#i hope legal action is taken but it takes a good while

[officallunar]

A Thief's Heart: Returning Stolen Hearts

Synopsis:

In the land of Teyvat, where adventure and friendship thrive, you find yourself entangled with the Traveler and the various heroes of Genshin Impact. You have a unique hobby - you enjoy "borrowing" items from the characters in the game, but your intention is always to return them, often with heartfelt notes attached.

Gn reader x some of the genshin men and women (separated)

(I lost count on how many people I am doing)

You mostly embark on a journey with them,on the way there, you would secretly take something from them, for example;their items.

Diluc would be confused at first before knowing that you have taken one of his belongings. As you continues to "borrow" items from Diluc, he can't help but chuckle at your audacity. He honestly think that it’s adorable but won’t say it out loud.

Kaeya might playfully tease you when he discovers your secret.

"Ah, so it seems we have a little mysterious thief among us. I must admit, your antics are quite entertaining."

When Childe finds out, he bursts into laughter, finding your actions both amusing and endearing.

"Haha, you've certainly caught my attention in the most unconventional way. I can't help but admire your spirit."

Venti, the bard, would probably respond with a whimsical comment like,

"Ah, stealing hearts as well as items, aren't you? Your mischievous charm is truly captivating."

Albedo might approach the situation with scientific curiosity.

"I find your actions quite intriguing. It's as if you're conducting a unique social experiment."

When Xiao first realizes that you have been taking and returning items from him, he might furrow his brows in confusion. After awhile you might see him crack a rare, small smile. (Please tease him)

Upon discovering your secret activities, Zhongli would approach the situation with a keen sense of curiosity. He might leave you a rare and exquisite Geo related artifacts out of admiration (he finds your joy of “borrowing” his things adorable)

Ayato, upon learning of your actions, takes it upon himself to investigate discreetly. He finds your behaviour cute and wonders about your motives .

When Alhaitham confronts you, his demeanor is measured, but he adds a soft touch of affection, saying,

"I must admit, I find your actions intriguing, and they've piqued my curiosity. Could you enlighten me about your motivations?"

Bennett would react with enthusiasm.He thinks that you're like a lucky charm and always returning what you take. Your positivity is contagious, and he can't help but admire your optimism.

Razor, while initially be confused, could express admiration with sincerity, saying,

"You not take. You return. Good friend. Razor likes."

Eula, though would be initially confused,but she will hide it by saying “Vengeance will be mine” (yeah im sure we all know what she is going to say)

Yanfei, a skilled legal advisor, may initially see your actions as legally ambiguous. However, she's impressed by your commitment to balance and might offer legal advice to help to your continuous actions within Liyue's laws.

Ganyu, being a diligent worker, becomes curious when she notices your activities in Liyue. She quietly investigates, wondering about your motives.She finds it cute and adorable often smiling when she see you sneakily sneaking off with her stuff.

Yae Miko, always on the lookout for interesting stories, takes notice of your actions and becomes intrigued.She would probably tease you abit or so

Im not really good at writing as it is my first few times writing a fanfic but I hope you enjoyed reading this!You can take this idea and write it if you want,I do not mind,but if you ever do write,I wanna read it 🥳🥳. I was reading a fanfic by @thatdeadaquarius and just got the idea to write it,it’s not the best lol. It’s not that I like Childe,it’s just that he is easier to write.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Do you write nsfw fics? If so could you write a Price x Reader based off the song “Guys My Age” by Hey Violet please and thank you :)

Lustful Gold and a Crimson-Stained Tongue

Pairing: John Price x F!Reader

Synopsis: It was supposed to be simple -- an intel Op. in some Russian Arms Dealer's mansion. Hell, you were actually looking forward to it, especially with the way John was undressing you with his eyes. You hoped that the red silk dress you had gotten made it through the night. (18+)

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings: Attempted SA, NSFW, Porn with Plot, smut, angst, fluff, praise kink, blood kink (?) (Not really but Idk), saliva, lots of fluids, P in V, dry humping, age gap

A/N: This is literally a virgin writing smut for the first time so it's legally obligated to be cringe -- but thank you for giving me the opportunity (I've crossed a line that I can't go back over). I took a bit of creative liberty with the request, so it's slightly different than what you might expect. Anyways, enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

“Tilt your head to the side for me, Love,” John mutters, eyebrows turned in as he holds a black earpiece in his fingers before placing the device into where you would need it delicately; making sure it wouldn’t fall out, “There we are.”

“John,” You scoff softly, “You’re holding me like I’m going to be crucified and not just going to a dinner party to get intel.” 

“What kind of man would I be if I didn’t worry about my girl?” He raises a brow, taking a step back from where he had you tight up against his chest, “A piss poor one, I’d say.”

You stifle a laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides as your cheeks heat with love and gratitude. It felt good to be suffocated by his careful nature – even if that didn’t really sound appealing. You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Now,” John crosses his arms, nodding his head as the black beanie on his head lightly tilts at the action, “Let me see you, Sweetheart.” 

“What, do you want me to do a spin too, you pervert?” You were dressed to the nines, gold gleaming around your neck and wrists, elaborate braids twisting part of your hair to rest in a bun while the rest falls to shroud the black device that lies dormant in your right ear. It’ll come to life shortly – when you finally make your way to the mission sight; the location was some rich asshole’s mansion. 

No doubt the party you were going to was nothing more than an excuse to boost the target’s ego with grand displays of money and sultry attendants. It sounded positively enticing, you thought – though, John was making it quite difficult to want to leave with how he was undressing you with his eyes. 

Around your body, a tight-fitting red silk dress hugged you just right, accenting everything good about you and showing off enough to entice anyone with a functioning brain. Fuck, the way it wrapped your hips made even you drool; the dripping neckline was perfectly eye-catching as well. John had told you that you looked like a goddess before you had even put it on, but he seemed to want to say more when he watched you slip into it smoothly, the practiced fluidity in your bones helping you move sensually. 

The man had been laying naked on the hotel bed with nothing more than a thin bed sheet wrapped around his sculpted pelvis, the rest of the fabric hanging off the side and pooling on the floor. A cigar had been held loosely in his lips, and when you turned to ask his opinion, he nearly dropped it with the way his mouth had opened. 

Your ego had taken a steep incline as the Captain’s pupils had dilated, turning that shade of storm blue as dark as the shadows outside the window. Unconsciously, you had rubbed your thighs together to stop the pooling heat that beings to form as his lower half jerked instinctually from the bed. You weren’t even sure he noticed his physical reaction.

“Fuck,” John mutters in front of you, bringing you back to the present. He lets his eyes trail slowly, “Doll, I’d bloody pay you to do anything you want to me.” A smirk filters from your lips.

“You really like the dress, don’t you, hm?” 

He doesn’t hesitate, “Yeah, lie of the century, that is,” You raise a brow, confusion leaking into your beating pulse as he saunters closer with a sway in his alluring hips. The packs and objects on his black combat vest press into your upper stomach as he leans into you, carefully shoving you back into the body-length mirror attached to the wall. John leans close, his breath fanning over the hot skin of your exposed neck; the rouge of your painted lips open as your lungs tighten with expectation. You want desperately to shove him back into bed and rip his damn gear off. Or maybe just let him fuck you with it on, really…you lusted over that shit, “I bloody fucken’ love it.”

His lips find your pulse point, moving the gold necklace farther up your skin with his nose, causing your head to slam back into the mirror with a muffled thump. John chuckles as you eagerly open your neck to him more, glancing at your face from the side. Your heart was beating like a lion’s, being able to be seen through the thin silk.

“Eager, are we? I thought I had tired you out not an hour ago?” 

You had, You had wanted to say, but only a needy whimper falls from your lips as his teeth graze your skin. The ache from your prior activities was set deep into your thighs and lower body, making a promise to cause hell when you have to walk in heels soon. 

But, God, did you love it.

Your hand weaves its way under John’s black athletic shirt, finding the tight available skin and digging your red acrylic nails over it. You force the man forward, his deep-chested grunt leading to a full-body shiver not a second later. Something hard and solid presses into your abdomen and you look up at him with half-lidded eyes, panting as a trail of saliva follows John as he pulls back from your neck to watch you.

“Who’s eager now, Captain?” John’s hands snap to your thighs, smirking as he’s dragging one to his waist. You lick your lips as he presses deeply into you with his clothed erection, making the heat in your core burst into a raging fire at the stiffness, a slick feeling coating your panties. Your thigh comes to rest on his waistline, and he holds it there with an iron hand.

“John,” You whimper as he begins to move you, lightly rocking back and forth as your hips jerk to meet his.

“Fuck,” He groans, pressing his forehead to your own as he grips your waist tight with his free hand. The man pulls your thigh into him with every thrust, fingers digging so hard the skin is already indented, “If only you could see yourself, Love,” A low whimper enters the air, muffled when John connects his lips with yours with heavy open-mouth kisses as his beard rubs over your flesh. The both of you move in sync, using the other to get off as quickly and as cleanly as possible in the limited time. The zipper of his pants connects with your bundle of nerves, making you moan and writhe against him like a bitch in heat. John pulls back to grunt into your mouth as his hips press you farther into the mirror with a particularly hard thrust once more, making sure to hit that spot again. Always so attentive. Your back arches as you keen breathily, hands roaming his abdomen and digging into the muscle there to ground yourself as you rut. The slick in your panties drips down your free leg in a disgustingly pleasurable tear, “Fucken’ perfect in that dress.” 

That’s when there’s a knock on the door. 

Snapping out of your hazes, you both whip back to stare at each other with wide eyes before your heads turn to the door. The fire stills, pauses, unsure if you both should continue. You want to. Your breasts are pressed tightly to John’s chest, and every breath makes you want the Captain to grip them in his hands and squeeze. 

“...You two had better be decent!” Gaz’s voice wafts in from under the crack, making both of your eyes widen comedically, “The rest of us had to plug earbuds in to drown out the sounds from an hour ago. Honestly…the pair of you can’t go a few bloody minutes without fucking?”

Your face heats, twin scorching suns taking home over your cheeks. Immediately, all thoughts of lust are shut off like being doused with a bucket of cold water.

Still leaning into you, John groans, leading his body to vibrate perfectly. You stifle a needy whine as your hips rock once more, slick beginning to uncomfortably drip to the side of your knee. You would have to change your underwear before you left. And redo your makeup. 

“Fuck off, Sergeant, before I come out there.”

“I’d rather you don’t come anywhere, Sir.” Slapping a hand over your mouth you try to stifle the loud bark of laughter that finds the air, the shadow under the door slinks off with a finishing call of, “Laswell said five minutes before we leave, yeah?!” 

Your chest vibrates with humor, head lightly meeting John’s chest as he lowers your thigh and lets you place your foot on the ground. Laughing, you feel the man’s arms wrap around your body pulling you to gently sway back and forth. 

“Damn the boy,” Price mutters into your head, “Should put him on desk duty for a month for that.”

“Oh, come on,” You respond, pulling back to look at him with a smile as your eyes light, “That was funny.” 

“Hm,” he rests his bearded chin on your forehead, the small bristles getting caught in some of your baby hairs as he lays a gentle kiss on your skin.

You both stay like that for a minute or two, content as you listen to the heavy beating of each other’s hearts and the slight pants of air falling from your lips. The lustful heat was dead, and in its place duty grew. 

It was time to get to work. 

—

“Price?” You tilt your head to the side, slipping the gold and diamond earrings on as you whisper into the earpiece, “What are the chances that I can steal some of the appetizers and stuff them into my handbag?”

“I’d say less than probable, Love.” Layered behind John’s amused voice, Laswell pipes up, the sound of shifting bodies letting you know that many people were waiting on you to exit the Limo. You had no idea how they could see you but were put at ease that they were able to.

“You’ll have plenty of time to eat later, Bravo 1-6, no need to worry. Let’s just focus on the mission for now.” You pouted as Kate spoke, newly applied lipstick pulling at your skin as you moved your hands away from your ears and fixed your strands of hair. Under you, the leather seats of the vehicle are insanely comfortable.

“You guys are no fun.” Sighing, your hands stop their fiddling, falling to your lap as you huff, “If the silverware is gold plaited you bet your ass I’m shoving it down my bra – and I don’t care how much you complain, I’m taking it.”

Just as you stop plotting your mini heist, the car door to your right opens with a pop, snapping your thoughts back to the task at hand.

A tall Doorman your age is on the outside, dressed in a handsome black suit and red bowtie as the chilled night air seeps into the car. He holds out a hand to you, and after a second of hesitation, you plaster an innocent smile on your face; eyelids fluttering prettily. It was shocking how fast you could change your outward attitude. 

“Oh,” You purr, head tilting, “Such a gentleman. Thank you, Sweetheart.” Placing your hand in his, your jewelry jangles as the Doorman helps you out of the car, carefully gripping your hand in his own gloved one. 

“Erm…I-Invitation, Ma’am.” He mutters, face amusingly red as he stares at you; unable to make eye contact for more than three seconds. He drops his hand but leaves it outstretched as you take a step away from the vehicle.

You smirk.

“Of course,” Flicking your tiny handbag open with nimble fingers, your hand delves inside. The smooth surface of a stamped envelope connects with your searching digits, but your knuckles tantalizingly brush the tiny knife sewn into the lining of your bag. With a giggle, you grab the invitation and hold it out. In your grip, it’s held loosely between your pointer and middle finger. You tilt your head as he takes it.

“I’ve heard Mr. Bogdanov throws the most wonderful events – when I’d been told, I forced my father to get me an invitation to the next. Can you believe he almost denied me?” Bringing a hand to your mouth, you cover the convincing laugh that meets the chilled air politely, “Insanity! As if I could miss this!”

God, You think to yourself, this is humiliating. John and the others always get the fun jobs. 

“Yes, Ma’am,” The Doorman, “Mr. Bogdanov is always happy to see new faces on his estate. Especially ones as beautiful as yours.” 

Your earpiece crackles for a moment, and you swore you heard John mutter, “Muppet,” into your earlobe. 

Stifling a violent snort, you shuffle your heeled feet.  

“Oh,” You watch the Doorman check the invitation, flicking it open and checking the signature on the bottom with flushed cheeks as he blatantly moves to stare at your clothed breasts, “Flatterer.”

“You’re all good, Ma’am,” He clears his throat, shakily handing you back the paper, “Enjoy your night.” 

Snatching the invitation, you smile his way before walking up the red-carpeted stairs ahead, hearing muttered conversations flowing out into the night. You try not to ogle at the humongous house that the Target has, multiple stories and windows larger than a damn tree coupled with white paint. The front garden alone was the size of multiple football fields.

“...This place is definitely in that ‘World's Top Ten Biggest Houses’ video online.” 

Gaz’s voice chuckles through the line, making your lip quirk.

“I think I’ve seen that one before!”

“The both of you are chaos incarnate.” 

“Damn right, Laswell,” You murmur, eyebrows furrowing at the radio silence from John. He was usually hyping you up by now, whispering in that husky voice to leave you flustered. It was your favorite part of these missions – his grumble in your head leaving your lungs heaving and cheeks hot. 

So this attitude was very confusing, to say the least, but you can’t dwell on it. The front doors open as you walk up to them; butlers waiting outside for the guests – all excellently dressed. 

Their eyes boggle out of their heads when they see you, and skurry to make sure you don’t have to wait outside any longer. 

“Thank you, boys,” You sing, waving a hand as you saunter past, enjoying the attention but wishing it was from someone else. 

This would have been so much more fun if John was here. He would have made jokes about everyone's outfits with me. 

Your chest tightens, and you frown. Something was wrong with your Captain, you knew it. Not able to handle it any longer as your heels click over marble and the laughs and sounds of conversation get closer, you speak.

“John,” You clutch your handbag, eyes flickering back and forth, “You with me?” 

“...Sorry, Bravo 1-6,” Kate’s voice is not the one you want to hear right now, “Price said he had to step out for a moment.”

“What–?!”

“Ahh, and who might this be,” Sputtering, the sudden deep Russian voice to your side makes you reel, head snapping to the side, “Such a stunning woman…unfortunately, it seems I don’t know your name, лисичка.”

“A-Allegra Bayley, daughter of Braylon Bayley,” You find yourself answering with the fake name and family you had been given hours earlier, “and who might you…” Trailing off, your eyes widen slowly. Staring at the sharply dressed man two times bigger than a bear, with muscles so large the suit nearly looks like it’ll rip, you feel your hands get sweaty; you grip your handbag tighter. He’s so tall you have to tilt your head up to see his face. 

You wish you hadn’t.

Not that the gargantuan stranger wasn’t handsome - in a rugged sort of criminal type of way because his nose had been obviously broken multiple times – it's that you had seen his dead eyes before: staring back at you from the confines of a manila folder Laswell had slid over to you two weeks ago. The Target. 

Kazimir Bogdanov, Your heart picks up speed, pulsing like a rabbit’s behind its fur – only you had no fur. The only thing over you was a thin dress of flowing silk and gold jewelry. The tiny knife in your bag wouldn’t do much against him. Suddenly, you desperately wanted John’s thick leather jacket and beanie to cover your skin; confidence slowly leaking because of the glint in Bogdanov’s icy eyes. 

No…you just wanted John; his heavy presence behind you, like a watchdog ready to strike at any threat to come near you, only held back by a thin shred of decency that develops in your presence. You wanted him to be there to back you up, but with tight shoulders, you knew he wasn’t – only open-air and the scent of expensive perfume and money encompassed you.

You were on your own.

Kazimir is a weapons dealer with ties to multiple foreign terror organizations throughout the entire world – playing every side and never coming out physically covered in blood because of business. Metaphorically speaking, the man was drowning in crimson. 

The number of deaths he had caused was astronomical and rising by the day.

“Mr. Bogdanov,” A sweet smile slips to your lips, but your heart tells you to run. You had expected time to get the layout of the mansion, mingle, and get used to the environment. Hell, you still needed to figure out where the food was! You’d barely gotten through the giant fucking doors! This wasn't good.

The earpiece picks up a sharp inhale from the line, bodies shifting, and a muffled call to someone. 

“It’s a pleasure. Please,” You frown, shaking your head and waving an arm, “Forgive my incompetence. The majesty of your estate…well…It’s blinded me. I’m utterly entranced.”

“You said you were Braylon Bayley’s daughter, yes?” Kazimir murmurs, fixing the red tie around his neck with ringed fingers as thick as branches, “I remember he had sons,” Narrowing his eyes, you try your best not to panic, “but he never mentioned a daughter to me.”

“Oh, You know how fathers are. The bastard kept me from everyone,” You reply lightly leaning forward and bringing two hands to the side of your lips, “Business, you know. Tricky stuff.”

“Hm,” The Russian grunts, and his biceps tense for a moment. He watches you like a piece of meat, eyes trailing up and down as he smirks. The various scars over his face twist, “Mr. Bayley has been incredibly generous this year with his erm, donations…I can’t think of a better way to repay him than to entertain his lovely лисичка for the night. Please, accompany me.” 

You blink innocently and pull your lips back into a naive smile, imagining John giving you that look instead and letting heat flood your cheeks as a result. 

“I’d love nothing more.” 

He talks about taking you to a lounge, walking with your hand in the crook of his arm as you pass envious onlookers that burn you with their eyes and sneers. You try not to look so nervous but can’t help the way your heart pounds. The jewelry on your wrists and neck glint as if to try and comfort you; offering winks with their tiny diamond eyes.

As if it were so easy to turn off all of your emotions and be as numb as gold.

Maybe this had been a mistake.

The earpiece crackles, “Get him to talk about his latest deal,” Laswell murmurs to you, “I want details; you can’t leave until he mentions his buyer.”

“Or if you feel like you’ve been burned,” Gaz pipes in and you hear a rustle of fabric, “Your safety is the highest priority, Ma’am. Don’t jeopardize it just for the mission,” Then, jokingly, “The Captain would wring my neck.”

He’d do more than that, You want to answer, but hold your tongue, only sighing as you pass a grand table filled with amazing-looking food. Studying it longingly, Kazimir hurries you past with a comment on how ravishing you look in red – even going so far as to say it's his favorite color. It doesn’t really surprise you.

You want John to tell you you would be okay, but his voice never filters through the wavelengths, never graces your ears like an intimate murmur. Only cruel static.

It only serves to make you more anxious. 

Where is my John, You wonder, but can’t dwell on the twisting feeling in your gut before you’re brought to a couch in the corner of the main room, a small group of mingling guests glancing you over before smirking and sending whispers to their dates, Why did I agree to this?

“I must say, Mr. Bogdanov,” You sit when the man holds out a hand for you, motioning you to the soft velvet cushions, “I am quite impressed with the scale of your extravagance. So many rooms so beautifully decorated and furnished. I can’t help but wonder if my father’s donations to your business may be put to use in other places.” 

Grinning to show you partially thought it was a poor attempt at conversation, he takes a seat right beside you, body heat making your skin crawl. Kazimir had placed his frame closer to yours than you would have expected. Shifting yourself slightly away, your opposite arm hits the wooden armrest with a dull thud. 

The guests leave the room.

When the Russian talks you feel the vibrations of his voice from where he keeps contact with you. 

 I want John’s leather jacket, You tell yourself this once more before you scratch at your neck. Afterward, you disguise the nervous gesture with the outward appearance that you were fixing your hair. Feeling slick sweat dribbling down your spine, you can’t help but wonder if you had just walked into a monster den without a sword.

“I assure you,” Kazimir murmurs, sliding a hand over the back of the couch and leaning his body into yours, pressing you into the armrest with his vile build, “All investments are going exactly where your father instructed, лисичка. I’m simply the middle man, you understand, yes?” 

He laughs, and you swallow the bile in your throat. You attempt a small smile, though, your eyes certainly give you away, not to mention the tension in your body.

Get the job done, Your fingers shake, and you clutch them over your handbag in your lap to try and get them to stop, Get it done and leave. You’ll be fine. It’s gonna be alright.

But his hand was touching your shoulder now, slipping over the straps of the silk dress you had loved. You want to throw up. 

In your ear the device jolts to life, your name uttered and nearly missed by Gaz, who begins to plead with Laswell. They undoubtedly know what’s going on. They’re not stupid to Kazimir’s ways with women.

“..Tell her to get the hell out of there! Move in or something – let me kill the bastard myself, Kate!”

 “We can’t move in,” Laswell sounds concerned, “We don’t have anyone else on the inside right now – and we need to know where the weapons are being distributed from.” 

“Bullshit! We’ll figure it out another time!”

You don’t need to be a genius to know the answer to that comment. There wouldn’t be a ‘next time.’ Hundreds of people could be dead in a day if you don’t find out where Bogdanov’s current stock from your ‘father’ is being sold. 

“I can’t help but wonder,” You clear your throat, pushing aside your discomfort and leaning into the man’s hold, letting loose a girlish giggle as you flicker your eyelashes up at him. Just pretend, “Where is it that you’re sending your product? My father never told me and I hate being left out of the loop. He’s such a stickler for me never being involved in the family business.”

Before this moment you hadn’t realized that Kazimir Bogdanov was barely older than yourself. He wasn’t an old man at all, nor was he John’s age. The Russian was perhaps only one or two years your senior. 

He looked down at you with dilated pupils, staring at your visible skin and the red off your lips. Bogdanov’s tongue flicks at the side of his mouth. 

“Any why would I tell you that, Little Allegra Bayley? It is not ideal to discuss work at a party – you should drink, eat…partake in more carnal pleasures.” His finger traces your shoulder blades, creating small circles. 

“Because I want you too,” You smirk, whispering the words out with a slow sigh, “Because I asked so nicely to such a handsomely dangerous man like yourself?”

“Hm,” He murmurs, caught like a rat in a trap. His file had been right. 

He had a horrible idea that women couldn’t be involved in a line of work such as his – be smart enough to play his game. He underestimates the lengths you would go to bring him to his grave.

Kazimir is hanging off your skin like a man starved, gripping your flesh with his large hands. Like a blood-drowned mouse in a golden trap made of jeweled teeth and a diamond snare.

“I’m a snoop,” You soften your features, “My old man’s activities are…exciting to me. And I have a right to know, don’t I?” You flutter your eyelashes, putting on a pout. 

Your heart was nearly breaking your ribcage open, the bones feeling like they were flaring out like birds wings. 

“Лисичка,” Bogdanov leans in so close you could smell his musk, the breath playing off his lips, “Already prying me for information into family business. Not very innocent, are you?” He pauses, eyes lowering to your body pressed against him. He shifts his leg, watching your body move in reaction. He spills, “I believe the products were sold to a woman named Valdana Rojanić in Montenegro. Nasty stuff she plans to do – but it’s not my war, no?”

“Bravo 1-6, get the hell out of there,” Laswell barks down the line, causing you to flinch as the immediate sound of someone else shouting over the line finds your ear.

“What in the bloody hell do you mean she’s already talking to him?!” 

“John…” You mutter out loud, eyes blinking as a breath of fresh air enters your lungs at the noise of rushing feet and hands sliding across a table harshly.

“What was that?” Kazimir’s eyebrows crease, face pulling back into a snarl, “Who is–”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Bogdanov, but I really have to use your restroom,” Tilting your head in a display of pure regret, you stutter, “I hate to embarrass myself like this, but I have a horribly small bladder.” 

You try not to cringe at the blatant lie.

Kazimir pulls back with a dark face, and you stand to shaky feet quickly, clutching your handbag in such a grip the fabric indents. 

You make it about four steps before a hand latches onto your forearm, making you suck in a sharp breath as John’s perfectly gravelly voice wafts from the earpiece, oblivious to your panicked pulse and wide eyes.

“Love,” His voice seems breathless as another hand snaps over your mouth to muffle a shout of alarm, “I’m so fucken’ sorry. One word and I’ll blow cover and come get you myself, eh?” A pause and a nervous chuckle, and you can’t respond because you’re bringing an elbow up behind you, snapping it into the Russian’s spleen with a violent blow. Except his arm doesn’t let go, “…Love?” You unclasp your handbag with one hand as black dots swim in your vision. John knows you best – you’d never not respond to him on a mission like this, even if you were angry, “Love…! Shit, Laswell, she’s burned! Sergeant – you’re on me! I want that Muppet’s house on lockdown, now!

—

You sit on your hotel room floor covered in blood. Not your own, of course, but with the way you were shaking, you would think it was. 

The locked door handle jiggles, and your eyes slowly travel to it – mind sluggish and still trying to process what had happened. You had killed Kazimir Bogdanov; shoved your tiny knife deep into the sinuses of his neck and felt the spray of his Carotid Artery’s blood splatter your nose and cheeks.

This shouldn’t be getting to you – how many men and women have you killed in your career? Hundreds…no, thousands. It shouldn’t affect you anymore. It doesn’t.

Kazimir was a bad man, You try to reason with yourself as you watch the doorknob once more move back and forth, he deserved what he got. No one will be sad over his death. 

So why were tears running down your face? Dribbling to the carpet like little bullets of your own self-loathing? It wasn’t because of the Russian, you knew.

“Doll…?” John’s soft voice comes from under the door, his boots making shadows in the hallway light as they shuffle. His knuckles lightly wrap against the barrier separating him from you, “You still in there? Can you open the door for me?”

You stare at the woodgrain of the door, making patterns and finding faces in the dark lines. Bringing a hand up to your face, you swipe at your tears, only serving to spread the blood into long streaks up your cheeks. 

John speaks your name, clearing his throat, “Please, I…I need you to open the door, Sweetheart. I’ve gotta make this right.”

His voice prompts you to move your shaking legs, standing and feeling the silk of your dress caress you like a second skin. You don’t want to wear it anymore, but you don’t have the energy to take it off by yourself.

Padding over to the door, your hand lays heavy on the lock, studying the red stains on your hands as they leave trails on the copper metal. You can hear John’s breath on the other side of the thin wood, the sound of his hand meeting the back of his neck, running over the flesh. He did that when he was nervous, a small tick you had been fortunate enough to learn over the years you two had been together. You knew him like a bird knew the sky, flew along the headwinds of his mind with sturdy wings without fear of divebombing; the two of you worked so well as a pair many already thought you were married. 

There was one thing you could know even when you were reduced to this. John loved you; you loved John. 

You flick the lock and hear the defending click as a deep silence covers the room. But the tall man outside the door waited for you to open the barrier between the two of you, even though you knew his heart was racing to break it down. Grabbing the knob, you slowly twist until the door draws back, only half of your face visible from the hallway. 

John’s face immediately comes into view, a black beanie over his head and still in his dark tactical gear, the black undershirt absorbing all the light that met it. His small blue eyes are creased, and when his gaze travels the gore on your face he frowns deeply, fingers twitching at his sides. 

You blink at him when he calmly takes a single step forward, grabbing onto the door frame. He doesn’t ask how you are, but the man was just about the smartest person you’ve ever known. He knows you’re not okay.

“Let’s get all that off you, eh, Love?” John nods his head at you, beard pulling as he tries to give you a small smile to mask the obvious concern at the blankness of your eyes, “Get my girl cleaned up.” 

He scans your body, looking for injuries, and you’re brought back to the events in the car that had transpired not fifteen minutes earlier. 

You had yelled at him, still dripping in blood as the car peeled out of the estate even as John was frantically moving his hands over your body, checking for open wounds. His eyes had been wild, and he took you throwing your anger at him with a stiff face, looking at the deep bruising over your forearm and the red of your neck seriously. His eyebrows had furrowed as rage swelled. Ripping your hand away from him you screamed with shaking limbs, where the hell were you?! 

You were never mad about fucking Kazimir Bogdanov or what he did to you, you were mad that John – your lover and best friend – had left you alone. You had told him before, that on missions like these, you wanted him on the line the entire time; not only for the company but because he gave you a sense of safety in the way he spoke to you that you couldn’t give yourself. Not when everyone was looking at you like a slice of dessert.

John hadn’t been able to meet your eyes the entire ride back, and when you had locked yourself in the hotel room he had offered a small, “Doll…I…” Before you had slammed the door in his face.

Now, though, it felt good to feel his hand on your shoulder, lightly pulling you back into the room as he murmured softly into the air. He let you sit on the bed, guiding you as your bare feet stumble for a moment before your backside hits a soft mattress. You wished you could go back to the time before the mission – when John had laid with you under the covers and trailed his fingertips over your heated skin, your legs wrapped around his tapered waistline as he hit all the right spots and whispered dirty paise in your ears. 

Good girl, He had grunted into your neck, panting and biting into the sweaty skin like a feral animal, leaving you sobbing with pleasure, His beard had burned so delightfully as it ravaged your skin, leaving it pulsing. Your body was trying desperately to move in tandem with John’s own devastating pace; hips instinctually trembling to meet his slick-stained pelvis, dripping from previous rounds, look at you, eh, trying so hard to keep up. Keep me in that cunt of yours. My good fucken’ girl. S-so good.

Blinking away the heat that grows in your navel, you shift, noticing John had gone off and returned with a wet rag from the bathroom; his tactical vest was off, and leaning on the bed on the floor. You hadn’t even seen him take it off. Hitting it with your toe lightly, you make it fall sideways with a muffled thump and a clinking of metal.

John attempts a chuckle as he stops ahead of you, crouching down and placing his hands in the middle of his open legs as his elbows rest on his knees. He takes a deep breath in.

“Not a fan, Sweetheart? I can move it farther if you want?”

“Where were you,” You whisper, voice hoarse. Pulling the fraying ends of your strength together you look up at him, “I needed you there with me for this…You disappeared, John.” 

You just wanted to understand; just wanted the tightness of your chest to go away.

Your Captain stares up at you for a moment before he blinks, tilting his head to look to the side; away from you. A flash of red-hot guilt overtook his ocean-blue orbs as you see him glare at the side table like he could set the wood alight with his repressed hatred for himself. 

“I’m sorry, Love. Don’t…don’t think any less of me, eh?” He chokes out, chest jerking with a humorless grunt, and his face turns back to you. Pausing, you find embarrassment heating his bearded cheeks, eyes unable to meet yours. John takes your hands in his own, bringing the rag up to begin peeling away the dried blood around your palms, “It’s…ah, It’s not an excuse, I know, but I…”

“John?” You murmur, bringing a hand up from his grip in concern to tilt his head. You hold a finger under his chin, liking the way his coarse beard itches you as you prompt him to stare you in the eyes. This was unlike him – John was never… embarrassed. Not like this at least, “What happened?”

John clenches his jaw, taking his hand not holding the rag, and carefully grabbing your digits before bringing them to his lips and holding them there. He lays a gentle kiss before he starts, uttering softly his secret into your skin.

“I just realized that maybe you would be better off with someone who wasn’t…” He trails, “...Someone who could treat you better. Give you what you want.”

What, your face must show your genuine confusion because John lets a tiny smile flicker over his lips before he goes back to cleaning your hand, Where had this come from.

“What the hell are you talking about?” Your eyebrows crease, shivering as the rag goes up to your elbow, caressing the sensitive skin and drawing the large man closer to you as his heat sinks into you. His chest brushes your leg, leading you to move your limbs apart and under his armpits to rest your feet on his hip bones. The muscles of his toned thighs tense as you brush over them, and he sends you a glance.

His eyes soften.

“Someone more your age, Love.”

You immediately huff incredulously, not even realizing that you had come out of your stupor at the baffling comment from the man you loved more than anything. 

My John? Insecure about himself? Your face twists, is this because of the people who were at the party? No, you can’t have that. Not your beloved Captain.

Grumbling with genuine denial, you grab John’s hairy cheeks, dragging him to you so swiftly that he grunts in surprise; eyes flashing with those flecks of sea glass. Your legs wrap around his back, locking at the ankles, and you feel his broad body flex and writhe as his hands immediately snap to your hips, dropping the rag to the floor with a wet thwap.

John gazes up at you with blown-wide eyes, mouth slightly open as the beanie on his head bounces at the action.

In his gargantuan hands he bunches the silk of your dress which is now shoved all the way up to your waist; creasing it, and you suck in a sharp breath as his beating heart is pressed directly into the fabric of your panties. Your nerves get set alight, heat building to a steady simmer in your gut that makes your thighs flex and your pupils dilate until little of the color is visible. 

You bring John’s face up to yours, twiddling your fingers into his beard and running your thumbs back and forth over his cheeks. He swallows thickly as you lean down, stopping just as your lips are able to brush over his own. You keep your eyes locked on his as you growl out.

“Any why would I want anyone that wasn’t you?” Your eyebrow raises as John gapes up at you, “Do you think anyone would be able to make me feel the way you do? The Doorman? The Butlers?” You scoff, and John licks his lips as his grip on your waist tightens. You know he wants to drag you to him, but you want him to wait, “All they did was ogle at my breasts and skin like horny teenagers,” John grunts, eyes flashing dangerously, and his heart is beating so fast in his peck that you roll your hips against his available body, gold jewelry shimmering in the dimed overhead light. The man responds by breathing out a shaky sigh, content with the feeling of you rutting on him. You knew it turned him on, though his bulge was hidden by the frame of the bed below you.

“Do you want to know something, John,” You mutter over his lips, and he hums, chest vibrating perfectly as you suck down a whimper through red-painted lips. He smirks, “Guys my age just don’t know how to treat me like you do. They can’t make me feel like this with just a fucking look.” 

John slides one hand down to your parted legs as the other goes to the small of your back, gliding over silk sensually and maintaining eye contact as you both pant into each other. Your hands tighten over his cheeks as his sturdy digits delve into the space between the two of you before they finally press against the drowned fabric of your panties. You had already leaked through them.

He hisses in a breath, and before you can even realize what’s happening, your legs are being gripped tightly, and your back hits the mattress as a gasp escapes you. 

“Little Minx,” John manhandles your body, pulling you to him as you let him peel the dress father up your body, pooling just above the swell of your breasts. Your hands grip the sheets as your Captain keeps your legs wrapped around him. He stands. 

“John,” You whimper as he grips the edge of his athletic shirt with a heavy hand, ripping it off like the article of clothing offended him. His hat falls with the black fabric to the floor as the broad frame of his chiseled abs comes into view, pale skin marred with scars and burns. The sharp ‘v’ of his pelvis makes you constrict around nothing, “I...”

“Tell me what you want, Love,” He grinds his tented cargo pants against your core, one of his large palms coming down to grip your breasts under the silk as the other plays with the band of your underwear, “Speak to me.”

“I-I’m all bloody,” You moan when his hand grips you tighter, already sensitive skin now feeling like a live wire. His hips continue to rut against you, and tension is pleasurably building as he hits that bundle of nerves every time. Your chest rises and falls swiftly as your eyes flutter.

John chuckles deeply, shaking his head. Already so worked up.

“Oh, Love, I’ve fucked you covered in worse. I’ll clean you up just fine…make sure every trace of another man is completely erased from your skin – from your mind,” He bends over you, hand trailing down your abdomen to meet where he grinds into you. He presses into your covered clit with his thumb, rolling in small circles. You gasp, back arching up into him as ecstasy makes your legs tighten. One of your hands snaps up to John’s hair, running through the locks and tugging at the roots. He shivers, his mouth near the skin of your collarbone, “Until all that’s left behind is me.”

His tongue licks a stripe from the junction of your neck up to your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back as you cry out loudly; the callouses of his fingers hit you just right – the pace perfect as he ramps up your pleasure. Your pussy desperately tightens around nothing, leaking like a faucet with need. Your Captain grips the sheets just beside your head, making sure he doesn’t accidentally crush you with his gargantuan frame. If he asked you would let him.

“Fucken’ beautiful,” John groans, “Fucken’ taste bloody good, Sweetheart…fuck.” 

He laps at your skin, leaving trails of saliva all along your neck, cleaning the blood away before moving to your face. He stares at you with a deeply feral look as the coil in your core builds, red hot and making your skin shine with a sheen of desperate sweat. Your thighs quiver as the wetness of your slit makes the fabric of your panties stick uncomfortably to your skin. The flesh of your face scrunches, and your head is loosely rocked up and down from the constant movement of your boyfriend’s hard hips and thumb.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, You think, digging your nails into his scalp and tugging.

“Don’t stop,” You whine, “So close.”

“That’s right,” John’s tongue flies over the corner of your lip, making you want to cry at how you want to kiss him right now – but he's already moved onto your cheek, licking long stripes. When the man has his mind set on something, he’s not going to stop until it’s completed. The heat gets hotter, and your eyes snap closed eyebrows pulling in, “Yeah, come on, Love, come on. That’s it.” 

He presses his thumb harder, moving it faster to chase that prize at the end of the road, watching in satisfaction as your body responds so perfectly to his every whim; hips moving erratically. You desperately try and meet his pace and, for the most part, achieve your goal, only sputtering when the tense minutes ware on and it all comes crashing down.

Your thin line of sanity breaks, and with a final heavy tug on John's hair that leaves him lowly groaning into your ear and muttering praises, your breath comes out in tight pants as light erupts behind your eyelids. You tense and feel your pussy gush with nothing inside of you, just your Captain’s steady rocking serving as an anchor as you feel your mind go blank with unrestrained pleasure.

“John!” You gasp, just as the man cleans the blood off your nose bridge as you arch violently against his sturdy chest, shaking, “Oh, fuck.”

“There she is,” Hands go to your chin, moving your jaw as your mouth remains open and releasing puffs of air. Your eyes open half-lidded as his finger works you through your high, “There’s my girl. Look at me, Sweetheart. Hm, did so good for me.”

“John,” You whimper, looking up into the sheen of pride that shines in his eyes; legs vibrating as his fingers move from your clit to your hip. The other leg, now tingling and pleasure numb, falls to the mattress with half of it hanging off. John digs tightly into your skin, leaving beautiful bruises behind for you to admire tomorrow, “Please I need you in me. Wanna make you feel good.”

“Hm,” He smashes his lips to yours, teeth clacking together, unable to restrain himself when you have that blissed-out look coating your expression, and you reciprocate as his painfully large erection still digs into you; his cargo pants stained with your fluids in a large wet splotch. Your free hand shakily slides to his belt buckle, tugging uselessly at the metal until John takes notice and tilts his head back, “Just a minute, Princess, so needy for me already?”

“Always,” You gasp, kissing the corner of his mouth breathlessly, “You treat me so well, John, always make me feel so good.” Tilting his head farther up with a nail, you feel his breath still, held in his chest as you leave love bites all along the part where his shoulder and neck meet, “You’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

He melts into you before hastily going down to undo his belt buckle with one hand, allowing you to continue your work of marking him as his hips begin once more to careen into you with instinctual pleasure. Nearly crying from the sharp sense of overstimulation, you let the glossiness coat your eyes but still want more from him, even if it made you go dumb. 

Sliding your hands all over his back and digging into the delicious muscles with your nails, you only pause your ministrations when his pants fall to the floor with a thump of fabric; his boxers following. Pulling back, you let your head hit the mattress as John drops the leg he was holding and you splay your hands above your head, letting the chill of your jewelry ground you as you take in the sight above you. 

Every time you and John had sex it felt like you were taking him for the first time, the size of him stretching you so perfectly it didn’t take much for you to be reduced to a whimpering mess. It was even better when you were on top of him, straddling his hips and feeling his hands holding you in place as he plants his feet and thrusts up into you; hitting that perfect spongy spot and kissing your cervix. 

Staring at him, heat flows to your face, and your lower legs nearly fall together until John’s hands snap to them, forcing them open once more. On his tense stomach, his large cock leaks down onto itself, but he hardly seems to notice. Your heart pounds in your ribcage. 

“Don’t hide from me,” He mutters your name, fingers leaving goosebumps behind as they trail to your panties. John plays with the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, leaving you pouting as the seconds drag on. But he just watches you, running his digits over the come that stains the garment and leaks from your hole to the bed sheets. 

“What’d I do to deserve you, eh?” John grunts as you make a sound in the back of your throat, “What’d I do to deserve this?” 

He grabs your wrecked panties and slowly drags them to your ankles, letting them fall off to the floor to make a pile with his own clothes. Sucking in a breath, you feel the chill of the room meet your now-visible pussy. John’s eyes darken with lust, and one of his hands goes to lightly start pumping his cock at the sight of liquid falling out of you. His eyebrows pull in with concentration.

“Y-you don’t have to deserve me, John,” You whisper, watching in awe as his muscles tense as he jerks himself off at the sight of you; keeping eye contact with those blown orbs. One of your hands slides over your clovered breasts and down over your abdomen, finding your own slick folds before splaying them. Masking a whimper at your sensitivity, your eyelashes flutter as John’s jaw clenches at the visual, “I g-gave myself to you because I love you. You know that…Ah.” 

Growling, your Captain snaps a hand to wrap around your wrist before you can begin to rock your hips and weakly fuck yourself at the sight of his leaking cock-head.

“Easy, Love,” He groans, running a thumb over his tip, “Let me take care of you, yeah?” 

John’s hand leaves his cock, going to land on your other hand’s wrist as he pulls you to a sitting position. You release a squeak as you almost faceplant into his abdomen. 

“J-John?” Muttering with wide eyes, your heart jerks as his hands weave under your knees, the other spanning the back of your shoulders. He picks you up and tosses you up into the middle of the bed, making you squeal and release a set of giggles as you land softly onto the mattress. Your body bounces, hair partially blocking your view before you swipe it from your face.

John chuckles, placing a knee on the side of the bed before moving up and crawling forward, coming to trap you under his body as he places his massive weight against you. Hating the silk barrier between your bodies, you smile and move one of your fingers to clasp the zipper in the back.

“Let me,” The man mutters, laying a soft kiss on your lips before his large hands move behind you, grabbing the metal and dragging it down. 

You arch your back to help. 

When he reaches the end, he pulls the fabric and your bra over your head; he leaves the jewelry on your body with only a lick of his lips and a glance to tell you he enjoyed the way it stood out on your skin. His cock twitches. John drops the silk to the floor and slots his hips inside the space of your thighs. 

“Hm,” He breathes over your flaming cheeks, and you go to wrap your arms around his neck in anticipation, “Not right.”

He flips you over so you straddle his lower body, and immediately the impression of his cock is on your folds, leaving you moaning with want and heat as he leans against the headboard with a smirk. You swallow, seeing the way John watches with a tilted head.

“Fuck, you feel good,” You mutter, moving one hand down to grasp him as the other lands on his chest. You run your fingers over the pre-come staining the shaft and spread it around, angling him as he groans ahead of you. His thick fingers weave through your hair, forcing your head upwards as he starts leaving savage kisses over your neck; biting and making you grip him tighter with a moan, “So big. The perfect cock for splitting me open. No one else could take me like you can.”

“Shit,” John shakes, fingers digging into your side, “So nice to me, Love.” Your hand lines him up with your pussy, moving the tip around your hole before letting yourself begin to sink down. 

He fills you inch by inch, and you feel the ache in your hips as you bring your lip to your mouth, biting down to silence the loud sounds that are trying to escape from you. Stuttering, John’s teeth sink into the skin behind your ear as you bottom out a heavy minute later, both of your chests banging against each other as you gasp for breath. The trimmed hair over his pelvis is just as coarse as his beard, leaving you itching to move. Maybe you can ride his face after this – get that perfect beard burn in between your thighs.

“Feel so fucken’ good round me, Sweetheart,” John grunts, not able to stop the light roll of his hips as he moves his lips to yours, sealing them with an open-mouth kiss that leaves saliva dripping down between the two of you to where you’re joined, splattering over his abs, “But I need you to move, yeah?” 

So tight, You notice how you’re gripping John’s cock inside you like a vice, stretching so satisfyingly around him that you have to look down to see it for yourself. Your gaze flickers to see with a pleasure-drunk sheen; eyes widening. You find John stuffed so beautifully inside you that you have to restrain yourself from coming at the sight of it, engorged member spreading you open as your slick glistens at the base, How did he even fit? 

Your walls flutter in arousal, feeling filled so completely and seeing the bulge in your stomach. 

“Fucken’ bloody hell,” John whimpers, head tilting back to slam into the headboard harshly. He fills his chest with air, and before you have a chance to adjust his hips snap up, leaving you yammering in surprise; a loud whine leaves you breathless and falling into his chest for support. 

He hits that spot without even trying, moving your body up as he plants his feet and uses you like a fuck-toy. Sweat drips down his nose. Your jewelry clinks together, giving you something else to hear besides the sound of slapping skin and fluids squelching as John pounds into you. 

You chant your Captain’s name as you feel one of his hands travel to your clit, flicking it while the other controls your movement. Up and down. The bed creaks as you arch, mind losing all function as your nails drag down John's chest, leaving deep red claw marks behind. 

“No one else makes you feel like this, huh,” John growls, his eyes traveling your disheveled frame as he sends a particularly heavy thrust up into you that kisses your cervix. You writhe as he continues, mouth open and letting him do whatever he wants to you, “No one can make you this cock-dumb, can they? No, my good girl needs me to treat her right, is that it?” 

His jaw clenches, and he spreads his thighs even wider, making your own respond in turn and letting him hit even deeper.

“Answer me, Love. Come on,” John snaps his hand over your ass, and the resounding sound of the contact makes you tighten around him as your slick paints his abdomen with a clear sheen, “Can’t have you goin’ already on me. Haven’t even gotten to the good part.”

Your eyes roll back for a moment, head limp. You don’t even care who can hear you at the moment as your sounds bounce off the walls before fingers go around your jaw, forcing your head up to stare directly into John’s beautiful blues. His pace slows torturously and you gasp in desperation.

“Answer me.”

“No one!” You yell, eyes wet and glossy, “No one, John! F-fill me up, please,” You whine, words slurring as your body pointlessly shivers; tears track down your face as you beg, “Need your c-come in me. Please, Captain. Feels so good with your cock hitting me just right, paint my insides with your come, please!” 

The sounds you were making were downright pornographic, and you swore you heard someone banging on the walls to try and shut the two of you up. 

Not that that made you both slow down. 

“Gonna leave you dripping with me, Love,” John’s fast pace returns, becoming erratic, hips slamming into your own becoming almost too much with his hand returning to circle your clit. You whine with overstimulation, legs trying fruitlessly to close as that coil builds violently once more, “Won’t be able to bloody walk tomorrow after I’m done with you. Fuck, just how you like it. Gonna leave you drooling, yeah?” 

“Yeah…yeah…yeah,” You pant, heart pounding as John’s cock curves up into your womb, “love being cock-drunk ‘cause of you, C-captain.”

“Good girl, that’s right.” Your walls tighten one last time, and as John connects his lips with yours the line snaps as you come on his cock, gushing as he guides you through your orgasm with his still pistoning hips. The sound of the wet thrusting nearly makes you pass out, and as you released a high-pitched keen into your lover's mouth, he does the same. 

“Bloody Fucken’...!”

Your own pleasure had triggered his, and with a few sloppy thrusts later, his seed is coating your insides white with a chest-rumbling groan. You feel the combined fluids slide between the ring you two had made as you fit together, pooling to corrupt both of your flesh. But that was alright -- it simply becomes even easier to fuck like that. 

John ruts into you still, cock softening even as it seems he could go more rounds. But today had been long. You sit pleasure-drunk on his chest as your body is moved back and forth by those soft, slick, thrusts, your own hips casually rocking as drool falls from the corner of your mouth. Your eyes had gained a faraway look to them.

Your nerves sing with satisfaction, your womb feeling full and dripping with his seed. Nothing made you feel this good; made your legs feel so numb and shakey.

“You alright, Love?” John pants, beard coming to scratch your temple as he whispers in your ear, “didn’t go too hard on you, I hope.”  

You smirk, moving your head to kiss his chest, licking over the purple and blue bruises you had given him. He sucks in a breath, and inside of you his cock twitches; your abused walls clenching. 

“I’m fine.” You let out a sigh, sucking in greedy breaths right after, “But I think the others might hate us tomorrow. Someone was banging on the wall a while ago.”

John lays a kiss on the side of your head, catching a drop of sweat on his lips as your fucked-out eyes go to look up at him.

“Then they’re really going to like what I do to you next.”

[carriesthewind]

Anytime I see someone just wholeheartedly defend piracy for any and all books and whatnot, I wonder how they would feel if they spent some time and care making something, be it a scarf or a painting or even dinner etc., and have someone just walk by and make a comment about how good it looks so they’re just going to take it for themselves. Like personally I would be upset about that and I would have thought they would be too, but with the attitude they have against authors and artists wanting to get paid, I now have to assume they would actually thank the person who was stealing from them. Obviously copyright laws aren’t perfect and authors by and large should be treated better by publishers, but how is stealing, because that is what piracy is, going to help anyone? It’s just so dumb.

I don't know - I think some of it is almost certainly thoughtless, a knee-jerk reaction to not being able to access all the content one wants to. (And I don't even want to entirely dismiss that - media has a strong emotional effect on us. That's the point. To be affected by the idea that you can no longer access something that means so much to you - or that it was wrong to access something that affected you in the past - that is very human, if I don't necessarily condone the way people choose to react.) But I do think it's worth interrogating the analogy, because while I do think what the IA did with the "National Emergency Library" is theft, I don't think all forms of CDL, or even all forms of what would be considered piracy, are theft. And I think the analogy is slippery. There are plenty of published authors who can and do (and have loudly expressed) that they feel that fanfic is theft and have used similar analogies to describe it. (And again, I condone neither that view, not any actions taken to harass or abuse such authors for expressing feelings of hurt.)

Because intellectual property and ideas *are* different. That doesn't mean I disagree with the idea of copyright (though as I've tried to make clear, I don't agree with the current copyright regime that exists in practice). I actually think most people I've seen and interacted with agree that creators do retain some level of rights and ownership over their creation - for example, that's why plagiarism is upsetting to so many people, regardless of any financial gain by the plagiarist. (Though again, most doesn't mean everyone, and there are very different ways that individuals can see, and that different cultures have and continue to conceptualize, intellectual ownership.) And then of course there is the fact that most of the people reading this, and most if not all of the authors affected by the IA's actions live under capitalism. (And sorry for the multiple tangents here, but while I sympathize to some extent with arguments about how artists and authors using and enforcing the copyright regime re-enforces the harmful exploitation of both creation and creatives by the regime, I don't buy it. I see it in much the same way as I see arguments that public defenders and other indigent/free attorney services reinforce the current injustice system. It's not wrong, per se, but the people being ground beneath the wheel of the copyright/legal system have and will continue to be ground regardless of the actions of people mitigating the damage. Our entire social system needs far more reforms, and leaving people more vulnerable (which is what is advocated for) is not an effective strategy for reform, nor is it necessary to destroy the protections - meager though they may be - for those vulnerable to exploitation to the system in order to either destroy or reform the systems as a whole. But then again, I am biased on this point because of my perspective.)

Anyway, I hope this response makes sense. I am slightly intoxicated.

[little-annie]

Genuine Leather

8.4k E Complete

Steve's belt keeps disappearing and when he does manage to find it, he's discovers much more than he expected to behind Eddie's bedroom door.

Or, a little bit of pining and some filthy smut

Or, a piece of fanart had me drooling and I felt legally obligated to write a fic to go along with it

[Roommates | Bondage | Breath Play | Improper Use of Steve's Belt]

Licorice Ice Cream

3.8k 2/?Ch T WIP but chapters can be read as stand alone

It's damn hot in Hawkins Indiana and of course the Munson's AC is busted. But at least Starcourt Mall has functional AC and an ice cream shop and what is that? Steve Harrington in a Sailors Costume?

[Eddie's POV | Scoops Ahoy | Supportive Uncle Wayne | Heat Wave]

Ghostly

3.6k 2Ch E Complete

"It started in the nights where he'd awake from the horrors of his nightmares to a sudden chill that'd linger at his side. An eerie but oddly comforting feeling that'd press against his body with intent. Pressure at his back and wrapping around his waist, a touch he'd longed for but never had the chance to experience. A touch he'd been desperate for since spring break of 86'. A touch he'd wish to experience in the aftermath of hell but never once had the opportunity before it was taken away and left to rot in the barren wasteland of the Upside Down.

A touch of a man he knows he could have grown to love."

OR Steve falls in love with Eddie's ghost

...but I was high on cold medicine when I wrote this lol so don't expect too much

[Post S4, Ghost Fucking, Happy Ending]

Something More

3.8k E Complete but may add to later

Steve Harrington's not gay.

He just needs more.

And well, 'The Freak's' more.

Or the start of something more between 'The King' and 'The Freak.'

[Internalized Homophobia | Public Blow Job | Steve's First Time With a Man]

In this Lifetime

2.4k T Complete

Years down the road Steve asks Eddie to help plan his proposal, specifically what to say to his future fiance and well, things don't go quite as planned when Eddie's the one who ends up down on one knee.

Or, Eddie never bothered coming out to the ragtag group of monster hunters and so Steve had always thought a future with him wasn't in the cards.

Or, they inevitably sort their shit out and realize they're in love with each other

[Roommates | Post S4 Eddie Lives | Requited Unrequited Love | Panic Attack]

Figured it'd be Different

9.7k E Complete

He has a big fat crush on Eddie and Steve Harrington's never really been good with words so he hoping his actions might spur Eddie to take charge and do something about it.

OR Steve decides to make Eddie jealous by sleeping with people while he knows Eddie's awake and has no choice but to listen.

OR Eddie goes half nuts trying to figure out if everything Steve's doing is intentional or not, he finally clues in when Steve tells him word for word what he's doing any why.

[College | Exhibitionism | Accidental Voyeurism | Fluff and Smut]

They Have to Tell Them

2.6k 3Ch T Complete

Eddie and Steve have been together for a while and they think it's finally time they tell their friends.

OR They come out to Dustin, Robin and The Party on three separate occasions and it's quiet hilarious

[Coming Out | The Party | Secret Relationship]

Closets and Dill Pickle Chips

11.8k E Complete

Steve comes out to Robin a few times whether he means to or not. When he finally does it sober, she helps him devise a plan on how to win over Eddie.

OR From Steve's Bi-Awakening, to Bi-Panic to figuring out he loves a boy.

OR A glimpse into Steve's self discovery and getting the boy of his dreams

OR The first time in years Steve allows himself to cry, is the first time he makes love to Eddie Munson

[Coming Out | Eddie is Steve's Bi Awakening | Friends to Lovers | Bi Panic]

Art by @ahhrenata

Mission: A Very Steddie Christmas

21.6 E Complete but may add to later

The Party and Robin are sick and tired of Steve and Eddie dancing around (read: being hopelessly blind to) each other's affection. So, like any good friends, they set out with a plan to have the pair coupled up before Christmas. Shenanigans and scheming ensue and sooner than later we find the boys giggling and entangled under the Mistletoe.

[My 1st Complete Steddie Fic | My First Time Writing Steddie Smut | Xmas Fic | The Party | Friends to Lovers | Fluff | Eventual Smut]

[yurious-george]

4'33'', by John Cage, is commonly remembered as 4 and a half minutes of silence. But contrary to popular belief, the song is not actually meant to be the sound of silence, but the sound of quiet. Ambient noises contribute to - and consist of - the performance. True silence does not exist. If one tilts their head right, the whole world sings. and, with that said, a playlist.

yeah, this one's a doozy. hi, cubewatermelon and co. miss me?

rhetorical question. don't answer that.

A few nitty-gritty things out of the way, first. this is specifically intended for the 2018 mod team for the sleepless domain fans discord server, primarily cubewatermelon/mary cagle. Folks who knew me are welcome to look on, but I'm not going to do much to catch people up to speed. hi, everyone! hope you're well!

I also might be a bit disjointed or biased in my recollection. For reasons that will be made clear extremely soon, I can't put my childhood on a linear timeline. I can only express myself, and hope I don't mess it up horribly this time.

Noooowww to the big stuff. re: stalking; i genuinely didn't mean to stalk anyone, and when they told me to back off, i backed off. I am not willing to discuss this further. not being able to conceptualize other people's emotions or the consequences of my actions has caused some problems for me

that's an autism thing btw. im autistic i dont think i told anyone that

And now, the special guest you've all been waiting for: a big round of applause for the elephant in the room! In accordance with the WMA Declaration of Tokyo, the deliberate overprescription of psychotropic medication is a form of pharmacological torture. Most victims of pharmacological torture and experimentation are children, because it is nigh-impossible to sue for brain damage when there is no fully-formed adult brain for comparison prior to the abuse.

Torture is a strong word, but I don't have another word to use. psychiatric abuse usually describes mistreatment in psychiatric wards; pharmacological abuse describes a patient who takes advantage of a prescription; medical abuse is when a doctor (usually physically) abuses their patient. Being able to understand what happened to you is a form of agency, and I don't even have the words. I identify as a torture victim; this may change.

This high dose was precedented and legal, but the vaginal stretching of intersex infants is also legal. much involuntary psychiatric & psychotropic treatment (such as restraints and solitary confinement) are legal, and child marriage is legal. abuse is not abnormal: it is profoundly normal. Because something is normal, legal, and precedented does not prevent it from being torture.

and when your mother hands you a poison apple and says "here, eat this; it will be good for you; i hope someday you'll forgive me" you have to eat it, because you are eight years old and you don't get to argue with your mother. despite all this, I don't blame my aunt for refilling the high dose. when I said the dose was hurting me, she listened. (thank you, auntie. i wouldn't have gotten out without you.)

And this brings us to you. oh, you four. (five? i forget myself!)

I'd like to establish some context. I was used to things getting taken from me. friend groups in particular: I didn't expect to keep any friends, because I constantly expected to have to pack up and move on. I moved a lot in my childhood, and in Africa, i was constantly told that at some undetermined point in the near future, i'd have to go back to the states. living with my aunt was a temporary thing, i was expected to eventually move back in with my parents at some undetermined point in the future. I relied heavily on online friends because they were people I could have anywhere, so online communities were my only lifeline - not to mention, i was basically in solitary confinement while in Kenya.

Most of all, I was terrified of my mental health/actions being exposed, examined, found lacking, and ultimately excluded. (this is why i was so afraid of psychiatric wards.) When you decided something had to be done about me - cutting me off from the server so i had to speak with you - It was either comply with your demands to communicate (which I could not, and did not understand why) or lose the community. I was so, so afraid of you i wanted to die when you all confronted me, and of course i couldn't say that, because only manipulative people would say "your attempt to solve this problem makes me want to seriously hurt myself."

But then I got called manipulative anyway <3 yay <3

Seriously: I wasn't trying to manipulate anyone, and i have no idea how you can manipulate someone without intention. (ah, that felt good to say!) Between medication spellbinding, alexithymia, and prior abuse, all my thoughts were so disordered i genuinely couldn't explain myself most of the time. Looking back, I have no childhood memory where I was fully lucid. I leaned into a manic persona because it was the only way I had any agency at all. I was something beyond both reason and self-recognition, and I willingly tried to brute-force my way through an extreme trauma response to please you. And you still hit me with my worst nightmare. that's why i was mad at you lol

I was so, so afraid, all the time, and I didn't even have the tools to understand I was afraid. How could someone as confident and impulsive as me be so fearful all the time? Was that manic persona freedom? Or was it a longer leash?

(Forgive my impulse toward rhetoric. I shouldn't ask questions you can't answer.)

I also couldn't say how badly i was hurting, because that would be venting, but you also accused me of venting when I was just talking about my day? or what was on my mind? I didn't understand that very well. autism moment, don't bother explaining it now. I also couldn't burden people with my actual mental health problems, because making strangers deal with that would be toxic! I resent you for setting up a system where it seemed safest not to speak and then punishing me for my inability to communicate. I resent every system that set me up for failure and punished me for failing, including yours.

And yet - I know that was not your intent! I can see in retrospect how hard you tried to be kind using the tools you had. The people with power over me, who genuinely did not want to do me harm and gave me multiple second chances, still upheld and facilitated the systems that tortured me; a miniature parody of the psychiatric system. (talk therapy and communication are useless if you struggle with self-awareness.) The same is true for the source: No person in my psychiatric treatment wanted me to suffer, and yet, here I am: a torture victim without a torturer. (except my parents, sort of.)

The logical conclusion, then: the system only intends to heal those who are already compliant, or prioritize compliance. The rest of us are treated to induce compliance, and if we still cannot, we are sequestered away. My medicine made me sick, and my prescribers made money off of keeping me sick - off of my torture. This is not a conspiracy: it is my lived experience.

However, even if i could communicate perfectly, we still would have had massive communication issues. Like - you know that one page where ben and steffi talk about dating, and ben says he thought steffi was gay? and steffi gets super defensive and it escalates into a screaming fight? I found that offensive, because a character getting that offput by the concept of not liking men (or a man) is kind of lesbophobic! But I understood that it would be a pain to redraw/write the page so they they fight about something else, don't fight, or some other solution, so i didn't need it to be fixed - just wanted to point out that was a reasonable interpretation, and one to be aware of in the future. but somehow my concerns got interpreted as a phrasing issue…? like, Ms. Cagle rewrote the page to say "weren't into guys" instead of "gay"..? You were very polite about it, Ms! But I found this interaction so baffling I didn't even try to correct it. that… wasn't what i said…

frankly we should bring back mildly homophobic steffi. twas narratively appropriate (<- different essay for a different time)

but yeah the whole communication operation was doomed from the start. rip!

The issue was always my inability to communicate, but my meds made it nigh-impossible to understand what I was feeling, and when I did, expressing myself could get me institutionalized. My suffering was inevitable but always, somehow, my fault. Awesome! *disintegrates into a pile of sand*

I cannot deny I was a girl like a box of matches waiting to be struck. You had no choice but to do as you did. But is it really what you ought to have done? (On this, I have no answer. I hope you have one that satisfies you.)

(that was genuine, by the by. i've spent a lot of time pondering this mess, and I still haven't found the "right" answer. I don't think there is one - though action or inaction, there is no version of this story where I don't suffer. I can only hope it was worth it. wait, hold on *adds the omelas child to my Kin List*)

Nor can I deny making my previous open letter in a small attempt to 'get back' at you - i'm not above that. lord knows i'm not innocent. but i really was trying to channel that rage into something productive. unfortunately i was doomed to fail because i didn't know what i meant. if you showed me that letter now, you'd hear a lot of "what? I don't know why I said that" "i have no idea why i would complain about something so minor" etc. You can disregard all that. This is what I was trying to say. the obsession, the trauma, the projection: all of it. So much of my obsession was talking around an issue i couldn't identify.

(meguka image) I know now

I knew I would be traumatized by this whole situation. I saw it coming and i could do nothing to stop it. But Gear was crucial to deciphering all this - in fact, suddenly thinking about her last year prompted me to really dissect my medical situation and realize i was tortured. I couldn't have done it without her. cassie & maggie, against the world.

Gear scans surprisingly well as a victim of long-term torture, actually. I don't think you meant to do that but good job!

speaking of her - i still don't think she's consistently suicidal. she's a real cockroach of a character, and I love her for it! But sometimes, i want to die and i want to live mean the same thing, because they both mean i need to get out of here. Imo, her thought processes and desires frequently contradict themselves, like mine did. and making your favs kill themselves in increasingly gruesome ways is really fun catharsis!

But please don't take this to mean I consider myself - or Gear - blameless. I love her because she's not blameless, because she's cruel for fun, because she'd rather be wicked than helpless. Like knows like. What I mean to say is, as of 2018, there is a black space between little Margret and Gear, and I saw all the signs of something very, very bad happening in that space. I know because I shared that space. what I mean to say is, teenage girls don't go out of their minds over nothing. Everything I made here is just an expression of what I heard in the narrative's silences.

and thus my biggest apprehension around revisiting the comic. knowing the author and I have such fundamentally different experiences with mental health - what if the signs of torture i picked up on weren't intended, or i completely made them up? what if, in the parts i haven't read yet, there's information that uproots my entire interpretation, or berates her for refusing mental health services that hurt me profoundly? how do you reconcile that a character so crucial to deciphering yourself may not be anything like you at all? I Don't Know. Shitpost, probably

You're welcome to share those shitposts and whatnot by the way. Creating this let me put down years of hurt, and i hope it relieves you, too. I don't need to go back on the server, or forgiveness, or anything besides understanding. consider this a peace offering. the terms are yours.

Despite writing nearly 10k words, I still probably missed something or was callous or whatever. Self-expression and self-understanding are… new to me. My apology may be understated, but please take it as I meant it, with utmost sincerity. My askbox is open, and I'm more than happy to discuss antipsych resources, KB, What The Hell Is Wrong With Gear, artistic choices made in this comic, etc. I'm even down to reconnect on discord! Maybe. Uh, I'm conflicted. I reserve my right to not want to talk, be slow in responding, and so on, as should you. we've no obligations and all the time in the world. Let neither of us hurt ourselves in meeting because it's the "right" thing to do. I'm not blaming anyone or trying to start drama. If it would give you the most peace of mind to completely ignore this, please do so.

or, translated: as of right now, I'm not ready for any information about KB after steffi reunites with her dad, or difficult emotional reunions. I would really like to hear from everyone, and I'd appreciate casual well-wishes. I don't want things to be the same, I want them to be peaceful. Baby steps, cassie, baby steps. (very large and fearful prey animal tries not to run into oncoming traffic)

mostly, making this was for me. Perhaps I've said too much, but after spending so long unable to express myself freely, my art was cathartic and necessary. I'm no one's martyr or innocent, I'm just a torture victim trying to make sense of it all. I want to articulate some thoughts I couldn't figure out how to say before and make some silly things that make people laugh. Most of all, I'm happy in ways I never thought I could be, and I would like to share that joy with old acquaintances and other fans of a story I adored.

What I mean to say is: The train's about to leave the station, and there's an empty seat beside me. The train will still leave whether or not you board; but I would be honored not to go it alone!

Thank you to everyone who stuck by me even after the drama. Ethel, Felipe, Chris - even though we've fallen out of contact, your kindness and patience meant more than i can say. special thank you to @stars-in-a-jam-jar, the first person i confessed everything to after the smoke cleared, and someone i consider myself close with no matter how long we fall out of contact. My close online friends, @shafpanda, @theoandmoon, @dvanaestmrva, my honorary cousin @my-name-is-jimmy, and everyone else I confided in about my torture. and, of course, my partners @transloo and @teenyjellyfishy, and my little sibling, @aroacenezhaanddainsleif, the three people I love most in the world. Thank you, all. it is an honor to love you, and be loved by you.

[twig-tea]

What's Going On with Seng and Freen

I don't like to follow too much of the fandom drama, but I had to mention what's going on re: Seng and Freen, two QL industry artists.

Seng is a BL actor who has been in Secret Crush on You, Y Destiny, and War of Y, all partnered with Billy Patchanon. Seng was originally with Idolfactory but left on January 2023 when his contract expired.

Freen is a GL actor who has been in Secret Crush on You and GAP the Series both partnered with Becky.

The FreenBecky ship is particularly strong and this ship has been really active promoting and doing fanmeets since GAP aired.

Last week Idolfactory posted a notice that the privacy of one of their artists, Freen, had been violated and that they were taking legal action.

A video was posted a few days ago (no I'm not going to link it) taken through a window from a distance, showing Seng and Freen kissing. Since then, both Freen and Seng have come forward to say that yes, it is them in the video, that someone followed and recorded them without their permission, and they apologize to their fans.

I...just cannot handle the way people are talking about this on Twitter [still calling it that]. Thank goodness for this place, honestly.

Listen, feel however you want to feel about your ship being real, but don't shame a victim of stalking, harassment, and attempted extortion for having a relationship that isn't the one you hoped they had in their real, private lives.

No matter how much money someone makes from performing a relationship with someone else in a ship, they don't owe you their personhood. They are still allowed to be who they are and love who they love on their downtime.

Gatekeeping who can and cannot act in queer media does nothing but force people out of the closet (potentially threatening their life, depending on their circumstances) and take away peoples' fundamental right to decide who they share parts of themselves to and when. [Note if someone is in a position of power enforcing homophobic legislation or culture and they are outed that is different because it's about the hypocrisy of their politics and the prevention of further damage to other queer people]

Insisting that people who are acting as part of their job have been lying to you by not being the people they are pretending to be for money does nothing but explain that you don't understand the meaning of the words acting or job. If you don't like that shipping culture feels real when it isn't, then don't pay attention to it.

Leaving here the note from one of the authors of War of Y (which if you haven't seen it includes a plot in which another shipped Idolfactory couple, Tohru and First, play characters who are in a ship but one sleeps with a costar which potentially ruins both of their careers when it gets leaked to the press... it's all a bit wildly accurate tbh)

[I know this rant is not for the people here who are going to see it but I had to yell it somewhere, sorry tumblr buds]

Editing to add: OMG I can't believe I forgot that I would have to say this, but also bisexuality and pansexuality exist, just because someone kisses someone of a different gender does not mean they also never have and never will enjoy kissing someone of the same gender, and either way it is literally none of your business and you cannot queerbait people in real life. That is Not A Thing. Please stop saying it.

If you want the industry to be better for out queer actors, contribute to a safer environment for queer actors to be out by supporting out queer actors, so that more actors can feel safe and have stable careers while out.

[real-total-drama-takes]

First time doing this so I hope I'm going about it right

Ok ok my topic I'm going to talk about is going to be continuing on why I think it makes sense for all of these contestants to rationally do the things they did on this show.

OK,,, so first up, again, they were all ***16***

These are ***kids*** who were exploited for drama and ratings on a (in universe) reality TV show for a prize pool of (originally 100k) a million dollars.

Even before it went up this is a life changing amount of money.

Better yet- we don't know the full picture of like any of these kids backgrounds.

We don't know how they grew up, or what kinda shit they grew up with. Things could've been stressful for them, they could just be on the show for fun, whatever.

But another good point I'm about to bring up is that they were LIED TO about alot of what went on in the show!!!

These kids are all smack dab in the middle of teenage hormones and bullshit and probably the most stressful period of their childhoods

Like as a 16 year old myself I can attest to that, this shit is ROUGH.

And at the same time these kids are at risk of dying in literally next to every single episode they filmed for this show.

And that's not even starting on the toxic waste and shit in ROTI.

You have to keep ALL OF THAT in mind when it comes to how they're acting while on this show.

This shit is stressful. Like total drama is the kind of thing that would probably linger with these teens for the rest of their lives. Not even just because of the danger- because this show is well known and these kids will NEVER just be normal teens again.

Weighing on that last bit a little more- these kids, like first arriving to total drama is their basically last shot of being just normal fucking kids again. And even then they're not going to initially acknowledge that right away because they are going to be focused on the game and trying to win.

So here they are- 22 teenagers all in forced proximity of each other- initially with a bunch of strangers, and even as they get to know each other they do NOT all like each other- all competing for a literally life changing amount of money. That only one of them can win.

It makes PERFECT FUCKING SENSE for some competitors to be as ruthless as Heather and Alejandro were!!! They were trying to win!! The best way they knew how!!

Kindness can win this show, something we learned with Owen, but so can playing the game like Heather and Alejandro did, perfect example being them in the final two of World Tour.

Not even to mention,,, these kids are stuck in this contract legally in this show-

I mean, normally, contracts signed by minors are not legally binding but that doesn't work the same way in total drama if these kids are continually forced into coming back for more seasons with the threat of legal action being taken on them.

On them AND THEIR FAMILIES.

Literally add this all together and it just reiterates back to what I said above- this is their LAST chance to be normal teenagers- both because they could die and because when this show gets popular internationally they are GOING to get a decently sized fanbase, if not even bigger.

So like tie that, and the thing I said about hormones in with stuff like the Duncan Gwen and Courtney love triangle? IT MAKES SENSE!!!

With all these added factors plus the fact they are kids PLUS the fact they are going to make mistakes- BAD DECISIONS ARE MADE!!! BUT ITS COMPLETELY UNDERSTANDABLE IF YOU THINK RATIONALLY ABOUT WHY THEY HAD TO ACT OUT LIKE THEY DID.

Whether it be morally dubiously (if not even,,,) going about winning the competition, cheating on your girlfriend, literally doing ANYTHING these kids did- IT MAKES COMPLETE SENSE TO SEE WHY THEY ACTED LIKE THEY DID RATIONALLY.

And that is my td take. Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

[its-actually-minicika]

A Bumpy Aftermath (18+)

(HotD Hogwarts!AU)

part 2 of "The Yule Ball";;

List of headcanons for the main three;;

Pairings: Aemond x Reader, Jacaerys x Reader, Aegon x Reader;

Warnings: ANGST, pining, jealousy, NSFW content (not in the way that you hope for), (Y/N) is crushed in this one, not proof-read yet;

Word count: a lot, and we're not even done;

Author's Note: I apologise for the delay! I know I was meant to post this long ago, but I got wrapped in so many things this holiday season. When the time came to edit what I had in my drafts, I rewrote the whole thing from scratch - I think you guys deserve the best I can offer, and I wasn't proud of that particular end result :")

Speaking of time, this fic contains a lot of time-travelling - as opposed to how it's portrayed in the Harry Potter franchise, the time travelling in this fic works quite differently; When you do it, not only do you disappear from the present you left, but you also fully replace the past version of yourself from the time you decided to travel to - as such, there no "clone" lurking around that you have to be careful with. The only disadvantage for our heroes is that there is no one to fulfil the good and the bad actions that they did a night before...

After the wrap up of last night's celebrations, (Y/N) wakes up with dread flooding her veins - although she has Aemond, the sun rays bring both Jacerys and Aegon forth, shining over her confused feelings.

All's well when ends well, but what will happen if she can't figure out her heart?

The gentle promise of a new dawn slowly stirrs (Y/N) awake.

Her eyes flutter open, and she brings her hands up in a lazy stretch. Slowly, yet surely, she gets up from her warm bed, and stiffles a yawn that threatens to escape her parted lips.

"Well, good morning, sleepy head!" Celeste Bone, her roommate, teases the girl lightly. "We thought you were dead for a sec there. Not even the screams of the Quiddich team woke you up."

(Y/N) is taken aback, and her eyes widen momentarily - not only was it a Sunday afternoon, but there were no games to play during that time of the term, either.

Noticing her confusion, Celeste shakes her head and adds through a mouthful of jelly beans, "The Slytherins had a fight with our guys - tell me something new - and they took it up on the empty playing field. But Lucaerys got pretty roughed up. They're not sure he's gonna play in the next games."

(Y/N)'s mouth hangs open in shock - a pained look graces her features, and she bites her inner cheek, while quickly dressing up in her robes. "Merlin's beard, is he okay now?! What started the fight?"

"He's in the West Wing, in the Infirmary. Wost thing he's donning on is a concussion. They..." Celeste scratches her head in an attempt to remember what exactly started the misunderstanding. Her expression turns sour and she snaps her fingers.

"They overheard the Slytherins taking shit about that Graphorn Professor Lynnen brought last week to class. You know how Androw got scratched by it? His mommy issued a whole investigaton over the legality of bringing a real magical creature to class... turns out there's a lot of but's and if's when it comes to that."

(Y/N)'s head pumps in pure shock and adrenaline. You oversleep one time, and this is what happens to the whole school?

Celeste shrugs her shoulders.

"Either way, their guys said some fucked up shit, ours retaliated by punching them real good. Luke called Androw a 'hairy butt' or something, and those bastards full on jumped him!"

"Fuck." (Y/N) exhaled through a strained breath, not even bothering to tie up her shoelaces. "Poor Luke. And poor Jace, too..."

She left her Common Room in a hurry, jumping once every two steps on the moving staircase, until she reached the Infirmary. As she entered through the big oak doors, the exasperated sighs of Miss Margelle, the school's main nurse, could be heard as clear as day.

"To anyone who isn't his immediate family, get out. Out, I said! Let the poor child rest!" She scolded infinitely, until the students of the Gryffindor Quiddich team started leaving the waiting room one by one.

(Y/N)'s back stiffened, and she lowered her head to sneak past the student body to reach Luke's bed. There, she found Jace, Baela and Rhaena already seated, and a very beat up Luke to match their worried faces.

"Luke!" The girl uttered affectionately, reaching for his bandaged palm. "I came as soon as I heard. Those Slytherins are God damn savages."

Jacaerys is the first to leap up, his eyes full from a mixture of affection and reluctance over last night's events. He is quick to offer (Y/N) his chair, running a hand though his brown hair, not knowing whether he should apologise once more or concentrate on the subject at hand.

(Y/N)'s eyes are the first to soften up at the sight of him, and his bloody nose.

"Jace... don't tell me they got you too!" She muses with a crooked smile, worry evident in her voice.

"If you think they got him, you should've see how they looked like after Jace had a turn." Baela announces loud and proud, jerking her head in the direction of two far away beds, separated from her field of view by a sheer curtain.

"Baela...!" Jacerys chastises the young Targaryen with a slight blush on his cheeks.

"What? They can listen in all they want - It's not like it's a lie!"

After shaking his head with a barely hidden smirk, Jace turns his full attention to (Y/N), and bites his lower lip. "We're fine. Those fuc--... those Slytherins aren't gonna touch either one of us anytime soon."

"But they'll take their revenge on Böfur alright!" Rhaena sniffles loudly with teary eyes.

This snaps (Y/N)'s attention, and the girl exchanges a look with Jacaerys, who only bites his cheek in remorse at the reminder.

"Wait, what happened?" The Gryffindor enquires, leaning onto the chair more, her hands clasped tightly over her chest. "Celeste told me that Androw pressed some charges against Professor Lynnen. What will happen to the Graphorn?"

"That's the thing." Luke sighs in the hospital bed. "The lawyers pressed charges against them both - they wanted to arrest Lynnen and euthanise Böfur."

"The news for the latter came by this morning." Jace added sombrely. "Their request actually went through."

For a second, (Y/N) can feel her heart stop. The only noises that befall the Infirmary are Lucerys' growl and Baela's loud curses.

She nods her head briskly, and gets up on her feet, just as fast as Jace did. "Then we must do something. We can't just let the poor guy be taken in by the Ministry."

Jace's eyes fill with glee and determination, and the male hums in agreement. "Absolutely." He concludes, dusting the creases out of his robes.

"And I know just the way to do it."

Two sets of rapid footsteps descend from the moving staircase. Jace and (Y/N) scurry along, on a pathway that could only lead to the Hufflepuff Common Room.

With each taken step, the girl's brows furrow deeper - what did Böfur's fate have anything to do with the gentle Hufflepuffs?

And, if she could be honest to herself, she had no wish to bump into Aegon again.

Mayhaps sensing her distress, or simply being wrecked by their lack of conversation, Jace takes in a deep breath and lowers his head to the ground.

"I wanted to tell you how sorry I am about the things I said last night." His husky voice echoes throughout the empty corridor. Only when he feels (Y/N)'s shoulders relax, in a silent encouragement to continue, he keeps going. "I behaved like a jealous pig, and I want you to know that I'll spend every single day that's left in this year to make it up to you."

Chocolate hues clash with shining (y/e/c) eyes - Gryffindor glances at Gryffindor, until both their stares soften in fondness.

"Jace..." (Y/N) utters through a deep sigh, "It's okay."

"No. No, it isn't." He whispers amusedly, vexxing himself for his unprincely behaviour. "You were so happy on the dance floor, and I ruined it all, because... Because I couldn't stand the idea of you having fun with someone other than me."

Jacaerys' pained face speaks of his honesty from miles away - still, he takes in a shaky breath and recoils into himself, persisting with his confession.

"I was selfish. I was an ass. Most of all, I was a coward." His eyes flutter close for a few seconds, before opening them again to grace the girl with the softest of smiles. "I wanted to ask you to the dance myself. I had everything ready, I knew all the things that I had to say, and yet... I never did."

He shrugs his broad shoulders and runs a hand through his rebel hair. He can't say he expects the girl to answer. Even now, he feels selfish for staining a heartfelt apology with his feelings for her - still, he had to let her know.

The only thing he was hoping for now was that (Y/N) could find it in herself to still be his friend.

Her mouth hangs wide open, before she collects herself, biting her lower lip in tribulation.

Although Jace's confession made her heart leap in place and her face surely turn red, the girl had to swallow down the feelings he awoke in her - she was Aemond's girlfriend now, and she had to let him know. As gently as she could.

Before she can cook up an apology and a reasonable explanation for her following rejection, a familiar head of silver hair catches her eye.

Of course it was him.

"Jace - there you are!" Aegon's distressed groan shook the very staircase to the core.

His leg was jerking rapidly in place, and he looked as if he'd been waiting on him for hours on end. "Took your sweet time, didn't you? You know I can't stay here for long."

Quickly, his attention falls on the familiar clump of (y/h/c) hair, and Aegon averts his eyes while choking on his own remarks. "(Y/N)." He says in a most stale manner, coughing in the back of his hand.

Utterly unimpressed, the girl apprisingly nods her head, keeping her mouth in a tight line. As for Aegon, the older male was doing anything but look at (Y/N), shifting from one foot to the next.

The other one who is sharing her expression is the older Velaryon, who completely gives up on waiting for his uncle; instead gesturing towards Aegon's pockets and taking the first step forward.

"We're sorry we're late - but we're here now." He finally says, as Aegon's hand frantically searches through his robe. His purple eyes light up when he gets a hold of something.

"Ah, here we are - good as new." The Targaryen muses expectantly, handing Jace a rusty looking necklace with a proud look.

"What is that?" (Y/N) asks through a quirked up brow, as she runs her fingers down the dainty hourglass.

"That, dear (Y/N), is a very old and important family heritage." Whilst speaking, Aegon pauses dramatically, waiting for the girl to gesture him to keep going.

Noticing her lack of enthusiasm towards his antics, he nods his head in awknowledged defeat and quirks the corners of his mouth downwards in a most amusing frown.

"You're still mad about last night - fair enough. Are you familiar with the term... 'time-turner'?"

At that, (Y/N)'s eyes turn up. She nods her head decidedly and huffs out in a breath.

"The magical device that allows any witch or wizard to turn back in time for a limited amount of hours."

Jace gives her a boyish wink and smiles happily. "That's right! ... This is our best bet to save Lynnen and Böfur." He adds in a more serious tone.

"How in the world did you get your hands on this?" The Gryffindor asks, mesmerised by the priceless antique. "I thought the entire stock of Time-Turners were somewhere in the Ministry building, held under lock and key."

Aegon throws (Y/N) an arrogant smile, and shrugs his shoulders playfully.

"As I said, it's a very precious family heirloom... and the name Targaryen weighs very heavily in the magical world." He snickers while adding, "You know, just in case you were wondering."

A pang of annoyance graces (Y/N)'s features, and Aegon raises his hands up in quiet surrender.

"I only meant it as a helpful tip in case you ever need anything." The oldest of the Targaryen brother solemnly says.

Jacaerys, too, rolls his eyes silently, but pats his uncle on the back in a greatful manner. "Thank you, Aegon. We couldn't do it without you."

"I know." The older male agrees thickly, checking his own pocket-watch. "Well, look at the time, indeed." He chuckles to himself, "I wish you good luck on your ventures, dear nephiew, darling (Y/N)."

Choosing to ignore his petname, the Gryffindor looks at the Targaryen with renowed interest and confusion.

"You're not coming with?" She asks tentatively, to which Aegon shakes his head, rocking an expression akin to frustration.

"Tsk, I can't." He tuts lightly, as he buries his hands into his black robes. "I have to go to court - courtesy to my baby brother."

"Aemond?" (Y/N) asks in disbelief, before adding on. "Court? I knew you'd eventually end up there, but I thought it'd take more time than that."

Feigning hurt at her silacious words, Aegon placed both his hands atop his heart, moaning painfully, as if he'd been shot.

"You hurt me, wound me truly - mom always said that the prettiest girls have the deadliest mouths."

Snickering at his double edged meaning, no doubt more than overjoyed, Aegon rose to his feet again.

"It's not what you think, though - thanks to your precious Aemond, Professor Lynnen is in more trouble than worth." This time, his attitude is serious.

Aegon lets out a bitter laugh and clicks his tongue in pure annoyance. "That brat can't keep his mouth shut about anything he deems improper."

"What do you mean?" (Y/N) asks, eyes wide from both confusion and offence raised at her boyfriend.

"You don't know?" Aegon asks, fully befuddled, before letting out in a low whistle. "I though you were the first to know, since my brother is your best friend and all."

As Aegon turned his back on the pair, taking the way down on the moving staircase, he threw nonchalantly over his shoulder:

"Aemond was the one who alerted the Ministry of the 'misconduct' the head of my house was showing. Professor Lynnen is facing trail because of him."

For once, (Y/N) is happy that Aegon has his back turned on her, for she imagines that the expression she's wearing beats the result of any farce he may have pulled on her over the years.

Anger bubbles inside her: not only from Aemond's lack of communication and transparancy with her, but from his cruelty, as well.

Professor Lynnen was an old man, with a happy attitude and a kind heart. He never showed up late to class, and was always understanding with missed deadlines and less than stellar turned-in homework.

Most of all, he took it upon himself to give his students the best possible experience with the 'Care for Magical Creatures' course. And if you were to take a survey over Hogwarts' most popular and loved professors, Lynnen was a safe bet to always come out on top.

To say that (Y/N) took the news personally was an understatement. Aemond knew - this was her favourite faculty employee!

... And Lucaerys' too. But there was no way he did it on a whim to hurt him, despite all the differences they both had. ... Right?

Although she defied the thought with everything inside her, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel as though this mummer's farce was a sleek attempt for revenge; over something that happened way before their time at Hogwarts.

Always the kind and attentive soul, Jace quietly puts his hand over the girl's shoulder, rubbing small circles in a soothing manner. He offers her a sympathetic smile, one that lets her know just how much he understands her fury.

"I'm... I'm so...?" She tires to say though a quizzical brow. The Gryffindor lets out a huff of pure disbelief, and shakes her head, not knowing what to think.

"I know how you feel. It sucks being left out of the loop. Especially on something so important. But we'll fix it - together, right?" Jacaerys offers her a tiny smile, reassuring her with a gentle squeeze of her shoulder.

"Right. Together." She repeats, eyes full of determination.

Jace's hands reach for (Y/N)'s neck shyly, and, for a moment, the pair catches each other looking into the other's eyes with unspoken longing. (Y/N) is the first to break the stare, coughing slightly while glancing at their shoes on the hard floor.

The boy's ears are caught ablaze, but he brushes off the feeling soon enough.

"Right, so..." He whispers, biting his lip, "About 32 turns should do it?"

"32 hours sounds good." (Y/N) concludes as well, "It gives us enough time to prepare for everything and talk to the twins and Luke about our plan."

Jace smiles at her fondly, and lets out a small chuckle. "I'll tell Luke to mind his business when he hears those rascals talk nonesense about Böfur and Lynnen."

The pair share a laugh and turn their eyes to the dainty necklace that sits over both their necks. Silently, they beging to count.

One... Two... Three... Four... Five...

"Alright, here's the plan: since there isn't anyone who can take our place at the Yule Ball, I fear we'll have to attend." Jace's velvety voice rings into the girl's disoriented ears, puncturing through her dizzy head. He's holding onto her, gently, ensuring that she doesn't fall over or backwards due to the nature of their trip.

(Y/N) lets out a groan in protest, and brings a hand to massage her temples. "What a ghastly way to time-travel..." She heaves out in an attempt to ground herself back to reality. "How do you look so well after all that?"

The eldest Velaryon smiles sheepishly and shrugs his shoulders.

"Fine, keep your secrets." The Gryffindor nudges him playfully, though still with a quirked brow. She nods assuringly, and returns her attention towards the subject at hand.

"Right. I still have to dance the opening waltz with Borya. We'll leave after - thankfully, everyone will be preoccupied with the ball, so the sneaking around part should be easy."

Jacaerys gives the girl a wide smile, and checks his hand watch from underneath his Gryffindor attire. "It's twelve o'clock. We need to get to Lynnen's office first, talk to him about what'll happen to Böfur."

As he speaks, the two begin walking side by side towards the small hut by the trident river.

(Y/N) exhales shortly, and gives her classmate a saddened look.

"I wish we could do something for him, too. Even if we sneak the graphorn out and away from Hogwarts, Lynnen is still going to face trail for school misconduct."

Jacaerys' steps cease for a moment, and a deep frustration crinkles his eyes. He spares the girl a comforting look, and runs a hand down his face in defeat.

"Aegon will still testify in his favour, to be sure." He breathes out in deep thought, "As will the Headmaster and every other student involved - safe maybe for Aemond and Androw."

In exchange for his words, (Y/N) hums in agreement, and adds in her own right.

"He's held in too high esteem to ever lose his job. Most of our Professors are eccentrics, anyway." She agrees quickly, "The worst they can do is prohibit him from bringing any more magical creatures to class."

Having given each other some courage with their shared hopes and beliefs, the two resume their walking in a more hurried pace. They pass classroom after classroom with their heads hung low, until...

"Ahaha, oh, Aemond!"

The soft giggling of a girl catches (Y/N)'s attention. It seems to be coming out from the 'Advanced Potions' class. Both Gryffindors share a curious look, before taking a peak inside the empty room.

Sure enough, there they are: Alys Rivers and Aemond Targaryen, fevereshly conversing about something with wide smiles on their faces.

"Listen, Alys, I wanted to ask you something." The Slytherin's smooth voice echoes throughout the spacious room.

"Of course~ anything!" She replies in a flirtatious manner, pulling her lavish hair out of her sleek ponytail.

(Y/N) was fast to take a step back, pulling at Jace's robes in a quiet attempt to grab his attention.

'Let's go.' She mouths to him, jerking her head to point at the ever moving enchanted set of stairs. He nods promptly.

For the rest of their way down, the Gryffindor tries her best not to think about the interaction she unwillingly spied upon.

So that's where Aemond was when he...

Her partner in crime disperses her thoughts with a nonchalant smirk.

"You know she stole Rosaline Petch's hair conditioner last year? Then she gaslit her into believing she just used it all up. That's why they had that ugly fall out." He states in a matter-of-fact tone.

Unexpectedly, a roaring laughter cascades from (Y/N)'s lips. Unable to calm down, she leans into the cold wall for support, raising up her brows in a display of surprise.

"Jacaerys Velaryon! Where in the world did you hear this?"

"It is known!" He laughs alongside his friend, "Come on, everyone in the Gryffindor Common Room talked about it!"

(Y/N)'s fit of giggles aggravates by the second. She quirks her head to the side and holds her sides from shaking. "Oh, everyone, is it?"

"Okay. Maybe not everyone." Jace's ears redden at having been caught. He offers the girl a beaming smile and admits shyly, "It was Sara and Elisabeth who wouldn't stop talking about it, and..."

"And?"

"And they might have invited me and Cregan to one of their super-exclusive gossip groups last winter... and..."

(Y/N) lets out a fake gasp, jabbing his side with her elbow in a playful manner.

"I cannot believe my ears. Jacaerys Velaryon and Cregan Stark - listening to gossip about Alys Rivers' hair!"

"Hey, it's like, totally full of extensions!" Jacerys strains his mellow voice to a higher pitch, immitating Elisabeth's manner of talking.

"Oh my God!" The girl exlaims, undisputably laughing even harder, crouching forward to steady herself once more. "That's what you were doing instead of Charms homework?"

"Come on, it was totally worth it!" He chuckles whilst looking a way for just a moment.

"How?" She grins cheerfully at her friend. "Past you would cuss you out to the Seven Hells and back! I remember even now how you used all your money to buy an enchanted feather, only to have it taken away when we took our O.W.L.'s."

Jacaerys groans into the air, and shuts his eyes while shedding an imaginary tear. "Please... don't remind me about that. It's supposed to be a well guarded secret!" He whispers near (Y/N)'s ear.

His eyes soften, however, and he ruffles the back of his head. "It was worth it... because it made you laugh now." He answers truthfully.

A comforting silence befalls the two after that: both hiding their faces away, smiling wistfully and blushing profusely from the all-but-an-actual-confession that Jace managed to slip from his lips.

"Sir, you must allow us to help you release Böfur back into the wild." (Y/N) says categorically, leaving no more room for pleading or refusing.

Professor Lynnen sits down at the pumpkin shaped table, a warm cup of tea presented in front of him and his two little guests. He runs his spotted handkerchief over his bald head and neck, taking in a deep, consoling breath.

"(Y/N), Jacaerys..." The old man begins, but cuts himself off at the sight of the distressed teens. "Böfur will be returned to his herd in Switzerland by the end of the month, I, I..." His eyes squint from underneath his rectangular glasses, and he shakes his head in confusion. "I'm afraid I don't understand why you're so adamant in having him go tonight."

"Something bad is about to happen if we don't smuggle him out tonight - or at least hide him in the forest." Jace's voice is laced with worry, and he openly pleads with the Care for Magical Creatures professor.

At his explanation, Lynnen's shaky hand comes to ruffle the boy's hair affectionately, as he smiles down at the two of them prudently.

"Child, there is no reason to worry over the unknown. I, I know that the Ministry wants to seek judgement against the poor fellow, but rest assured that nothing bad is going to happen to him." Having said that, Lynnen sniffs into his handkerchief and readies his voice by coughing. "All life is precious. The Ministry knows this, as well." He adds wistfully, with an admirable determination for a person so spent.

"Sir, but you don't understand... we do know." (Y/N) bites her lip harshly, glancing at her professor from over her simmering cup of tea; prolonging herself against the chair even further.

Lynnen's already expanded eyes widen to a comical amount.

"You... know already?" He asks tentaively, taking in a deep breath of understanding. His eyes swell with the warning of tears, and he brings another pocket handkerchief to his runny nose. "Oh, my poor Böfur..." The old man wails silently.

Both Gryffindors exchange a look of worry, and get up from their seats in order to console the hurting soul.

"He doesn't have to die." (Y/N) says with renowed fire, "We'll make sure he doesn't, but we need your help to take him away."

Jacaerys follows the pattern of her words not a heartbeat later, "Tonight is the Yule Ball. Every teacher and student will be in the Great Hall, dancing. We can come unseen to your hut again - we'll take Böfur and give him in the care of some centaurs we know until the time comes for him to leave." He speaks with passion in his heart.

"You can stay with the rest of the students for the whole celebration - you'll have an alibi, and no one will suspect you of freeing him. There's thousands of students at Hogwarts, but only twelve professors." (Y/N) proclaims optimistically, giving his wrinkled hand a gentle squeeze.

To both their surprise, Lynnen squeezes back, giving the pair a big, tight smile.

"That went better than expected." (Y/N) huffs, as she skips yet another two steps on their ascend.

"We still got a mouthful for using a Time-Turner on school grounds." Jace shudders at hammering tone Professor Lynnen used with them, but still smiles to himself when (Y/N) laughs. "Everything is falling into place, though." He takes a moment to collect himself, before uttering, barely above a whisper, "I'm glad we're doing this together."

"Me too. I don't want to jinx it, but I think we're actually going to pull this off." The girl muses to herself, and stops her walking once they reach the portrait guarding the entrance to their common room.

"I'll see you tonight?" Jace hushes in a sweet promise.

"I'll see you tonight." She replies with a wide smile that scrunches up her freckled nose.

The two turn to the awaiting Fat Lady, and prepare to say the month's ever changing password:

"Caput Draconis!"

The rest of the evening went on in an uncanny recall of déjà-vu.

(Y/N) put on her black and red silk dress, and she asked Celeste to do her hair.

She put on the same red lipstick, and did her eyes with the same eyeliner.

Finally, she walked down the stairs to the Great Hall, skipping down the exact same steps.

Borya bowed down, he kissed her hand - she might have blushed.

Alys tugged on Aemond's arm, and she might have glanced at them - although her nerves were pulling her apart.

This time, she forgot to wave and smile.

The first waltz began.

A flutter of emotions overcame her.

She looked at Jace.

Once.

Twice.

Three times, before the dance was over.

Once.

Twice.

Three times, she was twirled around by the Durmstrang student.

When they pulled apart, she looked at the clock - half past eleven, so close to midnight.

She danced two more, maybe three dances.

Jacaerys did the same.

When the clock struck the hour of the wolf, both Gryffindors excused themselves, promising to return momentarily.

While everything went down, Aemond looked.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Four times.

Five times.

Endlessly - until (Y/N) disappeared into the night with Jacaerys Strong following her foosteps.

The one thing that wouldn't change that cursed night, was the feeling of pure anguish he felt, as he watched the girl he loved leave with his nephiew in such a hurry.

Then Alys called out to him. And his vision became blurry.

Two sets of hurrying footsteps made their way across the smooth pavement, seemingly chasing each other to who was the fastest runner.

Jacaerys' hand went under and into the green flowerpot, in which Professor Lynnen left the set of keys to Böfur's fence.

(Y/N) let out a sigh of relief when the boy presented the set to her, and she grasped it with her own cold fingers.

Since no one was watching them, and there was no reason to hurry besides for their own benefit (the sooner they freed the graphorn and took him into his safe oasis, the sooner they could return to the warmth of the Great Hall), the two friends joked and wrapped their heads around the one problem they were facing in between small breaks: 'Just how are we going to transport him without having the guy scream into the night and alert everyone?'

Jacaerys came with the solution. There was plenty of fresh kill inside Lynnen's house, to feed the beast during the day, and they so happened to have all his keys.

Baiting him into the forest with it, all the while keeping him busy with the copious amounts of meat, the daring Gryffindors managed to pull through with their plan.

(Y/N) bowed down in reverence when she handed Böfur to Magorian, the mighty centaur who overlooked all which moved and entered in the Forbidden Forest - and Jace followed suit.

"Okay, now let's get out of here." She whispered to him in a grave tone, shaking to the core from the unforgiving cold.

Jacaerys soon noticed her shaking, and no amount of future protest from the girl managed to sway him into taking his coat back from her smaller form.

"I have the blood of the Dragon." He jested lightly, shaking his head at another of her failed attempts. "It keeps me warm enough. Don't be proud and wear it! I wouldn't forgive myself if you caught a cold."

"Y-You could die from anaphylactic shock, you know." The girl retorted through grittered teeth, rubbing her hands together to bring more warmth to her stiffened limbs.

"And it would be an honor to die knowing you were safe."

The smallest of smiles graced her lips, and she grabbed the eldest Velaryon by the robes again.

"Today is not the day you die."

Now it was Jacaerys' turn to smile.

The celebrations might've just as well ended when (Y/N) and Jace reached the Great Hall again. More than half the student population seemed to be utterly drunk on the spiked punch - courtesy to Aegon, who, in lack of both his nephiew and darling (Y/N), got bored during the forth or fifth dance -, and the other half poisoned by the questionable cookies that Vela Castillo made 'especially for the occasion'.

Not even Borya escaped their deadly clutches. Almost green in the face, he bowed down stiffly before his date - it was a miracle that he didn't empty his bowels then and there -, excusing himself profusely from the dance floor and scurrying to the Dungeons, where the Slytherin Common Room resided.

Baela had already went to sleep.

(Y/N) scrunched up her nose in amusement, and Jacaerys stiffled a small laugh.

"It seems that we're both partnerless." The girl noticed with a quirked brow. Her eyes scanned the perimeter of the wide room, but found no sight of silver hair, or charcoal black.

Where did Aemond and Alys go?

"Yeah, but the party's spent." Jace noticed in a stale manner, glancing at (Y/N) with the corners of his eyes. "I'm sorry." He added, barely above a whisper.

"Huh? What for?" It was her turn to question him, utterly perplexed.

"For... I mean..." Jace gestured towards the ballroom with a solemn expression, "For taking you away from the ball. You didn't get to dance like last night - or, well, tonight."

A cautious smile graces (Y/N)'s lips, lighting up her fair features. She pats Jace on the back and jests delicately.

"I don't need two nights in a row of dancing like that - I have a killer muscle ache already."

Hearing her words, Jacaerys laughs earnestly. Still, he gives her an apologetic look, which (Y/N) shoots down with a passing wink. "Don't worry. I mean it."

Her hands go above her head in a linguid stretch, and the Gryffindor stiffles a yawn.

"Good job to us for today!" She concludes lazily.

Although tiredness was taking over her, she couldn't help but feel a tad aggravated by what the end of the Yule Ball meant.

Since I never had the fight with with the boys... then there's no reason for Aemond to take off on his broomstick and confess to me tonight. When I wake up tomorrow, we won't be...

A heavy sigh unwillingly parts from her lips - (Y/N)'s eyes trail down sadly, but a pang of optimism finds it's way to her heart.

Even if he didn't confess, I know the way he feels about me. I can just tell him that I love him tomorrow. Explain it to him the way he explained it to me.

With her mind made up on the matter, she relaxes her tense muscles once more. Still...

"Jace, I think I should check up on Aemond. Make sure he's not... food-poisoned and whatnot."

For a second, the girl can swear that his jaw tightens in repressed anger, and his brown eyes glaze over with sadness and longing - but just as quickly as that look seemed to appear, it left his face in an instant.

"He's still your friend." The Velaryon reassures her with a strained smile, "Of course. But let me at least accompany you to their dorms - it's far too dark for comfort, and there's a lot of drunk students haunting the halls still."

"Thank you, Jace." (Y/N) returns his grin sweetly.

Their walk through the catacombs is one of a pleasant silence, and (Y/N) even finds herself humming to a low tune that her mother used to sing.

All's well when ends well, but...

"O-Oh! Oooh, shit!" A slurry moan cuts through the established taciturn.

"Shh, keep quiet..." A loud slap carries it's sound through the deafening darkness, spilling over the Gryffindors' ears. "Fuck, good girl..."

The man's voice shakes with lust, and with each passing second, a feeling of dread seeps into (Y/N)'s body. Jace stiffens next to the girl, and shoots her a quick look.

"Look at you, taking me so, so well - can you give me another one? Hmm?"

"Mmhh, yes, yes, yes, Aemond...!" The woman gasps louder and louder with each wet thrust, until she lets out a muffled scream, no doubt covered by... Aemond's... hand.

The same hand who held onto (Y/N) the night before. A night that didn't even happen. This was now her reality.

The girl's throat closes into itself. It's getting harder and harder to breathe.

"Yes...!" Aemond lets out in a loud bark, groaning loudly, "Good fucking girl. That's it, Alys, that's it, take all my fucking cum."

A loud step back. And then another one.

Retreating is all that (Y/N) can think to do.

Hot, scorching tears fall from her eyes, wasting over her red cheeks, falling on the floor.

She's running away now, clawing at her collar for a chance of fresh air.

She doesn't mind the fact that the couple more than certainly heard her, or that her sobs are so loud, that they're threatening to wake the whole castle up.

"(Y/N)!" Jace's desperate tone chases her down the hallway.

He marches towards her, before changing his mind in favour of approaching the tangled Slytherins, who are definitely closer yet.

"Lumos maxima." He commands with a rage fuelled voice, lighting over Aemond Targaryen and Alys Rivers - who tries to hoist her skirt up in great haste.

Jacaerys doesn't spare her a second glance, instead concentrating on Aemond - without even thinking twice, he punches him straight in the face, busting his knuckles and leaving them bloody in their right crochet.

"You piece of shit." He hisses at his uncle, and he wants to hit him again, but the unforgettable sobs that left (Y/N)'s throat make him immediately run after her.

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)!"

The Gryffindor must have lost his voice by the time he finally finds her, in the inner garden of the castle, resting her head on her knees, trembling with the intensity of her cries.

For what feels like an eternity, he sits on the icy steps with her, silent; rubbing her back soothingly after placing his coat over her smaller form.

The blood that coats his knuckles coagulates, and the initial sting turns into an easing numbness.

Eventually, like all things, her crying ends. Either from acceptance over the situation at hand, or from lack of remaining tears - it ends.

"... When this whole mess happened for the first time," (Y/N) began with a breathy voice, "Aemond sneaked in o-our dorms and told me he lo-loved me."

The girl swallows thickly, and levels her breath again before choking out. "A-A-And he said... that he always will."

Jacaerys is borne of the Blood of the Dragon. Despite all that, when he reaches to hug her, his hands are cold.

His chin rests atop her head in a comforting manner. His strong arms engulf her fully, better than his coat can. Jace's body radiates heat and safety, and he begins to rock her gently from side to side, feeling his own heart break with every venture.

"I can't e-even be mad at him, can I?" She weeps harshly into his arms, "We're not a thing here a-anymore... w-we never were in this reality, I s-suppose."

Jacaerys can't say anything - he doesn't know what she'd like to hear, or how to judge the situation impartially himself.

He feels his blood boil. Of one thing he is certain: he would never do that to her.

He wants to tell her that. He yearns to let her know - but the Gryffindor realises that they are both heartbroken in their own right. And that he had no right to, in light of her situation, to confuse her.

Jacaerys Velaryon settles on hugging her tighter, on smoothing the hair on her back in a gentle caress. "Shh, shh... don't cry. Don't waste your tears on that guy."

Jacaerys Velaryon stays like this however long she needs to. Burning on the inside, and shivering from the cold on the outside.

His jaw clenches and unclenches repeatedly. His concious is fighting against his selfish will - the former wins, and so he tells her.

"We can turn time back again, you know." He rubs her back, creating enough friction to keep her warm. "A turn or two should do the trick. I'll go set Böfur free, and you stay here and dance."

Tears well into his eyes again. They cloud his vision, blurring his surroundings - but he doesn't need eyes to continue, anyway.

"You dance with Borya and have fun... you let Aegon and his stupid brother froth at the mouth again. And then you go to your room. And then you wait for him. And then you talk to him."

For the first time that night, (Y/N)'s eyes shoot up in their own accord. She shakes her head relentlessly, parting from the warmth that Jace's body provided.

"No. No way." She denies him strongly.

"Why not? I can do it by myself." He soothes her back into his embrace, "I'll get it done and you, and Luke, and Böfur will be happy."

"And what about your own happiness? ... No." (Y/N) repeats again, as she brings her own hands to hug Jace back into her. "If Aemond truly loved me, he'd fight harder for me. What s-sort of relationship am I hoping to have, if he jumps Alys the second I'm not available?"

"He's an ass." Jace whispers atop her head again. "Ever since we were children. Don't waste your tears on him, sweet girl. He doesn't deserve you."

After a few more sniffs, (Y/N) finally raises her puffy face from the boy's robes. Her cheeks are red from crying, her eyes still glassy from the tears.

Her full lips quiver in the moonlight - once, twice, three times -, before she collides them with Jace's.

Hers move in wild abandon, while his stay frozen in their place. Perhaps they truly are.

Sensing his lack of desire for their unconventional peck, (Y/N) feels the heaviness of guilt suddenly pierce her soul.

"I'm sorry..." She whispers, an inch away from his swollen lips. "I misunderstood."

"You didn't misunderstand a thing." He murmurs against her turning cheek, while bringing his hand out to cup her jaw delicately and kiss her in his own right again.

Quiet moans leave both their lips. Jacaerys brings his free hand down, down to her waist, and pulls the girl closer to his body yet.

A flash of awareness brings him back to his wits on earth, as (Y/N) lets out a small whimper in his mouth.

With a tenderness rarely found in men, Jace pulls away from her face, caressing her stained cheeks with his calloused thumbs. "I'm sorry. I... I can't."

Seeing her eyes squeeze in pain and her body recoil in sadness, Jace holds her face in his hands gentler still, and whispers once more.

"From the first moment I met you, all I wanted was to kiss your lips." He admits fevereshly, shaking his head, "But I don't want to take advantage of you. You're hurt right now, and for good reason."

Jacaerys slowly rises on his feet, taking (Y/N) with him in his protective cradle.

The two make their way inside the castle. The warmth of the thousand fires flooding their veins like a warm bath after a harsh day in the Winter's outskirts.

"If we are to do this... I want you to choose me." He adds softly.

"I'll wait for you, (Y/N). And even if I'm not the one, I promise you to always be by your side."

All's well when ends well, right...?

┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐

Taglist:

@caramelcandescence @spn-obession @ramielll 💗

└─── °∘❉∘° ───┘

[artfightdramaconfessions]

tiny centaurs statement on th (for those who dont use)

"Now that stuff is being openly revealed , I feel I can talk more freely in here. Hi. I used to be known as TinyCentaur. Ex moderator.

There was a confession about the truth of the money being used in the art fight staff server, and while it is transparency. It’s not good enough.

Takaia needs to tell her userbase she wasn’t being honest about what it’s being used for. I’ve always suspected it was used for her own benefit. No matter what the circumstances, you cannot use money you raised from donations.

I have DM’d The51 with my proof of my words. But, knowing how many quit today and who is now in charge, I do not see art fight happening next year.

Nor should anyone allow Takaia to “fix” the negligence she has done. Because this has been happening ever since she has taken over art fight. Fake promises of being paid for volunteering. Removing the pie chart of money expenses from the website for unknown reasons.

I’m only speaking now because all of my concerns and worse fears have been confirmed to be true and it’s absolutely devastating. I would advise you all to stop playing after this month is over. At least ten years of misleading and abuse of power should not be taken lightly.

I hope someone in the USA takes legal action against Takaia very soon, this is no where near legal.

Also, Airr being an admin? 🤡"

Thank you for this, anon!

[theghostofashton]

Hi 🥰🥰 Hope I don't bother you, but apparently, it's a "thinking about you saw the truth in me" type of day 😅 so... if you wouldn't mind rambling a little - any future headcanons? Will they at all announce their relationship to the public or let the paparazzi sort of do it? If they get engaged, will they 'talk' about it or keep it a secret until the wedding, and TK'll just show up with a wedding band one day?😅 Will there be any red carpet event Carlos'd accompany him or have they agreed on TK going alone/with castmates only?

no joke this ask has made my entire day. talking about my fics is one of my most favorite things to do so thank you for giving me that opportunity! it means so much that you're still thinking about my fic <3

so, one of my original thoughts on how to end the story was actually going to be the red carpet of tk's movie. carlos would walk with him, as his plus one, but there wouldn't be any explicit attention drawn to carlos being his boyfriend or anything. i decided to go with the interview instead because i loved the idea of things coming full circle with tk finally getting to control his narrative, getting to have the last word.

tk wouldn't want to announce their relationship publicly, but it wouldn't be too much of a secret (because carlos is relatively known in hollywood as a trainer). tk would early on get asked questions in interviews, and he'd shoot them down quickly, until nancy finally put carlos on the list of things interviewers are banned from asking him about.

the final interview also reveals they've moved out of california, but doesn't say where, and that information would also be heavily guarded. tk finally takes gwyn's advice from years ago and involves a legal team that's ready to take action against any future defamation.

tk and marjan have a lot of conversations about the steps she takes to protect herself, the security she hires, the way she balances being open with her fans and sharing her life and keeping things private enough to keep her safe (mentally and physically). she helps him work on setting boundaries and shows him that it is possible to enjoy his life and see the world without things getting messy.

tk thoroughly freaks out before meeting carlos's parents for the first time, completely prepared for them to have already read everything that's been said and judge him. he works himself up so much about it (despite carlos's insistence that they would never) but everything melts away when andrea hugs him the moment he sees her. he's worried about what gabriel will say, but the first words out of his mouth are a compliment about the movie, and tk feels like he can breathe again after hearing that.

carlos does get mobbed once. he makes a trip to la with tk so they can visit tommy, charles, and the girls (and see paul, marjan, and mateo), and gets recognized while out on a run. it's nothing too wild, and nancy quickly sends in security to disperse the crowd. carlos is shaken, but physically unharmed. the whole incident freaks tk out a lot, and sends him down another spiral of wondering if it's fair to risk carlos's safety like this. he's quickly reassured that he is the most rewarding risk carlos has ever taken, in more ways than carlos can even tell him.

when they get engaged, it's also kept quiet. carlos proposes. tk wants to, but struggles with the thought of proposing forever with the knowledge of what his life is like. he wants to marry carlos more than anything, but he feels like in good conscience he can't ask for that, subject carlos to it. when he tells carlos this, he's reminded that they are a team and he doesn't get to make those decisions on his own anymore, and they finally do get engaged. and yes, tk doesn't say anything about it, he just starts wearing a ring for maximum chaos. (i can see him casually dropping 'husband' in an interview and freaking the internet out, but refusing to say more)

i think eventually, carlos would start accompanying him on red carpets, but it would be years in the future, possibly when they're engaged or married. carlos wants to do it much sooner, but tk isn't ready, and carlos knows not to push.

when they have a child, tk insists that it stay completely under lock and key. their baby girl grows up entirely protected from the spotlight for a few years, knowing her aunt marjan and uncle mateo as goofy grown-ups that skype her at the strangest hours (while they're off shooting) and always bring her the coolest goodies. seeing her uncle paul is her favorite, she loves when he lifts her into the air and does overhead presses with her. and aunt nancy is the funniest person she's ever met, she and her daddy have the silliest arguments, she loves when she comes over.

[bisexualnamjoonie]

I'm probably going to regret this but what have people been saying about jimin? I haven't been on Twitter all day.

im not on twitter at all but still i read about it i cant seem to escape the drama 😩 apparently (cuz i went looking into it a bit more and nothing has been confirmed by hybe or the sk ministry of defense so it might be false in the end and we'll probably never know anyway) some jk solos/taekookers have addressed a formal complaint to the ministry of defense towards jimin, arguing that he is gay and should not be put in the same baracks as jk for the later's safety (completely bonkers, they literally lived in the same cramped dorm room for years. ANYWAYS). since there are laws that discriminate against queer ppl in the sk army they have to investigate that claim (if you are known to be queer the army will categorise you as having a mental disability, you can also be dishonorably discharged... also if i understand correctly, if you have sex while in military facilities and while not being off duty, it's authomatically considered sexual assault/harrasment). anyways all that to say that if the rumours turn out to be true i hope hybe will take legal actions against those ppl. i mean they never have before no matter how far solos/shippers/stalkers have taken things but this is endangering jimin on a whole new level. cause it doesn't matter what his sexual orientation is: what matters is that there's a doubt, that's plenty enough for bullies, they don't need you to actually be queer they need you to be an easy target. the good thing for jimin (which isn't the case for most kpop idols who experience a lot of bullying and harrasment during military service), and for bts as a whole, is that they are so famous and so indispensable to sk as a political weapon now nobody will let random men bully them. but you never know yk? and the same ppl who claim that two members are queer and in love are being the most queerphobic pieces of shit possible. i hate shippers with a passion those ppl have always been on another level of queerphobia and queerphobic violence.

[aletheiamagilee]

Pluto Retrograde in Aquarius

A Pick-a-card Reading

Greetings✨ This reading is about what will happen to you this Pluto Retrograde in Aquarius. You may choose by the image or the number, do it how it feels comfortable to you. Then, scroll down to your designated reading and read your fortune.

This is a reading for the collective, so take only what feels right for you. This is also timeless, so you can always go back to this reading whenever you feel drawn to it.

Disclaimer: This is for entertainment purposes only and thus, should not be taken as professional advice whether legally, medically, or in any other way. Any decisions or actions you make after this reading is your sole responsibility and is not forced on you by me in any way. I also accept tips, which are are returned to you through good luck and energy

For the collective ✨

This will be a time to build your physical and material world. This does not necessarily revolve around money. You might also decide to start building a collection, or start a business. Either way, this time is a good time to plant what you want to harvest. Be sure about your goal and keep your eyes on it.

Pile 1✨

Communication is a key factor for you here. Perhaps you work in an environment where communication is the main need. There will be a lot of exchange of messages. For some of you, you'll find someone that you love talking to. Thank you for your trust and I hope it resonates🖤

I also accept tips, which are are returned to you through good luck and energy

Pile 2✨

This would be a challenging time for you, because there will be a lot of things going on and you will have to manage your time, energy, and resources around them. You might not even have enough time to rest for a while. Preparation and clarity of the mind will be vital. Always keep your head clear for this time. Thank you for your trust and I hope it resonates🖤

I also accept tips, which are are returned to you through good luck and energy

Pile 3✨

A new relationship is budding for you this time. For some of you, this is a new romantic love. For others, you will be entering a new phase of your life and it will be emotional. Look back from where you came from. If you're into manifesting, showing gratefulness for the blessings you received will help you manifest faster. For others, you are encouraged to look back on your past and face the wounds that you are yet to heal. Thank you for your trust and I hope it resonates🖤

I also accept tips, which are are returned to you through good luck and energy

Pile 4✨

This is a big moment for you. For others, you will enter a time of spiritual awakening. For others, you will enter an organization (it could be a new work or school or club). This is where you will be for the time being. A Taurus person might be significant. For most of you, you are finally coming into a place of stability. Thank you for your trust and I hope it resonates🖤

I also accept tips, which are are returned to you through good luck and energy

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC Review: It Happened One Fight by Maureen Lee Lenker

3/5. Releases 7/11/2023.

For when you're vibing with... Old Hollywood, celebrity romance but make it vintage, oops! we're married, and light enemies to lovers.

Joan Davis has been unable to escape being paired with her screen partner, Dash Howard--no matter how much she hates him, they're box office gold together. She's hoping that her upcoming marriage to rising star Monty will give her a new image. Except, whoops, a prank gone wrong (by Dash) means that Dash and Joan are legally married. The only way to get a quick divorce is to star in one last movie with Dash in Reno, where they can split after six weeks. But during that six weeks... Joan begins to wonder if there's more to her irritating rival than what meets the eye...

I'm actually a really big fan of older cinema, and I love Old Hollywood. Unfortunately, while I think this is a well-done book and will definitely capture the hearts of certain readers, it didn't quite get me going.

Quick Takes:

--I really do love the premise here. The Reno divorce was something so many celebrities relied upon back in the day--and it's perfect for a romance novel. You can tell Lenker knows her shit about the tricks of the trade, too. Dash was just an everyguy until his first wife saw something in him and helped him remake his image, Joan's own image remaking with her engagement to Monty (who has quite the involved roommate)--those are all the beats of shit Old Hollywood used to pull all the time, and I like that.

--Where I think we're a little lost is in an uncertainty about the setting. It's definitely detailed like Old Hollywood should be, but it doesn't quite hit home for me. Some of it is in the dialogue, which is quite 21st century modern. There's a modern vibe throughout the book, and here's the thing: I normally don't care about that with historicals... To an extent. Very few historicals are truly accurate, you know? But it's easier to get a sense of a really well-tread setting like Regency and Victorian, I think--that's not Lenker's fault. What makes the 1930s, and especially 1930s Hollywood more challenging is that in the grand scheme? It's a lot more tangible. I can watch a movie and see... if not a depiction of how real people acted and talked, then at least how they wanted to be seen. It's more familiar, so it's easier for a book to feel not-quite-there, I think.

However, I also feel like there was a lot of grit taken out of the world, and I tend to wonder if 1930s Hollywood just might not be the right setting for a lighthearted historical romance. Perhaps a heavier historical romance would've made more sense. Maybe I'm just too aware. This reads more like a movie made in the 1930s than a book about people who made movies in the 1930s, if that makes sense, so perhaps my expectations were off in that sense. And to be clear, I'm fully aware that Regencies and Victorians gloss over the bad shit too--but I think there's a higher sense of stress in those I prefer, at least, and again this book suffers a little from being too recently-set.

--In that sense, I feel like it wasn't quite caustic enough for me. There's a sense of the screwball to this, which I think is easier to pull off onscreen than it is on the page, because you have charismatic actors doing hijinks and allowing you to suspend disbelief, whereas here I'm like "okay, this is a lot for a grown man to be doing". I just need to stay away from books where pranks are pulled--and that's on me.

--The writing is entertaining and it all makes sense. It hit all the right beats. I should have connected more than I did, and again, I feel like those who prefer lighter books will probably connect with it more. I just didn't get the sense that these two needed to be together, which is important for me as a reader.

The Sex Stuff:

There is one extended sex scene, which is good and covers a lot of the bases. But after that, you get a lot of closed door action, and I really don't understand why that is.

This is one of those books that I think could've been pushed an extra level; it almost had a thing, but for me, it didn't quite get there.

Thanks to Netgalley and Sourcebooks Casablanca for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

[tavarillasgalen]

26 was a transformative year.

I finally had the courage to end a 7 year relationship. I'm so angry with myself for not doing it sooner, but I kept hoping and what-iffing, even as things continued to worsen. I was so bored, I was so stuck, I felt so taken for granted and unappreciated, I felt so held back, I felt like I was making myself small, I felt like I could never truly speak my mind, I could not trust him, etc, etc, etc. And literally, as soon as I broke up with him, I felt this overpowering sense of relief. I was so relieved, I was elated. It was like a "breath I didn't know i'd been holding" moment. And I have absolutely zero regrets about ending it, the only thing I regret is not ending it far, far sooner. I had lost myself, many of my hobbies, and since the breakup, I've started getting them back. The only thing I miss is someone to talk to/do things with, but I'll make friends. My life improved so much since ending it. I feel so much freer. I am so fucking happy.

I got a promotion at work. My boss admitted that he's been giving me more work than the others because he knows if he gives it to me, it'll be done right, it'll be good, and it'll be done in a timely fashion. And when he told other people about it, they were like, yeah, makes sense, she's been ready for this for a while.

I moved my horse to a new stable. The circumstances behind why are bad, so bad that some of the other owners at her old stable were talking about taking legal action against the stable owner. But I trust the people at the stable she is at now. And I can see her so much more now. It is so healing.

My family and I talk again. We haven't had a good relationship in literal years. I honestly don't know how long it's been. But now we talk, we do things together. I feel like I belong. It is so nice.

I lost 10 lbs! I gained 20 lbs during the pandemic, and could not lose it for the life of me. But this year, with a combination of daily exercise and eating better, I'm down 10 lbs. Just 10 more to go until I am back at my pre-pandemic weight. And the weight loss is incredibly slow, which on the one hand is frustrating, but on the other, is very good, because slow weight loss is sustainable weight loss.

I started eating so much healthier. This primarily after the breakup. My ex was very overweight because he was sedentary and pretty much exclusively ate out. I feel so much better and I have saved so much money. I can't remember the last time I ate out - it was probably with him. And making my own meals and knowing what I put into my body is good for it is SO nice.

I started baking again! I loved this as a kid. I forgot that not only is baking fun, but I'm a good baker. The family ravs about my cookies and pastries and breads and things.

I started embroidering again! It is so nice to put on a show or music or something and sew. My embroidered jean shorts are now my favorite pair of shorts.

I started being artistic again! With sketching, with painting, with trying digital art. I'm BEYOND rusty, but I'm having FUN. So I honestly don't mind that I'm so rusty, because I'm having fun making art again and experimenting with different mediums.

I finished my degree. I did all the classes except for 1 in the typical 4 years of uni, and I kept putting off the last one because it was math. It took me 4 tries thanks to how horrific my mental health was, but I did it, it's done. And I got a 99% on the final exam.

I did so many things I'd wanted to. Like comic con, like renn faires, like going to the ballet. I scheduled things for my future self to enjoy in 27, like a fantasy photoshoot and a mounted archery clinic.

I made my first cosplays! Keyleth, her comic book look and her mantle. I'd been cosplaying for months at that point, but those were the first things I actually made.

I picked up classes to learn new skills, like coding.

I started Duolingo again, and have a streak of over 100 days. I'm actually starting to understand it when spoken at a normal speed, not just slowed down.

I started going on walks outside in the neighborhood! Very weather-dependent, but God are the flowers and houses pretty. And so many little free libraries around. When I can't walk outside, I either go to the gym or use my aeroski or do pamela reif workouts. I workout more days than not and it does wonders for my mental health.

Lol, this may seem strange. But some of my clients are dentists, and since taking them on, my teeth have never been this well-cared for. I have flossed literally every single day in 2023 so far, started using straws for sodas and energy drinks, etc. I better not have any cavities when I see my dentist next month, just saying.

I had the courage to see doctors about various health issues that were bothering me, like excruciating shoulder pain, throwing up everything I eat or drink (not intentionally, like, literally could barely control it), etc. I'm still paying off the medical bills and I'm pissed that only 1 doctor took me seriously while the rest had the gall to tell me I was just stressed when that was not the case. But I'm proud of myself for having the courage to take care of myself like that, anyway.

I actually... Started to want to actually live. I feel so far behind everyone else my age in part because of being held back/stuck by my relationship, but mostly because I never planned to live this long. And my suicidal ideation was so severe, I was only ever going through the motions for so long. Mental illness stole a decade of my life from me. But now, I... Actually don't want to die. I actually want to live. When I feel like I want to die, I recognize the truth behind the feeling which is really needing something to change. And then I work towards that change however I can. Like, I don't have retirement accounts or investments or much of a savings or anything because I just saw no point, because I figured i'd be dead soon. But now? When you are actually seriously researching retirement accounts and investments and savings strategies and all this? Actually making plans for a life far beyond the next couple of days? Of course I still get stressed and depressed by the fact that I don't already have those things sorted out, but then I remember that the reason for that is because I wanted to die for so long. I never thought I would live to see my 20s, and every year until now, I didn't think I'd live to see the next. But now? I want to actively help my future self out. I want to do what I can to make my future self's life better and easier. I want to do what I can to set my future self up for success. And when you have someone who was as suicidal as I was for the past 10 years and who made multiple suicide attempts start thinking about saving for retirement? Holy shit, how much of a win is that?

There's a lot more I could say, I'm sure. I also read so many books, worked on my own books, etc. But I'll leave it there. I'm really pleased with all the personal progress i've made this year. While I'm nervous about 27 and going from mid-20s to late-20s, fearing aging is only ever shooting yourself in the foot. 27 is so young, still. Age is just a number, and I feel more myself than ever before.

[fahrni]

Saturday Morning Coffee

Good morning from Charlottesville, Virginia! ☕️

It’s been a pretty quiet week in the Fahrni household and at work. I’d say we’re in a steady state at both. Of course it won’t stay that way for long so I’m gonna enjoy it while I can.

Our granddaughter is with us this weekend so let’s see how much writing I’ll get done. 😁

I’ve saved so many interesting links this week. I hope you enjoy them.

Caleb Newton • Bipartisan Report

J. Michael Luttig, a widely consulted former federal judge, is among those harshly condemning the recent ruling by the U.S. Supreme Court to give presidents a layer of legal immunity, meaning protection from prosecution, for certain actions taken in office.

Our Supreme Court has done democracy a big disservice. The immunity they’ve granted Presidents basically gives them carte blanche to commit crimes as part of holding the office.

They’re evil idiots.

Jason Koebler • 404 Media

The real Christina Warren hasn’t been writing these new posts on the zombie TUAW, however. The site’s new owners have stolen her identity, replaced her photo with an AI-generated one, and have been publishing what appear to be AI-generated articles under her byline.

Here’s someone using “AI” in an unethical way. Taking someone else’s work, running it through an LLM to change it, and republishing it under the authors name — with a different author picture — is disgusting.

Victoria Namkung • The Guardian

Whenever Cassie Yoshikawa drives through the Central Valley on the former US Highway 99, she looks for the century-old landmark that symbolizes the midpoint of California: the Palm and the Pine.

You’d think being a lifelong Californian I’d have known about this. I recall passing them but I had no idea they represented the center of California. They’re an official unofficial marker. Folks just did it. Pretty nifty.

Of course they’re going to be ripped out for highway expansion. Goodness knows we need more cars on the road.

Noor Al-Sibai • Futurism

Elon Musk is a man with many brands — but for electric vehicle shoppers, his personal brand has become increasingly toxic.

That’s right, folks are not buying Teslas because Space Karen is such a dick.

I’ve given up on The Musk Files. The man is just so toxic and disgusting his crimes against humanity are too many to enumerate.

Janko Roettgers • Lowpass

This is it for Redbox: The judge overseeing the bankruptcy case of Redbox’s corporate parent Chicken Soup for the Soul Entertainment granted the debtors request to convert it from a Chapter 11 bankruptcy to a Chapter 7 bankruptcy, effectively paving the way for shutting down the company and liquidating its assets.

Wow. BluRay and DVD renters are out of luck it seems. Before streaming became ubiquitous we’d rent from Redbox about once a week. We had one at our local grocery store. It was easy and cheap.

There’s a bit of irony in this whole thing. I’ve gone back purchasing BluRay + digital download movies. We use the digital version all the time but have that BluRay backup should the license for the digital copy be revoked.

Dalia Faheid, Monica Garrett and Brandon Miller • CNN

Death Valley sets a new daily record with a searing 128 degrees as West Coast heat wave drags on

Poor California, poor planet. If this keeps up how long will it be before California can no longer produce the fruits and vegetables that feed the world? That’s not hyperbole. California’s San Joaquin Valley really is the breadbasket of the world.

Patrick Wyatt • Code of Honor

I’ve been writing about the early development of Warcraft, but a recent blog post I read prompted me to start scribbling furiously, and the result is this three-part, twenty-plus page article about the development of StarCraft, along with my thoughts about writing more reliable game code.

Don’t look at the date this article was published. Yes, it’s from 2012. 😄

You know I love a good discussion about code architecture, especially when presented in the form of an actual product. Not just some sample code to illustrate the point. He links off to another post discussing a linked list implementation and it’s great reading.

Chris Medland • racer

Lewis Hamilton’s victory in his last British Grand Prix for Mercedes is “like a little fairytale,” according to team principal Toto Wolff.

It’s really nice to see Lewis Hamilton pick up a win in his final season the Mercedes.

Manton Reece

Everyone who has implemented ActivityPub from scratch knows that there are implementation-specific quirks that trip up developers, making compatibility between apps more difficult. Some of these issues are being clarified by the Social Web Community Group. Test suites will help too. Micro.blog has had ActivityPub support for years and we’re still finding edge cases.

So many folks are climbing on the ActivityPub bandwagon and that’s a good thing. Providing more integration with other services and allowing those to be displayed in native clients without changing formats is wonderful.

As much as I’d like to finish writing, my granddaughter is up so I’m gonna hit the publish button now and hang out with her. 😃

Steven Beschloss

The dangerously self-important Roberts insisted that the country is “in the process of the second American Revolution” and further noted that this so-called revolution “will remain bloodless if the left allows it to be.”

Tom Warren • The Verge

Microsoft is finally rolling out spellcheck and autocorrect for its Notepad app in Windows 11, more than 40 years after the simple text editor was first introduced in Windows in 1983.

Skye Jacobs • TechSpot

Big Tech needs to generate $600 billion in annual revenue to justify AI hardware expenditure

Sarah Kuta • Smithsonian Magazine

While visiting his parents’ recently renovated house in Europe, a man spotted something unusual in one of the floor tiles. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be part of a human jawbone—and it still had a few teeth.

Spire Motorsports

Rodney Childers, a 40-time NASCAR Cup Series (NCS) race winning crew chief and one of the sport’s most respected tacticians, will lead Spire Motorsports No. 7 team and driver Corey LaJoie in 2025.

Felix Salmon • Axios

The Slacker generation might have been slacking off when it came to planning for retirement: Gen X consistently ranks in surveys as the least-prepared group for when they stop earning.

John Stoehr • Raw Story

U.S. Senator Josh Hawley (R-MO) declared Monday he is advocating for Christian nationalism, a far-right ideology that claims there is no separation of church and state in the Constitution, and promotes as a national religion Christian fundamentalism, a hardline, extremist brand of Christianity at odds with the religious beliefs of many Christians across the country

Drew Magary • SFGATE

But again, discretion isn’t this car’s job. This is a loud and lonely car for loud and lonely people. And while I enjoyed driving my Cybertruck, I hope I’m never loud and lonely enough to want to buy one.

[evanthetrashpanda]

Intro Post!

I update this from time to time, so if it’s been awhile since the last time you looked at it, give it a reread!

Hi, I’m Evan (they/it/any neopronouns)!

I’m 21, and live in California!

You may know of me from TikTok, Ao3, or you may have just come across my Tumblr!

I’ve also made a YouTube! (I haven’t posted anything over there yet, but ya know, just putting it out there!)

All of my posts (including this one) are tagged #my post

All queued posts are tagged #q (Queued posts are scheduled to post 3 times per day)

While asks are open, I may not respond to each/any of them. That being said, any posts responding to an ask will be tagged #ask and #my post (Anonymous asks are turned OFF)

Regardless I hope you have an amazing day and remember to eat food, drink water, take your meds (if you have any!), and to be a good person!

Also, if you need any help with figuring out how to pronounce my name, or how to use my pronouns, head on over to here: en.pronouns.page/u/evanthetrashpanda

My website: evanthetrashpanda.carrd.co

My Boundaries:

(under the keep reading)

Keep in mind that I try to be a very laid back/easy going person, but it is very important to me that all of these are respected.

These apply everywhere, not just on tumblr.

🦝 : I would prefer if you use tone tags when talking to me!

🦝 : Don’t sexualize me. Compliments/admiring me is fine! Just don’t be weird y’know?

(On that note, I do prefer the masculine version of those rather than feminine and/or androgynous)

🦝 : Don’t trauma dump. I care about you and I want you to be as happy as possible, but there’s only so much help I can give you.

If you actively need someone to talk to, please use one of the resources here: Born This Way Foundation - Find A Helpline

🦝 : Do not talk about/joke about triggering topics. I’m fine with the occasional dark humor, but just use common sense (there's a time & place for everything). I will not hesitate to ban/block you if a joke is taken too far.

🦝 : Don’t go looking for my personal info. I keep those things private for my own safety.

That being said, if you doxx me, I can and will take the appropriate legal action in response.

You can learn more about doxxing here: What Is Doxxing - Definition and Explanation And how to protect yourself from doxxing here: Protect yourself from “Doxxing”

🦝 : Don’t baby me. I promise I can take care of myself.

🦝 : I’m fine with fanart, fanfiction, edits, and cosplay!

• I'm fine with being drawn as a person or a raccoon, I have no preference!

• Please put the fic on a website meant for fanfics (like AO3, Wattpad, Quotev, FF.N, etc.) so I don't just randomly run across it.

• Please don't create NSFW or triggering stuff when the content is about me. Doing so about characters I've created and/or portrayed is fine! It's just very triggering when it's actually about me, y'know?

🦝 : You can use my face as your pfp (or art of me as your pfp) just don’t go around spreading drama/negativity. I don’t want to be associated with any of that.

🦝 : Don’t LEGITIMATELY ship me with people. Joking about it is fine! I tend to jokingly flirt with some friends, but don’t take it seriously.

🦝 : Don’t call me “dad", “daddy”, or any other type of parental unit. I’m not qualified to be a father. If anything, I’d prefer to be called a “weird queer uncle”/“that one gay cousin”/“protective queer brother” or something like that lol

🦝 : Don’t speak on my behalf. If someone is breaking my boundaries/hating me, just ignore it.

You also don't need to tell me if it's happening or not. Chances are, I already know what's going on tbh.

The only exception to this is if someone is claiming I did something truly heinous. Then, and only then, would I prefer for you to bring it to my attention!

🦝 : If I'm on someone else's stream, don't make it just about me. It's their stream. Be respectful to them.

🦝 : I know I’m a small content creator and I try to interact with you guys a lot, but keep in mind that I don’t know you. I care about you, but unfortunately we are not friends. I don’t have to join vc with you. I don’t have to dm you. I don’t have to respond/collab/make a video about/add you etc. You know me, but I don’t know you.

🦝 : Absolutely do not go purposely looking for the people in my personal life. Some may be on social media and some may not be. If they choose to make an appearance, that is their choice, not mine, yours, or anyone else’s. It’s called a personal life for a reason.

🦝 : If I say I don’t want to do something, that is the end of discussion, no matter the subject at hand.

🦝 : Absolutely do not call me by my deadname. It’s called a deadname for a reason.

🦝 : I know that I talk about my abusers on my socials, but do not go looking for/threaten/stalk/etc. them. They may be shitty people, but let me deal with them.

Last Edited: November 4, 2024 — 2:06pm / 14:06 (Pacific Time — US & Canada)

Reason: Updated my boundaries