#Also I am not trying to call out anyone in particular!

[wawataka]

me seeing the 194716th au where reigen adopts mob (mob has his own loving parents (what about ritsu (reigen can barely take care of himself)))

[thinkinonsense]

Bewitched: The Rake and The Risk

˖⋆࿐໋ james logan howlett ✦ bridgerton au series

bewitched masterlist

chapter two

cw: flirting (mix of 1800s and modern day), jealousy, old time thoughts of women and marriage, james is a slut

pairing: viscount!logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: sorry this is later than intended! i try to aim for a new chapter every friday but college is kicking my ass right now. next chapter will be longer!! also!! if you want to be tagged for the bewitched series please comment on the original bewitched masterlist post linked above this<3 there are so many of you lovely readers who want to be tagged and i need a more organized way to find everyone to add. sorry for the minor inconvenience. i appreciate every one of you!!

main masterlist

in all the twenty-nine years of knowing james howlett, lady chamberlain never would have pictured him coming to her home to ask about the eligible bachelorettes of the ton.

"what do you want to know, my dear?" lady chamberlain asked, sipping a cup of tea as the two of them sat in the living room.

"i am coming to you because as you know, my mother is expecting me to wed sooner rather than later and i was wondering whom might be the best women to seek out this season." james said, lying through his teeth.

if james really wanted to know who the best women this season were, he would've just opened the latest issue of lady cavanaugh. both of them knew this but it was more fun for lady chamberlain to tease the viscount.

"hm.." she smiles. "anyone in particular?"

"no."

the lie falls with ease. too much ease but lady chamberlain sees right through him.

"well, i did take note last night that the only lady you danced with was lady worthington's niece." she remarks slyly.

"the french girl?" he asks, playing coy. "i think i remember her."

lady chamberlain wasn't going to play games with the boy in front of her.

"i would hope so, you seemed quite fawned of her."

"i don't know if i would say that much."

"hm, so you don't want to know who she's planning to attended the mask ball with?" lady chamberlain smirks, knowing she's got him hooked.

everyone in the ton looked forward to the queens mask ball each season. it was the perfect way to help break the usual ice of finding 'the one'. that's where most couples tend to meet for the first time.

"let me guess..." james rolls his eyes. "prince harrison?"

lady chamberlain shrugs, placing her tea cup back on the dish. "the two of them talked quite a bit after you stormed off. she seems quite smitten with him."

"it's the first ball of the season. she has plenty of time to look for a better husband." he scoffs.

"well, dear... there are people who search their whole lives for something that's been right in front of them the entire time."

the elderly woman's words rang true in the room but james was far too in denial to notice them. instead, his ego was eating him alive. why would you not jump at the opportunity to be with the viscount?

˖⋆࿐໋

this afternoon was the queen's annual tea party. all the ton's debutantes gather to make friends and share their predictions for this season. anxiously, you paced the cobblestones outside, waiting for the carriage to pick you up.

"dear, it's not lady-like to pace back and forth." your aunt calls out from the doorway.

"my apologies," you reply, not stopping your feet.

"you're snagging the hem of your gown!"

thank heavens that the carriage was approaching. she waves you off, wishing you luck on your first adventure alone in the ton, wishing desperately she could join you.

your goal today is to make at least one friend. you'll even settle for an allied.

once you arrive at the queen's castle, you step inside. covered in soft pastels, flowers, and butterflies; you immediately feel calm. everyone is chatting and sipping tea at the tables. you sit down in the first available seat.

"you're the diamond, correct?" someone whispered next to you asks.

you turn your head to see a blonde girl to the right. she's wearing a soft yellow dress that doesn't quite fit her right.

"correct." you nod, offering the girl a smile to which she returns.

"shouldn't you be sat with the queen?" she asks, nodding to one of the beautiful girls surrounding the queen.

"probably but this was the first seat i saw." you joke, sipping on your tea.

the girl laughs with a small nod and introduces herself. her name is bridget and her father is a jewelry maker for the queen.

"i saw you dancing with the viscount last night at the ball." she smiles. "do you fancy him?"

almost choking on your tea, you shake your head.

"no, no, no. i don't fancy the viscount." you state.

bridget hesitates, watching your body language closely. the pressure gets you to speak up again.

"why do you ask?"

"because the viscount is a major rake."

the word rake rolls off her tongue with pure disgust. you'd never heard someone with such respect as a viscount be called something so dishonorable. rakes were known for their ability to seduce and lead on women with no promise of marriage.

"but he talks of his desire for a wife?" you question, more to yourself than to bridget but alas, she answers anyway.

"only because his mama is practically begging for a viscountess." bridget whispers.

you suppose this made sense due to the fact that most rakes never even intend to wed and after your conversation with james last night, he made it clear that marriage was not something he craved.

"trust me, you aren't the first lady to attempt to tie down the viscount. well, at least you have a shot since you're the diamond this season and all." the blonde girl rambles.

"oh, heavens no!" you repeat.

"hm, that's sad..." she sighs. "he is quite handsome."

"most definitely but i intend to wed for pure reasons."

"if that's truly the case, stay as far away from the viscount as possible."

˖⋆࿐໋

for the rest of the afternoon, bridget's words stuck to the front of your brain. if james wasn't so intolerable, perhaps he would make a good husband to someone.

once everyone finished with their tea, you decided to go sketch in wisteria park. the weather was beautiful outside and gave you the perfect inspiration needed to work on a new piece. normally, you would only draw on the sides of the letters written to your father back home. no one was more supportive of you than your parents. in a world where women mean nothing more than their wombs to society, it was rare to have parents who let their daughters have dreams.

sat on a patch of grass near the small pond, you set up your quill, small tray of paints, and paper. in the area where you decided to sit, across from you stood a beautiful cherry tree. as you work on the outline, you can hear footsteps approaching.

"i should've known i would find you here." a familiar voice says.

you don't even glacé up at the person near you, paying no mind to the man who seeks your attention most.

"do you want something, my lord?" you ask, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

james' head spun every time those last two words fell from your lips, sounding to pretty the way that they roll of your tongue.

"you may call me, logan." he says. "if you so wish."

"logan?" you cock a brow, finally looking up at him.

"it's my middle name." he replies awkwardly.

"hm..." you pretend to ponder for a moment. "that's far too personal for me."

" 'too personal'? how might that be?"

james stands arms crossed against the cherry tree, glaring in your direction. you don't rush to answer his question instead you continue adding details to the branches and trees. he huffs under his breath, clearly irritated your lack of interest in him.

"well, we have no intentions to be together this season and we aren't friends so, there's no need for nicknames and such." you reply nonchalantly.

"you don't know my intentions"

a sweet giggle escapes you. james brushes off the warmth flooding his chest, rather focusing on topic at hand.

"oh, i bet i do."

suddenly, you drop your quill and give him your undivided attention.

"why are you even here, james?" you sigh.

"i was visiting an old friend this morning and wanted a stroll through the park."

"an old friend?"

the words left your lips before you could stop yourself. james was quick to notice the tone shift. he smirks, walking over to you and sitting on the grass to your right.

"mhm..." he hums.

"is she viscountess material?" you scoff, returning to your scribbles.

"and why would you care?"

why did you care? it's not like the two of you really know each other; yet, something about james made your blood boil. perhaps it was how he has a near perfect life and somehow still complains. he has no issues in finding a partner because everyone wants him. if he didn't have his head up his own ass, he would realize that.

"i don't."

"sounds like you do."

james liked watching your face scrunch up at little with dislike for him. how your pressure on the quill increases. how you avoid his gaze. how you pretend he doesn't exist next to you.

"i don't." you repeat. "i just cannot believe that someone like you is complaining about having to take a wife when all the women of the ton are smitten with you."

"someone like me?" james pretends to be offended but he was too busy enjoying this riled up version of you.

"someone who never gone with unmet needs, never struggled financially, never been under minded or overlooked." your words come out sharp but james doesn't let them cut deep.

"look, sweetheart..." he squints those hazel eyes, glaring deep into your soul and leaning in closer than he should've. "you know nothing of my families struggles."

"and you know nothing of mine."

james was so close to you. your noses almost touching before you pull away. being within his close proximity made you feel a foreign warm tingle deep in your stomach.

thank heavens that the park was empty, minus the two of you. the last thing you needed was for someone to see the two of you this close and label you as one of the viscounts mistresses.

"i-i must get going." you stutter, collecting your belongings.

"where are you off to?" he asks.

"i'm supposed to be accompanying lady chamberlain and prince harrison to dinner this evening."

his face scrunches with distaste at the mention of the prince. also, why would lady chamberlain hide this piece of information from him?

"isn't it quite early to prepare for dinner?"

"i must look perfect for the prince." you smile.

but not at james. you're smiling for that no good excuse of a prince who couldn't see that you already were perfect.

"you look fine to me." he huffs.

"it's vocabulary like that, that keeps you from finding a wife."

"and to think it was my insufferable personality that kept the ladies of the ton away."

it's difficult to hide the laugh you want to let out. instead you bite down on your cheek, not giving him the satisfaction of your laughter.

"ha ha ha." you mock dryly.

"do you always have a stick up your ass?"

james question makes your jaw drop. never in your life have you heard a man speak so vulgarly.

"that's no way for a viscount to speak to a lady." you scold. he can't help but roll his eyes at your comment.

"i'm sure that a man has spoken even more colorfully to you."

"what are you insinuating, my lord?"

"that i highly doubt a lady such as yourself still has her virtue." he shrugs.

never has your head spun so fast at a single sentence. you couldn't fathom that a rake like him has the nerve to question anyone's virtue.

"excuse me, viscount howlett but my virtue is none of your business." you rage. "and you have quite the nerve to question it."

"and why's that?"

james was playing with fire but he didn't mind getting scorched by your flames.

"i've heard the stories about you."

"like what?"

"like what you do with the promiscuous women of the night." your words leave a smirk plastered on his face as he watches you intensely.

"don't act so innocent either." james hums. "i'm sure you've had your fair share of promiscuous adventures in france."

a flush of red hits at your cheeks. the last person you wanted to talk about promiscuous acts with is james. mostly because your lack there of. only your own hands have touched you so intimately.

james studies your facial expression before it clicks for him. he shouldn't ask. he really shouldn't. but come on, he has to.

"have you never—" his words come to a halt when there's a ruffled noise inching closer.

"i'm under no obligation to answer you, viscount howlett." you scold, collecting your belongings.

"hm... seems like you've already answered my question." his cocky tone sends you over the edge of annoyance.

"shouldn't you be more concerned with finding a wife rather than my virtue? this season will be over before you know it and you will need to find one sooner rather than later."

james admired the way you spoke with such sharpness. you were shy and reserved but the weight of your words were heavy. there was grace in the way you spoke and he loathed it.

he loathed how perfect you were. how absolutely perfect you would fit into his life. how perfect you would be at being his little wife. only needing to plan parties and open your womb to his child. he would never stop you from your dream of painting either. all he wants is someone who can handle the duties that come with being his other half.

by the time james snaps out of his thoughts, you are long gone. off to get ready for your date with a man who's twice as rich as him and much more likable. the only thing he could do is hope that nothing good comes from this dinner.

──★

i'll tag everyone else who commented in the morning when i wake up <3

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[satyricplotter]

keep on melting my paradigm (you're like candy)

pairing: jason todd x reader word count: a conservative 1.2k im extremely proud of thank you rating: mature warnings: suggestive language, vore-adjacent musings? reader is a little intense also. notes: i've had half of this on my drafts since that chapter of the juni ba dami story came out sjdfs it's a bit weird. title from this gay ass song.

"Do you think I'm creepy?"

Jason hums, hands flexing on the fabric of your jeans. He has an arm slung around your waist, thumb threaded through the belt hoop at your lower back. The other hand rests on the side of your thigh, and this you feel slide just a little as he ponders his answer.

"Pretty sure I wouldn't have you on my lap if I did," he says.

His eyes are closed. They have been ever since you climbed atop him, hands roaming over his face, neck, shoulders. His head thrown back against the swell of the couch's cushion, chest rising and falling in a serene cycle. You brush the tuft of white hair at his forehead back—if you can really call the motion that. It's cropped so short nowadays, there's not really much to brush back. But you relish in the feeling of it poking against the pads of your fingers, a newness to accompany a well-worn habit. You continue to scratch your nails against his scalp. Jason hums, huffs a little. You feel the vibration of his chest against yours. The afternoon stretches slow and syrupy, golden sunlight swallowing you both in and out of shadows. An uncharacteristic idyll broken by your particular neurosis.

"You might," you say. "You people are severely lacking in self-preservation."

"You people..." He repeats, quietly. Amused. Raises an eyebrow but doesn't open his eyes. "You mean the recently dead, or the murderous?"

"The running at night with a cape crowd, rather."

"I don't wear a cape," Jason points out.

"Of course you don't. You've watched The Incredibles."

"Number five on your extensive list of superhero media, if I recall correctly," he says, dryly. He opens his eyes slowly, gaze sharpening on you immediately. A milky grey, almost white—stunning. So stunning. You never tire of him. He jolts you out of your daze by literally jolting you, raising his knee abruptly so you careen further down his lap and clamp down on his shoulders with a yelp. You scoff, he laughs.

"C'mon." He squeezes your waist. "Out with it."

"I fear my fascination with the more... outlandish aspects of your appearance is disrespectful to you," you blurt out.

Immediately, you flush, avert your eyes. Jason has an incredible ability to dissect you open, sink his hands into you and rip out whatever you're trying to hide from him—all with some simple prompting. You hadn't meant to say the truth. Particularly because you know it's silly. You can see it in his face, the way he barely holds back from pulling a face you will most definitely resent. His consideration is heartwarming, considering he doesn't pull his punches on anyone else.

"You worry... about the weirdest shit," he says in the most annoying tone of wonderment. It makes you feel silly—which you are.

"I'm serious," you whine. "You have to take this seriously. What if I'm fetishizing your weird eyes and scarred body?"

"And my big tits?" He ventures.

"And your big tits," you agree.

"And my fat cock?"

"And your—you son of a bitch." You slap his arm as he guffaws. "Be! Fucking! Serious! This is a serious concern! It could be bad for your self-esteem!"

"I don't think you should be worrying about my self-esteem while hitting me. What if my arm falls off? Why don't you worry about that?"

"You're so insufferable." You roll your eyes. "You've been shot before. You can survive some light slapping. Now get with the program. Am I a creep or not?"

"Because you like me?" His eyebrows crawl up his forehead, a little sense of unease settling onto him. "Is it wrong to like me?"

"What? No, of course not!" You exclaim, frowning. "You're great."

"Sure," he snorts. You got a bone to pick with the incredulity, but now's not the time. Jason relaxes back into the couch in the meantime, the grip on your hip loosening. "Then what's the issue. You just like me. Simple as that."

"So much, Jay," you confess, too absorbed in making your point to feel embarrassed about it. "I like you so much. Too much? I feel like if I told you exactly how much, you'd be weirded out by it."

"Not really," he mutters. The hand on your waist slips up to rest at your nape, thumb pressing on a divot at the side that makes you shiver, burrow yourself closer. You drag against him, semi-hard all afternoon underneath you, which is all he wants, and exhale with shaky fortitude.

Jason cradles the back of your head, slowly opens up your neck to him. His lips are sweet as they mouth your pulse point, his breath hot and wet where he kisses. Sure and steady hands hold you in place, big and rough even through the layers of clothes. You want them on your skin, roaming your body. Wanna feel the jagged edge of every scar catch on your every groove and curve. He does this daily; this is no foreign feeling. Jason takes you on lap and holds and kisses you on the regular, and yet, though one may suppose it to be so, no tedium penetrates this daily ritual of affection. As ever, you feel alive and grateful and intoxicated.

You're wrong, Jason, you think dazedly, eyelashes sticking together with the dampness of your eyes, this can't be normal.

Every kiss from Jason is an attempt to suffocate you. His hot mouth closes in on you like a bruise, and you melt into the brute strength, because you, too are voracious. You bite at his lip, feel the sharp jab of lust stab through you at the accompanying grunt. At once you feel the heavy weight of desire and possession build up inside you. He makes you greedy, and selfish, and dangerous. You wanna punish anybody that has ever hurt him, and lock him up so nobody can see him but you, and beg on your knees so that he may never leave you, and it is all ugly and messy and undignified.

"Stop thinking," he rasps, half-pants into your mouth. You try not to whimper or follow after him when he breaks away, presses his temple against yours. He doesn't get it. You don't think he ever will. It's a loving gesture all the same. Your fingers curl on the hem of his shirt.

"I want to sink my teeth into you," you mutter against his cheek. So solid, so warm. Sticky flesh like a babe's. My love, my love, you chant.

His voice is hoarse. "Do you?"

"I think... if I could... if you let me..." You slip down to nibble at his ear, blood pounding on your own. "I'd eat you alive. Bite by bite."

Momentary silence. Bated breath. His skin under your teeth.

Jason laughs. He holds you closer. "Are you sure?" He sounds so playful. "It'd take you a while. There's a lot of me, after all," and this he punctuates by canting his hips up, grinding against you.

"Ugh," you huff, abruptly gripping onto his shoulders to steady yourself. He sure knows how to keep you off track.

Maybe that's enough. Maybe he doesn't need to understand. Maybe he just... knows. And accepts it. Your terrible, unbearable love.

You nuzzle against him, cheek to the underside of his jaw. Press a kiss to the juncture of earlobe and jaw, then think better of it and go a little harder, alternating between sucking and pressing your tongue soothingly over the spot. It's something of a slobber, but his fingers tighten on your waist appreciatively.

"I've got time."

Jason smirks. "Then let's get started."

[platinumshawnn]

to strangers | benjicot blackwood x fem!bracken reader

a/n: yes i am fully aware i should be writing him as davos out of respect for the accuracy of the show and character but i'm still mourning what could have been. also leave it to me to write a little prequel tying this to my own fic a little bit by writing what this guy was really up to on his "hunting trip" lol. have some poorly written smut anyways, if anyone sees that I accidentally called the bracken’s estate “hedge stone” instead of “stone hedge” no you didn’t shut up it’s been fixed

synopsis: benjicot likes to rile up the women he likes i guess

Content warnings: MDNI — 18+, adult language, mentions of blood, violence, and war; era related sexism, smut (fem p in v sex, unprotected sex, degradation) [not proofread]

Word count: 5.5k words

you had never been one for conflict — especially not that of drunken councilmen who became red in the face, knocking over cups and irate over matters of politics as they shouted. despite your father’s efforts to maintain diplomacy and restraint during meetings, it almost always ended in a screaming match at the table these days — even your uncle could not bear to sit through them, and often doubled up on the amount he drank just to sit through them, barely able to walk as he stumbled out.

you were almost always met with apologies from your father as he found you outside the doors of the hall, given a squeeze of hand, and ushered to bed. you did not care for politics, but there was no escaping the recent events — it affected everyone, reaching beyond stone hedge’s walls, but your father the most. he appeared to have aged significantly over the past days, eyes exhausted and on edge whenever she greeted him.

but this particular night had been…a lot more than usual. your cousin, aeron, had come back, shaking as he’d returned from a survey of the lands with your brother; having got into another squabble over the boundaries with some blackwood boys who had dared to come too close to their land, in aeron’s words. the whole thing dripped of theatrics — “that filthy…cunt, benjicot”

your head popped up from the handkerchief you were working to embroider, your mother on your right as the pair of you sat in one of the several cabinet rooms that your father had designated for your lessons as a child; having since used it as an escape from the noise. even your mother had been alerted by the commotion as the boys clamored into the hallway, looking out through the door that had been cracked open to provide some airflow in the room. there, your cousin stood, his nose bloody and still dripping as your father summoned the maester while ranting to your uncle, attempting to shush the boy-knight who was on the border of shouting. your interest was only peaked by the name, sitting up and turning your body towards the three men, ceasing what you had been doing and placing the handkerchief in your lap to listen.

your father had made eye contact with you as aeron continued, grabbing him by the shoulder and reaching to close the door before you could hear as he dragged your cousin away. your mother had encouraged you to continue, the look she gave reminding you of proprietary and of your place — with a curt nod, you had returned to your task.

that had been at midday, and since then, there had not yet been a break. you could hear the shouts from your room, and you could picture your father amidst it all, trying to bring order and peace — a task he was successful in every so often, silence falling over the room and quieting to hushed whispers that would only last a short time before the yelling continued.

sometime before midnight, the silence had ended finally, stood at the top of the stairs as the councilmen dispersed; other members of your house trickled out. you had stayed up, waiting to approach your father, in hopes to get some sort of information on the outcome. but the exhaustion was clear on his face, being met by a soft, “on the morrow, not tonight, my dear.”

he had pressed a kiss to your head and brushed past you, receding to his chambers for the night, leaving you at the base of the stairs. as you went to retreat to bed yourself, you heard the cursing mutters of aeron who had finally exited the great hall doors behind you, still seething after several hours — you were relieved at least to find that his nose had since stopped bleeding.

“aeron,” you called out, turning to descend down the four stairs you had climbed just as he stopped in the hallway towards his own chambers. his eyes found you. you approached him, hand reaching out to grab his face between your fingers, turning to assess his face for any additional injuries you may not have noticed earlier in the day. however, much to your relief, he was otherwise unharmed, “you really ought to stop antagonizing those men— you’re going to get yourself killed.” you scolded, sighing and dropping your hand.

aeron winced slightly, more from the reprimand than any lingering pain. “I can’t just let them insult our family, you know that.”

you shook her head, a mix of frustration and concern in your eyes. “I know, aeron, but there’s a difference between defending our honor and looking for trouble. what good will it do if you’re dead?”

He avoided your gaze, jaw clenching. “I just can’t stand the way they look at us, like we’re nothing and like they can do whatever it is they please. Like they own the riverlands. someone has to stand up to them if your father won’t.”

“standing up to them doesn’t mean getting into brawls. use your head, aeron. we need you alive, not battered and bruised,” you said, your tone softening.

aeron had sighed and muttered something unintelligible, only able to make out a ‘yeah’ before he withdrew to his own rooms.

you had tried to sleep — you did. but at some point, the heat, humid and sticky, had made it impossible to; instead, turning and tossing in your bed, growing increasingly frustrated before you stormed from the bed with a huff. the conversation between you and aeron had been stuck in your head, the sight of him bloodied haunting you — how did benjicot look then? was he unscathed and unharmed?

you knew he had always been stronger, a fiercer opponent but you couldn’t help the worry that plagued you.

you had quickly changed as best you could in the dark, without falling over in a way that would alert the guards; pulling your dress on and watching underneath the door as you smoothed out the fabric, doing your best to be silent in opening the door. peaking your head out and checking that both ways were clear, you slipped out and closed the door behind you, walking on your toes as you snuck through the house and out a backdoor that led into the fields.

you did your best to stay low and out of sight as you bolted through the fields towards the boundary stones, trying to remember who would be on surveillance — you couldn’t for the life of you remember, despite your best efforts to eavesdrop on your cousin's conversation earlier.

hell, you weren’t even sure you would see him.

sometimes you did, other times you didn’t — weeks would pass sometimes before you saw him again. sometimes it was hours before you saw him, sat, pulling at grass as you waited, knees to your chest.

today felt like one of those days, as you approached the river, out of sight from any prying eyes and sat by the edge, your eyes straining to see through the dark. the moon did little to penetrate the dense patch of trees. as the hours passed, your head had begun to drop against your knees, dozing off. there would be no way of keeping yourself awake all night, after a long day, opting as a last ditch attempt to awaken your senses by dipping your toes into the stream as you kicked off your shoes.

the water was a nice welcome in the heat, a content sigh leaving your mouth as you kicked your feet; splashing the water upwards. the wait seemed to drag on forever, growing impatient and trying to decide on whether to return home or not.

you’d give him another hour at most. If he didn’t come, then you would go home.

your gaze scanned the river, serene and peaceful as the rushing body of water sloshed around your feet; cool and refreshing. you’d have time.

you stood back from the water and fumbled to strip down to your chemise, discarding the dress to the grass by your shoes before easing down and into the water, letting out a hiss. slowly, wadding into its shallow depths, you moved forward until the water touched your thighs, lapping at your body as you cupped some of the water between your hands and tossed it up in front of you.

“you’re far from home, lady bracken.”

your head whipped toward the sound of a voice from the treeline, water sloshing around your legs as you faced the boy who the voice belonged to. the ends of your skirt had been released in the turn into the water, feet tangling in the soft sand of the river’s floor, just catching yourself from falling into its rapid rush by the luck of the Gods; the ends of the fabric now soaked by the flowing water that swirled around you. there he stood, barely peeking out from the cover of the trees as if that would somehow conceal his identity, hugging close to the trunk of one while he watched you from his shaded spot. there was hardly any way of seeing him in the night, the moon’s light not quite reaching him but his voice -- you would know that voice anywhere.

you stepped forward, halfway across the shallow depths of the river that flowed between the two lands of bracken territory and blackwoods, the cold water just reaching mid-thigh as you looked up at him, “as are you.” you quipped, heart rate rapid as your heart thrummed against your ribs.

despite the limited visibility, you could see his mouth quirk up in a half-smile, his amusement clear as his head tipped to the side while his eyes continued to watch you closely like some sort of prey. the limited sense of vision allowed you the ability to hear as he inhaled through his nose, breathing outwardly before he finally stepped forward to the edge of the water, his hand at the hilt of his dagger on his hip as his eyebrows rose, “and do you always take moonlit strolls through my land?”

you stilled, hands resting at your sides as your fingers dipped into the cool water below you, the cold nipping at your fingertips, “only when called for— the night was too beautiful to resist.” you replied, chin lifted to look up towards where he towered over you, “and what’s your excuse?”

he snorted, boots shifting against the dirt with as he moved to widen his stance, “the same perhaps,” he said, eyes glancing up to the sky above the riverlands that was littered with stars, “or maybe I was hoping to find a curious lady wandering too close to my territory.” he said, his voice a low rumble.

there was nothing threatening about his tone, however, his body language said otherwise — his eyes scanning their surroundings before looking back to your face, his body suggesting that he was on edge. as though he expected bracken men to burst through the trees behind you any minute. you took another languid step forward, closer to enemy territory, the thrill of it never failing to excite you.

“are you suggesting I’m trespassing?” you asked, your words steady as you bordered taunting the man who eyed you.

you could see as he squinted, narrowing his eyes at your words, “just…observing that you’re quite far from where you’re supposed to be at this hour, my lady.”

you hummed, eyebrows raised as the water continued to lap at the fabric of the cream coloured chemise that had been worn underneath the dress of typical bracken colours of yellow and brown having been discarded at the edge of the grass. you could see the moment his eyes lowered to scan down the length of the fabric, disappearing into the water and drifting higher up your thighs, bordering translucent against your skin, slow in dragging his eyes along the length of your body, “but i suppose the river doesn’t care for borders, does it?” he suddenly asked, his eyes returning to meet yours.

your mouth curved upwards, a wry smile on your face as his gaze emboldened you, “no it doesn’t, but neither do I, it seems. I don’t believe the assize said anything about the river.”

benjicot tutted condescendingly at her, smug as his hands shifted over his dagger, “careful, you're starting to sound like your cousin, bracken.” he warned, tone sharp, “do you not ever worry about what might be lurking in the shadows? his words came lighter now, the tension gone from his voice.

you let out a dry laugh, beginning to feel the effects of the frosty water that reached your hips the further you wadded, a cool breeze causing your skin to prickle with goosebumps. you shivered, sucking in a deep breath through clenched teeth, “only when they carry a dagger and a half-smile, I suppose.” you said.

his hands twitched, the grasp at his blade loosening as he seemed to contemplate reaching forward to drag you from the water at the sight of your shivering frame. however, he stopped himself and instead lifted his chin, mouth pressing into a tight smile, “then its a good thing I’m in a benevolent mood tonight.”

your head lowered to look down at the water, using your fingers to skim its surface, “I will take my chances.” you confidently said, lifting your gaze after a moment of pause.

he let out a ‘hmph’ sound, watching as you slowly closed the gap between the two lands to stand directly in front of him, the water shallow once again and only meeting mid-thigh. the now soaked gown did nothing to provide any ounce of modesty, sheer and clinging to your lower half as you stared up at him. your eyes followed his movements as he crouched, bringing him eye-to-eye as an elbow planted against one of his knees, “well, I suggest you be careful, my lady. the night is full of dangers.” he said, his voice low and quiet.

“and so is the day, but I’ve never been one to shy away from either.” you said, voice matching his volume before you stepped forward until you stood against the ledge, your other hand planting in the grass just between his boots as you lifted your right hand toward him, “are you going to help me or shall I call for my men?” you taunted, a grin on your face.

he rolled his eyes, smile broadening as he stood upright and bent to grab your hand, using his strength to pull you up and over the ledge, out of the waters with ease. you were brought to your feet, stood face-to-face with him, his face leaning close to yours as he spoke, “you wouldn’t dare.” he muttered, “how do you plan then, to explain your presence so close to blackwood land at this hour? alone, in a nightgown, with the heir?”

your chest brushed his as you leaned in towards him, “I’ll figure something out— you underestimate me.”

he hummed with a nod, his nose bumping yours in the close proximity. though his mouth did not yet make contact with yours, his breath fanned over lips, his eyes scanning your face, “oh, I’m sure you will. but do you think they will believe you?” he asked, the lazy smirk on his face laced with arrogance, “do you think there won’t be whispers? said whispers, questioning your maidenhead?”

“they’d be foolish to make such accusations against the daughter of amos bracken.” you countered, shoulders squaring with pride.

the man in front of you let out a sardonic chortle, releasing the hilt of his dagger and finding your hip, gripping the fabric of your chemise in his fist, stepping back and forcing you with him, “oh please.” he mocked, his hand dropping from your hip to reach down to your thigh and begin to hoist the soaked fabric upwards towards your waist, leaving you bear to the elements, “if only they could see their lord’s daughter, out parading herself like some whore on blackwood land. What do you think they would say then, hm?”

“‘Tis not their business what I do, nor my father’s.” you muttered.

“oh but i think they might say otherwise. you’re a noblewoman,” he jeered, his knuckles brushing against the bare skin of your belly as his hand dipped below your naval, “a highborn womb.”

you knew benjicot did not share their views -- in the very few occasions he had opened up during your late night escapades, red in the face with anger, rambling on about the audacity of his councilmen as he dressed. he had ranted about what the very outlook had done to his mother, that women were more than for breeding. but he enjoyed knocking you down a peg sometimes, humbling you back down to earth during these moments. he liked to mock the sanctity of your womanhood, even if for a moment, but then he would go back on himself and praise you once all was said and done — praise the very thing he mocked. However, on this particular night, something about his words lit the flames of pure, feminine rage, staring eye to eye with the man you had visited countless times over the past months.

“I am more than that.” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady.

he let out a melancholic hum, “you think so?”

he spoke to you like you were a child, who lived under the guise of a delusion — like a childish dream that you were expected to grow out of. the tone of his voice, paired by the sudden feeling of his hand between your thighs bred a slew of confusing emotions to spread within your chest; shamed and desperate, humiliated and seething as his fingers found the sensitive bud between folds that were slick with arousal that had you hot with embarrassment, fingers gliding up along your folds as you gritted your teeth, “how dare you—!”

the nature of his words stung when you knew how much he despised when other men looked down on women the way you had grown accustomed to; somehow after he had entrusted you enough to open up to you, he still had the nerve to throw it in your face—

he caught your hand that came up towards his throat, eyebrows raising as if to warn you, a grin on his mouth as his hand between your thighs stilled, “no need to be so hostile, sweet girl.” he said, guiding your hand down to your side as he moved to drive your back towards a tree, that hand coming to hold your chin in the space between his thumb and fingers, “I know you are a brave, resilient woman…” he quietly muttered, face coming close to yours and trapping you between his body and the tree, a knee coming between your thighs.

despite the rage that still burned within you, scorching like a wildfire, the warm contrast of his fingers on cold skin was welcomed; jolting up as his fingers pressed against you, fingers circling the bud and earning a soft sigh of a moan as you reached out to grab him, pulling him closer as though you were trying to crawl underneath his skin and become one. His mouth finally made contact, attaching itself to your throat and placing open-mouthed kisses to the skin, nipping the delicate skin with his teeth as his fingers worked against you.

“my clever, beautiful girl.” he praised, mouth reaching your collarbones.

you belly clenched, another moan elicited by his words as your hands fisted the cloak around his shoulders, his hand moving briefly to tug the fabric of your gown back up and out of his way as it dropped from its place around your hips. benjicot had a way of leaving you breathless and desperate, a flustered mess under his touch, the only man that could draw out the carnal sounds of pleasure; broken sighs and crying out as his middle and ring finger pushed themselves into you.

by the roots of his hair, you brought a hand to the back of his head and tugged him towards your mouth, his lips encapsulating yours in a feverish kiss; all teeth and tongue. you cried out, muffled by his mouth, as his thumb continued the prior pace, rubbing blind shapes into your clit as your mouth dropped open, too distracted by experienced fingers that slipped in and out of you with ease to reciprocate the kiss, “oh—, fuck.”

“yes, just like that,” he encouraged, voice soft. “just relax, my love.”

the weeks of pent up hunger and anticipation for this moment curled within you, settling into your lower belly, thighs attempting to clench around his hand. though you were stopped by the firm, strong thigh that had been planted there to prevent such from happening, his hips pressing into yours.

“ben, please…” you cried out, beginning to become overwhelmed between his mouth that returned to your throat and his hand, his pace increasing.

rather instead, he knelt suddenly, head buried beneath the thin chemise that draped over his head as he leaned into you. his shoulders brushed your thighs as his mouth replaced his thumb’s task, latching to the bundle of nerves and leaving you gasping, gripping his hair as your chest heaved. a low groan vibrated through your core from the man below you, reaching every end and nerve of your body as you struggled to keep up on your feet as your peak washed over you. his arm wrapped up underneath your right thigh, holding you against him and pressing against your hip as if that would somehow ground you as you nearly collapsed against him, your entire body alight as your walls squeezed around his fingers, clenching so tight it could restrict movement.

he was barely any gentler as he reemerged from your skirts, your head slumped back against the tree as he stood to tower over you once more, using the fabric of your gown to hold you up and practically manhandle you up against the tree that scraped your skin with each move. loose strands of hair had freed themselves from the half done up style, hanging in your face as you panted, mouth agape as you looked up at him; lips glistening with the reminisce of you — your cheeks heated with embarrassment, reaching out to touch his cheek.

he was beautiful, especially with you on his lips.

you dropped your hand and pulled him towards you by his hips, using the belt to your advantage to jerk him forward, his own lazy smirk mirrored by your tired smile as your hands fumbled to undo the laces of his pants. he aided in the task, skillful fingers pulling them with ease and shoving his pants down just enough that they sat high on his thighs, freeing his hardened cock from their confinement, your hand instinctively coming down to wrap around the length and stroke him. his lips parted above you, hands coming to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks as his nose nudged yours.

you could have stayed there forever, in that moment — with the sight before you, a flush in his face as he appeared fucked out already, hair in a disarray from your fingers.

he reached across his chest to undo the clasp of his cloak, dropping it from his shoulders; getting rid of the only shield that hid you from any potential prying eyes — if anyone burst through the bushes then, there would be no hiding the act and it would be without any doubt what was happening.

‘parading herself like a whore on Blackwood land’

benjicot would be correct. if your cousins had dared to wander close to the borderlands again, you would be done for. there would be no protecting any ounce of your dignity and modesty at that point — you would be shamed by your entire family, and even worse, your father…he would be beyond furious and nothing less than gutted.

the thought and feeling of sheer shame it brought had you clinging close to the man in front of you, his body easily capable of concealing yours as one hand went above your shoulder to the tree, too blissed out to put an end to this and go home right then as his mouth pressed to yours in a sweet, affectionate kiss. you moaned against his mouth, his hand replacing yours around his cock to glide it up along your slit; gathering the slick as a means to lubricate the head of his cock, that already leaked pre-cum that mingled with your own arousal, the tip red and angry.

you braced against the tree, trying to regain footing, nearly slipping into him. he steadied you with the arm above your shoulder, wrapped around your ribs and forcing your chest against his as he slid into you, earning a gasp, breaths mingling as your own arm wrapped around his shoulders; clutching to him like your life depended on it — and in some ways, it did.

he held you up against the tree, having to shove the fabric of his tunic and doublet high up on his hips out of the way as he thrusted up into yours. each movement of his hips, shallow due to the position, his pelvis brushed against your clit, providing enough stimulation to leave you struggling for air as you fisted his clothing in your hands.

“fuck…” he rasped, lips brushing your own as they parted, each breath from his mouth sucked into your lungs as you relied on him for the strength to stay upright, slumping into him.

you were a jumbled, incoherent series of sounds as any paranoid thought of fearing your cousin's appearance went out the window, all consumed by him. your leg lifted by his hand guiding it by the back of your knee, thigh hooking around his hip and pulling him further, deeper into you and releasing a sob. you felt so full, it physically ached, walls clenching down around him and eliciting a hiss of air from him.

the sound of a branch cracking somewhere in the distance of the bushes caused you to jolt against him, eyes peering over his shoulder, wide and panicked as the thought crossed your mind again just how open you were to being exposed. you had done this time and time again, but never with his own men just several feet from the bush you were hidden among, and never during a war that had everyone on edge. the looming war had your father in particular paranoid, leading to an increase in fleets that surveyed the boundaries of bracken’s land and the thought instilled again, that fear that you could be caught.

as if he sensed your worry, his mouth caught yours in another kiss, forehead pressing to yours, “my love…” he muttered, bringing your attention back to him.

and he was successful, your gaze doing one last scan and straining into the dark before you were faced with his tired, lust-filled face, his cheeks flushed and striking even in the dark. the sweet name swelled your chest with adoration, your breath quick as you let out a moan, spiraling into bliss against him as his hand came between you to once again rub against your clit.

“ben, i can’t— please—“ the sound was weak and feeble, choked out and gasping for air as your body burned.

it was met by deaf ears as he gently shushed you, his mouth grazing yours, cock relentlessly rutting up into you with desperation — seeking for release as your walls fluttered around him. the groan he released was animalistic, deep from within his chest and carnal as you clutched onto him, struggling to keep yourself up against him and pulling him into you; seeking some kind of anchor to keep you grounded as his hand on your clit worked in unfaltering shapes that had you weak.

a final sob of pleasure left you as you clamped down around him, body tense and slumping against his as you released yourself around him. the final plea of his name and your walls were followed by a few sharp, final thrusts as he released his seed into you; fucking it deeper into you with a deep sigh of your name, a hand coming to your throat as he glanced down, his forehead resting against your chin.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

you stepped up onto the riverbank of your family’s side; thighs still aching while benjicot’s hand supported you from behind before he too crawled up behind you, not seeming to care that he was now soaked from his thighs down. He stood back, allowing you a silent moment to wring out your dress of any water as best you could, hands twisting the fabric and letting out a grunt of exertion before letting it drop back down to your feet. You bent to collect your dress, benjicot finally stepped forward to help in your task of redressing, hands smoothing the fabric over your hips and straightening your shoulders with a gaze down, not daring to make eye contact.

you both knew this could have been the last time you saw each other, the dawning realization casting an awkward, tense silence over the two of you as you eyed the fabric of his doublet; making a mental note of its ridges, the pattern of the woven article of clothing. he tensed as you lifted a hand to touch the fabric with your fingers, too intimate a gesture as fingers ran across his chest and up towards his shoulder before stilling there, your palm coming to place over his heart.

“when are you to marry the…” he began to ask, his face screwing up in disgust at the idea as he spat out the name, “Lefford boy.”

you gaze only briefly lifted towards his face when he spoke, a small snort leaving you at his reaction and smiling softly at his antics. The smile dropped after a moment, though, inhaling and sighting out a breath as you straightened out his own clothing with gentle tugs, brushing over the fabrics, “two nights from today.” you quietly replied.

he made a sound of disapproval, his gaze on your face as you finally looked him in the eye again, his hand rising to capture your wrist in his hold. You had heard the whispers as well throughout the halls of stone hedge, trying to picture it as you looked at him, “I hear rumors you’re to be married, too.” you pointed out, his face twitching.

he released your wrist, stepping back and looking towards his feet as he fixed his sleeves, “My father plans to betroth me against my will.” He admitted, his words a grumble as he shook out his arms and looked up at you again.

you nodded, “who? has he said anything of his intentions?”

“some girl.” he admitted, shaking his head with a shrug of his shoulders, cheeks expanding with a sigh, “the lord paramount’s granddaughter, I suppose.”

you smiled, tilting your head as you looked at him, “serra tully, right? that’s her name, yes?”

“unfortunately.” he grumbled in complaint.

“she’s quite beautiful, I hear.”

he shrugged again, letting out another grunt.

“well, you should probably be on your way,” you said, hands folding behind you as he looked across the river, the sun already beginning to come up. “your men will be looking for you soon.”

benjicot nodded, stepping forward and reluctantly reaching out to your waist, fingers gently pressing into your sides as he leaned forward to press a sweet kiss to your mouth, “I will see you soon.” He said as he withdrew from your mouth, face still hovering close.

you raised a hand and pressed it to his cheek, smiling as you looked up at him, “yes. maybe.”

his eyes rolled as you lifted a hand as if to gesture ‘just as I suspected’, looking over you as a sharp whistle sounded from somewhere beyond the trees from his camp, hands dropping from your sides and straightening the belt at his hips; you watched as his fingers went to the dagger at his right hip, removing it from its sheath, much to your confusion. He withdrew it and used his free hand to pull one of yours forward, pressing the blade into your palm and looking at you, “a wedding gift.” He quietly said.

you looked down at the blade, frowning and blinking rapidly a couple of times before looking up at him, mouth opened in a stutter, “benjicot, I- I can’t accept this. you might need-”

“I have plenty back home,” he assured, wrapping your fingers around the handle of it and licking his lips that were then pressed into a line that resembled an amused smile, “have it…in case that Lefford boy ever pisses you off.”

you let out a laugh, a smile coming to his face as your hand dropped from his, the dagger clutched by your side, “very charming of you.”

He chuckled and pressed another quick kiss to your forehead before he brushed past you, hurrying into the river with a splash and sloshing back in the direction he had come from. you watched as he climbed out of the water, entering back out onto blackwood territory and giving one last glance as he retreated back into the trees.

[tonkatsubowl]

truth to be told, it takes a lot for aventurine to fully trust someone, let alone loving them.

the man had already lost so much, including his own sense of self. to be stabbed in his back, to be betrayed, to be mocked and used and made fun of—he was used to it. it would take aventurine a while for him to feel comfortable being vulnerable with someone, considering he didn't trust anyone in particular.

though the man wore a gorgeous smile, wandering through the streets of penacony, it wasn't a genuine smile, but a mask he put up. expensive clothing, his beautiful countenance and the abundance of money he liked to toss around... it was just a mask he put up. it was also for the sake of his own reputation, too. especially when you were directly under diamond herself.

the main suspect of his suffering. and the cause of his success. a double edged sword that he walked upon. his own life was theirs. a mere toy, a mere chess piece to gamble with.

...but when he met you, he was confused. afraid, even. but he put up a fake smile, some flirtatious words here and there, but the man did not trust you, nor did he believe you would be willing to stay by his side for an eternity for aeons know what.

when he met you, you were kind, understanding. you were a little stubborn, too, and humorous. you never failed to have aventurine laugh at your cute little jokes, and you never failed to protect him, whether it was against the ipc's mocking him in his name, or against nightmare infested monsters that dared to consume his flesh within a dream.

he was terrified of you.

he didn't know what you were doing to him.

every time he saw you, he felt... weak. vulnerable around you. and he hated it. he loathed it. he hated everything about how you were making him feel, as though you were a curse that came to haunt him due to the sins of his past.

every time he saw you, his heart began to palpitate, his chest aching. and it got worse whenever he saw you so happy with someone else. but... maybe you were better off with someone? everyone kept leaving him, after all, whether it was death or it was simply due to some gambling... game-thing. a business transaction, even.

but you stayed.

you stayed throughout the hardships he faced.

why?

just why?

why, of all people, did you want to stay with him? a once upon a time slave, now a business man specializing in manipulation, gambling (an addiction, to put it), and flirtatious words to soothe the mind so he could win his way.

even through everything, you were still here. that was when he decided to seek out a certain doctor.

he sat across from him, forcing a smile across his lips, but the doctor could see it. the mask that aventurine donned himself with.

"you're in love."

aventurine's eyes looked up to the other, "you must be misreading your books like usual."

"you came here... to me, for your thoughts."

aventurine chuckled to himself, nervously, even.

"love? i haven't heard that word in ages."

"it is a complicated thing. especially with how you can be, gambler. a man who is unpredictable, keen to the eye, and... well, unfamiliar with the positive things."

aventurine cleared his throat, toying with the golden coin in his hand. he purses his lips, his mask wearing off for a moment.

"...now, dr. ratio, i am not doubting your knowledge and intelligence, don't get me wrong. i just don't believe that it truly is such a strange thing called... love."

the genius sighed, "you complained to me the other day that you couldn't stand seeing (y/n) talking to others, smiling and laughing. i recall that i was not assigned to be your therapist, here. the rest should be obvious, but it appears you're too stubborn to catch on... or rather, you're unfamiliar with this feeling. this term. love."

bullseye. it was as though ratio had called him out completely. for once, the gambler was silent. here, he would try to make little comments here and there, some jokes there and wherever but... the man was actually silent.

"... what do you suggest i do, then?"

dr ratio leans in, resting both elbows on his knees, eyes fixated on the gambler's own pristine eyes.

"if you are comfortable with it, move at your own pace if you wish to pursue. this is ultimately your choice. you can pursue these feelings, or you may leave it. there is no right or wrong answer, here. this all depends on you and what you wish to do. love is about being vulnerable with each other. accepting each other at their lowest. being for one another. your lover is considered to be your number one companion, truthfully."

aventurine was quiet.

"what is your gambler's intuition?"

a sigh left aventurine's lips. he stood, flipping the coin in his hand, before showing the result of heads or tails.

"...i suppose i'll make a bet with myself. one that doesn't cost money or the finest of gold and jewelry."

the genius watched as the other male got up from his seat, retrieving his sunglasses from his expensive outfit, before placing them on. "i'll make a gamble, to be specific, about this."

"then i wish you the best of luck, aventurine."

months had past, and the two of you were already in a relationship. it had been months, but the man didn't dare to tell you, 'i love you' just yet. as a matter of fact, those words were terrifying for him. what if he lost you after he said that? what if something were to happen to you? he was terrified of saying it, as he wasn't ready yet.

dr. ratio was right—he was paranoid to the bone but hid it. yet, aventurine played a few cards and decided to gamble this relationship with you, to see if it could work out. and so far, everything was well.

you were understanding, kind, beautiful, patient... the perfect partner someone could ask for.

but it also felt undeserving.

did... he deserve this love? did he truly deserve to experience the harmony that his heart fluttered to? he began to doubt. then he spiraled into a panic.

he began to sleep restlessly at night, rendering himself vulnerable to nightmares and the instability of his mind.

... but you were there, throughout all of it.

his eyes shot open, the familiar warmth of your hand gently cupped at his left cheek. he had fallen asleep on the couch, reading a long text presented to him by his supervisor, which was mainly just work and business related things. he didn't realize he had fallen asleep, and at first was confused when he woke up.

his phone was placed securely on the table, and there was a blanket draped over him. the air conditioning was turned on for his comfort, and before him was a tray full of biscuits, tea... for him to savor in once he woke from his nightmare.

"are you... alright?" you asked. "you were having a bad dream."

his eyes traveled to your voice, finding your concerned expression, his palpitating heart now steadying at an easy rate. he began to breathe, his eyes softening.

you were here, at his most vulnerable state, concerned for his well-being. he was silent, but he immediately reeled you in for a gentle hug. he was reluctant, but he wanted to feel the rest of your warmth. your head was buried into his chest, and you could hear his heart slow down. he closed his eyes, calming down from his inner demons.

"...you're okay." you murmur, brushing the top of his hair with your hands. "i'm here for you."

you didn't know much about him at all, truth to be told. the man wasn't really comfortable sharing his past with you, yet. he was a locked chest, and in order to find the key to his past, you had to be patient. time was key, but whatever demons he was facing at night... he knew you would be there.

he had doubts, at first, and always believed that he'd always be alone.

but... you were a different story.

"...thank you," he whispers onto your ear, cradling you close to his chest, "for being here."

your gaze softens, and you were silent for a moment. this was the first time you've seen aventurine like this. so vulnerable, so... reliant on you. but you were okay. because everyone has their own weakness. not everyone was perfect, and you understood that.

"... don't thank me." you say, closing your eyes, taking in his scent as the two of you nuzzled up against each other on the couch, "please don't. it's my job—my duty, as your other half, to be here for you."

dr. ratio's words echoed into his brain, reminding him of what love truly is. being there for one another, no matter what.

"you haven't been here?"

months past, and aventurine is presenting a beautiful, scenic view of penacony for you. the night sky was phenomenal, and the beautiful sounds of crickets and late night critters were no more than music to your ears. you seat yourself at the bench, whilst the gambler was walking around, admiring the view... taking pictures, even.

"i haven't, but now i am." you say, flashing a smile.

aventurine took some time off today to take you out on a date. the man had more than enough sick and vacation leave to do this for you, and it's the first time where he actually used it.

he sits next to you, admiring the night sky, and the sight of you above all else.

"it's a beautiful sight. i come here when i want to... relax."

your gaze softens, and your hand comes towards his own. digits intertwine, and you murmur something, audible for your lover's ears.

"thank you for taking me here. to your safe place."

aventurine looks over to you, puzzled.

"... safe place, huh? didn't expect to... call it that. but i guess that's what you can say for this spot. i can feel at peace here." he nods slowly, looking back to the scenic view.

"... it's a spot where you can feel vulnerable and be okay with it," you say, instantly catching his attention, "and i want to thank you for trusting me to bringing me here. i really, really do appreciate it."

ratio's words echo through his mind once more, the pad of his thumb suddenly reaching over, gently lifting your chin. he leans in, granting you a subtle kiss, in which you've returned.

"... may... i be vulnerable, once again?"

he lowered his guard, his voice coming to a whisper.

"you... can always be vulnerable around me. i want to be your safe person." you respond, in a whisper.

"..." he was silent. "i love you."

it was the first time, too, that he said such a thing to you. such strong words that let your heart skip a few beats. your face comes to a faint, vermillion flush, but you were happy nonetheless. you smile, cupping each side of his face.

"i love you too."

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 HYPNOSIS ahn yujin x reader

↳ warnings idol!au, fluff, oc group, yn is an awkward loser and yujin is obsessed with the voice

ECLIPSE had become the name on everyone’s lips lately, and for good reason. when was the last time yg entertainment launched a punk girl group? never. it was fresh, bold, and something so out of the ordinary for an entertainment like yg, exactly what the industry didn’t know it was missing.

yujin vividly recalls the first time she heard a track from the group. the song was called "amnesia." sure, the other members had incredible voices, but there was one in particular that caught her ear.

the girl didn’t get many lines, but when that voice emerged, it was mesmerizing, almost haunting. yujin couldn’t get it out of her head, if she could, she would have that voice on repeat forever.

it made yujin want to find out who the girl was and immediately ask her how did she acquire such a voice and not be the main vocalist?

rei called her a solo stan for that comment.

and sure, yujin could’ve easily found out who that voice belonged to, but there was something thrilling about the mystery.

she knew their faces but had no idea who sang which parts.

there was something fascinating about not knowing, just hearing that voice without attaching it to a name. the mystery made it even more captivating.

then yujin found out ive would be appearing on a variety show with none other than eclipse. as much as she was a little disappointed that her game of mystery was coming to an end, she couldn’t help but feel a spark of excitement.

she wondered what the girl was really like. with a voice like that, she had to be flirty and fun, the kind of person who could charm anyone without even trying.

well…

“eclipse, introduce your names,” one of the mcs said, gesturing toward the four girls. yujin, seated with her group, who had already introduced themselves, scanned the faces of eclipse, hoping to figure out who possessed that voice that had her hypnotized.

“I’m arang the amazing leader of eclipse!”

too high pitched.

“I’m irene, the main vocalist of eclipse!”

nah.

“I’m yn.”

everyone chuckled at the quiet girl’s simple introduction. arang playfully smacked yn’s arm, and yn winced, looking up at the leader. “ouch, you know i have tender arms,” she said, earning another round of laughter from the room, including yujin.

“introduce yourself properly!” arang scolded, while yn adjusted the glasses perched on her face, the sides adorned with sparkly skulls. “I don’t know what I am…”

“she’s our secret weapon.” Irene says saving yn from another slap on her arm, “our secret talent.”

“yeah… I’m that,” yn said a little louder, causing another wave of laughter.

as much as yujin felt a certain pulling towards the girl, her voice was too low.

“I’m celestial! the charm of eclipse!”

that could be her…

“alright you guys can have a seat!”

“so,” the mc starts, “before we go into the haunted house, eclipse prepared a surprise performance for us!”

the girls of ive clapped their hands while yujin mind started racing, this is gonna be it, she’s gonna find out who that voice belonged to.

as eclipse began to sing, yujin kept her eyes fixed on celestia. she had to admit, when celestia introduced herself, she didn’t feel that pull, not like with yn, but still, she fit the image yujin had in her mind of the voice she’d been searching for.

but as the song progressed, yujin quickly realized: celestia wasn’t the one. the song was already a minute in, and she hadn’t heard the voice that had been haunting her thoughts.

celestia had sung a few lines, but it was definitely not her. irene and arang had also had their parts, and still, nothing.

which only left one possibility…

when the bridge of the song came, yujin’s eyes widened. yn was singing. her voice washed over the room, higher and mesmerizing, and yujin felt the same way she had when she first heard it through her phone completely hypnotized.

as they finished yujin was left speechless, not even clapping along with her other members.

“ah, so amazing!” the mc praised the girls, “so this is how it’s gonna go, you guys will be split into groups and a camera will follow you on your journey throughout the haunted house.”

“arang, wonyoung, rei and irene!”

“celestia, liz, gaeul and leeseo!”

“yn and yujin! you two will be in a pair.”

yujin looked at yn who seemed like she was in internal distress that she was separated from her members, she couldn’t help but find the slight pout on the girls face cute.

“there are different entrances that you’ll go through,” the mc continued. “keep your partners close, and have fun—or be insanely scared!”

as they began preparing for the haunted house, yujin couldn’t stop sneaking glances at yn. the girl was quieter than she expected, almost shy, which didn’t match the captivating voice yujin had heard.

and yet, there was something else. a slight awkwardness about her, sure, but also a tomboyish charm in the way she moved like she wasn’t trying too hard to be anything other than herself. 

she watched as yn stood awkwardly in front of celestia who harshly pushed yn towards yujin.

“shit,” yn muttered under her breath, and yujin couldn’t help but chuckle at her awkwardness.

“nervous?” yujin asked, her voice teasing.

yn looked up from fiddling with her belt, which had a large skull buckle, clearly using it as a distraction. “huh? oh, no, i’ve been through plenty of haunted houses,” she replied, her voice calm, though her hands betrayed her. “you?”

yujin watched as yn quickly adjusted her shirt after realizing she’d tugged it up while fixing her belt. yn’s slight fidgeting made yujin grin. “i get scared sometimes…” she admitted, her gaze steady on yn.

yn scratched the back of her neck, eyes flicking up to meet yujin’s. “cool…”

the moment they stepped inside, the air grew thick with tension. eerie sounds echoed around them, and yujin, who was walking slightly ahead of yn, jumped at the first scare, a hand that reached out from the wall. she yelped, stumbling back and nearly crashing into yn, who caught her just in time. 

yn quietly laughed keeping one hand on yujin’s shoulder while the other one adjusted the glasses on her face, “scared sometimes?”

the sound sent a shiver down yujin’s spine, her face heating up despite knowing yn wasn’t trying to be flirty. still, that low voice, so close, caused an unexpected flutter in yujin’s stomach that she couldn’t quite ignore.

yujin shook her head, “heavy on sometimes, wanna walk in front of me?

yn shrugged and went in front of yujin, seems like she wasn’t lying when she said she wasn’t scared.

so why was she fidgeting earlier?

even though she didn’t seem scared that didn’t stop the quiet girl kept muttering under her breath, clearly uncomfortable with the whole experience.

throughout the whole haunted house yujin watch yn in front of her.

she watched how yn awkwardly stumbled through the scares, yujin found herself strangely charmed.

yn wasn’t the flirty, party type she’d imagined. she was dorky and awkward, but in a way that yujin found oddly attractive.

every time yn tripped over something, or yelped at a random noise, yujin’s heart softened a little more.

“you’re really not a fan of this, huh?” yujin asked, glancing down at yn, who was still holding onto her arm, “you don’t seem scared though?”

“nope,” yn muttered, glancing around warily. “Inhate it, though”

a girl with a batter school uniform jumped from behind one of the corners causing yujin to loudly gasp immediately gripping onto yn’s arm who didn’t make a sound but had wide eyes behind her glasses.

yn unintentionally hooked her arm with yujin’s and dragged the older girl the other way, “okay that scared me, I almost shat myself.”

yujin couldn’t help but laugh at the girls words, knowing the editors would definitely have to bleep that out.

yn didn’t seem to notice it but yujin did, even when they were now far away from the girl yn didn’t unlink her and yujin’s arms keeping the girl close beside her throughout the rest of their journey through the house.

they eventually made it to the end of the haunted house, both of them visibly relieved as they stepped out into the light.

yujin stole another glance at her, watching as she adjusted her glasses for what had to be the hundredth time that night. yn’s messy hair, her slightly ruffled clothes, and that sheepish expression on her face, it shouldn’t have been attractive, but to yujin, it was.

as the filming wrapped up, yujin felt a nervous energy building in her chest. she’d spent the entire time getting to know yn in this weird, unintentional way, and now, all she wanted was to spend more time with her.

before yn could walk off to join her members, yujin hesitated for a second, then blurted out, “hey, can i, uh, get your number?”

yn blinked at her, looking almost surprised. “my number?”

yujin nodded, suddenly feeling self conscious. “yeah, you know, just to…keep in touch?” she handed yn her phone.

yn fumbled with her phone, clearly caught off guard. “oh, uh, sure. here.”

as yn awkwardly handed yujin back her oh won number, yujin smiled, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment. she had no idea where this was going, but for now, she was content just having this quiet girl with a beautiful voice’s number in her phone.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

— I'm never babysittin' again!

Thanks to the anon who requested this one, I've been working on this since I got in and fun fact, I've had no sleep whatsoever, so definitely gonna regret that at work later...

Anyways, I am working through other requests and stuff. If anyone has anymore, let me know. Always willing to write stuff within reason.

Also, massive thanks to @alotofpockets who helped me come up with some of the idea's to add in.

pairings: kim little x reader, leah williamson x reader, arsenal wfc x reader

summary: readers' a menance on the trip to melbourne along with her partner in crime, kyra, and poor kimmy's almost having a nervous breakdown over it, so she has to call in reinforcements back home in london.

"I'm bored," You let out an exagerated sigh and kicked your legs back and forth as you had been forced to sit on one of the seats in the secluded lounge area as you had to wait for your flight to board.

You were partaking in a friendly game in Melbourne with the rest of your Arsenal team mates against an A-League team, you had been so excited about this ever since you found out that you'd made the squad.

"How much longer?" You can't help but be bored, being forced to sit in an airport certainly wasn't your idea of fun, neither was being stuck under the watchful eye of your Captain either.

You swear that the club, and Leah in particular, had planned this on purpose.

It's like they knew already, somehow.

You wouldn't call yourself a troublemaker, persay, buts' what fun is life without causing a little mischeif, sometimes?

Apparently, the rest of the older girls' didn't have the same thoughts about it.

At least you had Kyra on your side to involve her in the chaos, the girl was a bit older than you but she was your partner in crime, you two always fun causing mischief together.

"It won't be too much longer, Y/N. Just be patient," Kim, your captain and unoffical babysitter for the trip, tries to reassure you, but never the less, you just feel further restless.

In your defence, you can't help the boundless energy you have inside of you, its' like your body feels like lightening bolts are itching to strike and you just want to be up and racing about.

The confides of the hard plastic seat make it difficult to do that though.

"But I'm bored, Kim," You repeat in a whiny tone of voice, throwing your head back in frustration. "Nobodys' letting me have fun around here!"

"There's a difference between fun and trouble kid," Steph, another one of your team mates, chimes in, amused by your antics.

"It won't be too much longer now, Y/N. I'm sure you can wait just that little bit longer," Kim states, although her patience is wearing thin.

It hadn't even been 24 hours yet, and the Scottish women was already on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

"Are you excited to be going to Melbourne, kid?" Steph wonders, trying to keep your mind occupied for the time being, already being able to see how fidgty you have become, "It's a cool place, you're gonna love it!" She adds.

"Uh huh. I'm excited-- Oh wait, I still need sweets for the light!" You suddenly realise, attempting to make a break for it when you can.

Kim shakes her head in disagreement, "Its' too late now, Y/N. We're going to boarding the flight soon," She interjects, trying to reign you in.

"Yeah, and you definitely don't need anymore sugar because you're already hyper enogugh," Steph adds in, which you respond to her with a pout.

"Aw, man. Leah would let me if she was here," You try and protest, however, your words are very much incorrect and of course the rest of the girls aren't stupid enough to believe that either.

You know that Leah, if she was here, would most definitely not allow you to have sugar at all.

In fact, she'd purposely try and make ham sandwiches in an attempt to steer you from even going in the direction of the shop.

"No she wouldn't," Katie, one of the older girls on the team comments as she passes by.

"Yeah, we all know what you're like without sugar. You don't need any of it,Titch," Caitlin, one of the Aussie girls on your team, adds in.

You huff in further protest, your bordem is slowly persisting and it feels like you've been waiting for the flight to board for ages.

Desperately trying to find something to occupy your time, your eyes gaze upon the several dogs' lined up near the barriers to get through security.

"Bingo," You think to yourself as your eyes' light up in delight, wasting no time to jump up from your seat and dart in the direction of the dogs.

All you want to do is pet them. They look adorable in your opinion.

Before anyone could even stop you, you'd already successfully made it halfway across the terminal in the direction, however, the annoucement of the flight to boarding to Melbourne had gotten Kims' attention now.

"Right, our flights been called. See Y/N? I told you it wouldn't be that long," Kim spoke aloud, not realising that you'd somehow managed to wander off in the time that she'd turned round to speak to Steph, "Where's Y/N gone?!" She questions, her eyes widen in panic when she doesn't see you in her eyesight.

"Look's like she went to pet the dogs," Kyra snickers, amused with your antics, and although she should try and stop you, she wanted to see how far you would succeed with your little adventure.

"She wants to make friends with them," Teyah joins in, just as amused as she watches the scene unfold.

"And neither of you tried to stop her? You know what she's like!" Kim shakes her head in disbelief and her eyes' almost buldge out of her sockets when she spots you nearing the dogs, "Oh, God-- Y/F/N!"

"You might wanna grab her before she gets' her arm ripped off, Kim," Katie jokes, watching in amusement.

"Unbelieveable," Kim mutters to herself as she races' quicker than ever in the direction of you.

Unfortunately before you'd made it nearer to the dogs, you feel a firm grip on your upper bicep that's starting to tug you back forcefully.

You spin round and are met with your Captains' stern face, "Kim!" You whine in protest while trying to wriggle free from her grasp.

"What an earth are you doing, Y/N? You can't pet the dogs!" Kim scolds you, remaining to still have your hand on you tightly to not allow you to run off again. "Come on, we need to board the flight," She adds, sternly.

"But the dogs though. They're adorable!" You pout in further protest, not happy about being pulled away before you even had chance to pet them.

"Mhm, as adorable as they look, they're patrol dogs and they have a job to do here," Kim remarks sarcastically, dragging you back in the direction of your team mates so you can board the flight.

"Maybe you need to invest in a leash for her," Alessia, another one of your team mates pipes in as she watches you be reluctantly dragged back to the group of girls while Kims' already rubbing her temples in dispare ahead of the flight before its' even taken off.

"Pst, Kyra," You nudge the older girl not so gently to wake her up, having been bored on the flight while the rest of the girls seem to be asleep or doing their own thing, "Wanna play a prank on some of the others?" You question, mischeviously.

So far the flight to Melbourne hadn't been that adventurous, somehow through luck though you managed to be able to sit next to your partner in crime.

It was great for you, however, not so much for Kim, whos' been frazzled and trying to keep things under control the whole time on the flight.

"Absolutely," Kyra grins in respose as theres' a matching mischevious twinkle in her eye, "What'd you have in mind?" She wonders, curiously.

You grin and proceed to pull out a whoopee cushion from your carry-on, "Well, we could start with this?" You suggest in a quiet whisper, to not get the attention of Kim, whos' got her head buried in a book at the moment.

"Genius!" Kyra's eyes light up in glee, "Whos' our first target?" She questions.

"Caitlins' dozzing off," You gesture in the direction where Caitlins' half in and out of sleep.

You and Kyra both share a look before the older girl sneaks over to Caitlin and slips the whoopie cushion underneath the older Australians' seat.

"Show time," You smirk as you wait for her to sit on it.

Caitlin wakes up startled when it suddenly goes off and she looks around confused, "What the--?"

The pair of you can't help but giggle uncontrollably.

"Y/N, Kyra," Kim catches onto your troublemaker ways and narrows her eyebrow, "Behave!"

"What? We didn't do anything!" You feign your innocence, holding your hands up in protest.

"Let's move on to Steph," Kyra encourages you to continue with your pranks.

"Yeah, good shout," You nod in agreement and find the packet of gummy worms in your bag, you could easily eat them but pranking the Aussie women was more worth it. "Lets' put these in her bag. She'll totally freak out!" You add in.

Kyra eagerly accepts the packet of sweets and sneaks over to Stephs' seat, cautiosly depositing the gummy worms in her open backpack, "Done. Now we just need to wait for her to go in there--"

"Ah! What the hell?" If Stephs' facial expression is anything to go by then you guess Stephs' found them already, "Y/N! Kyra!"

"It weren't us," Kyra plays it off and shrugs her shoulders.

"Yeah, you have no proof," You give the girl a smug grin.

The older Australian women shakes her head in annoyance, "Pests. You're both a pair of pests, honestly," She mutters aloud.

"You two are something else," Katie overhears the commotion and shakes her head.

"Dare I ask what you pair did now?" Alessia questions, joining in as she overhears the noise from her fellow team mate.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about, we're just havin' a bit of fun," You still continue to act innocent, although you personally don't understand what the fuss is about when you're contained in a metal box with no escape.

You need to entertain yourself, somehow.

Pranking your team mates is the perfect opportunity.

"Hey, Alessia! Do you like spiders?" Kyra smirk mischeviously, already ahead of the plans for another prank at the expense of the older blonde girl, who you both know has a bad fear for them.

"No, not really-- Ah!" Alessia shrieks loudly when you toss a fake spider in her direction, doing no more than jumping up onto her seat before she realises a fake plastic one and is now glaring at you, "Y/N! Kyra!" She yells, annoyed with you both.

"That's enough!" Kim shoots up from her seat, giving you both a pointed look. "Both of you, sit down and behave!" She bellows.

"Yes, ma'am," You pretend to be serious and move back to your seat.

Kyra gives your Captain a mock salute and continues to follow suit, "Aye aye, Captain!" She jokes with her.

"I don't want to hear anything more from the pair of you for the rest of this flight," Kim warns you both before she returns to reading her book.

"Pst, Y/N," It's Kyra's turn to nudge you know with a knowing look on her face, "We should try and see if we can balance peanuts on Frida's head while she's asleep," she suggests the idea to you.

Never being the one to turn down a challenge, you smirk and nod your head in agreement, "You're on. That'll be easy!" You insist.

With the task in hand, you both lean across your seats' and carefully begin to place peanuts on Frida's head, one by one.

"Wow. I didn't think this would actually work," You whisper in amazement and try to stifle your giggling, however, thats' not going to plan when Frida wakes up and the peanuts' fly everywhere.

"What..." Frida looks completely baffled, while you and Kyra still continue to hold back your laughter even more.

You can't hold it in much longer before you end up bursting out in laughter, "That... That was great!" You state in amusement.

"Y/F/N! Kyra! I swear, if you don't behave then I'll have the captain come talk to you!" Kim chides, feeling like she's ready to blow with the mishchief that you pair have caused. "I mean it when I say no more trouble from either of you for the rest of this entire flight, understood?"

You still can't help but laugh out loud at the misfortune of Frida wearing half a bag of peanuts on her head, "Someons' salty. Get it, cos' they were salted peanuts!" You crack up into more laughter.

"I mean it, Y/N. I will get the captain, or when we get to Melbourne, I'll have no problem in telling Leah all the antics you got up to," Kim threatens you and your face pales immediately.

Sure, the captain of the plane might be terrifying, but your blonde vice-captain was someone you definitely did not want to be in hot water with.

Unforuntately, you seemed to find yourself on the end of stern lecture with her one too many times.

"Okay, okay. I'll stop, I'll behave-- Don't phone her!" Your quick to plead with your Captain, really not wanting her to make that call.

Kyra nods but she keeps her fingers crossed behind her back, "Yeah, we'll be good," She states.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Steph mutters, shaking her head.

Caitlin nods in agreement with the older Aussie girl, "Them pair are magnets for trouble," She remarks.

It wasn't long before you had arrived in Melbourne, when your flair for trouble is encouraged once again by Kyra and the pair of you can't resist goofing off inside the gym.

"Kimmy!" You all but plow yourself on the older women, whos' peacefully minding her own business on one of the massage tables until you came at her like a full whirlwind.

Somehow, Kyra decides to get the idea to improvise giving your Captain chest compressions or something along the lines of what it looks like.

Also, trying to encourage you to hang of the pull up bar with the overshadowing of a bet on the tables.

You have always loved to bet on things. Your not turning down this opportunity.

"Kimmy! Kyra' reckons I can't hang off the pull up bar. Watch this!" You tattle, before you make your way over to the bar.

"Y/N, no. You'll hurt yourself!" Kim's quick to bolt up from the table to stop you from attempting to break your leg with your attempt to hang upside down on the pull up bar.

Kyra giggles mischeviously and watches as Kim almost has a near heart attack watching the trouble unfold, "Nah, Y/N. You've gotta do it like this!" With that, she pulls herself up onto the bar and flips herself over so she's dangling upside down.

"The pair of you get down before you get hurt!" Kim chides, trying to keep a stern facade when dealing with the pair of you. "Y/N, I'm serious. Get down!" She repeats, trying to reason with your chaotic antics.

"Your no fun. I only wanted to swing from the bar like a monkey," You huff in protest and begrudingly get off the bar to save your Captain from having an annuerysm.

Unfortunately for the older girl, your trouble doesn't seem to stop for too long and between you and Kyra, you had managed to mismatch everyones' boots when they were mostly preoccupied.

"Why do my boots' feel different?" Katies' the first one to realise as she looks at them in confusion, "These aren't mine," She notes.

Caitlins' just as quick to realise her own pair are missing, "Hey, who took my boots?" She questions.

"Seriously, guys?" Steph huffs, holding up two different sized boots in each of her hands.

Kim spins' round to look at you and Kyra, "Girls, did you do this?" She asks, her voice sounding calm, which is weary in itself.

"Who, us? Never!" You can't help but grin, which is a dead giveaway from your latest shenanigans.

"Yeah, we were just standing here," Kyra feigns her innocence and holds her hands up in mock surrender.

Alessia can't help but laugh and shake her head, "I bet it was you two. Your always up to something," She states.

"Maybe," You let out a small giggle.

Kim exhales a sigh at your antics, "Just switch them back. We need to start training soon!" She tells you both, sternly.

"Yes, ma'am," You joke and pretend to be serious with your Captain.

"Right away, Captain," Kyra gives Kim another mock salute as the pair of you set the boots to the right players.

"Why do I put up with this?" Kim mutters to herself, although its' loud enough to be heard from a few of the girls.

"Remember what Less said about needing a leash for Y/N," Steph chimes in, reminding the Scottish women about the idea.

"At this point, I'm actually considering it," Kim remarks, already having thoughts about it.

"Hey, I'm not a dog!" You overhear the conversation and shout in protest.

"Ha, could you imagine? Y/N on a leash at training," Katie snickers in amusement and shakes her head, "That'd be hilarious!"

"Might actually be a good idea," Vic, another one of the girls on the team, chips in.

"I'm deeply hurt by this suggestion!" You still continue to act offended.

"You know its' true, Y/N/N," Caitlin laughs at your own expense, going to take a sip of her water but pulls away with the frown when there's a revolting taste from it, "Ew, why does my water taste horrible?" She asks, confused.

"Oh God," Steph exhales a sigh and pinches the bridge of her nose, "Kyra, Y/N, what have you done now?" She questions, glancing in both of your directions.

"Oh no, we must've got the bottles all in a pickle," Kyra smirks and gives the clue away as you both share a look with one another.

You can't help but burst out into laughter again, meanwhile Kims' slowly rubbing her temples and trying to refrain calm over the situation.

"Right, that's it, Y/N-- I'm callin' Leah. I've had enough of your troublemaker ways!" Your Captain states in outrage, shaking her head.

You freeze in your tracks and immediatly start to shake your head in protest, "No, no, please, Kim... Please, don't do that!" You plead with her.

"One more chance," Kim warns, firmly. "One more slip up and I'm phoning her!" She adds, shaking her head and questioning her life decisions on how she got stuck babysitting the kids (the untrustworthy and non responsible young adults) for this trip.

Better yet, the younger girls' that had joined them on the trip were better behaved than you were at times.

Having this be your first time in Melbourne, let alone Australia, you were keen to explore and when the prospect of a trip to the zoo was on the tables, you were more than ecstatic to visit there and see all of the animals.

Ever since Kims' threat to phone Leah back home in London, you been trying to remain on your best behaviour. You really didn't want to be in trouble with the blonde again, so you'd done your best to avoid your troublemaker partner.

However, that is easier said than done sometimes.

"Wow," You spoke aloud in amazement as you walk through the entrance of the Melbourne zoo, with the rest of your team mates in tow, keen to see as many of the animals as possible.

"Stay close, Y/N. I don't want to loose you," Kim warns, already thinking ahead of your disappearing act in the airport previous to this.

"I want to see the Koalas," You huff in protest and try to figure out a way to get away from them.

"You will, there'll be plenty of time for that. You just need to be patient," Kim reassures you, although her patience is way past the point of calm.

"Come with me, Y/N. I'll show you where they are," Kyra offers the opportunity for you to sneak away from the rest of the girls in the search for the animal you want to see.

"Okay," You don't think twice before being led astray by the older girl once again and make your way to the enclosure where they are, "Wow, they're so cool!" You stare at them in amazement.

"Aren't they just?" Kyra murmers, looking at them.

"Hey, I have an idea," There's a twinkle of mischief in your eye again as you look at the older Australian girl, "Bet you can't get a selfie with one of them!"

"Oh, yeah? You're on!" Kyra isn't one to back down from the challenge, completely missing the 'no entry' sign in clear view, she creeps towards one of them and you get your phone out and hold it up ready to take the photo.

"Hey! What're you doing?" The loud voice of a zookeeper startles you both, almost causing you to drop your phone in the midst of it all, "You can't be in here!" They shout.

Without any hesistation, you both are quick to make an escape from there and scramble back over the railing.

Back with the rest of the girls, its' dawned on them that they've one again lost you both as they begin to search around for you.

"Y/N?" Kim shouts aloud.

"Kyra?" Steph and Caitlin both call out for the younger Aussie girl.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Katie chimes in, jokingly.

Alessia exhales a sigh and shakes her head, "How can they wonder off again without us realising?" She wonders.

Steph looks around and spots you both near the kaolo enclosure, "Oh boy," She mutters to herself.

"You might really need to invest in that leash after all, you know, Kim," Vic chips in, amusedly.

"I'm staring to think so too," Kim remarks, exhaling a sigh.

"I knew you'd come around," Alessia jokes, overhearing the conversation.

"There you both are!" Kim strides over with a stern expression, taking a hold of your upper bicep again. "That's it, that's the final straw. I'm calling Leah!" She states, already having made her mind up.

"It's not just me, its' Kyra too," Your quick to throw the older girl under the bus in protest.

"Hey!" Kyra whines in protest.

"You're meant to be setting an example, Kyra!" Caitlin scolds the younger Australian girl.

"You're older than Y/N, Kyra. You should know better!" Steph chimes in.

You can't help but smirk in satisfaction that you're not being scolded for once, "Can we go see the kangaroos now?" You question, innocently.

"Don't look to happy yet, Y/N. I'm still calling Leah when we're back at the hotel and telling her how much trouble you've caused over the last 24 hours," Kim remarks, which causes you to furrow your eyebrows. "And until then, I want you right by my side for the remainder of time that we're here so I know where you are!"

"Sit," Kim orders straight away as you follow her into her hotel lobby and begins to dial Leahs' number on her phone as she paces the floor back and forth, "Come on, pick up, pick up," She murmers as she waits for the response on the other end of the line, despite the time that it might be.

You can't help but sit there and hope that Leah doesn't answer, because you really knew you'd done it now to be in trouble, yet again.

"Hey Kim!" Leahs' voice answers on the other end of the phone, connecting the video call to where it looked like she was in gym surrounded with the rest of the girls back in London.

"Hi, Kimmy!" Beth pops her head in the video call and waves at her Captain. "Hows' Australia?" She wonders.

"It's a disaster, girls! I can't take it anymore!" Kim tells them frantically.

Leah looks immediately concerned as her eyebrows knit together, "Whoa, what's the matter?" She asks, confused.

"You look like you're about to have a nervous breakdown there, Kimmy," Beth jokes, seeing the exasperated look on the older women's face. "What's up?" She asks.

"Y/N and Kyra! Between them, they're both driving me insane!" Your Captain admits out loud, and you try to slump down in your seat to try and hide from the telling off that you know is iminant when Leah finds out what's been going on.

By this point, all the girls' in the gym have decided to surround Leahs' phone to find out about yours and Kyra's antics.

"Uh oh," Viv murmers, shaking her head. "What've they done?" She asks.

"I think its' more like what haven't they done," Beth jokes, trying to keep the mood light in the room.

Kim shakes her head and settles on the bed, trying to keep her attention between you and the phone call, "Leah, its' like Y/N is out to be a complete menace this trip," She pauses as she glances at you to make sure you're not doing anything you shouldn't be. "Together they've done nothing but cause trouble, from switching everyones' boots during training and putting pickle juice in the water bottles, and causing trouble on the plane with their pranks and don't even get me started about the airport either!"

"Wait, someone actually drank the pickle juice?" Manu looks considerably confused at the mention of the pickle juice in patricular.

"That doesn't sound good," Stina comments, laughing.

Laia smirks in amusement, "I can't believe it," She states.

"What happened at the airport?" Lia asks, curiously.

"Well lets' just say that Y/N wanted to go over and pet the friendly dogs," Kim remarks sarcastically, shaking her head.

Beth snorts in realisation, "The friendly dogs? You mean the patrol dogs-- Oh dear," She shakes her head in utter disbelief.

"I feel like I'm at my wits end with them both. We couldn't even go the zoo without them wandering off and getting into trouble, Alessia even suggested that I get a leash for Y/N and I'm half tempted!" Kim rambles to them over the phone, ready to pull her hair out after dealing with both you and Kyra for the last god-knows how many hours.

"I knew I should've come on this trip, Y/N's always a handful, but this sounds like its' too much," Leah exhales a sigh and bites her bottom lip. "Is she there with you now?" She asks.

"Shes' right here," Kim nods in agreement with the blonde, panning the camera to face you. 

"Hi Leah," You wave innocently at the blonde, hoping that she'll go easier on you.

It's needless to say that the blonde looks that impressed.

"Where's Kyra?" Viv questions, arching an eyebrow as she doesn't spot your counter part in the room.

"With Steph and Caitlin, I needed to seperate the pair of them. They're talking to her about this, but feel free to call in as well," Kim tells the Dutch.

"I'll call her afterwards. Can't her go anywhere unsupervised," Viv states, shaking her head in disappointment.

"You're doing great, Kimmy. Just a few more days!" Beth chimes in, trying to keep your Captain in high spirits. "Hang in there!"

Kim shakes her head in protest, "I'm never babysitting again! I'm gonna need a holiday after this-- I'm getting grey hair! I thought Y/N was bad on her own, but she's even worse when Kyra's with her!" She exclaims to the  girls.

Leah exhales a sigh, feeling for the older women as she pinches the bridge of her nose, "Right, okay. Put Y/N on Kim. Maybe I can get through to her," You can tell that the blondes' trying to remain calm and collective, but she feels annoyed at your behaviour still.

"Please do," Kim murmers, feeling relieved as she turns to look in your direction. "Y/N, come and talk to Leah!" She calls over.

"Uh no, no... I'm alright actually, I think I'll just--" You try and back out of talking to her, not ready for the confronation from the blonde.

"Over here, Y/F/N!" You hear Leah call you out directly and you inwardly curse, having no choice but to do as your told for once, waiting to speak again when you were in front of the camera, "What the hell are you playing at, kid?" She cuts straight to the point with a tone of voice, which makes you want to shrink onto the floor.

"Nothing, I'm just having a bit of fun..." You try and come across as innocent, hopeful that it'll cut out some of the lecture, "Hows' London? I miss you!" You add.

"Cut the bullshit, Y/N," Leah scoffs and shakes her head. "Listen, just because I'm not there doesn't mean that you can still get away with stuff like this, yeah? I trusted you to go on this trip, you have a responsiblity to set an example, there's girls there younger than you and this is the way you act-- It needs to stop!"

There's something about her scolding that scares you, but you're not too sure about what it is yet. Maybe its' the firm scary facial expression, or the way her words' are just straight to the point, something makes you fear the blonde.

Maybe its' the fact that shes' your hero, she used to be the one youd' look up to and aspire to be like, so to be letting her down seems like the wrong thing to do right now.

Despite your inital fear, you still can't help but act like a troublemaker.

"I don't see what the big deal is though? I'm just having fun. It's harmless, Le," You shrug your shoulders and bite her lip.

Leahs' look continues to be firm, "Enough, Y/N. You promised you would be good and if you keep on causing trouble like you are then I'm going to take away your sweet privledges for a month," She threatens you, which just seems out right criminal. "And if you make Kims' job any harder, then I'll personally make sure you're on a leash next time."

"A... A month without sweets? And a leash?" Your eyes' widen in realisation that maybe you really do need to sharpen up on your behaviour, with the threat of no sweets on the table, you need to actually do as your told now.

"Yes. A whole month without sweets and a leash. Do you understand?" Leah continues with her firm words.

Surely she's just bluffing? Like she'd actually do that, you think.

"You can't do that," You whine in protest.

"I can and I will, because as long as you live under my roof, then you follow my rules," The blonde warns you, firmly. "Do you understand?"

"But Le, that's... that's not fair!" You still can't help but whine.

"Oh this is better than reality TV," Beth chimes in from the side of the camera, where the rest of the girls are still crowded around the phone.

"Beth," Lia nudges the blonde and rolls her eyes.

"What? It's true!" Beth exclaims, shrugging her shoulders.

"It's completely fair, Y/N. I want you to have fun out there in Melbourne with the girls, but not at the expense of the every one," Leah still stands firm on her words. "Behave yourself, or there will be concequences!"

"Fine, I'll try and be good," You sigh dramatically.

"That's all I'm asking for, please," The blonde softens slightly and nods. "I'll check in with Kim later to see how you're doing. Be good, alright?" She tells you.

"Yeah, I will," You reluctantly agree with the blonde, "Now can you go and give Kyra the same lecture, cos' its' not fair if I just get in trouble for this!"

"Oh don't worry, kid. Vivs' already on that one," Beth jokes, panning the camera around to where Vivs' stood off on the other side of the room giving a lecture through the phone to Kyra to where you can even hear the tailend of the conversation. "Having fun at whos' expense? That is no way to act!"

You can't but giggle and shrug your shoulders, "Okay well that makes me feel better at least," You murmer as you wave to the rest of the girls and pass the phone back to Kim.

Leah shakes her head in amusement at your care-free attitude, "Hang in there, Kim. She'll be better now, but if she gives you any more trouble then call me, alright?" She reassures her Captain,

"You got it. Thanks, Leah. I appreciate you talk to her," Kim smiles in agreement, bidding their goodbyes and ending the phone call. "Right, you. How about we go and find the rest of the girls?" She makes the suggestion.

"Yeah, I wanna go and find out how bad of a lecture Kyra got," You smirk mischeviously at your Captain before you both exit the lobby in search for your troublemaker partner. "Race you to the lifts! Last one there's a rotten egg!" You add.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[cupidlovesastro]

tw: serial killers, cults, death, sex, trauma, drugs

disclaimer: i do not condone, nor am i trying to validate any of the bad behavior committed by these criminals. this is just astrological explanations for their unforgivable behavior. if you or anyone else has these placements, i am not saying you are like this or will be like this.

🔪 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 🔪

astrology observations (career edition) #23

astrology observations (happy edition) #22

astrology observations (sad edition) #21

☆ most serial killers have been water signs, and more so cancers and pisces

☆ some of the most notorious serial killers seem to have a mutable stellium (sag, gemini, pisces, or virgo)

☆ all of the famous serial killers i looked at, seem to have leo somewhere in their chart, and usually not in the best planets or houses. ted bundy has a 12h leo pluto, as well as jeffery dahmer, with a 11h leo pluto, and john wayne gacy, with a 8h leo pluto

☆ speaking of leo’s, lot of people in charles manson’s cult had leo placements. which i find interesting, because leo’s are definitely the “i’ll prove that i can do it” types. they’re almost daredevil-ish in a way

☆ richard ramirez was also called “the night stalker”. he’s a pisces and 3h stellium. which if you don’t know, pisces represents night, sleep, etc, and 3h represents talking, communication, speaking, etc

☆ jeffrey dahmer has 11h leo pluto, which i mentioned earlier. this makes sense because dahmer often targeted people who were in a particular community (black people who were also gay). and pluto represents trauma, death, and sex. he sexually assaulted people in that community, as well as killing them.

☆ jeffrey dahmer also has a 7h taurus venus. taurus is a sign who is slower and tends to stay in their ways, feelings, thoughts, etc, longer than others. venus represents love, passion, etc. this explains why he had such a hard time letting go, and was truly infatuation with his victims. his pluto also squared his venus, he struggled to separate from his victims (pluto = obsession/ possession)

☆ 3 out of the 4 serial killers i looked into, has their pluto squaring their venus

☆ john wayne gacy and richard ramirez had very similar charts. sagittarius asc, pisces sun, moon, and mercury, aquarius venus, and 7h lilith

☆ el chapo has his lilith in pisces, and piscean/ neptunian energy can represent drugs. he also has it in the second house, the house of jobs, and money making. his neptune is also in scorpio, and in the 10h. 10h is the house of career and also what you’ll be famous for. he is famous for selling drugs

☆ ted kaczynski (the uni-bomber), has a 12h stellium, and this makes sense because he built a small shed in the woods and lived there, away from everyone. the police even said “tracking him was like tracking a ghost.” and 12h is elusive energy

☆ ted’s most notorious belief was that technology was bad and that it’s ruining society. he has aquarius in the 9h. aquarius represents technology and rebellion, 9h is your beliefs. he also has his midheaven in aquarius. he was known for this beliefs against technology and society

[growling]

*average self-proclaimed safe space tumblr blog voice* I soooooo support people with schizophrenia that must be so hard to you anyway I just saw some weird looking woman talking to herself right outside my house im fearing for my life should I call the cops. Yeah dude I support all the adhd havers in the chat just try to pay attention when I talk to you it's not that hard it's like the least you could do to show some regard for the other human being in front of you. Like it's fine to have memory problems but why did you forget this one thing in particular that was important to me do you like not care or anything you should try harder. I am one of the only real mental health advocates to still exist in this world I hear your struggles that being said I hope I never get to meet one of those irl sociopaths or people with aspd whatever they call them now they're so freaky and they can blend into society so well you might never know if you're actually face to face with an actual socio i mean person with aspd in the store absolutely one of my biggest fears what if they torture me in their basement. I absolutely empathize with all the people in here suffering from delusions as long as they like, don't actually show it or have one concerning me that'd be highkey uncomfy leave me out of this dude im not talking to you until you get help, anyway my fav character from my anime just presumably died but i still think they actually survived im sooo delulu lol. We should push for more wheelchair accessibility in our cities I agree but like it's so difficult to tell how many people are actually disabled and who are actually faking it, like, ummm why did that "wheelchair" "user" guy stand up just now cover blown lmaoo…. Yeah I support people with facial differences but I still have a right to be disgusted you can't control my emotions anyway can you tag your selfies as #body horror this deeply triggering to me. Speaking of triggering can you also pleaseee hide your scars or at least warn us beforehand jesus do you know how many people genuinely do not want to see it. Here is my extremely fast strobing lights and flashing gifset #epilepsy. Yeah I loveee girls with bpd beautiful princess disorder am i right they're so interesting the stigma sucksssss i'd love to get to be one's favourite person as long as they don't actually have any of those weird or violent symptoms or don't go into any of their "episodes" near me like that's a bit dramatic….. I deeply feel for those who had underwent narcissistic abuse from the hands of an npd I think my shitty ex boyfriend was a narcissist too tbh #surviving narcissism here are 10 signs you are dealing with a narcissist and here's a tutorial on how to trigger a narc crash to epically own them anyway does anyone else think we should start enforcing mandatory castration of all the newly diagnosed narcs like you know what happens when they reproduce right. But I am willing to support them as long as they go to therapy to get that fixed it's just you know. Anyway sometimes hospitalisation is fine if they're genuinely a danger to themselves like what do you want them to go live on the streets or actually get help?? I support all the people dealing with being a professionally diagnosed disordered system and I think it's sooooo terrible how literally 99% of the youth population nowadays is purposefully faking it for attention I did my research (1 minute google search, 2 minute r/fakedisordercringe scrolling session and consulting a single system that agrees with me). It's just not believable to me that there's really that many people with it isn't it supposed to be rare… Also are we really sure all those alleged people in their heads are really real or just their imagination maybe all of them are actually faking it huh food for thought. I am very uncomfortable with nonverbal high support needs ppl actually having sex like consent is supposed to be explicitly verbal only and, are we really sure they can even consent arent they like basically children. You can't call me ableist I'm literally autistic

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Demon-haunted computers are back, baby

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

As a science fiction writer, I am professionally irritated by a lot of sf movies. Not only do those writers get paid a lot more than I do, they insist on including things like "self-destruct" buttons on the bridges of their starships.

Look, I get it. When the evil empire is closing in on your flagship with its secret transdimensional technology, it's important that you keep those secrets out of the emperor's hand. An irrevocable self-destruct switch there on the bridge gets the job done! (It has to be irrevocable, otherwise the baddies'll just swarm the bridge and toggle it off).

But c'mon. If there's a facility built into your spaceship that causes it to explode no matter what the people on the bridge do, that is also a pretty big security risk! What if the bad guy figures out how to hijack the measure that – by design – the people who depend on the spaceship as a matter of life and death can't detect or override?

I mean, sure, you can try to simplify that self-destruct system to make it easier to audit and assure yourself that it doesn't have any bugs in it, but remember Schneier's Law: anyone can design a security system that works so well that they themselves can't think of a flaw in it. That doesn't mean you've made a security system that works – only that you've made a security system that works on people stupider than you.

I know it's weird to be worried about realism in movies that pretend we will ever find a practical means to visit other star systems and shuttle back and forth between them (which we are very, very unlikely to do):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

But this kind of foolishness galls me. It galls me even more when it happens in the real world of technology design, which is why I've spent the past quarter-century being very cross about Digital Rights Management in general, and trusted computing in particular.

It all starts in 2002, when a team from Microsoft visited our offices at EFF to tell us about this new thing they'd dreamed up called "trusted computing":

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/05/trusting-trust/#thompsons-devil

The big idea was to stick a second computer inside your computer, a very secure little co-processor, that you couldn't access directly, let alone reprogram or interfere with. As far as this "trusted platform module" was concerned, you were the enemy. The "trust" in trusted computing was about other people being able to trust your computer, even if they didn't trust you.

So that little TPM would do all kinds of cute tricks. It could observe and produce a cryptographically signed manifest of the entire boot-chain of your computer, which was meant to be an unforgeable certificate attesting to which kind of computer you were running and what software you were running on it. That meant that programs on other computers could decide whether to talk to your computer based on whether they agreed with your choices about which code to run.

This process, called "remote attestation," is generally billed as a way to identify and block computers that have been compromised by malware, or to identify gamers who are running cheats and refuse to play with them. But inevitably it turns into a way to refuse service to computers that have privacy blockers turned on, or are running stream-ripping software, or whose owners are blocking ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

After all, a system that treats the device's owner as an adversary is a natural ally for the owner's other, human adversaries. The rubric for treating the owner as an adversary focuses on the way that users can be fooled by bad people with bad programs. If your computer gets taken over by malicious software, that malware might intercept queries from your antivirus program and send it false data that lulls it into thinking your computer is fine, even as your private data is being plundered and your system is being used to launch malware attacks on others.

These separate, non-user-accessible, non-updateable secure systems serve a nubs of certainty, a remote fortress that observes and faithfully reports on the interior workings of your computer. This separate system can't be user-modifiable or field-updateable, because then malicious software could impersonate the user and disable the security chip.

It's true that compromised computers are a real and terrifying problem. Your computer is privy to your most intimate secrets and an attacker who can turn it against you can harm you in untold ways. But the widespread redesign of out computers to treat us as their enemies gives rise to a range of completely predictable and – I would argue – even worse harms. Building computers that treat their owners as untrusted parties is a system that works well, but fails badly.

First of all, there are the ways that trusted computing is designed to hurt you. The most reliable way to enshittify something is to supply it over a computer that runs programs you can't alter, and that rats you out to third parties if you run counter-programs that disenshittify the service you're using. That's how we get inkjet printers that refuse to use perfectly good third-party ink and cars that refuse to accept perfectly good engine repairs if they are performed by third-party mechanics:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

It's how we get cursed devices and appliances, from the juicer that won't squeeze third-party juice to the insulin pump that won't connect to a third-party continuous glucose monitor:

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

But trusted computing doesn't just create an opaque veil between your computer and the programs you use to inspect and control it. Trusted computing creates a no-go zone where programs can change their behavior based on whether they think they're being observed.

The most prominent example of this is Dieselgate, where auto manufacturers murdered hundreds of people by gimmicking their cars to emit illegal amount of NOX. Key to Dieselgate was a program that sought to determine whether it was being observed by regulators (it checked for the telltale signs of the standard test-suite) and changed its behavior to color within the lines.

Software that is seeking to harm the owner of the device that's running it must be able to detect when it is being run inside a simulation, a test-suite, a virtual machine, or any other hallucinatory virtual world. Just as Descartes couldn't know whether anything was real until he assured himself that he could trust his senses, malware is always questing to discover whether it is running in the real universe, or in a simulation created by a wicked god:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/28/descartes-was-an-optimist/#uh-oh

That's why mobile malware uses clever gambits like periodically checking for readings from your device's accelerometer, on the theory that a virtual mobile phone running on a security researcher's test bench won't have the fidelity to generate plausible jiggles to match the real data that comes from a phone in your pocket:

https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2019/01/google-play-malware-used-phones-motion-sensors-to-conceal-itself/

Sometimes this backfires in absolutely delightful ways. When the Wannacry ransomware was holding the world hostage, the security researcher Marcus Hutchins noticed that its code made reference to a very weird website: iuqerfsodp9ifjaposdfjhgosurijfaewrwergwea.com. Hutchins stood up a website at that address and every Wannacry-infection in the world went instantly dormant:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/10/flintstone-delano-roosevelt/#the-matrix

It turns out that Wannacry's authors were using that ferkakte URL the same way that mobile malware authors were using accelerometer readings – to fulfill Descartes' imperative to distinguish the Matrix from reality. The malware authors knew that security researchers often ran malicious code inside sandboxes that answered every network query with fake data in hopes of eliciting responses that could be analyzed for weaknesses. So the Wannacry worm would periodically poll this nonexistent website and, if it got an answer, it would assume that it was being monitored by a security researcher and it would retreat to an encrypted blob, ceasing to operate lest it give intelligence to the enemy. When Hutchins put a webserver up at iuqerfsodp9ifjaposdfjhgosurijfaewrwergwea.com, every Wannacry instance in the world was instantly convinced that it was running on an enemy's simulator and withdrew into sulky hibernation.

The arms race to distinguish simulation from reality is critical and the stakes only get higher by the day. Malware abounds, even as our devices grow more intimately woven through our lives. We put our bodies into computers – cars, buildings – and computers inside our bodies. We absolutely want our computers to be able to faithfully convey what's going on inside them.

But we keep running as hard as we can in the opposite direction, leaning harder into secure computing models built on subsystems in our computers that treat us as the threat. Take UEFI, the ubiquitous security system that observes your computer's boot process, halting it if it sees something it doesn't approve of. On the one hand, this has made installing GNU/Linux and other alternative OSes vastly harder across a wide variety of devices. This means that when a vendor end-of-lifes a gadget, no one can make an alternative OS for it, so off the landfill it goes.

It doesn't help that UEFI – and other trusted computing modules – are covered by Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA), which makes it a felony to publish information that can bypass or weaken the system. The threat of a five-year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine means that UEFI and other trusted computing systems are understudied, leaving them festering with longstanding bugs:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/09/free-sample/#que-viva

Here's where it gets really bad. If an attacker can get inside UEFI, they can run malicious software that – by design – no program running on our computers can detect or block. That badware is running in "Ring -1" – a zone of privilege that overrides the operating system itself.

Here's the bad news: UEFI malware has already been detected in the wild:

https://securelist.com/cosmicstrand-uefi-firmware-rootkit/106973/

And here's the worst news: researchers have just identified another exploitable UEFI bug, dubbed Pixiefail:

https://blog.quarkslab.com/pixiefail-nine-vulnerabilities-in-tianocores-edk-ii-ipv6-network-stack.html

Writing in Ars Technica, Dan Goodin breaks down Pixiefail, describing how anyone on the same LAN as a vulnerable computer can infect its firmware:

https://arstechnica.com/security/2024/01/new-uefi-vulnerabilities-send-firmware-devs-across-an-entire-ecosystem-scrambling/

That vulnerability extends to computers in a data-center where the attacker has a cloud computing instance. PXE – the system that Pixiefail attacks – isn't widely used in home or office environments, but it's very common in data-centers.

Again, once a computer is exploited with Pixiefail, software running on that computer can't detect or delete the Pixiefail code. When the compromised computer is queried by the operating system, Pixiefail undetectably lies to the OS. "Hey, OS, does this drive have a file called 'pixiefail?'" "Nope." "Hey, OS, are you running a process called 'pixiefail?'" "Nope."

This is a self-destruct switch that's been compromised by the enemy, and which no one on the bridge can de-activate – by design. It's not the first time this has happened, and it won't be the last.

There are models for helping your computer bust out of the Matrix. Back in 2016, Edward Snowden and bunnie Huang prototyped and published source code and schematics for an "introspection engine":

https://assets.pubpub.org/aacpjrja/AgainstTheLaw-CounteringLawfulAbusesofDigitalSurveillance.pdf

This is a single-board computer that lives in an ultraslim shim that you slide between your iPhone's mainboard and its case, leaving a ribbon cable poking out of the SIM slot. This connects to a case that has its own OLED display. The board has leads that physically contact each of the network interfaces on the phone, conveying any data they transit to the screen so that you can observe the data your phone is sending without having to trust your phone.

(I liked this gadget so much that I included it as a major plot point in my 2020 novel Attack Surface, the third book in the Little Brother series):

https://craphound.com/attacksurface/

We don't have to cede control over our devices in order to secure them. Indeed, we can't ever secure them unless we can control them. Self-destruct switches don't belong on the bridge of your spaceship, and trusted computing modules don't belong in your devices.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/17/descartes-delenda-est/#self-destruct-sequence-initiated

Image: Mike (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/stillwellmike/15676883261/

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

[chaoticallyfluffy]

"What are you, a cop?" and "Now you see me now you don't" both sound interesting

For "What are you, a cop?"

Billy is deaged (actually deaged. He goes from 15 to 10 or something and doesnt remeber the league) during a mission. He suddenly woke up in the middle of a battle so he's freaked out. the Justice League take down the threat then try to calm the boy down, explaining that theyre heros and here to help.

Billy takes a moment to take that in... then bolts.

It takes a bit to catch the kid, he's surprisingly agile for his concerningly small size, but they manage to get him into the jet and hes pouting in the corner looking angrier than the league has ever seen him.

They try to ask questions. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Why are you so thin? Is there anyone we should call? But Billy stays silent and his glares stay intense until he finally speaks.

"I don't talk to pigs." he spits out, giving them the nastiest look as if his glare alone could poison and kill them.

They stare at him for a moment, processing that.

"We're not cops???" Clark says, unconvincingly. Hes never been more confused in his life and has definitely never been confused for a cop.

"Whats wrong with being a cop?" Barry, the forensic scientist, pouts.

They knew that Marvel had a bit of a weird relationship with cops but they didn't realize he hated them, and especially not with such a passion!

The league spends the whole jet ride back to the tower trying to convince Billy that not only are they not cops, but that cops shouldn't be something to be afraid of anyway.

Billy spends the whole trip explaining ACAB to them and that yes, they are in fact cops, and here's all the things that the police system has done wrong that the league have probably also done or been complicit in..

I just want to write Billy radicalizing the Justice League and the league helping to reform the police system.

---

For "Now you see me, now you dont"

In the original comics Billy can and will transform in front of anyone at anytime and they wont realize that it was a transformation. Why?because plot armor. They will just think that the boy ran away right as Captain Marvel appeared or something, and when Billy reappears they don't question it either.

In the fic, its a magic perk that came with the whole Champion of Magic package and its a perk he uses often and irresponsibly. He takes it to the extremes by transforming in front of large crowds (no one questions it), while being recorded (The camera shorts out and stops working completely), and even in front of villains (they curse when the captains escapes yet again, completely ignoring the little boy standing in the middle of their secret base)

The last one is how he figured out that even if he is very much Not supposed to be somewhere, he wont be questioned as long as the only people who see him there also saw Marvel transform in that area. If someone who didn't witness the transformation were to see him, they would realize he wasn't meant to be there and call him out which would cause the witnesses to notice it as well. Leaving the room and then returning would also snap them out of it and he would be questioned.

Its a pretty overpowered ability for a child to have access to and when your a street kid without any video games to play who gets chased out of public parks for being too 'dirty' and can't afford any toys, you have to get creative with your entertainment.

Billy wants to see just how far he can take this power, and decides to transform in front of as many people in one day as possible while on the most highly secure facility in earths orbit- the Watchtower.

Follow Billy as he stretches his powers to their limits by transforming in front of the Justice League while praying he doesn't get caught and see what pranks he's able to pull off in that time!

I really like both of these ideas and I definitely want to write them someday. I already have lots of ideas for ways Billy can abuse that particular power! For now I am focusing on a few other fics but these ones are somewhere in the queue.

[heavywithourbabies]

First off, I'm a guy. So there's that.....

Ok, making one of those little intro pieces so you can get to know a little about me. First off this tumblr page is nothing more than the ravings of an obsessed lunatic hiding away from the world. My only real kinks are Breeding, Lactation, and the biggest pregnancy fetish you can imagine. (Please take note, I am not sexually into Birth. I am all for fucking so hard your water breaks, sucking on your nipples, rubbing the belly and giving gentle head during contractions, etc. As soon as the baby is in the birth canal, I'm going full on daddy mode. Horny time is over. Anyone else feel the same?)

I am a 39 year old man and I am very attracted to women. In particular, I am aroused by thick, extra curvy, big ass having women. I am feral for HEAVILY pregnant women. I have tons of reasons why but at it's core, I believe it is the ultimate form of femininity. There's nothing more womanly than having a gravid belly heavy with child. Even the phrase "heavy with child" weirdly turns me on.

I'm also very very much turned on by all the side effects of pregnancy including big dark engorged nipples, stretch marks everywhere, not just the belly, the little treasure trail some women get, the bigger hips, your face getting chubby, and a very swollen vagina. That all said, I'm not into Morning Sickness. wakka wakka.

I fully support the LGTBTQ community. I just can't keep track of all the new names and terms. I blame my shitty memoir on wasting my twenties drinking. But I totally support it. be who you want to be and love who you want to love. This life is rough enough without people being shitty to you for your basic human needs.

I am utter devotee to horror movies, and I live for the month of October. Halloween is the greatest day of the year. If you don't like Halloween...... honestly, who are you? Who the fuck hates Halloween? I love the art form of sequential art (comic books) and my favorite Character is Venom from Marvel Comics. I would literally kill to get a chance to write for Venom. Marvel will NOT return my phone calls.

I still write stuff (a lot of half started scripts and abandoned graphic novel ideas mostly) and I will and often shamelessly promote myself and the written erotic stuff I create on here. Enjoy my sexually frustrated ramblings and badly edited prose. Remember kids, it's free.

I am a lonely werewolf hopelessly howling at the moon.

I say love who you gotta love. Do what you need to do. Try to have fun and just don't hurt other people.

I was born in Canada and raised in the States. Toronto is the old country and Denver was home base. Currently in the windy city.

NO MINORS. Seriously, get the hell out of my joint! THIS BLOG IN NO WAY ENDORSES, PROMOTES, OR ENCOURAGES ANY HEINOUS USE OF MINORS. I honestly struggle talking to people under the age of twenty five. I hope I don't have to repeat any of that.

Any Trump supporters who follow my page, I would also ask you to leave. There's nothing here for you at this establishment.

Need to know anything else? Feel free to ask.

-The ghost host with the most, the ghoul that'll make your lady parts drool, and every other terrible joke I can think of.

[firstkanaphans]

Safe House, Season 4: FK moments you might have missed (Day 5)

Before I dive into the FK-specific moments from this episode, I want to briefly address the fallout from Foei and White’s comments the night before. Their apology is still available on YouTube in its entirety, which is ironic considering they removed the actual incident, so now it just looks like they’re apologizing for nothing. You can read a full translation of the apology here.

I also paid extra close attention to both First and Khaotung’s interactions with Foei and White in the aftermath because I’ve seen some people say that Khao in particular acted annoyed by them, but in all honesty, I couldn’t tell a difference. Neither First nor Khaotung gave any indication that they were upset by what happened. This is not meant to excuse what Foei did or even to suggest that there wasn’t animosity lingering under the surface, but they kept it civil in the house and I don’t think it serves anyone well to insinuate that Khaotung was on some sort of revenge quest when he was actually super chill and professional. 

But now, hopefully, I am done talking about Foei and White forever.

First was in an exceptionally good mood this morning and was up almost as soon as the wake-up call went off. He tried to wake Khaotung to no avail.

He eventually gives up and goes to help Fourth wake the rest of the house instead. (Please check out this gif set of Fourth’s attempts to wake some of the younger boys because it’s one of my favorite things on this website.) And although we don't get to see Fourth try to wake Khaotung, he does come back into the room and complain to First, “P’Khaotung won’t wake up.” To which First responds, “He won't wake up? Fine. I’ll do it naa.” And then instead of actually trying to wake him up, he just crawls back into bed with him 😂

The morning challenge involved the contestants trying to catch a piece of toast in their mouths. First was down an arm, so Khaotung worked the toaster for him during several of his attempts. This also led to one of my all-time favorite Safe House moments:

The fact that Khao just takes it. Out of his bestie’s mouth. Without question. Insanity.

The afternoon session opens with Khaotung making coffee. First is teasing him for saying a bad word, which Khao swears he didn’t say. You can watch the video and read a full translation of that clip here.

I’d always assumed Khao was making the coffee for himself, but he put the cup in front of First’s place at the lunch table and then they both drank out of it. You know. Just bestie things.

After that, there was another pool challenge that First couldn’t participate in. He still did his best to have fun, though.

That night during dinner, they are given desserts with flowers in them. Khaotung and First both spend the entire meal trying to secretly stick them on each other.

(via)

After dinner, everyone plays “Never Have I Ever” while waiting for production to set up their next challenge. Whenever someone loses, they have to do push-ups. This was Khao’s attempt.

And the aftermath:

Later that same night is when the infamous pillow-sniffing happens. First and Khao are sitting on the couch together. Khao gets up and, without missing a beat, First reaches for the pillow he had been holding and sniffs it.

Fourth is immediately like “bro, you good?” and although we can’t actually hear them, I can only assume that First tries to justify his actions in some way because the next thing you know, Fourth is sniffing the pillow too. You can watch the full video here.

I know people say “there’s no heterosexual explanation for this” about things that do, in fact, have a heterosexual explanation, but this is gay AF. Like? First, honey. Stand up.

Almost a whole hour of the evening session is just the cast watching The Eclipse on an iPad. (Really, GMMTV? An iPad? There was no way for you to cast it onto an actual TV?) At one point, First gets up and smacks Khaotung with a pillow over something Aye did. You can watch it here. I tried to gif it, but it looks overly violent in gif form because First knocks over a picture frame and everyone freaks out.

And then finally, our two favorite besties get into another squabble during the evening interviews. Khaotung playfully pushes First and First says, “Everyone, please take note that I am not usually the one who teases him.” Then Khao pulls him off screen.

Sorry this got so long. They were extra gay today.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Tethered.

The lines of friendship blur when you’re this close. Also known as - each of the times you’ve kissed Benny, Frankie, Santiago and Will.

Pairing - Benny Miller, Frankie Morales, Santiago Garcia, Will Miller x female reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - Cursing, sexual content, mentions of sobriety

Word Count - 5523

Author's Note - by popular demand!! thank you to everyone who voted in the poll, it was so helpful!! don't worry, there is still a stewy hosseini fic coming very soon. i love writing for the triple frontier boys, so if anyone has any requests or particular thoughts, please send them my way. i'm also a total will girly, if you couldn't tell. as always, lots of love <3

my other triple frontier fics - Time, Tranquility and Home Is Where The Heart Is.

Masterlist. Requests.

Will’s strong hand rubs steady circles into your thigh under the table as you all hunch over laughing.

Benny’s telling the story of his bad date from the night before. The combination of his masterful storytelling and the whiskey that seems to be refilling itself is making you giddy, all of you high on the joy of being with your best friends. There’s no feeling quite like it, laughing until you cry.

“Wait, that doesn’t explain why she slapped you!” Santiago exclaims from opposite you, clapping Benny on the back.

“She slapped me because, it turns out, I’d kissed her best friend a few months ago. She called me a dog and everything,” he laughs, tears escaping from his eyes. “She had a strong hand!”

“Did you know who she was when you saw her?” Frankie asks, genuinely intrigued.

“I realised as soon as I sat down. I didn’t know it’d be a problem! Man, fuck blind dates,” Ben chuckles.

“Am I crazy for not seeing the issue here?” Santiago asks, looking around the table.

“I didn’t see it either, apparently. It’s not like me and Lucy ever went anywhere. It was just a kiss.” Benny’s face is scrunched up in confusion. It makes you want to smooth your thumb over the crease between his brows.

“She was giving me the look, I swear,” he continues. “So I went in for the kiss, and she hit me.”

The boys are all laughing again, and as guilty as you feel, you can’t help but join them. Benny has such an animated, expressive face, that even the most boring of stories are entertaining when being told by him. It’s a gift. He just has a way with people.

“What do you think, hermosa?” Santiago asks, looking at you pointedly. “Would you kiss someone your best friend has kissed?”

“I don’t know,” you reply carefully. “Depends on the situation, I guess. I’d try not to, I think.”

Will’s looking at you with amusement in his eyes, slight smirk on his face. It’s clear that no one is putting the pieces together.

“Would you, Santi?” you question, lips quirking up at the corners.

“Probably not. I’d avoid it, if possible,” he replies.

The whiskey is making you braver than usual, a warm buzz running through your veins. Without thinking, you laugh,

“Too late.”

Everyone looks at you, brows raised in confusion. Will’s grinning now, chuckling to himself quietly. You’re giggling at their faces, their naivety making you smile.

You watch as Frankie looks slowly around the table, and then back at you. Shaking his head, he catches your eyes and snickers.

“Minx,” he mutters, still smiling.

“Am I missing something here?” Benny asks, surveying the silent communication happening between you, Frankie and Will.

You sigh sarcastically and throw your drink back, downing it in one go. Well, we’re doing this, you think.

“I’ve kissed every single person at this table,” you start. “Which means you’ve all kissed the same girl your best friend has kissed.”

Santiago and Benny go silent for a moment, processing this new information. Will and Frankie are still smiling, already a step ahead.

“Wait, what?” Santiago finally speaks. “You have?”

“Oh no. Pope thought he was special,” Frankie laughs, head thrown back.

“Stop it, Francisco! You are special, Santi. It just so happens that they are too.”

You point generally at the other boys, all of them with their eyes fixed on you. You can see that Benny is still figuring things out, the alcohol making his brain work slower than usual.

“I’ve known you guys for years. We’ve been through a lot together. And you’re like, the four most gorgeous men I’ve ever seen! It was bound to happen sooner or later,” you justify.

Everyone’s laughing now, the final piece finally being put into the jigsaw. You can tell they’re all thinking back to their kisses – you are too.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Benny had been the first one to kiss you.

It happened right at the beginning of his boxing career. He’d started working out religiously, meal planning, prepping for his first big fight. He set strict rules for himself – no alcohol, no women, no sex. You were glad he’d found an output for his energy, glad he was taking something so seriously – even if the idea of him getting hurt did terrify you.

The four of you had gone to support him, eager to see him win after months of watching him train and prepare. He’d really committed to the process, which was a surprise – Benny was a notorious ladies man. He loved to relax with a beer. But he’d never broken his self-made rules, not once. No matter the outcome of the fight, you were insanely proud of him. All of you were.

The atmosphere in the warehouse was electric. It was a big venue, with hundreds of people gathering to spectate. You hadn’t realised this was such a popular event. Adrenaline buzzed through the air, making you antsy with anticipation. You and the boys had front row seats by the ring, allowing you the perfect view, the ideal place to support Ben.

“I’m gonna go get us some beers,” Santiago yells over the noise.

“I’ll come help you,” you shout back, linking your hand into his so you don’t get separated.

You make your way out of the double doors and down the hallway in attempt to find the bar. On the journey, you spot a sign that points to the locker rooms.

“You order, I’ll be right back,” you tell Santiago, before following the directions.

You push open the door and step into the locker room. Benny is sat on the bench, headphones blasting music so loud you can hear it from 10 feet away. You make your way over, and touch him on the shoulder gently. He doesn’t startle.

“I don’t want to disturb you, Ben. Just wanted to say good luck,” you say quietly.

He grabs your wrist and pulls you to sit next to him.

“You could never disturb me, honey. You’re my good luck charm,” he winks, and the cheekiness of it warms your chest.

He pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you, breathing in the scent of your strawberry shampoo. You inhale with him, and soak up the heat that’s seeping into your skin.

“It doesn’t matter what happens out there,” you tell him. “I’ll love you no matter what.”

You press a kiss to his cheek, and throw a beaming smile at him before leaving. You find Santi at the bar, and help him carry the beers back to the boys.

You’ve never seen this side of Benny. He’s throwing and dodging punches like it’s second nature. The man moves like ocean waves, fluid and constant, never once caught off guard. There’s a lot to be said about the pastime of men fighting each other, but honestly, Ben has found his calling.

Electricity crackles through the air as Benny swings his last punch. His opponent falls to the mat as you rise from your seats. All of you instantly begin screaming, roars of celebration filling the space. Ben throws his fist in the air, signalling his victory. It’s rare, this feeling. The five of you don’t win very often. This needs to be savoured.

Eventually, the cheering dies down, and Benny leaves the ring to go and get changed. The boys are all ecstatic, chattering with pride in their voices about their brother, their teammate, their best friend.

“Be right back,” you tell them, moving to slip out of the doors and down the hallway.

You strut into the locker room, eyes scanning the space for the man you’re looking for. You find him stood, unwrapping his hands. Before you know it, you’re running into him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he spins you. His bare chest is dripping with sweat. He’s covering you in it, but you couldn’t care less. You’re both laughing, joy and love filling the air.

“I’m so proud of you,” you breathe into his neck, still in his arms. Your feet finally find the floor, and you lean back slightly to stare up at him.

“Couldn’t have done it without you, pretty girl,” he beams at you.

You can feel the energy coursing through his veins. He’s thrumming with it, buzzing with adrenaline – it feels like he’s going to burst. He’s practically vibrating.

Before you can even register what’s happening, Benny pulls you back to him, smashing his lips onto yours. He skims his hands down your back to grab at the backs of your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist and press yourself into him.

The kiss is needy, desperate, pulsing - all teeth and tongue. Benny walks you backwards to slam you against the lockers, using the pressure of his body to lean forward into you. Your hands thread through his hair, pulling forcefully. He groans, deep and guttural, and it’s one of the most gorgeous sounds you’ve ever heard.

He’s grabbing at your ass as he dips his head down to leave open mouthed kisses on your neck, biting at the column of your throat. Your dress is practically around your waist, and you roll your hips forward, searching for friction. It’s your turn to groan now.

“Fuck, honey,” he murmurs. “Prettiest sound I’ve ever heard.”

He holds you up with one arm, and moves the other hand to twist into the waistband of your underwear. He’s pulling them down when someone bangs on the door, startling you both.

“Benny! Champion! Get out here, man, or we’re coming in!”

It’s Will’s voice, that deep tone instantly recognisable.

You pull your lips from Benny’s, your head dropping back against the locker with a clang.

“Shit,” he chuckles, gently pressing a kiss to your sternum.

“Shit,” you repeat, giggling gently.

Benny puts you down carefully, smoothing down your dress with those big hands of his. He fixes your hair next, sweetly moving it out of your face and tucking it behind your ear. He runs his thumb under your bottom lip, wiping where your lipstick has smudged.

“Do we look like we just made out?” you ask him, amusement evident in your tone.

“You do. I look like I just won a fight.”

He smiles at you, and you can’t help but smile back. God, this man. One minute he’s got you whining against the lockers, and the next he’s got you giggling like a schoolgirl.

“Come on,” you urge. “They’re gonna come busting in here any second.”

Right on cue, the door swings open, three men barrelling inside. They all jump on Benny, ruffling his hair and pulling him into a headlock affectionately. You watch from a short distance away, smile still etched on your face. You love them so much you’re worried your heart is going to burst out of your chest.

You look at Will, and find him smirking at you. Always a step ahead. Frankie grabs your wrist and pulls you into their celebrations. You’re being thrown around like you’re in some sort of whirlpool, dizzy with the joy of being with your best friends. You wouldn’t change a thing, even if you are a little lightheaded.

You catch eyes with Benny, and he winks. You know that the events of tonight aren’t going to change anything between the two of you. Your friendship is so solid, you’re convinced it can withstand anything. The five of you are connected, somehow. This unexplainable, invisible tether, binding you wherever you go. The kind of friendship that they write books about.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Frankie was the next person to kiss you.

Or maybe you kissed him. You’re still not sure.

The five of you were at a bar downtown, drinking and laughing. The boys were a few beers deep, muscles relaxing and minds quietening.

But not Frankie.

When he’d made the decision to get sober, he’d included everything. He wasn’t a man who believed in partially sober, or ‘California sober’. If he was going to commit, he was going to commit fully. Alcohol included.

Usually, it didn’t bother him. He could go to bars with his friends, happily crack open beers for them when they watched a football game, make a mean margarita when they hung out at his pool in the summer. But that night, he was on edge. He didn’t know why, couldn’t pinpoint any reason specifically, but he was on overdrive. His mind wouldn’t slow down - thoughts barrelling into him at a hundred miles an hour. He was debating going home to bed, before realising that he was designated driver. So, he’d sat back in his seat, taken a deep breath, and tried to pretend like he wasn’t about to combust.

You’d noticed. Of course you had. You, with your observant eyes, your careful gaze, your genuine smile. You’d noticed.

Will had too. He was keeping an eye on Frankie from across the booth, but he wasn’t worried. He knew you were watching him like a hawk. That reassured Will to no end.

“Oh yeah? Come on then, old man, put your money where your mouth is!” Benny’s yelling at Santiago, grabbing him by the bicep, up and out of his chair. You watch as he drags him over to the pool table, determined to prove himself.

No matter where you were, or what you were doing, somehow, Benny and Santiago always managed to turn it into a competition. You, Will and Frankie were always happy to watch – you usually ended up playing referee, only interfering when someone cheated or got too rowdy.

The two of them began setting up a game, leaving you at the booth with the other two.

“I’m gonna get some air,” Frankie says suddenly, standing up and making his way out of the door.

Will gives you a look of concern.

“I got it. Just make sure those two idiots don’t kill each other with pool cues, please,” you joke.

Will chuckles and nods, squeezing your waist as you move past him to follow Frankie.

Outside, you find him around the side of the bar, leaning against the brick wall. He’s breathing heavily, clearly trying to get a handle on things. You watch as he takes off his hat and runs his fingers through his hair. He slides down the wall, sitting on the cool ground, legs bent in front of him.

You walk over and sit down next to him, ignoring the feeling of the cold concrete underneath your bare legs. You lean into him slightly, placing your head on his shoulder. He breathes you in, and you feel some of the tension melt from his muscles.

Eventually, you speak.

“You okay?”

He wraps his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer.

“Yeah, cariño, I’m okay,” he murmurs. “I’m usually fine in bars, it doesn’t bother me. Guess I’m just anxious tonight.”

You hum in understanding, before realising something.

“What’s today’s date?”

He looks at you with puzzlement written all over his face, but answers you anyway.

“March 16th.”

“Happy one year of sobriety, Francisco.”

You can see it all clicking into place in his head. The reason he’s been on pins all day, the reason he’s been so wound up tonight, unable to settle. You figured it out before he could. Clever girl.

“And I’m celebrating it in a bar, apparently. How appropriate,” he laughs. It’s a real, hearty, genuine laugh. You love when he laughs like this �� so hard that he starts wheezing. It’s so endearing, it makes you want to cry.

“I can’t believe I forgot. A year ago, it was like, the biggest milestone ever. And I forgot.”

You can tell he’s almost disappointed with himself. But you’re not. No, quite the opposite, actually.

“You see how great that is though, right?” you ask him. “You’re so busy living your life now, working, being the best dad ever, that you didn’t even have to think about it. It’s not a bad thing that you forgot about it, Frankie.”

He pulls you closer, both arms wrapped around you, your head pressed into the crook of his neck.

“How do you do it, hermosa?”

“Do what?”

“Always know exactly what to say.”

“Years of knowing you, probably. Years of loving you,” you answer.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, but you hear him clear as day.

“No, I don’t deserve you. I’m so proud of you, Francisco.”

He pulls away from you to look at you earnestly. He smiles at you, and you grin back at him. If love could lift you up, you’d be floating, both of you levitating with it.

Frankie leans in closer to you, and you mirror the movement. You’re not sure who kisses who, but suddenly his lips are on yours, his hands moving to cradle your face. It’s careful, and it’s gentle, and it’s so full of gratitude and history that it takes everything in you not to break out into a grin. One of his hands moves through your hair as the other one caresses your cheek. You can’t remember the last time you were kissed so tenderly. Neither can he.

Unbeknownst to you, Will has come out to check on you both. He stops in his tracks when he sees the two of you wrapped up in each other. His heart swells in his chest, and he can’t help but smile. He knows that this won’t change anything between you and Frankie. It’s just the comfort he needed – you both needed. He makes his way back inside quietly, grateful for the both of you and the way you look after each other.

Eventually, you both pull apart. Frankie rests his forehead on yours, and takes the first full breath he’s taken all day. His shoulders relax, his jaw unclenches. He’s okay, thanks to you.

“Thank you, cielito,” he murmurs.

“For what?”

“Everything. Knowing me better than I know myself. Knowing all of us better than we know ourselves.”

“Someone’s gotta keep you all alive,” you grin, and he chuckles, the vibration of it settling into your bones, warming you up from the inside out.

He pulls you back against his side, wrapping his arms around you. You both sit against the red brick, cold ground underneath you, for what feels like hours.

“There they are!” Santiago yells when he spots you both.

“Mom, Dad, can we go home?” Benny jokes, clearly down one drink too many.

“Of course we can, baby,” you smile, pulling Frankie to his feet with you.

You all clamber into Frankie’s truck – you riding shotgun, the other boys crammed in the back. You reach for your drivers hand, and interlace your fingers, resting your palms in your lap. You hold onto him all the way home, and can’t help but notice how much lighter he seems.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Santiago kissed you next.

The five of you were having a pool day at Frankie’s, trying to cool down in the Texan summer heat. It was rare, for all of you to have the same day off, so you planned to make the most of it.

The four boys were already in the backyard when you arrived. Letting yourself in, you made your way through the house, briefly stopping in the kitchen to put your popsicles in the freezer. You’d purposely picked the strawberry ones, knowing they were Frankie’s daughters favourite. She was at her mom’s house for the week, but you knew she’d be back at the weekend.

“Hey, honey!” Benny yells when he spots you at the back door.

All of them turn to look at you, and you’re slightly taken aback by all the golden skin on display. Benny is wearing swim shorts with an inseam that can’t be any more than 5 inches, strong thighs just begging to be bitten. Will’s navy shorts compliment his blond hair beautifully, and Santiago’s green ones bring out the dark brown of his eyes. Frankie still has his shirt on, but it hugs his biceps just right. Damn, you think. I might just have the most attractive best friends in the world.

They’re all grinning at you as you survey each of them. You know they don’t mind being ogled just a little.

“Eyes up here, princess,” Santiago teases, no seriousness whatsoever in his voice. You scoff and throw your head back in a laugh, all of them simultaneously joining you in your amusement.

You put down your bag and kick off your shoes, before grabbing the hem of your dress.

“Give us a show, Miss Supermodel,” Benny whistles, winking playfully.

You peel your dress over your head slowly, wiggling your hips as you go. You’re left in a little black bikini that admittedly doesn’t leave much to the imagination. You don’t mind. You’re safe here.

They’re all whistling and cheering, make you laugh. You never feel more appreciated than when you’re with these boys. It’s everything. They’re everything.

“It’s like Sports Illustrated in real life,” Frankie grins, bumping your shoulder with his.

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Will says quietly when you catch his gaze. You roll your eyes playfully, but smile at him genuinely, silently thanking him.

Your eyes flicker to Santiago. He has a look in his eyes that you’ve never seen before. It’s more than his usual appreciation. It’s hungry, hot, burning. It makes your skin prickle, the hairs on your neck standing up. You have to get away from his stare before you jump his bones right in Frankie’s backyard.

“Want me to make you a margarita?” Frankie asks, innocently breaking through the moment.

“Yes, please. That sounds amazing.”

He smiles at you before retreating to the kitchen, Benny following him in search of beer.

The heat doesn’t ease up all day. It’s sweltering, covering you all in a sheen of sweat that can’t seem to be wiped away.

Santiago’s gaze doesn’t help your warmth. Every time you look over, he’s surveying you carefully, eyes raking over your body in a way that makes your breathing quicken. There’s always been chemistry between you, sure. You have chemistry with all of the boys. But it’s never been like this with Santiago. Yes, you flirt with each other – it’s in both of your natures. But this is different. This is real.

You spend all day lounging around. Frankie keeps you topped up with margaritas as you make trips in and out of the pool, messing around with the boys. Benny hoists you up onto his shoulders in the water, throwing you up into the air as high as he can and laughing when you splash back down. You and Will throw a ball back and forth, doubling over when he overshoots and hits Frankie, who’s soaking up the sun in a lawn chair. In the late afternoon, Frankie fires up the grill, preparing to barbeque for dinner.

“Pope, you gonna help me?” he shouts from the deck.

Santiago looks at you, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip, before joining him. You release a breath you didn’t know you were holding. There’s anticipation bubbling at the pit of your stomach, butterflies swirling. Warmth has settled in your core, and Santi’s heated glances are only fuelling the fire.

The sun finally gives you some respite in the early evening. You all settle on the grass, drinks in hand, laughing about nothing and everything. Benny’s telling you about his next fight, describing his opponent in hilarious detail. You look down, and realise your glass is empty.

“I’m gonna get a refill. Anyone want anything?” you ask, smiling as you watch Benny jokingly pretend to box his brother.

“Can you grab me a beer, princesa?” Santiago asks, pointed gaze trained on you.

You nod and make your way inside, praying that it’s cooler in the kitchen. The sun might have gone in, but the warmth in your core hasn’t left.

You reach into the fridge for the jug of margaritas that Frankie made earlier. You’re rising onto your tiptoes to fetch a new glass from the top of the cabinet when you feel a presence against your back. Santiago grabs one from the shelf and places it on the counter in front of you, leaning forward as he does it. His lips are brushing the shell of your ear, and you shudder out a breath.

“So you’re feeling it too, mi amor?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” you breathe. You’re worried you might combust if he keeps speaking to you in that deep, low, raspy tone of his.

“Don’t know what’s gotten into me. Can’t keep my eyes off you,” he whispers. He feels a shiver wrack through your body and chuckles.

You turn around to face him, and he steps forward, caging you in against the counter, arms on either side of you. You can’t go anywhere. You don’t want to.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he practically purrs.

He runs his thumb across your bottom lip, testing the waters. You catch it with your teeth and pull it into your mouth, biting down gently before sucking, not once breaking eye contact. He groans and tilts his head back, exposing his throat to you. You tangle a hand in the hair at the nape of his neck, and give him a look that says I dare you.

Santiago surges forward to capture your lips with his. It’s desperate and needy - a perfect representation of both of your states all day. He slips a strong thigh between your legs and pushes upward, making you whine. You’re pressing yourself into him, trying to get as close as possible. His hands are everywhere all at once – your hips, your hair, your back, your ass. He wants to feel all of you, and can’t decide where to start.

You feel drunk off of him as he kisses you. His tongue is making you melt, his steady hands the only thing keeping you upright. You could kiss him like this for hours, surrendering yourself to this man you call your best friend. This man you’ll love forever.

You’re so lost in each other that you don’t notice Will entering the kitchen. He clocks the situation in front of him and tries to exit silently, walking backwards out the way he came in. He knocks into the recycling bin, startling you and Santiago, causing you to jump apart and hit your head on the cabinet behind you.

“Shit, sweetheart, you okay?” Will asks, genuine concern etched on his face.

Santiago cradles the back of your head as he looks at you, eyes searching yours for any signs of pain.

“I’m good, I’m good, don’t worry,” you reassure them.

Will smirks at you and winks cheekily before he leaves, grabbing a beer on his way out.

“Oh god,” you groan, leaning forward to rest your head against Santiago’s chest. He strokes your hair lovingly, a laugh rumbling through him.

You both know Will isn’t going to say anything. He’s the most trustworthy one of them all. Always observing, never gossiping.

“Love you, hermosa,” he chuckles.

“Love you too, Santi,” you reply, wide smile painted on your face.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

Will was the last to kiss you.

It had been a long time coming.

Some people think Will is hard to read. He’s introverted, quiet, a wallflower of sorts. But he isn’t hard to read. Not really. You just have to know what you’re looking at.

He’d called you up one Sunday morning, asking if you had plans. When you’d told him you didn’t, he invited you over for a day of pancakes and terrible movies. It sounded perfect.

Which is how you found yourself lying on Will’s couch, legs tangled together, your back to his chest. His strong arms have found home on your waist, wrapped around your middle. You’re not sure how you ended up here, as you started the movie on opposite ends of the sofa. No one’s complaining.

It’s rare, this kind of intimacy. Casual, effortless, easy. No thought goes into it. You just fall into each other as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Will’s always had that gift. He makes people feel comfortable. No matter where you are, or what you’re doing, one look from those big blue eyes is all it takes to calm you down. It doesn’t matter if you’re being shot at on a battlefield, or just getting overwhelmed in a supermarket. Will’s there, and he knows exactly what you need. You’re convinced the man might be a mind reader, honestly.

He’s not, in fact, clairvoyant. He’s just a listener. No matter what you’re talking about, Will’s looking at you like you’re the centre of his universe. He’d be perfectly content to listen to your voice, to watch the way your eyes light up when you tell stories like this forever. You feel like the only girl in the world, as you lay here in his arms.

You’re deep in thought before you decide to break the silence, voice floating through the warmth of the room.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?”

You feel him hum from behind you before he answers softly.

“Every day since I met you.”

You nod gently before relaxing back into him, sighing in contentment.

“Have you ever wanted to kiss me?” he asks, mirroring your question.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t think about kissing you, William,” you murmur.

His arms tighten around you slightly, pulling you impossibly closer. He presses a kiss into your hair, and another to your bare shoulder.

You sit in the silence for a while, letting the questions hang heavy in the air. It’s not awkward – no, it’s the exact opposite. It’s comfortable.

“I’ve kissed Benny, Frankie and Santi,” you confess quietly. You’re not sure why, but it just feels like something you need to get off your chest. You don’t want him to judge you.

“I know,” he speaks softly. He knows. Of course he does.

“Does it make you think differently of me?” you query. You almost don’t want to know the answer.

“Of course it doesn’t,” he replies earnestly. “Why would it?”

“I don’t know. Just doesn’t look good for me, I guess.”

“That’s not true, sweetheart. They’re your best friends. You love them. A kiss doesn’t have to change anything - not always, anyway.” He pauses. “Do you regret any of it?”

“Not at all,” you whisper.

“Exactly. We all think the world of you. You should know that by now.”

You shift and turn so that you’re sitting in between his legs, facing him. You press your forehead into his, and he smiles gently.

“I love you,” you say softly.

“I love you too,” he replies, grinning widely.

Suddenly, he jumps off the couch, pulling you up with him.

“Let’s go outside,” he prompts, dragging you out the door behind him.

“Will, it’s raining!” you squeal as he practically carries you into the backyard.

He grabs you by the waist and spins you around, both of you laughing. The downpour has drenched you both, clothes sticking to your skin, hair dripping. He puts you down and looks at you as if he’s reading the words off the very surface of your soul.

Gently, he pushes the hair out of your face, moving it to behind your ears. He uses his thumb to catch a raindrop that’s making it’s way down your cheek, swiping it away. You’re both soaked through, but you can’t feel the cold. You feel the warmest you ever have, love illuminating your bones.

Will leans down and presses his lips to yours. His hands are on your waist, and he pulls you closer, plastering you together. It’s tender, and it’s sweet, and it’s a perfect amalgamation of Will. You’ve never felt more at peace.

When he pulls away, you remember his words from earlier.

“Does this kiss change anything?” you ask, megawatt smile etched on your face.

“Everything, sweetheart,” he replies, grinning widely. “It changes everything.”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

“You saved the best until last,” Will beams, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

The boys all scoff, laughing as they do it. You smile broadly, moving to peck his lips tenderly.

“Sure did.”

Benny and Santiago roll their eyes jokingly, while Frankie jabs them both with his elbows.

“Idiots,” he murmurs, still chuckling.

Will’s hand finds yours under the table. His fingers twist the ring you’re wearing absentmindedly, and he leans in to whisper in your ear.

“I love you, Mrs Miller.”

“I love you too, Mr Miller.”

“Guess I just had to kiss a few frogs to find my prince,” you wink at him, the whole table erupting into protests. You throw your head back in a laugh, your whole body vibrating with it. All four of them agree it’s their favourite sound in the world.

[fraugwinska]

Guys, here we are - my first try at VOX x Reader! ;> Who knew we would be here one day? And it's all thanks to @macabr3-barbi3, for whom this bribe was intended, but we'll graciously share it with you ;> Don't worry though - I am a Deer Girl through and through. Just with a side of TV Slut now (once in a while)

Vox x Reader : Hatefuck prompt - 18+ - Minors DNI!

Pretty Desperate

"Sir, your 6 o'clock is here."

"She can fucking wait, I need another five."

Vox rubbed at his temples, staring down at the monitor in front of him as Papermint quickly retreated from the control room, the clipboard the little shit always carried clutched in front of his chest. He had dreaded this particular meeting the whole day.

Alastor's bitch, the little assistant he had hired not a month before had been nothing but trouble. And if Vox was honest, not only to him, but also to Alastor himself. The Radio Demon had been completely clueless to the goddamn puppy crush the assistant had on him.

It made Vox sick.

Little Miss Nobody wasn't even that hot! Just an average looking demon. A bit short, not really muscular, no wings, no tail, no tits, nothing special, except for a pair of twisted horns and a somewhat nice ass. Following Alastor around like a lost dog, carrying his coat, running errands for him, all the while fluttering her lashes and smiling coyly at him, thinking nobody noticed.

Except Vox did. He fucking noticed, and he wanted to throw up.

He could understand, honestly, why the assistant had the hots for Al. His friend was charming, had a killer body, and his voice was a goddamn treat to listen to, especially when he got all excited and happy about something. His laugh was loud, a tad maniacal, and it always made Vox shiver to his bones.

But the problem was, the feeling wasn't mutual. Alastor wasn't into his assistant. Didn't have the hots for her, and wouldn't want to get between her thighs even if she shoved his microphone in her cunt. Al had never even touched her, or anyone else for that matter. Vox knew that, from first hand experience, and still he hated this bitch. He hated how she thought she had any chance with Alastor. And he hated her because he didn't have a chance with Alastor either.

Not that it was her fault per se, but still. She had some audacity, to even think to have a chance when Vox hadn't even gotten past a fucking friendly pat on the shoulder yet.

"Fuck!"

Papermint flinched, and Vox felt his lips twitch, the little shit had entered again without him noticing.

"Mr. Vox, your-"

"Yeah yeah, I know, send her in. And get me a drink, and make it a strong one."

He nodded, hurrying to get the requested drink before opening the door to let Alastor's assistant inside. She had a stack of folders under her arm, and a nervous look on her face. She had a thing against the Vee's, especially him, and it made him want to strangle her, even though he knew that his overall appearance, the sharp angles of his screened head and the cold look he always gave her was most likely the reason for her nervousness.

"Mr. Vox-"

"No small talk, get to the point. I'm sure Alastor wouldn't have sent you here if it wasn't something urgent."

"O-oh, of course. There was a... situation, I was instructed to deliver these to you, while Mr. Alastor has gone to check it out."

"And he didn't bother calling?"

"It was quite sudden, and he wasn't sure if you would answer your landline."

Vox grunted, Alastor's refusal for any modern technology past fucking landlines and telegrams was getting on his last nerves more and more, but there was nothing he could do about it. If he wanted to live in the stone age, that was his business.

"Hand those over and get out.”

"I'm afraid I was instructed to stay until you've taken care of them."

"As fucking usual."

He knew for a fact that Alastor sent her here only to annoy him. Those papers didn't need checking, Vox would only look over them and stamp a little print on the front saying 'Approved', and they were done. But his friend loved to tease him, and ever since Vox had voiced his dislike against his assistant, Alastor had gotten a certain morbid joy out of pushing him to work together with her.

"Yes, fuck, whatever. Let's get this shit over with. Come in, and shut the door behind you."

At least she kept her mouth shut while he skimmed over the content of said papers, drinking from the tumbler filled with what tasted like Gin. For once she wasn't being annoying, and she didn't stare at him defiantly the way she usually did. She looked defeated in a way, the usual sass in her stance missing as she waited, silently and unmoving next to him, hands folded tightly in front of her. Odd.

"What's the matter, dollface? Alastor finally told you he'll never fuck you?", he smirked, turning a page and scribbling his signature at the bottom of the page.

He heard a quiet, shaking breath, and for the first time since she entered the room, he looked directly at her.

Her eyes were burning red, and Vox hadn't realized she had been crying, but she clearly was. Silent, thick tears escaped her eyes, running slowly down her cheeks, leaving trails where her finger wiped them off hastily.

"Oh, seems like I've hit the bull's eye. Fuck, doll, stop crying, I get that he rejected you, but that's just pathetic."

"Leave me alone. What does it matter to you anyway?", she whispered, more tears running down her face.

"Like I care, you'll run back to Al with your little tears and tell him how much you're pining for him, how desperate you are. Maybe that's a bit of his kink and he'll actually consider it, who knows. You might get a pity-fuck with one of his voodoo-minions at the end, is that what you want?"

He expected her to respond, expected her to either throw something at him or slap his stupid grin off his screen. He certainly hadn't expected what happened. She sobbed and slapped a hand across her own face, silencing the heart-wrenching noise she emitted. But Vox had to watch how her whole expression just crumbled, he watched her face turn red, and how she wiped over her face furiously, swiping away more tears that were still coming.

For a few moments, Vox sat frozen in his chair, unable to process the situation. The paper in his hand was crumpled in his grip. It wasn't a little crush, that was painfully obvious. Fuck, what was her name again? Did she like Alastor for real?

"Alright, shit. You, uh... sit down."

He pushed another chair forward with his foot.

"Wh-why would I..."

"Because you don't really look stable on your fucking legs, and I hate this bullshit already, so come over here, take a fucking seat and pull yourself together."

She made a face, sniffling pitifully before crossing the short distance towards the chair.

"How long?"

She bit her lip, a bitter laugh escaping her as she sat down.

"Ever since I've started working for him."

"Oh wow, that must be so hard on you, sweetheart." Vox voice dripped of sarcasm. He leaned over to her, shoving his half-full glass of gin in her direction with a scrutinizing smile. "Try seven decades, then we can talk."

For the first time her lips turned upwards, not quite a smile, but the scowl wasn't there anymore.

"You're no better off than me."

He scoffed in response, filling the tumbler back up to the brim. She took it carefully, taking a few sips from the translucent liquid. Vox eyed her for a moment, wondering if she would spit it back out. Okay, she wasn't that ugly. Her lips were nice and puffy, pink, a color not that usual in hell, almost human-like.

"Maybe not, but at least I have the decency to not follow him around like a lost dog. That's just sad."

"You're one to judge."

Vox laughed a humorless laugh. "Oh-ho. Have we found our backbone, doll? I actually hate you a little less like this. It gets boring, the whole spiel with the kiss-ups constantly trying to lick Alastor's boots... or anything else."

"He never notices anyway."

"Nope. Doesn't notice shit.", Vox takes the glass from her and empties it in one big gulp.

"And still you hate me."

"Of course I fucking hate you."

"Why? Because you want him for yourself? Because you can't stand it that someone else wants him? That I want him?"

Vox snorted, the sound a bit static-y, and she flinched.

"Don't flatter yourself, sweetheart, I don't give a fuck about what you want. He doesn't give half a shit about you. He doesn't want you - End of the story. But if he did, he'd deserve much better than you. You're a whiny little bitch, you follow him like a kicked puppy, and you're a fucking annoyance. Al can do better than that."

Her wet eyes burned with fury. Huh. The bitch had a little bite in her after all, good to know.

"Fuck you, you're no better. You're an arrogant, narcissistic, stuck-up prick, you think everyone loves you and worships the ground you're walking on, you act all high and mighty, you're a bully, a control freak and a manipulative asshole."

He had to admit, she hit a few bullet points herself. But that didn't mean he liked her. He stood up, taking a step towards her. Her face was tinted red, anger clear in her round face. Now that was something he could work with.

"At least I don't cry about it like a pathetic little loser."

She was crying again, angry tears this time, her eyebrows furrowed and a scowl on her lips. Fucking perfect.

"I fucking hate you, too."

"Good."

Vox leaned over her, gripping her chin harshly. She flinched, and a new tear rolled down her cheek, falling on her blouse and wetting the dark fabric. She was trembling, but she wasn't moving away from him. He smirked, his hand wandering up, fingers digging into her cheeks painfully, and then his lips were on hers, hard and rough. She tasted salty from her tears, but there was a certain sweetness, a bittersweet note of her own, and the faint taste of gin. She made a small, protesting noise, but her hand gripped his arm, holding onto him tightly.

He broke the kiss, staring down at her, her lips swollen and reddened, her cheeks flushed and stained with tear marks, her eyes burning with hatred.

"Get on the desk."

He grabbed her and picked her up easily, setting her down on the large table. He grabbed her chin again, and she glared at him, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed, but a deviant smile on her face.

"Fuck you."

He smirked.

"Exactly."

The blouse tore like paper when he ripped it open. Her tits were actually nice, not as big as he was used to, but round and perky. She was panting heavily, and he had a feeling she hadn't expected this turn of events. Well, neither had he, but right now, Vox couldn't care less. All he cared about was his rage-filled desire to fuck this shitty feeling out of his system and the invitingly wet stain on her panties as he shoved her pencil skirt up her thighs, the way she squirmed and arched her back slightly, silently begging him to touch her. He leaned over her, capturing her mouth again, and he couldn't help the smirk at the way she kissed him back, a tad aggressive and demanding. His fingers pushed aside the soaked fabric, rubbing her clit lightly. She moaned quietly, breaking the kiss. Vox didn't waste a second, pushing a finger inside her.

She was hot and slick, and she was fucking tight. Vox groaned, and she whimpered, a high-pitched noise that went straight to his groin.

"Look at you, so wet already. What would Alastor say if he saw you like this, moaning like a cheap slut for another guy?"

He grinned, thrusting the finger harder and adding a second. She was almost dripping, the noises his fingers made were obscene, and it was fucking hot.

"He'd scold me for downgrading myself to someone like you."

Vox laughed as he added a third finger, bending them skillfully to hit just the right spot. "Oh please, you're a mess, doll. Your cunt is dripping, and you're trembling. And still you're trying to be a snarky little bitch."

He rubbed her clit again, and she gasped. He had to admit, her pussy was probably the best one he had felt in a while, and it was definitely the most fun he had ever had with a woman. Usually it was all him calling the shots, the women he fucked were usually dumb and eager to please, and not really capable of sassing him back the way she was doing now.

"You're one to talk, finger-banging me while having a hard-on. Is it because fucking his assistant is the closest you'll ever get to fucking Alastor?"

He didn't give her the satisfaction of a reply (of course he had a good one), but instead he removed his fingers in a swift swipe, ignoring the way she whimpered at the loss. He undid his belt and zipper, freeing his aching cock, his newest, upgraded model. She stared at it, wide-eyed, and for the first time, she actually looked intimidated, unsure... scared. Vox grinned satisfied, stroking himself a few times.

"Don't worry, dollface, it'll fit, and it'll feel really good. And the best thing - if you stop your constant bitching, maybe I'll even make you cum."

He rubbed the head of his dick over her clit, the LED's on it brightly illuminating her core in a blue hue, and she let out a strangled moan at the sensation. Her face was red and flushed, her eyes half-lidded, and she looked so goddamn sultry with her legs spread wide and her pussy glistening.

Vox grabbed her hips, pulling her close until her ass was at the edge of the table, and then he lined up his cock.

"Last chance to back out, sweetheart."

He couldn't believe his own words. Was he really offering her a way out? Why did he even care, he was the one with his dick out, and she was the one that would have to take the consequences of this whole hate-fuck-thing, he'd be fine either way.

She looked up at him, her face determined.

"Alastor always told me you're all talk, no action. Was he right?"

Oh, this little bitch was going to regret that. He pushed inside her, his cock sliding in easily. He was big, and she was so fucking tight, it was incredible. She cried out, a sharp, high-pitched sound.

"Too much action for you?"

She didn't answer, instead she was trying her hardest not to move, her hands firm on his shoulders, and Vox had to give her that, she did a good job of staying still, only the slightest of trembles visible on her legs as she willed herself to relax around him so he could move.

He was throbbing inside her, the walls of her cunt pulsing and fluttering painfully around him, and it was taking everything he had to let her at least adjust and not just fuck her right into the table. He was still holding her hips, the tips of his fingers digging into her skin, probably leaving marks, and he was sure that the force with which he was gripping her would leave traitorous, colorful bruises. Markings, his markings on Alastor's bitch. The thought made him shiver, sending electric currents down his spine as he pulled out slowly, the drag deliciously torturous. And then he thrusted back in, all the way. Hard. Her pussy clenched deliciously around him, and Vox threw his head back, a silent moan leaving his throat as he moved in and out, feeling her stretch and contract around his length, sucking him in greedily.

He felt his body overheat, electrical current flowing through him in intense pulses straight to his dick, adding another sensation to the already wonderful tight, wet, hot feeling enveloping him. He might need a little fix-me-up, it had been a while since someone got this much of a reaction out of him. The room was quiet, only her rapid panting and the sound of her cunt swallowing his cock with every pull filled the air, the noices slick and sloppy. Vox pressed one finger firmly on her clit, making her arch her back as he began circling it, the heels of her feet pressing painfully into his lower back as he increased his pace. His own breathing was starting to become labored, short puffs of static leaving him.

"Say his name", he heard himself demand, the sound of his own voice was low and static-y.

"Wh-"

"You fucking heard me, say his name. Call for him while I'm fucking you, come on, princess. See if he cares."

He increased his pace, hammering in and out of her, the air was heavy with the thick smell of sex and arousal, and she was becoming louder, keening, gasping, mewling.

"Fuck you.", she gasped.

"Wrong, try again."

Vox slowed, changing the angle to thrust right up where it made her shake. He smirked when her toes curled. "Come on, I know you can say it, I'll make it easy on you, I'll say it with you: A. La. Stor."

With every syllable he pumped into her a bit harder, the electricity from his fingertips stinging her clit, and the extra sensation had her shudder, a shaky moan leaving her throat. Vox wasn't giving her any chances to catch her breath, the air was filling with the familiar buzz of static electricity, the screens inside the room began to flicker as more and more electricity flowed from the TV overlord into her body, to her limbs.

"Oh my...fucking god... Vox!"

Her hands dug into his suit, and then she gasped, a beautiful, long, drawn-out moan ripping through her chest as her back arched, her heels digging harder into his lower back. She shuddered, violently, and came, the feeling of her pulsating muscles sucking him in combined with his fucking name rolling from her lips completely doing it for him. With one last, well placed thrust, and her voice in his ears calling for him and not Alastor, he buried his dick deep inside her cunt, riding out his own orgasm with small, careful thrusts, hissing quietly as her tight walls were milking him for all his worth.

He leaned forward, his forearms framing her on the table, and he huffed. Fuck, that was intense.

Her whole body was buzzing with the electrical currents he was putting off, and her muscles were tense as she willed herself to breath, gasping softly. Vox smirked and released a bit more power just for shits and giggles, just enough to make her gasp again, and he watched as her lips formed a tiny 'O' as the currents jerked every muscle in her body, making her walls tighten one more time around his softening dick and forcing another soft grunt from his own lips. He let off after that, knowing how tiring it could be.

He carefully pulled out, watching a mix of his cum and her own juices dribble out of her cunt, and he huffed at the sight, giving a quick rub to her swollen clit to push the rest of his cum inside.

She laid motionless for a second, staring at the ceiling blankly, and Vox was just wondering whether he had actually fried her brain, when she shifted, pulling her panties back into place. She looked up, and her almost human eyes found his digital ones, a very soft, amused, almost fond look settling on her features.

"You are really pathetic." She pushed herself off the desk, wobbly on her knees but upright while she pulled her skirt down and tidied her clothes, putting the ripped blouse back together as best as she could. "But I have to hand it to you - you know how to fuck."

Vox grinned smugly. "Baby, what do you think got me where I am now?"

"Mhm. Anyway- that was fun. Very entertaining, as Alastor would say. Might need a new blouse though."

She gathered the signed papers in front of her chest to hide the gaping hole exposing one of her tight breasts, opened the door and gave him a last glance over her shoulder, an impish smile on her round, flushed face. "I still fucking hate you."

For a few minutes, Vox remained behind, a dumb grin on his lips. He should really ask for her name at some point, he guessed, especially if Alastor planned for him to work with her again.

Hopefully in the near future.

[comikadraws]

What actually was Itachi's desease? Does anyone know?

I AM GETTING ITACHI ASKS! FINALLY!!! Though I imagine my answer might be disappointing :')

Itachi's Mysterious Illness

Length: • 3.2K Content: • Itachi's Illness as a Writing Tool • Itachi's Symptoms • Popular Diagnoses • Exploring Alternative Causes • My Thoughts and Theories

DISCLAIMER: I have no medical background and, for the most part, am relaying the findings of others, not my own. Some of the panels are out of order. Blue links are sources. The art in the header is mine.

Itachi's Illness as a Writing Tool

Itachi's illness is very much a mystery in canon. A side-note. Itachi doesn't make enough appearances in the story for us to get an elaborate picture of his health. While there are popular theories, the fact of the matter is, we just don't know for sure what he was suffering from.

Due to Itachi's illness not playing a larger role in the story, it is unlikely Kishimoto actually researched any particular disease to reference. He resorted to a fairly common trope called the "Incurable Cough of Death" which is known for taking inspiration from Tuberculosis and its bloody coughs. The author doesn't specify any illness. It is merely a plot device to push a storyline.

As a narrative device, you might even consider Itachi's illness as a metaphor. While dying young was a deliberate choice on Itachi's part, his illness further solidifies his decision, leaving him with no way back. It mirrors Itachi's lack of agency in life. And, of course, it also makes Itachi's suffering palpable and highlights it for the audience. Itachi is in agony, yet chooses to suffer for Sasuke's sake rather than taking the easy way out.

Of course, while Itachi's illness is an unspecified, plot- and/or narrative-device disease, that doesn't necessarily have to stop us from trying to find a real-world equivalent or an in-universe explanation. But to do so, we must describe his physical condition first.

Itachi's Symptoms

While hemoptysis is probably the trademark of Itachi's illness as portrayed in fandom, it can be argued he was experiencing a wider range of symptoms. None of these necessarily have to be the result of Itachi's illness but since they often come up in discussions, I will mention them anyway for the sake of completion.

Low BMI

To begin with, Itachi's body is in a fairly weak condition. For example, Itachi's BMI stands fairly low at 18.3 at the time of his death, which is considered to be slightly underweight. It is a slight drop from his 18.6 at 18 years old.

While BMI is not a professional way of measuring a person's health, it does bring things into perspective. Considering that Itachi is a physically active person, he probably had a low fat-to-muscle ratio. Combine that with his low BMI and we can fairly assume that Itachi had weight problems, assuming Kishimoto and/or his assistants put that much thought into those numbers.

Low Stamina According to Databooks

Itachi's stats in the Databooks also indicate somewhat of a physical weakness. While Itachi ties with Jiraiya in having the highest stat total in Sha no Sho (35.5 points), he has noticeably low stamina at a value of just 2.5 points. It is not a major deficit, but it is definitely odd, especially when putting things into perspective.

In the Databooks, characters with high stat totals usually have stat deficits at 3 or 3.5 points, not at 2.5. Stat deficits of 2.5 occur at slightly lower stat totals, like Might Guy who reaches a stat total of 31.5 and a hand seal deficit of 2.5.

Additionally, characters with stamina deficits are usually associated with physical ailments. Orochimaru is basically suffering from necrosis, Hiruzen is 70 (his old age likely impacting his physical prowess), and Kakashi basically goes unconscious every time he uses the Sharingan as early on as chapter 16 of Naruto (indicating low chakra reserves).

Again, we better hope those numbers were intentional or this doesn't mean anything.

Noticeable Frailty

But now, let's take a look at the manga to search for evidence. What other fans before me have already pointed out is that Itachi's interactions with Kisame are fairly curious.

In a seemingly random scene, Kisame worries about the weather, claiming both he and Itachi will catch a cold if they stay out in the rain for too long. It is a somewhat strange suggestion, considering that this is coming from a shark man who primarily uses water ninjutsu in his battle tactics. You'd think he isn't bothered by some rain or chill if he is already getting wet this often.

Not that this applies to his partner, however.

In chapter #364 we get a repeat of this scene in which Kisame expresses worry only for Itachi rather than for the both of them. Kisame is made out to be explicitly caring toward Itachi and sensitive to his health and needs. But looking back at chapter #353, he refrains from hurting Itachi's pride by stating it out in the open.

This recontextualizes the scene from a few chapters earlier as this pattern in Kisame's behavior is actually consistent with the rest of chapter #353.

Kisame mentions that Itachi was absent from his most recent battle against Roshi. For unknown reasons, this causes Itachi's expression to turn somber or melancholic (though it could be argued he is smirking ever so slightly). Perhaps Itachi was reminded of his physical decline. Perhaps he regrets missing out on this last mission with Kisame.

Either way, Kisame picks up on Itachi's mood and quickly clarifies that this solo battle was the former Kiri-nin's idea and not at all Itachi's fault. While we cannot say for sure, the possibility that Kisame insisted on going without Itachi specifically to spare the Uchiha from putting unnecessary strain on his body is definitely there.

Kisame goes on to say he is tired, yet the first person to sit down in search of a break is Itachi - The same guy who didn't even fight Roshi and, at least technically, should be in better health than Kisame.

Kisame's worry for Itachi's health supports the idea that Itachi has been struggling for a while now - long enough for Kisame to pick up on Itachi's condition. He watches out for any strain or health risks that Itachi might unwittingly subject his body to, implying certain frailty that could be explained by a weak immune system and/or a weak and easily fatigued body.

During the Battle (Hemoptysis, Vision Loss, Heart Attack)

Besides this, Zetsu comments on Itachi's condition multiple times - both during and after the brothers' battle. He mentions that Itachi's movements were sloppy and wonders why he was coughing up blood. He hypothesizes that Itachi's body may have already been pre-damaged at that point.

Guessing by Zetsu's reaction, this must have been a recent decrease in Itachi's battle performance rather than a long-established issue. Combining this with Kisame's behavior (that instead implies a longer history) Itachi's condition has likely been bad for a longer time but never impacted him this severely until now. The illness may have just worsened naturally, but Itachi could've also stopped medicating or caught an additional infection.

During the actual battle, we see Itachi struggling with several more symptoms. He suffers from vision loss as well as from hemoptysis (bloody coughing) and what appears to be a heart attack or otherwise intense chest pain.

After the end of the battle, White Zetsu also theorizes that Itachi's symptoms may have simply been caused by the Sharingan, only for Black Zetsu to voice his uncertainty. An odd reaction, considering that Zetsu is one of the few characters that should be fairly knowledgeable about the Sharingan and its drawbacks. This implies that Itachi's symptoms are atypical of your usual Sharingan overuse.

Medication

Obito later explains that Itachi's illness was terminal and demanded regular medication to prolong the patient's lifespan. Obito unfortunately does not comment on the origins of Itachi's illness or any of his symptoms, though.

While not necessarily canon, in "Naruto Jinraiden: The Day the Wolf Howled", Itachi uses a drug called "Kotaro", which uses hallucinogenic substances. It is applied via the eyes and also helps with irritation of the Mangekyo Sharingan.

Popular Diagnoses

Once again, Itachi's symptoms are rather vague, befitting the Cough of Death trope. But some people have still managed to find likely candidates for real-world equivalents.

One such candidate is obviously Tuberculosis. It matches some of Itachi's symptoms, such as his coughing up blood, chest pain, weight loss, and tiredness. Another Tumblr user pointed out, however, that Tuberculosis is highly infectious. Had Itachi contracted the disease, other Akatsuki members would've fallen ill as well, not to mention Sasuke who came into contact with Itachi's blood and was supposed to inherit his eyes. This would've been beyond careless of Itachi. Any infectious, terminal diseases can therefore be safely ruled out.

The same user argued that Itachi may have had Lupus or ITP, both of which are immunological and therefore better suited for Itachi's diagnosis. It should be noted, however, that Itachi does not express many symptoms associated with Lupus, such as joint swelling, rashes, and skin lesions, and ITP is not particularly known (if at all) for hemoptysis.

The most popular theory is probably that Itachi had MPA. It is known for bloody coughs, cardiac failure, fatigue, weight loss, and in rare cases it may damage the eyes. But there are also people who disagree with the MPA theory, mostly due to his young age (which is atypical for MPA patients), but also because MPA causes diffuse alveolar hemorrhage, which the original poster deems more severe than just hemoptysis. While Itachi's symptoms match MPA somewhat, it might not be a perfect match.

But Itachi could have also died of lung cancer, Sarcoidosis, AIDS, SLD, Viral Perimyocarditis, Pneumonia, Paragonomiasis, Lymphoma, or something entirely different, due to the vagueness of his symptoms. But since we are talking about a fictional universe, it could also be a fictional disease or even a disease that attacks fictional parts of ninjas' anatomy (such as Tenketsu, Chakra Pathways, etc.).

And while I do like the idea of Itachi just being hated by life itself (vocaloid reference, haha) and developing a terminal condition on top of all his other sufferings, I could also see it being a manifestation of his guilt and trauma rather than just simply being an unrelated burden the universe put on him. Heartbreak Syndrome, basically.

Exploring Alternative Causes

Another way to explain Itachi's symptoms is by finding alternative causes. Believe it or not, but it is not 100% certain that Itachi had a disease in the traditional sense at all.

Obito Is a Liar

One of the reasons why is that Obito, unfortunately, is a liar. Especially in his conversation with Sasuke, his goal is to make Itachi as sympathetic to Sasuke as possible and demonize Konoha. Both are in an attempt to win over Sasuke's loyalty and Obito is not at all afraid of lying to Sasuke.

This is hinted at in the Databooks but also becomes evident in certain instances where Obito's exposition simply proves wrong - most notably the cause behind the Ninetails Attack. Obito's words directly clash with Itachi's and later Kushina's flashbacks.

Not to mention, Black Zetsu appears noticeably confused about Itachi's condition, leaving us to question how Obito acquired this much information on Itachi in the first place, if not through the Akatsuki's spy. Is Obito really this knowledgeable about Itachi? Would Itachi's condition really have been terminal? Did Itachi have his condition treated with medicine? Or is it all just a shot in the dark on Obito's part?

Long story short, we cannot trust Obito's word when making any claims about canon.

But now, let's find the promised alternative explanations.

Itachi's BMI Is a Lifestyle

To begin with, most of the Akatsuki members actually have low BMIs. Obviously, Nagato is severely underweight, but even characters like Sasori and Hidan score quite low. The average among the Akatsuki appears to be at 17.8 (or 18.2 if we exclude outliers like Nagato, Konan, and Kisame). This might reflect the Akatsukis' precarious living conditions or just the standard Ninja physique, rather than indicating any specific ailments among the Akatsuki members.

Of course, Kisame still manages to somehow reach a healthy BMI, but this might be the result of their respective diets rather than Itachi just magically losing weight. While Itachi dislikes steak (which has high calories and protein) he eats less nutritious foods like onigiri with seaweed, dango, and cabbage. Meanwhile, Kisame loves shrimp and crab (which are high in protein). And beyond that, Itachi could be suffering from mental illness instead, impacting his eating habits.

It should also be noted that low BMIs (as well as stress and trauma) can weaken the body's immune system and impair its ability to fight off common infections.

No Training, No Stamina

As previously mentioned, while Itachi's low stamina is highly unusual among characters of comparable caliber, it is just a small difference of 0.5 points. It might merely be the result of his fighting style which relies primarily on genjutsu or quick and painless assassinations rather than physically taxing maneuvers. This would be similar to Might Guy, who has a 2.5 deficit in hand seals due to a lack of practice.

But this explanation still begins to sound less sufficient when we look back at the manga itself. Itachi's interactions with Kisame in chapters #353 and #364 imply a certain frailty beyond just a simple lack of practice. But this is where Itachi's Sharingan becomes relevant.

Mangekyo and Susano'o Side Effects

Many fans underestimate the damage a Mangekyo Sharingan can inflict on its user. Most notably, the Mangekyo causes the user's eye to bleed and become irritated. Their eyesight deteriorates with repeated use until full blindness. (refer back to chapter #386). Those are not symptoms specific to Itachi at all and can therefore not exactly be traced back to any disease.

Additionally, the Mangekyo does not just affect the user's eyes. In the case of Susano'o specifically, it is stated to be hard on the user's body. Sasuke describes it as an unbearable pain affecting every cell in his body. And to top it off, it causes hemoptysis for Sasuke as well each time the Susano'o is in use.

It appears as though hemoptysis is not at all exclusive to Itachi but a Susano'o-specific symptom. It doesn't change that Zetsu remains puzzled about Itachi's bloody cough, so we have to assume Zetsu might just not be as much of an expert as previously assumed.

Assuming Itachi had already used the Susano'o at a point in time prior to his battle with Sasuke, it is possible that this jutsu has damaged Itachi's cells.

Since we know that the body's cells are partially responsible for chakra production, cell damage should logically impact a ninja's ability to produce chakra. Assuming Susano'o-conducted damage is at all permanent and that Itachi has ever used it prior to his battle with Sasuke, this may have caused an irreversible chakra shortage for Itachi.

Sharingan Side Effects and Chakra Depletion

In general, besides the Susano'o, the Mangekyo is known for wearing out its users. Not just Kakashi, who famously ends up in the hospital each time he uses it, but Itachi too requires long rests after using the Mangekyo. Notably, Kisame describes using the Mangekyo as "dangerous".

Even the standard Sharingan can deplete the user's chakra to the point of being immobilized. As we can see in early Naruto chapters, the Sharingan can put Kakashi out of commission for a weak (refer to chapter #16). It appears as though chakra exhaustion causes muscle weakness (inability to move) and fatigue.

While not as extreme, this would explain Itachi's fatigue in his interaction with Kisame in chapter #353. In this chapter, we can see that Itachi's Sharingan has remained active for an unknown period of time and likely robbed Itachi of a portion of his chakra. If this is something he did regularly, it might also explain Kisame's concern for Itachi.

If we think about this one further, it could be argued that the heart, due to being a muscle, can fail in the case of excessive chakra exhaustion.

My Thoughts and Theories

Itachi's vision loss and hemoptysis can clearly be attributed to his excessive Mangekyo and Susano'o use, as far as I am concerned. And right now, all of Itachi's symptoms can be logically explained without adding an unknown disease into the mix.

Although Zetsu still remains an unreliable source in this instance (due to not knowing that hemoptysis is a common symptom induced in response to using Susano'o) it should be noted that unlike with Itachi, this does not result in a lethal outcome for Sasuke who, as opposed to Itachi, uses his Susano'o constantly. When hypothesizing that Itachi's body may have been damaged from the beginning, he probably wasn't far off. This is also what Itachi's interactions with Kisame seem to imply.

While Itachi's Mangekyo use and chakra exhaustion probably put the final nail in his coffin, it stands to reason that his body was prestressed by yet another condition that shrunk down his chakra reserves and left him, in Kisame's eyes, "frail". It's comparable to how many diseases such as AIDS, Diabetes, autoimmune diseases, or other conditions don't kill you on their own but instead lay the groundwork for a truly lethal illness.

But even then, this pre-sustained damage has logical explanations as well. His low fat could be the result of his lifestyle. His low stamina and chakra may be the result of repeated Sharingan/Susano'o use or a lack of practice. His heart attack may have been the result of ordinary chakra exhaustion. His immune system may have been weakened due to his low weight (but then again, he is not significantly underweight), stress, and/or trauma, resulting in the contraction of a regular infection as Itachi stood in the rain without protection. This explains his seemingly "sudden" decrease in battle performance.

Conversely, it is not unreasonable to assume Itachi indeed had an incurable condition - unrelated to Sharingan's drawbacks. While Obito and Zetsu are not at all reliable sources, they do push the "Itachi was ill" narrative rather hard and the story never cares enough to dispel their claims.

Beyond that, Itachi's symptoms can be viewed as a causality dilemma. What was first? The chicken or the egg? The immune system or the illness? While low weight, stress, and/or trauma can result in frequent infections, so can a major infection lead to increased stress or low weight. While blaming Itachi's poor condition on his lifestyle is a valid interpretation, it is not at all confirmed.

Narratively, it makes a lot of sense to burden Itachi with a painful, incurable disease. Aside from externalizing Itachi's suffering to the outside, where the audience can see it, it manages to evoke stronger sympathy from the reader, mixing in a sense of unfairness and tragedy.

But alas, this is not sufficient evidence, and instead, we could also view Itachi's damaged condition as a metaphor for how very often, life does not leave Itachi with any options other than harming himself. Due to his growing blindness, he is forced to use his Sharingan more frequently. Due to his status as Nukenin, he cannot take care of himself as diligently. And then those minor inconveniences spiral out of control, piling ailment after ailment on him.

Unfortunately, none of this leaves us with a definitive answer. Perhaps Itachi did have a terminal illness. Perhaps he did not. The story seems intentionally ambiguous.