized something about tomorrow and Farfa…? He’s never been out with Farfa before. Fuck if they’re sending him out with Farfa that’ll be worse he thinks….

”Farfadox…?”

They both look at him. He feels nervous.

“Yea, tomorrow. It will be good for you!” Conter looks excited by this. Shadoune is nodding in agreement.

”O-okay.” He won’t refuse an order. Not right now. Not when he’s feeling…like /this/. He won’t fail Farfa tomorrow. He swears it to himself….

And when the time finally comes, it’s… easier…? Farfa is making sure Sapnap knows what’s happening in this meeting. Explaining everything in English. But isn’t asking him for an opinion. He’s not being asked to speak. It’s such a relief.

The meeting is wildly different to what he’s used to. Everyone is curt, straight to the point. There is no yelling or arguing, the opposing party barely looks at him, he’s practically ignored. He counts his blessings.

Sapnap is trying to calculate everything in his head and tries to take note to as much as he can….There’s a small detail he notices that he thinks Farfa may have missed. It must mean nothing but….it’s screwing with his internal calculations, something is /wrong/. He doesn’t think these type of people would try to wrong Farfa either…? The environment is so different from what he’s been going through recently, nothing wrong is /happening/, its all so professional, like when he accompanies Dream…but even Dream has missed some vital but almost ignorable detail in contracts before. 

“Farfa…?” He interrupted the two. They were speaking about something, he thinks the meeting was about to close…? But…he needs to make sure first. 

Farfadox is looking at him, expectedly. Not annoyed, patient, it helps builds Sapnap’s confidence. He can do Farfa proud.

“El…uh. Uno dos tres cuatro cinco... says….siete..? El siete uh pa...page? Es mal. Número malo? I think…?”

He gets through his broken spanish and looking from his hands where he was trying to recall his numbers, looks back at Farfa. There’s a small grin on Farfa’s face. Sapnap feels like a kid…..

Farfa understood though. He goes to the 7th page of the contract, its the one that had a listing for some new drug Sapnap has never heard of. But he swore the listing for weight compared to the amount of product they were supposed to receive for their men to sell was…off? And that caused the pricing to skew drastically in his head. He looked over Farfa’s shoulders, reading the numbers himself to make sure he wasn’t wrong and he wasn’t! 

He pointed to the discrepancy, “Aquí! Aquí!”

He noticed Farfa’s brows frown. He looked back at the dealers. So did Sapnap. They were looking at Sapnap, angry. Oh. Did he mess this up again….? Surely not though…

Farfa starts talking, his voice is louder than it was before. It booms. The dealer is raising his voice too, Sapnap assume’s trying to justify the error or something. Now they’re arguing. Fuck, he really does just cause issues….

He’s watching the dealer. He’s furious, his face is red and staring at Farfa. He’s cursing, Sapnap can tell. Farfa is looking back at the contract, continuing to argue. He notices…the dealer’s hands are going into his jacket….

His head is yelling DangerDangerDangerDANGER.

It’s dead quiet now.

Sapnap shoots. Not even realizing he’s taken his own gun out. 

”Sapnap.” He jumps and drops his gun. He’s fucked it up again. It’s worse now. He /killed/ someone. He wasn’t ordered to. He hasn’t been ordered to kill anyone this entire time and now he fucked it up. Oh fuck. Oh /fuck/.

”/Sapnap/.”

There’s hands on his face, “Mira me, mira Sapnap. Respira, breathe.” He’s locking eyes with Farfa now. His hands are gentle. Farfa is smiling.

”He was- He was gonna shoot. He- I saw him. He-“

“Ya, ya. Te creo.” Farfa believes him. Good. Good… Farfa is so nice to him right now. He’ll take it. He knows he’s in trouble. He’ll soak it all in. Before…before whatever punishment they decide (He hopes it’ll just be a punishment. He hopes it isn’t worse)

“Good job. Buen perro.” Sapnap lights up. Oh. Oh! He knows that means he did good. Like really good! They rarely ever say that to him. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Farfa say it himself.

Its crazy how all his worries seem to vanish from the past few weeks. Like just that small reassurance was all he needed. He did good. He smiles.

“Hermoso.”

Sapnap doesn’t know that word.

“Casa?” He asks instead. Farfa laughs.

Sapnap will be getting settled to go to bed when the rest of the members rush into his room(except Spreen he realizes. But he’s at the doorway with Farfa smiling at him). They’re basically dogpiling him. Cooing at him and hugging him and petting and praises and kissing and snuggles and he doesn’t understand, he doesn't get it. 

He slowly realizes they’re all congratulating him. His first kill. His first kill? He tries to tell them he’s killed before. They don’t listen to him. They start talking about setting up a fight with him, so they could all watch next time. Sapnap feels his face getting red. They're all gushing over him....But! He feels like its been forever since they’ve all mobbed him like this. He feels so warm. 

(The next morning he gets breakfast in bed. It all feels very silly to him)

[beforecreation]

It was strange, he knew he had grabbed the tome for a reason, but its pages were blank. Was he fooled into grabbing a trick book? Whatever the case was, it was yet another book this enigmatic child had gotten her slobber on, and therefore that alone had been reason enough to slam the book shut. With how she seems to hunger over books, he internally muses if this place was less for the benefit of this kingdom and more a place for an unruly brat to gnaw on pages instead of people. An... interesting diet, to be sure.

Her attitude was truly befitting of a dog to let loose on dissenters and those not aligned with this apparent cult of witches. Or was it a cult that praised witches? He probably could've figured out which it was by getting out of his chair and looking in the library for books on the matter... had Rui not made her move.

The god's body tenses but for a moment as he feels his hair wrap around his arms and legs, a base instinct within him was to rip away the constraints to retain his freedom. It'd be too easy to burn away hair, or to erase every follicle so that this ravenous girl may have to spend the next few months as bald as a Buddhist Monk. All it would take is a thought, and his immediate problem disappears... but should word get out about the incident, more problems should soon take their place. Biting his tongue, he would have to ensure a situation he viewed as pure nonsense; he was already confined within this small piece of the world, and yet someone else seeks to confine him to a single spot in a single room? He could tell today was going to be a headache. The little brat was almost literally chomping at the bit to eat him, though he had no intention of letting her do so.

His body tenses once more as he sees her jaws widen, ready to whack her across the face with his tail so suddenly she would've sworn she had been slapped with a hand instead- But she stops herself before he needs to act.

And there it was, vindication for his patience in the situation, his body then easing as a result.

In just two sentences, she had bestowed knowledge onto him that might have taken the whole three days even to get a hint at. Their sins would have been easy enough to guess, for they did not even try to hide their aspects of Gluttony and Greed, but confirmation was essential. They were a group, a witch cult, which would lead him to believe that there were five more members walking around this kingdom for him to keep aware of. He could only assume that Regulus held enough power to keep the others in check, for it was quite clear the little omnivore in front of him craved to take more than just a bite out of him, and yet kept herself in check instead of committing to her desires. And on a minor note, he'd realize they weren't related, it was good he didn't vocally ask about the girl's "mother" then.

"...What interesting names, charmed to learn them both. But I'm afraid I can't abide my your request, only my spouse may have a taste of me." He remains affable in tone, even if he cares not for this method of entrapment. There's a decision to keep up the facade as best he can, for even if the archbishop in front of him would rather him dead than alive, she seemed more cooperative than her other; for that reason alone, he decides to continue to play the role of hapless husband to be. "Now excuse my promptness Miss Rui, but I must request you undo your bindings, for I can't be expected to remain in all place one day, as I have matters to attend to."

Beerus cared not for her eyeing him as if he was to be served up as a gourmet meal, and he certainly didn't care to be restrained while she drools upon just about everything he intended to read; if he wanted to do nothing about the situation, he'd simply return to his room to sleep for three days. Did she seek to waste his time, or was she truly weighing her options on whether or not she should bite him? Either way, he did not enjoy being at the whims of others, it had reminded him far too much of his troubled times of days long past.

It was no intention of his to be reduced to a toy for the entertainment value of others, no matter the shape or form. If all these archbishops behaved in such similar, irritating manners, it would be only a very small matter of time before he shattered the persona he was attempting to disguise his intentions behind.

Two was more than enough.

He, like everyone else, was blissfully unaware of the true extent and peril of their numbers. The witch cult had woven itself into the very fabric of society, existing in plain sight yet remaining elusive, a shadow lurking in every corner. Their ranks swelled into the untold thousands, infiltrating every kingdom and royal court with ease. They were the true puppet masters of the world, wielding power at will, unchallenged and unstoppable. 

Their influence was on a level beyond comprehension. 

Take her for instance, the girl perched at the table, carelessly smearing unsavory drool across the pages of a book. Her laughter, laced with malice, revealed sharp fangs, and her piercing blue eye darted around, locking onto him with an unsettling intensity. She licked her lips, and in that moment, he felt the weight of her gaze.

His instincts were spot on; she was no ordinary child. She was a predator, a wolf cloaked in sheep's clothing—something sinister and twisted, far more dangerous than the captor who had brought him here. Her powers defied all logic and reason, operating outside the bounds of the world’s rules. As she tilted her head, studying him with curiosity, he realized just how perilous this encounter was. She was a force to be reckoned with, and she was intent on uncovering the secrets of his existence.

Her gaze sharpened on him for a fleeting moment, a chuckle escaping his lips, but she was far from amused. Her voice was devoid of humor, a chilling seriousness enveloping her words. She craved him, not just his essence but his very name, his memories—she longed to consume him whole, right down to his tail. The hunger gnawed at her, an insatiable desire to devour every morsel of him, to pick her teeth with his bones. He appeared to her as a sumptuous feast, a plump meal ripe for the taking, just like all the others who had wandered into her grasp. 

She would savor them all.

"I'm not making any threats," she murmured softly, her tone laced with a childlike wonder. "I am making promises."

As he began to peruse the text on the table, she leaned in closer, her mouth stretching unnaturally wide, bones cracking as she prepared to feast. With a swift motion, she clamped down, her fangs sinking into the pages. She didn’t break it, but the words began to fade, devoured by her insatiable hunger for knowledge. Each sentence she consumed vanished from existence, erased from his memory and all others, leaving only her with the remnants. She licked her lips, savoring the taste of his lost progress, relishing in the power she wielded.

“There’s one thing that truly irks me, and that’s a liar.” She fixed her gaze on him, settling back at the table, her long hair beginning to stir as if it had a mind of its own. It flickered and twisted, coiling around his legs with a life of its own, tightening its grip and anchoring him in place. He could attempt to escape, but she was far more formidable than she appeared, and it would be foolish to test her strength.

“I’ve always been curious about the taste of a god. What do you think you’d taste like? Extend your arm and let me take a bite.”

In an instant, she leaped up, and before he could even blink, she vanished, only to reappear right behind him, her gaze fixed on his tail. With a swift motion, she lifted him, poised to take a playful nibble as if he were a delectable treat. But then she hesitated, recalling that if even a single hair on his head were to be harmed, she would face the consequences. With a huff of annoyance, she snapped at the air, then began to dance around his chair, flipping onto the table to scrutinize him. All the while, her hair continued to entwine around his legs, extending further to ensnare his arms, pinning them firmly against the armrest.

“Rui Arneb Sin Archbishop of the Witch Cult, representing the Satiation aspect of Gluttony!” As she declared with her hand on her chest and she said her name. “And she is Regulus Corneas Sin Archbishop of the Witch Cult, representing Greed and our leader!”

[inkskinned]

it just sucks because nothing is ever fucking made for you, and if it is made for you like 75% of the time it gets chopped into little pieces by every person alive because this is the one thing you have, so it has to prove itself to you.

like, a thing can't just be for women. men need to assign it to women. women have to experience "must" or "should" before their hobbies and passions - women are allowed to do silly, passive things like tuck our ankles and titter behind a fan, or something. women are allowed to, they are welcomed to. like the world is a house and we are supposed to be in the kitchen and now we are being given the divine right to enter the living room if we bring chips

because when it becomes for you, or about you, that is when the thing is vile. you should/must wear makeup so you can appear beautiful to men. once you wear makeup for yourself, or because you yourself enjoy putting it on, then you are no longer doing the right thing. there is a reason men hate certain fashion trends. there is a reason men hate things like the pumpkin spice latte - because it's not about them. you are buying it because it is good for you. they degrade your passions and interests. there is a reason women-led fields are largely seen as being "not a real" profession. when you are a good cook, that is because you can provide for him. close your eyes. you're not going to be a chef, be honest. that is a man making food for himself.

bras are made so breasts will be appealing to men. they are rarely about comfort or support. you have given up entirely on the idea of pockets. young girls have to worry about a shorter inseam on their shorts. a girl on instagram gets her septum pierced, and men in the comments are rabid about it - i just want to rip it out of her face. she'd be beautiful without it.

and fucking everything is for them. even the media that is "for you" is for them, eventually. remember "my little pony"? remember how hard it is to convince any executive to believe that little girls are worth selling to? in the media that is for you, you see little ways that you still need to make it accessible for them - the man is always powerful, smart, masculine. he is a man's man. the media usually forgives him. it usually says okay, some men are awful, but hey! gotta love 'em. because if you don't hold their hands and say "this is literally just a story about my lived reality", they shit their pants about it. they demand you put them into the media that's for you.

these are people who are so used to glutting themselves on the world. they are used to having every corner and every dollar and every place of leadership. so you say can i please have one slice of cake, just for myself, please, holy shit. and they fucking weep about it. they say you're being unfair, because some of their one-thousand-slices aren't beautiful, and your singular cake slice doesn't have their name on it. and aren't you being rude by not offering to share?

and honestly. fucking - yeah, man. you were kind of surprised, because the cake is a little basic (you bake at home, you're way past this stuff). but holy shit, it was nice just to be offered cake in the first place. you're used to having to starve. you're used to getting nothing, but going to the party anyway, because you're expected (professionally) to show up. you liked that it is a simple cake, and that it is warm, and mostly: you like that there is, for once, a cake-for-you.

in the real world, outside of metaphor, it feels like fucking being slapped. barbie didn't even say anything particularly unusual; it literally just made factually evident points. there are less women in leadership than men. we can look at that fact objectively. that is a real thing that is happening. and the movie is aware that it has to defend itself! that it has to spend like half an hour just turning to the camera and saying: i know this is hard for you to understand, but this is a real thing that women experience.

it's just - this is that one kid on the playground who thinks its allowed to hog all the toys. he builds this hoard that nobody else is allowed to even look at, or he'll get aggressive. everyone's a little scared of him, so they let it slide, because his daddy gave him the golden touch. he hates when people cry and thinks bullying is cool. he writes boys only! on a big sign and makes all his friends take "alpha male" classes.

and then girls pick up barbies, because there was nothing left for them. and in the void they've been given, with their scraps: they make long, spiraling narratives about how barbie is actually descended from snakes and has given her righteous followers magical (if concerning) powers and can speak 32 languages (2 of which are animal related) and has big plans for infrastructure (beginning with the local interstate). and the boy comes over, and he has a huge fit about how the girls aren't "including" him. he wants to know why the girls aren't making the story about ken.

"we didn't like your story." the girls blink at him. they point to his war stories and the gi joes and the millions of male-led narratives and how still in the modern day men get two-thirds of the speaking roles in movies and they point to men making mediocre shows that don't get lambasted and they point to men encouraging toxic masculinity and they point to men everywhere, men and men and men. and they say: "how is this our fault? you had ken."

"no!" he is already back to screaming and stomping his feet and tearing at his hair and intentionally reminding them that men are holding back thinly concealed violence and he says: "if it's not for me, it's actually sexism."

[amphibianaday]

day 1522

[todayisafridaynight]