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mostlysignssomeportents · 6 months ago

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The reason you can’t buy a car is the same reason that your health insurer let hackers dox you

On July 14, I'm giving the closing keynote for the fifteenth HACKERS ON PLANET EARTH, in QUEENS, NY. Happy Bastille Day! On July 20, I'm appearing in CHICAGO at Exile in Bookville.

In 2017, Equifax suffered the worst data-breach in world history, leaking the deep, nonconsensual dossiers it had compiled on 148m Americans and 15m Britons, (and 19k Canadians) into the world, to form an immortal, undeletable reservoir of kompromat and premade identity-theft kits:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2017_Equifax_data_breach

Equifax knew the breach was coming. It wasn't just that their top execs liquidated their stock in Equifax before the announcement of the breach – it was also that they ignored years of increasingly urgent warnings from IT staff about the problems with their server security.

Things didn't improve after the breach. Indeed, the 2017 Equifax breach was the starting gun for a string of more breaches, because Equifax's servers didn't just have one fubared system – it was composed of pure, refined fubar. After one group of hackers breached the main Equifax system, other groups breached other Equifax systems, over and over, and over:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/equifax-password-username-admin-lawsuit-201118316.html

Doesn't this remind you of Boeing? It reminds me of Boeing. The spectacular 737 Max failures in 2018 weren't the end of the scandal. They weren't even the scandal's start – they were the tipping point, the moment in which a long history of lethally defective planes "breached" from the world of aviation wonks and into the wider public consciousness:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_accidents_and_incidents_involving_the_Boeing_737

Just like with Equifax, the 737 Max disasters tipped Boeing into a string of increasingly grim catastrophes. Each fresh disaster landed with the grim inevitability of your general contractor texting you that he's just opened up your ceiling and discovered that all your joists had rotted out – and that he won't be able to deal with that until he deals with the termites he found last week, and that they'll have to wait until he gets to the cracks in the foundation slab from the week before, and that those will have to wait until he gets to the asbestos he just discovered in the walls.

Drip, drip, drip, as you realize that the most expensive thing you own – which is also the thing you had hoped to shelter for the rest of your life – isn't even a teardown, it's just a pure liability. Even if you razed the structure, you couldn't start over, because the soil is full of PCBs. It's not a toxic asset, because it's not an asset. It's just toxic.

Equifax isn't just a company: it's infrastructure. It started out as an engine for racial, political and sexual discrimination, paying snoops to collect gossip from nosy neighbors, which was assembled into vast warehouses full of binders that told bank officers which loan applicants should be denied for being queer, or leftists, or, you know, Black:

https://jacobin.com/2017/09/equifax-retail-credit-company-discrimination-loans

This witch-hunts-as-a-service morphed into an official part of the economy, the backbone of the credit industry, with a license to secretly destroy your life with haphazardly assembled "facts" about your life that you had the most minimal, grudging right to appeal (or even see). Turns out there are a lot of customers for this kind of service, and the capital markets showered Equifax with the cash needed to buy almost all of its rivals, in mergers that were waved through by a generation of Reaganomics-sedated antitrust regulators.

There's a direct line from that acquisition spree to the Equifax breach(es). First of all, companies like Equifax were early adopters of technology. They're a database company, so they were the crash-test dummies for ever generation of database. These bug-riddled, heavily patched systems were overlaid with subsequent layers of new tech, with new defects to be patched and then overlaid with the next generation.

These systems are intrinsically fragile, because things fall apart at the seams, and these systems are all seams. They are tech-debt personified. Now, every kind of enterprise will eventually reach this state if it keeps going long enough, but the early digitizers are the bow-wave of that coming infopocalypse, both because they got there first and because the bottom tiers of their systems are composed of layers of punchcards and COBOL, crumbling under the geological stresses of seventy years of subsequent technology.

The single best account of this phenomenon is the British Library's postmortem of their ransomware attack, which is also in the running for "best hard-eyed assessment of how fucked things are":

https://www.bl.uk/home/british-library-cyber-incident-review-8-march-2024.pdf

There's a reason libraries, cities, insurance companies, and other giant institutions keep getting breached: they started accumulating tech debt before anyone else, so they've got more asbestos in the walls, more sagging joists, more foundation cracks and more termites.

That was the starting point for Equifax – a company with a massive tech debt that it would struggle to pay down under the most ideal circumstances.

Then, Equifax deliberately made this situation infinitely worse through a series of mergers in which it bought dozens of other companies that all had their own version of this problem, and duct-taped their failing, fucked up IT systems to its own. The more seams an IT system has, the more brittle and insecure it is. Equifax deliberately added so many seams that you need to be able to visualized additional spatial dimensions to grasp them – they had fractal seams.

But wait, there's more! The reason to merge with your competitors is to create a monopoly position, and the value of a monopoly position is that it makes a company too big to fail, which makes it too big to jail, which makes it too big to care. Each Equifax acquisition took a piece off the game board, making it that much harder to replace Equifax if it fucked up. That, in turn, made it harder to punish Equifax if it fucked up. And that meant that Equifax didn't have to care if it fucked up.

Which is why the increasingly desperate pleas for more resources to shore up Equifax's crumbling IT and security infrastructure went unheeded. Top management could see that they were steaming directly into an iceberg, but they also knew that they had a guaranteed spot on the lifeboats, and that someone else would be responsible for fishing the dead passengers out of the sea. Why turn the wheel?

That's what happened to Boeing, too: the company acquired new layers of technical complexity by merging with rivals (principally McDonnell-Douglas), and then starved the departments that would have to deal with that complexity because it was being managed by execs whose driving passion was to run a company that was too big to care. Those execs then added more complexity by chasing lower costs by firing unionized, competent, senior staff and replacing them with untrained scabs in jurisdictions chosen for their lax labor and environmental enforcement regimes.

(The biggest difference was that Boeing once had a useful, high-quality product, whereas Equifax started off as an irredeemably terrible, if efficient, discrimination machine, and grew to become an equally terrible, but also ferociously incompetent, enterprise.)

This is the American story of the past four decades: accumulate tech debt, merge to monopoly, exponentially compound your tech debt by combining barely functional IT systems. Every corporate behemoth is locked in a race between the eventual discovery of its irreparable structural defects and its ability to become so enmeshed in our lives that we have to assume the costs of fixing those defects. It's a contest between "too rotten to stand" and "too big to care."

Remember last February, when we all discovered that there was a company called Change Healthcare, and that they were key to processing virtually every prescription filled in America? Remember how we discovered this? Change was hacked, went down, ransomed, and no one could fill a scrip in America for more than a week, until they paid the hackers $22m in Bitcoin?

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2024_Change_Healthcare_ransomware_attack

How did we end up with Change Healthcare as the linchpin of the entire American prescription system? Well, first Unitedhealthcare became the largest health insurer in America by buying all its competitors in a series of mergers that comatose antitrust regulators failed to block. Then it combined all those other companies' IT systems into a cosmic-scale dog's breakfast that barely ran. Then it bought Change and used its monopoly power to ensure that every Rx ran through Change's servers, which were part of that asbestos-filled, termite-infested, crack-foundationed, sag-joisted teardown. Then, it got hacked.

United's execs are the kind of execs on a relentless quest to be too big to care, and so they don't care. Which is why their they had to subsequently announce that they had suffered a breach that turned the complete medical histories of one third of Americans into immortal Darknet kompromat that is – even now – being combined with breach data from Equifax and force-fed to the slaves in Cambodia and Laos's pig-butchering factories:

https://www.cnn.com/2024/05/01/politics/data-stolen-healthcare-hack/index.html

Those slaves are beaten, tortured, and punitively raped in compounds to force them to drain the life's savings of everyone in Canada, Australia, Singapore, the UK and Europe. Remember that they are downstream of the forseeable, inevitable IT failures of companies that set out to be too big to care that this was going to happen.

Failures like Ticketmaster's, which flushed 500 million users' personal information into the identity-theft mills just last month. Ticketmaster, you'll recall, grew to its current scale through (you guessed it), a series of mergers en route to "too big to care" status, that resulted in its IT systems being combined with those of Ticketron, Live Nation, and dozens of others:

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/05/31/business/ticketmaster-hack-data-breach.html

But enough about that. Let's go car-shopping!

Good luck with that. There's a company you've never heard. It's called CDK Global. They provide "dealer management software." They are a monopolist. They got that way after being bought by a private equity fund called Brookfield. You can't complete a car purchase without their systems, and their systems have been hacked. No one can buy a car:

https://www.cnn.com/2024/06/27/business/cdk-global-cyber-attack-update/index.html

Writing for his BIG newsletter, Matt Stoller tells the all-too-familiar story of how CDK Global filled the walls of the nation's auto-dealers with the IT equivalent of termites and asbestos, and lays the blame where it belongs: with a legal and economics establishment that wanted it this way:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/a-supreme-court-justice-is-why-you

The CDK story follows the Equifax/Boeing/Change Healthcare/Ticketmaster pattern, but with an important difference. As CDK was amassing its monopoly power, one of its execs, Dan McCray, told a competitor, Authenticom founder Steve Cottrell that if he didn't sell to CDK that he would "fucking destroy" Authenticom by illegally colluding with the number two dealer management company Reynolds.

Rather than selling out, Cottrell blew the whistle, using Cottrell's own words to convince a district court that CDK had violated antitrust law. The court agreed, and ordered CDK and Reynolds – who controlled 90% of the market – to continue to allow Authenticom to participate in the DMS market.

Dealers cheered this on: CDK/Reynolds had been steadily hiking prices, while ingesting dealer data and using it to gouge the dealers on additional services, while denying dealers access to their own data. The services that Authenticom provided for $35/month cost $735/month from CDK/Reynolds (they justified this price hike by saying they needed the additional funds to cover the costs of increased information security!).

CDK/Reynolds appealed the judgment to the 7th Circuit, where a panel of economists weighed in. As Stoller writes, this panel included monopoly's most notorious (and well-compensated) cheerleader, Frank Easterbrook, and the "legendary" Democrat Diane Wood. They argued for CDK/Reynolds, demanding that the court release them from their obligations to share the market with Authenticom:

https://caselaw.findlaw.com/court/us-7th-circuit/1879150.html

The 7th Circuit bought the argument, overturning the lower court and paving the way for the CDK/Reynolds monopoly, which is how we ended up with one company's objectively shitty IT systems interwoven into the sale of every car, which meant that when Russian hackers looked at that crosseyed, it split wide open, allowing them to halt auto sales nationwide. What happens next is a near-certainty: CDK will pay a multimillion dollar ransom, and the hackers will reward them by breaching the personal details of everyone who's ever bought a car, and the slaves in Cambodian pig-butchering compounds will get a fresh supply of kompromat.

But on the plus side, the need to pay these huge ransoms is key to ensuring liquidity in the cryptocurrency markets, because ransoms are now the only nondiscretionary liability that can only be settled in crypto:

https://locusmag.com/2022/09/cory-doctorow-moneylike/

When the 7th Circuit set up every American car owner to be pig-butchered, they cited one of the most important cases in antitrust history: the 2004 unanimous Supreme Court decision in Verizon v Trinko:

https://www.oyez.org/cases/2003/02-682

Trinko was a case about whether antitrust law could force Verizon, a telcoms monopolist, to share its lines with competitors, something it had been ordered to do and then cheated on. The decision was written by Antonin Scalia, and without it, Big Tech would never have been able to form. Scalia and Trinko gave us the modern, too-big-to-care versions of Google, Meta, Apple, Microsoft and the other tech baronies.

In his Trinko opinion, Scalia said that "possessing monopoly power" and "charging monopoly prices" was "not unlawful" – rather, it was "an important element of the free-market system." Scalia – writing on behalf of a unanimous court! – said that fighting monopolists "may lessen the incentive for the monopolist…to invest in those economically beneficial facilities."

In other words, in order to prevent monopolists from being too big to care, we have to let them have monopolies. No wonder Trinko is the Zelig of shitty antitrust rulings, from the decision to dismiss the antitrust case against Facebook and Apple's defense in its own ongoing case:

https://www.ftc.gov/system/files/documents/cases/073_2021.06.28_mtd_order_memo.pdf

Trinko is the origin node of too big to care. It's the reason that our whole economy is now composed of "infrastructure" that is made of splitting seams, asbestos, termites and dry rot. It's the reason that the entire automotive sector became dependent on companies like Reynolds, whose billionaire owner intentionally and illegally destroyed evidence of his company's crimes, before going on to commit the largest tax fraud in American history:

https://www.wsj.com/articles/billionaire-robert-brockman-accused-of-biggest-tax-fraud-in-u-s-history-dies-at-81-11660226505

Trinko begs companies to become too big to care. It ensures that they will exponentially increase their IT debt while becoming structurally important to whole swathes of the US economy. It guarantees that they will underinvest in IT security. It is the soil in which pig butchering grew.

It's why you can't buy a car.

Now, I am fond of quoting Stein's Law at moments like this: "anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop." As Stoller writes, after two decades of unchallenged rule, Trinko is looking awfully shaky. It was substantially narrowed in 2023 by the 10th Circuit, which had been briefed by Biden's antitrust division:

https://law.justia.com/cases/federal/appellate-courts/ca10/22-1164/22-1164-2023-08-21.html

And the cases of 2024 have something going for them that Trinko lacked in 2004: evidence of what a fucking disaster Trinko is. The wrongness of Trinko is so increasingly undeniable that there's a chance it will be overturned.

But it won't go down easy. As Stoller writes, Trinko didn't emerge from a vacuum: the economic theories that underpinned it come from some of the heroes of orthodox economics, like Joseph Schumpeter, who is positively worshipped. Schumpeter was antitrust's OG hater, who wrote extensively that antitrust law didn't need to exist because any harmful monopoly would be overturned by an inevitable market process dictated by iron laws of economics.

Schumpeter wrote that monopolies could only be sustained by "alertness and energy" – that there would never be a monopoly so secure that its owner became too big to care. But he went further, insisting that the promise of attaining a monopoly was key to investment in great new things, because monopolists had the economic power that let them plan and execute great feats of innovation.

The idea that monopolies are benevolent dictators has pervaded our economic tale for decades. Even today, critics who deplore Facebook and Google do so on the basis that they do not wield their power wisely (say, to stamp out harassment or disinformation). When confronted with the possibility of breaking up these companies or replacing them with smaller platforms, those critics recoil, insisting that without Big Tech's scale, no one will ever have the power to accomplish their goals:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/18/urban-wildlife-interface/#combustible-walled-gardens

But they misunderstand the relationship between corporate power and corporate conduct. The reason corporations accumulate power is so that they can be insulated from the consequences of the harms they wreak upon the rest of us. They don't inflict those harms out of sadism: rather, they do so in order to externalize the costs of running a good system, reaping the profits of scale while we pay its costs.

The only reason to accumulate corporate power is to grow too big to care. Any corporation that amasses enough power that it need not care about us will not care about it. You can't fix Facebook by replacing Zuck with a good unelected social media czar with total power over billions of peoples' lives. We need to abolish Zuck, not fix Zuck.

Zuck is not exceptional: there were a million sociopaths whom investors would have funded to monopolistic dominance if he had balked. A monopoly like Facebook has a Zuck-shaped hole at the top of its org chart, and only someone Zuck-shaped will ever fit through that hole.

Our whole economy is now composed of companies with sociopath-shaped holes at the tops of their org chart. The reason these companies can only be run by sociopaths is the same reason that they have become infrastructure that is crumbling due to sociopathic neglect. The reckless disregard for the risk of combining companies is the source of the market power these companies accumulated, and the market power let them neglect their systems to the point of collapse.

This is the system that Schumpeter, and Easterbrook, and Wood, and Scalia – and the entire Supreme Court of 2004 – set out to make. The fact that you can't buy a car is a feature, not a bug. The pig-butcherers, wallowing in an ocean of breach data, are a feature, not a bug. The point of the system was what it did: create unimaginable wealth for a tiny cohort of the worst people on Earth without regard to the collapse this would provoke, or the plight of those of us trapped and suffocating in the rubble.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

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/2024/06/28/dealer-management-software/#antonin-scalia-stole-your-car

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

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realstrap · 6 months ago

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06/22/2024

Help my partner, a black disabled lesbian, get their meds!!!

Hey yall this is very urgent, my partner @800-dick-pics has run out of their medication that they use to regulate their chronic pain and seizures. I do not get paid for another 5 days and we have no money to spare

We need this by the end of the day if possible, without their medication they're susceptible to repeatedly seizures and bouts of chronic pain which is very dangerous!!

$120 needed, anything helps!!

CA: $sleepyhen or $lezsalt

VM: wildwotko

Dm 4 PP

#sorry we are poor #anything helps #i nesd to get their meds by the end of the day #sorry for the poll i just need engagement

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samimarkart · 6 months ago

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hey all. I really struggle with asking for help about this situation and balancing what amount of detail to share regarding it, but I’d like to share some information right now as I’m feeling fairly level headed. I am working with my therapist to remove me from my current toxic living situation with an emotionally immature and toxic parent, and this post my be deleted as needed for my privacy in the future. My independence is severely limited right now and I do need to get out and move sooner rather than later. Key things that are making this difficult for me is my inability to drive, I do not currently have a local support system other than my therapist, and the fact that I have not been able to get hired for a more stable basic job where I live currently I am looking to move to Chicago proper (currently in the suburbs) to be in a walkable area with public transit. I am okay and safe currently but this is starting to feel urgent to me.

I am currently self employed through running my online shop and art business. This leads me to asking: If anyone has the means or generosity to buy anything from my shop I would massively appreciate it as this is my only form of income at the moment. Trying to do some odd jobs around my neighborhood to get some extra cash saved up to cover the first few months of rent somewhere else while searching for a job. Even a single sticker will help me out, and joining my sticker club on Patreon would give me some extra flexibility. These are some things I currently have for sale and they’ll be linked below!

I truly have been struggling big time and I feel guilt in asking for help but I am very isolated right now. I was not allowed to move for college, and so have no experiencing living away from my family, but doing so is really pushing me back in terms of my mental health and seeing me lose my progress makes me feel sad and scared. My family member is not making this easy on me as they rely on me to regulate their emotions and do not want to allow me to leave. I really would like to be able to experience the rest of my 20s not being treated like a child.

If anyone has tips for first time renting, first time really doing much of this on my own please send it my way. And if you have any Chicago contacts who might be looking for a roommate in the next few months (🤞) i would be eternally thankful. reblogging helps too. love you guys

Etsy shop | Patreon and sticker club | Available original art

#queer artist #art #please boost #chicago #small business #my art #fiber art #painting

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thedigitalbard · 2 months ago

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Hello everyone. I want to share another family's campaign with you. Today I want to share the story of Haya and her family. She is a dentist, and a mother to three boys, Jameel, Bahaa, and Youssef. After fleeing genocide in Gaza, they are currently taking refuge in Egypt.

This campaign was shared by @/bilal-salah0 here. This is an urgent request. Haya's campaign has not received a single donation in 2 months. Youssef is only 7 years old and has fallen into a diabetic coma. He suffers from type 1 diabetes, a severe vitamin D deficiency, and kidney and liver dysfunction. Haya needs your support to purchase a pump to regulate Youssef's diabetes. This is very expensive, and they don't have the funds to afford it. Please do whatever you can to support Haya and her family. Share this post. Donate if you can. You can follow Haya @haya-jouda-1.

€1,238 / €25,000

Tagging for reach:

please dm if you don't want to be tagged.

@heliopixels @turian @brutaliakhoa @buttercuparry

@neptunerings @girlinafairytale @schoolhater @commissions4aid-international

@funds4gaza @goldenspirits @thatsonehellofabird @sylvianritual

@an-elegant-void @a-shade-of-blue @paparoach @tiredguyswag

@acepumpkinpatrick @autisticmudkip @appsa @lesbianmaxevans

@jezior0 @fading-event-608

#mutual aid #palestine #gaza #free palestine #free gaza

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savemyfamilyy · 1 month ago

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Share, support, and donate please 🙏

I look for a safe place for my parents to be safe from death 💔

Hello my friends , I am Ayat , I have been living in Egypt for the past sex months.

Today, I am reaching out to you with a heavy heart, urgently seeking help. My dear parents, Atef Yousef Mahdi, aged 75, and Sanaa Abdelraheem Mahdi, aged 60, are currently stranded in Gaza, where the ongoing conflict poses an immediate threat to their lives. I am asking for your support to help secure their safety and to provide them with the essential resources they urgently need in these extremely difficult circumstances.

My family and I were forced to flee our home under relentless bombing, leaving behind all our possessions, clothes, and even our money. In desperate conditions, we journeyed southward from northern Gaza, hoping to find safety there or a way to escape to a secure location.

My father recently suffered an injury to his foot, making it very difficult to obtain the necessary medical assistance for him. He struggled to walk again, despite also suffering from diabetes and high blood pressure, which require several medications to regulate his blood pressure and manage his ability to urinate. His difficulty in walking adds to these challenges.My father is in great pain, and your support could help us secure the proper treatment he urgently needs.

My mother is struggling to make a living by selling small pieces of candy and a few homemade pastries to the children in the tents, in order to afford food amidst the severe price hikes due to the scarcity of proper food and clean water.

I need your support and solidarity so that I can reunite with my parents, or at the very least, provide them with a safe place and the food they need to survive during this difficult time. Thank you so much for your help and support. Please share this post as much as possible so I can help them. Thank you.

#free palestine #free gaza #gaza genocide #gaza strip #gaza #gazaunderattack #all eyes on palestine #rafah #please help

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3liza · 1 month ago

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through a lot of reading papers and comparing those papers to what I've discussed with autistics I know irl and reading self-reports all over the place I think there is a useful distinction to make between chronically under-aroused autistics who need and seek out strong stimulus to break through the painful numbing effect of their subjective experience, and the chronically over-aroused autistics who find even normal levels of noise/touch/scent/light painful to the point of debility. and there are a lot of mixed cases too but I think the useful takeaway for everyone is that both groups are constantly attempting to achieve homeostasis which has been denied to them, and that the regulation-seeking takes up an enormous amount of time and energy that people who are autoregulated at almost all times without thinking about it just cant perceive or even empathize with, only (at best) come to understand and accept on good faith.

the regulation-seeking is also at the top of their hierarchy of needs. it is more urgent than food, shelter, or any form of social connection

i don't have any ideas about applying this information to the question of "how to suffer less" except as a framework that helps guide decisions for the autistic, and especially as a forceful redirection of the idea of "treatment" by medical workers back to addressing symptoms individually rather than trying to generalize to "treating autism" which I don't think is a real idea.

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deliciousangelfestival · 6 months ago

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Feeling Blue Without You - Lloyd Hansen

Summary: Working at Hansen Security can be stressful. What would happen if you left?

Words Count: 2,365

Warning: None

Author's Note: Hello, everyone; this one-shot is for the Lloyd Hansen Writing Challenge hosted by @hansensgirl and @cuttlefjsh. I chose the prompt: "Now, I'm gonna stop you right there, cupcake."

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more

“Sir, we need backup,” the agent said urgently to his boss, Lloyd Hansen, the head of Hansen Security. They were pinned down and surrounded by their opponents.

Standing before him, Lloyd clenched his jaw and grabbed his comm. “Send the reaper drone,” he commanded.

“No,” came the reply.

Lloyd's eyes narrowed. “No?”

‘BANG!’

A bullet whizzed past, forcing Lloyd to duck. “Can you hear that? They're shooting at us!” he barked into the comm.

“I did. I saw everything.”

“Then send the fucking drone!” Lloyd demanded, his voice rising in desperation.

“No. The air force won’t let us borrow the drone again since you destroyed it last time,” the voice replied coolly.

Lloyd rolled his eyes, frustration boiling over.

‘BANG!’

He ducked again, muttering a curse. “I'm dying here. If you don't want to use the drone, then what's the alternative?”

“I already sent one,” the voice replied.

“What?! A miracle?” Lloyd's voice dripped with sarcasm and desperation.

“1,” the voice started to count.

“What are you doing?” Lloyd snapped, glancing around nervously.

“2,” the voice continued.

“What does that even mean?” Lloyd demanded, his grip tightening on his weapon.

“3.”

“BOOM!”

In an instant, a missile landed, obliterating their opponents. The shockwave knocked Lloyd off his feet. He wiped the dirt from his eyes, coughing.

“Can you tell me beforehand?” he shouted into the comm, exasperated.

“I did, but no one replied,” the voice said, a hint of amusement in the tone.

Lloyd took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. “I'm sorry. If you were here, you’d understand that no one could answer you because we were trying to hide from everyone shooting at us!”

“I'm sorry,” the voice replied, more sincerely this time.

“Fine. At least you made a good decision. Just don’t let it happen again,” Lloyd growled.

“Now send an aircraft to pick us up,” he ordered.

“It’s already on the way,” the voice replied.

“Good,” Lloyd muttered before turning off his ear comm. He sighed heavily, feeling more exhausted from the conversation than the fight.

Compared to Lloyd’s precarious situation, the person on the other end was in a much safer location.

“He’s a little bit angry, but at least we avoided any casualties,” one of the IT team members said, glancing up from their console.

“That’s what I aim for. Less paperwork too,” you replied, a hint of satisfaction in your voice.

You took off your ear comm and set it down on the table. “And we can get more bonuses.”

“Yes,” everyone nodded in agreement. Working at Hansen Security was stressful and dangerous, but the high salary made it worthwhile, especially with you.

Since you became the damage control advisor, the job has become less stressful because the team could depend on you to handle Lloyd’s wrath. Your nickname, "Raven," truly lived up to its reputation.

You used to work in the CIA, but even the corrupt officers there found you too irritating. So, they sent you to the most annoying person they could think of—Lloyd Hansen.

Even Lloyd couldn't stand you. Since you arrived, he found himself unable to do whatever he wanted. He used to revel in his freedom, operating without constraints. Now, there were rules and regulations, and you enforced them rigorously.

Lloyd frowned as he recalled the changes you'd implemented: no more casualties, no more shooting innocent civilians, no more reckless actions. He scoffed, shaking his head. He used to thrive in chaos, but you had stopped that.

Since you came on board, Lloyd has noticed that the calls from Carmichael or Susan have stopped. He used to hear, “Lloyd, keep it down,” or “Lloyd, what are you doing?” almost daily. Now, there was silence on that front.

He grimaced, remembering how he'd been forced to adjust his tactics. He clenched his fists, feeling the constraints you'd placed on him. He couldn't stand the way you had imposed order on his operations.

You, meanwhile, were fully aware of Lloyd’s resentment. As you leaned back in your chair, you glanced at the team, seeing the relief in their eyes. They appreciated the structure and safety you brought, even if Lloyd didn’t.

💉💉💉💉

Lloyd arrived back at the mansion, dragging his feet because of the wound. “Shit. I need a medic,” he groaned.

“They’re taking care of the others who really need it,” you replied, your tone matter-of-fact.

Lloyd fell silent, realizing that it was only you to help. You were already standing there, holding a medic kit. “Don’t scare me like that,” Lloyd holding his chest.

“You? Impossible,” you scoffed as you cut his pants with scissors to address his wound.

“Geez, you reject going on a date with me but are eager to rip my pants,” Lloyd quipped, wincing as you applied antiseptic.

“Well, if we can’t be lovers, at least we’re good partners in crime,” you shot back.

Lloyd smirked, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “How do I look? Do I look handsome?” he asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

You raised your eyebrows, used to his random questions. “You have a muscular body and a good-looking face. You’re good in every outfit.”

Lloyd fell silent for a moment, then leaned closer to you, his expression serious. “Don’t say those kinds of words to anyone else—man, woman, I don’t care. Just me. Alright?”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, whatever you say, Lloyd.”

Despite the banter, there was a palpable tension between you two. It was clear you both hated and cared for each other at the same time.

As you finished bandaging his wound, Lloyd watched you with a mix of irritation and appreciation. “You’re good at this,” he muttered.

“Better than bleeding out,” you replied, standing up and packing the kit.

The others nearby were already used to your dynamic. They exchanged knowing glances but didn’t interfere. This was just another day at Hansen Security—filled with banter and tension, but always under control.

“Try not to get shot next time,” you said, turning to leave.

“Try not to worry about me so much,” Lloyd said, smirking.

🍸🍸🍸🍸

After an exhausting day, you always head to the bar to ease your stress. Swirling the ice cubes in your whiskey, you find a small semblance of relaxation in the motion.

Working in damage control with Hansen Security is stressful and demanding, and you often wonder what would have happened if you had never accepted the job.

“Are you really that stressed?”

You’re startled by the familiar voice and look up to see Susan standing beside you.

“Today I just stopped an unnecessary war. If you think that's not stressful, sure,” you reply, your tone dripping with sarcasm as you take a sip of your drink.

Susan makes an ‘ooh’ sound, clearly impressed with your ability to tame Lloyd. She pulls up a stool and sits next to you, her eyes studying your face.

“Perhaps I can help ease your burden,” she says, her voice softening.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Hmm?”

“Our boss wants to hire you to work at headquarters. He likes the way you limit the damage Lloyd makes,” Susan explains, her eyes shining with excitement.

“Really?!” you exclaim, a wave of relief washing over you. “When can I go there?”

“Anytime you want,” Susan replies with a smile.

Without hesitation, you down the rest of your whiskey and stand up, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. You grab your jacket, a newfound energy propelling you forward.

💥💥💥💥💥

Lloyd had just come back, and the atmosphere inside the mansion felt different. Had someone been here? He was sure of it. “Susan, what the heck are you doing here?” he demanded, storming into the room.

“I’m the new damage control advisor,” Susan replied calmly, standing her ground.

“Oh, hell no. Where is she?” Lloyd’s voice was sharp, almost frantic.

Susan’s expression remained neutral. “She’s working with the boss now.”

“Without my permission?!” Lloyd’s voice rose, his anger palpable.

Susan was taken aback. She hadn’t expected him to be this furious. She shrugged her shoulders, trying to stay composed. “Don’t blame me. It was the higher-ups who wanted her.”

“She also gave her resignation letter,” she informed him.

Lloyd stood there, stunned. You had just left without saying anything? He couldn’t believe it.

That night, Lloyd couldn't sleep. He never thought he would feel so blue after you left. When you first started working with him, you were a nuisance, always blocking every plan he made. He hated you for it.

But as time went by, your presence became indispensable for both the job and him. He liked to tease and flirt with you, even though it was futile since you never broke your cold demeanor.

Now, with Susan replacing you, he knew she was waiting for him to fail. She didn’t care if he made mistakes. She wanted him to be ruined. She didn’t care if the mission succeeded or failed.

Unlike you, who were strict but cared for him, watching out for his safety and the success of the mission.

Lloyd sat on the edge of his bed, staring into the darkness. He realized just how much he had relied on you, not just for your skills but for your unwavering dedication. He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and sadness mixing within him. He missed your stern yet caring presence, and it gnawed at him that he hadn’t appreciated you more when you were there.

Susan might be in your position now, but she could never replace what you brought to the team or him.

🏢🏢🏢🏢🏢

Lloyd stormed through the office, pushing away the secretary and security guards who tried to stop him from entering Monsieur Francis' office room.

“Mr. Hansen. What do I owe the pleasure of this abrupt visit?” Monsieur Francis, the French millionaire and main sponsor of Hansen Security, looked up calmly.

“I want her back,” Lloyd stated firmly.

Monsieur Francis leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. He had always needed Hansen Security to clear his path but despised the chaos and repair bills Lloyd often caused.

“But she likes it here. It's less stressful,” Monsieur Francis replied diplomatically.

Lloyd slammed his fist on the glass table, causing it to crack. “No one can replace her.”

Monsieur Francis raised an eyebrow, maintaining his composure. “There’s nothing I can do. She came here of her own accord, and we welcomed a talented person like her with open arms.”

Lloyd's voice hardened. “Let her go, or I will expose all your misdeeds to the world. Everyone will be shocked to learn that the philanthropist has blood on his hands.”

Monsieur Francis clenched his fist, his knuckles turning white. “Leave. Before I change my mind. This is the last time you disrespect me.”

Gritting his teeth, Lloyd turned and stormed out of the office, leaving Monsieur Francis behind.

Lloyd leaned against the wall in the hallway, his chest heaving with frustration and anger. He ran a hand through his hair, feeling defeated. He knew threatening Monsieur Francis was risky, but he was desperate to bring you back.

🧁🧁🧁🧁🧁

Clueless about what was happening on the top floor, you were in the midst of a meeting with your new team. It felt surprisingly relaxing compared to your time at Hansen Security. The atmosphere was blissful, and you were starting to feel a sense of ease in your new role.

Suddenly, the door burst open, startling everyone in the room. All eyes turned as Lloyd stormed in, his expression furious. You stood up in shock as he grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the building, leaving the room in stunned silence.

“Lloyd, let go,” you demanded, trying to free your hand from his grip.

“If you don’t want me to make a scene here, just be quiet,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his eyes darting around at the onlookers.

“I don’t want to work with you,” you asserted firmly, your voice tinged with frustration.

“Now, I’m gonna stop you right there, cupcake,” Lloyd retorted, a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

“Stop calling me that,” you snapped, remembering the time he had discovered your pajamas with cupcake patterns and found it amusing.

“You don’t belong here. Like it or not, you’re going to stay close to me. Didn’t you say we’re perfect partners in crime?” Lloyd’s voice was insistent, almost pleading.

Damn, this man, you thought, feeling both frustrated and reluctantly intrigued. You couldn't seem to escape him.

Lloyd's jaw was clenched, his eyes searching yours with a mix of determination and vulnerability. He took a step closer, closing the physical gap between you, his presence commanding attention.

“Lloyd, this isn’t—” you started, but he cut you off with a shake of his head.

“Just... stay close,” he implored softly, his voice rough with emotion.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of his words and the intensity of his gaze. Despite your better judgment, there was an undeniable pull towards him—a magnetic force that defied logic and reason.

“I...” you began, uncertain how to respond, your own emotions in turmoil.

Lloyd reached out tentatively, his fingers brushing against yours. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a spark of something unspoken between you.

As you stood there, caught in the charged atmosphere, you realized that resisting Lloyd was futile. Whatever lay ahead, this moment marked a turning point—a shift towards a future where boundaries blurred, and the lines between duty and desire became increasingly intertwined.

Taglist: @thezombieprostitute

Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

#lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x reader #dark!lloyd hansen x you #dark!lloyd hansen x reader #soft!dark lloyd hansen imagine #soft!dark lloyd hansen x reader #soft!dark lloyd hansen x y/n #soft!dark lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen au #lloyd hansen fluff #they grey man au #lloyd hansen imagine #lloyd hansen x you.#Lloyd Hansen Server WC24

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useless-catalanfacts · 9 months ago

Text

Xavier Olivé is the last person renting a flat in a building in the Eixample [neighbourhood of Barcelona, Catalonia], after a Dutch company has bought the whole building. He denounces that the owners have expelled all the neighbours who always lived here and now all the other flats are touristic or luxury apartments.

Despite being saddened by the situation and fearing they might expel him as well, he is decided to resist because he doesn't want to leave.

By Barcelona TV. English subtitles added by me.

Sadly, this is a common story in Barcelona and other cities and towns affected by touristic massification.

We urgently need laws that regulate housing so that locals aren't massively expelled to make room for tourists or second homes for rich foreigners, and to stop vulture funds from buying up huge amounts of property to raise the prices. But right now, as a tourist, the most important thing you can do to stop kicking people out of their homes is easy: NEVER, NEVER STAY AT AN AIRBNB, AN UNCONTROLLED TOURISTIC APARTMENT, OR SIMILAR. Always stay at certified hotels (or, of course, with friends and family if you have them there).

If you rent an apartment that is being marketed to tourists where there's a housing crisis for locals, or an Airbnb anywhere, you're effectively destroying the local community.

#actualitat #barcelona #catalunya #tourism #touristic massification #gentrification #housing #coses de la terra #sustainable tourism #europe #travel #airbnb #eixample #capitalism #housing crisis #late stage capitalism #economics #eat the rich

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princessbrunette · 10 months ago

Note

feel like bunny!reader would get so deep in subspace cause rafe was gone all day that she is BEGGING HIM to put the pink bunny tail plug in and he’s just like 😟😟

౨ৎ🐰 ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

rafe is instantly on edge when he arrives home and hears you sniffling.

he had been handling business all day, going from investor to investor, meeting to meeting. he didn’t like that he had to leave you alone, and not because you missed having eachother around, no — he was a grown man, he could handle that. he didn’t like not being around incase something happened to you. he’d get so paranoid that sometimes he’d even send topper, or someone of the same genre to check on you, make sure everything was okay at tannyhill.

the sound of you sniffling sadly made alarm bells ring in his head, and he set down his briefcase of money and pushed his way into your bedroom— nearly jumping when you ran straight into him in the doorway, manicured nails struggling to keep ahold on his shirt.

“hey, talk. why are you crying?” he pulls you back urgently, needing to get to the nitty gritty of the problem so that he could fix it as fast as possible. if someone had made you cry, he would be out that door in a moments notice.

“couldn’t— couldn’t do it!” you warble, now pressing your wet cheek to his chest for comfort. he peels you away, hands on your shoulders as he frowns.

“do what? i need details here, kid— m’not a mind reader.”

you let out another cry and force yourself to stand back, pointing pathetically towards the bed. on his sheets lays your buttplug, the pink fluffy tail of it a lonesome puff on the large sleeping space with the metal end lubed up, sat alone. “want it in.” when you speak next, your voice rasps brokenly, projecting you no more above a whisper. his shoulders relax as he exhales, the slight panic of seeing you so upset leaving him.

“you know you really scared me, dumbass. get on the bed. on your belly.” he flicks his arm out in a point before pinching at his nose bridge, letting you scramble to lay on your front with your dress flipped up. he lazily drops onto one knee on the mattress, your body bouncing slightly with his weight and he yanks your dress higher. “you couldn’t get it in? that’s the problem?” he lifts the plug, inspecting it before pulling your ass cheek apart, tapping your thigh. “c’mon, open these.” he adds in a murmur and you oblige, still sniffling as you spread your legs on request.

“s’too hard.” you continue to cry, frustrated with your attempts.

“okay, okay. relax, yeah? you—you got me now, daddies here.” you feel the cool plug press to your puckered hole and you squirm with a mewl, not expecting it. “relax, i said.” he presses a spare hand to your lower back and you do, but you cry all the same.

as soon as he pushes it in, you go limp— letting out a sleepy hum as he makes sure it’s in properly. “there. jesus, all that fuss for what, huh?”

you sniff, pushing up shakily onto your hands as you try and help yourself up. “just needed—”

“just needed daddy to get you right, yeah i know. do everything around here, don’t i?” you hear his tone lighten up just a tad, pulling your elbow so you wind up on his chest, head resting beneath his chin. he doesn’t say anything for a bit, just lets your breathing regulate.

“gotta stop scaring me like that, alright? when you cry i—i don’t know what to think.”

“sorry, just can’t think properly when i miss you.” you slur, rubbing your cheek against him as if collecting his warmth.

“mm,” he hums and the rumble is deep against your ear. “thats that fuckin’ bunny brain right there. right?” he taps the side of your head with the back of his knuckle like he’s knocking and you nod. “lucky i do all the thinking for the two of us so shit always works out.”

౨ৎ🐰 ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

#anon #rafe cameron prompt #bunny!reader

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softhued · 9 months ago

Text

Desperation

warnings/tags: nsfw, dark content, dubcon, somnophilia, cunnilingus, panty sniffing, roommate!shigaraki

word count: 2k

You unexpectedly learned what your roommate Shigaraki does late at night; when he snuck into your room under the guise you were asleep, but you were wide awake, staring at the ceiling. Until he came creeping through your door, forcing you to pretend otherwise.

Once the quiet steps ceased, you chanced a peek, watching him rummage through your laundry basket before he grabbed what he was looking for and brought it to his face. He had the crotch of your used underwear pressed to his nose while his other hand palmed at the growing bulge in his pants. Shigaraki ached to relieve the pressure building as he imagined how you would smell straight from the source, failing to catch your shocked gaze on him. You lay stock still, regulating the breaths from your lungs despite the thumping in your chest.

Once he left, you waited a few moments before rushing to lock your door. From that night on, you made sure the lock was in place, and you were glad you did so when you heard the rattling of your doorknob late one night. You made no mention of what happened since you didn't know what to say. So you pretended like nothing was amiss. But you struggled to talk to him or even look at him as that scene replayed in your mind.

The sound of his muffled groans on a loop in your head as his hand dragged up and down his slick cock, making you feel a burst of warmth in your gut. But you brushed it aside and acted as if nothing was wrong.

Until one night, Shigaraki found himself in your room again. The lock on your door did nothing to stop him from getting to you.

He settled between your legs, removing any clothing that posed as a hindrance to what he planned to do to you before spreading your legs, eager to be at the source of his desires. He dove in nose deep and tongue out, lapping at your hole, begging for it to give him more than what he was coaxing from you. His length throbbed against his sweatpants, begging to be free, but he had to taste you. To savor the taste of your arousal seeping into his tastebuds, familiarizing himself with it while he swelled with pride at the fact you were dripping because of him.

His tongue teased every crease of your cunt until you were whining despite being asleep, and he couldn't help but wonder if you were dreaming of him. If you could feel the things he was doing to you in that state, feeling the expanse of his tongue sinking into your pink, fleshy opening before moving to your clit. Loving the way your pearl swelled further at the stimulation. The bud pulsed against his tongue as he sucked and hollowed his mouth around it. His warm, wet mouth suckling your pearl into his mouth and feeling the beat of your heart through your flesh. Which forced a groan from his chest, sending vibrations through your cunt while his mouth slurped your pooling arousal. Beneath him, your body quivered, writhing under his touch as you stirred.

He didn't remove his mouth or slow down as he peered at you, almost waking you, but he didn’t care. He wanted you to know he was the one making you feel good. That he had your cunt throbbing and quivering against his mouth despite your objections. Most of all, he wanted to stay there forever. To keep his mouth sealed around you as you dripped into his mouth like a leaking faucet. And he wanted more, needed more.

He felt his mouth becoming more urgent and incessant against your slick core. His throbbing cock and hunger fueled his actions, and he attempted to swallow you whole. To latch his entire mouth onto your cunt so there was no telling where he ends and you begin.

Shigaraki grew needier by the second. The scent of your arousal acted as an aphrodisiac, hindering the rational part of his brain as he feasted upon you. The backs of your legs sat in the crook of his arms while his fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you closer to his opened mouth. He could feel the flutter of your walls around his tongue, urging him on, and he wanted nothing more than to taste the sweet gush of your release.

Shigaraki pulled his tongue from you, leaning over your cunt as he lolled his tongue out. His saliva collected at the tip of his tongue before it dripped onto your drenched cunt. He moved back in, swallowing down the mix of your arousal and his spit, wishing you were awake so he could give you a taste of your combined fluids.

Then he heard your once quiet breathy gasps become louder mewls and whines. Your stomach clenching and furling in response to the sensations crashing over you. You were on the brink of waking up, and he had no intentions of stopping. Not now. Not ever. If anything, he increased the urgency and force behind his movements. Desperately mouthing at your cunt, trying to show forth the intensity of his desire. Hoping his actions translated his feelings as he swallowed every drop you had to offer.

Your eyes fluttered open while sleep fought to pull you back under, but you pried your eyes open against the heaviness, shaking off the last bits of drowsiness that lingered. Your blurred vision cleared to show the scene before you. Your shirt was pushed to your chest, resting above your breasts and showcasing your stiff nipples. Then you saw a crimson gaze, practically glowing in your dim room, staring back at you as if they were waiting to catch your attention.

"What the fuck?” Your groggy mind supplied at the sight greeting you.

Shigaraki's lips were wrapped around your clit as he gave a gentle suck that had your stomach shuddering. You moved to push his head away, but he was faster than you, anticipating any resistance so he could snuff it out as he pinned your hand by your side. You tugged against his hold, wondering how he was effortlessly multitasking as his hold didn't falter, much less his mouth. He continued to kiss and mouth at your slick lips, echoing the sounds of his tongue lapping up your arousal.

Despite knowing it was futile, you had to try again. Your free hand settled into his soft, pale hair to pull his head back. But your touch spurred him on, provoking him. The gentle sucking on your swollen clit turned into harsh suctioning. Which had your knees knocking above his head, but he didn't stop. He made sure he had enough space to access you, pulling you even closer as your body twisted within his grip.

“Fuck you taste even better than I imagined,” he said, taking a moment to breathe before resuming his mission. He didn’t even feel the need to pin the hand still in his hair.

There was nothing you could do to remove him from your body, and he made it known as his efforts increased tenfold. He even released your hand, opting to hold your hips instead as your fidgeting grew and the tugging became more incessant. Mewls were the only sounds escaping you as your chest rose and fell in quick breaths as you lay beneath him. Shuddering as you reacted to every pillowy kiss and the stroke of his tongue.

"Why?" You panted, poorly concealed arousal evident in your voice.

He licked and sucked your cunt, triggering more arousal to coat his tongue before he shifted his head to nibble at the crease of your thigh. Not missing the way your breath hitched at the sudden change before he looked at you, finally acknowledging that you had spoken.

"I needed you so badly," he practically whined and your walls tightened around nothing. As if sensing your emptiness, he pressed two fingers inside you, twisting and rubbing that ridged spot to replace the removal of his mouth, and your legs threatened to close. "You smell so good, and I just had to taste you and feel you around my tongue."

That night returned to your mind. Shigaraki in your room with your underwear pressed to his nose while he tugged his aching length, holding back moans to not wake you even though you were well aware, only pretending to be asleep.

Not caring that you didn't reply, Shigaraki removed his fingers and went back to your cunt, "I want to feel you cum."

His mouth resumed its rhythm, feasting on you like you were about to disappear. The flat of his tongue licked your hole, drinking in the steadily pooling arousal before he pushed his tongue in. His tongue reached as far as it could go before wriggling inside you, lapping at your walls until they tightened in response.

Perspiration settled on your chest, and you wondered just how long Shigaraki had been between your legs as your body grew hotter. The aching throb between your thighs gradually worsened, but he wasn’t letting up.

He would stay buried between your legs forever if he could. Like a flip had switched, the hand in his hair went from yanking to simply gripping the shafts of hair for purchase. He couldn't help the pleasure that filled him once he noticed your tugging ceased, and your body went limp within his hold.

Despite yourself, you rolled your hips into his mouth, feeding him more of what he desperately craved as your eyes rolled back. He matched your pace, moving closer to let you grind against his mouth as your hand tugged at his hair again to bring him closer.

"Oh my god. Please just make me cum.” You begged, gyrating against his face due to the endless torment. You were drenched and throbbing against his mouth, and you wanted to release the built-up tension swelling inside you.

“What do you want”

“I want to cum.” You begged, “so badly. I can’t take it anymore.”

The tears welling in your eyes supported your confession as you pleaded for more. Your back arched, raising your chest, and he used that opportunity to brush the pads of his fingers against your brown nipples, stroking the buds back and forth. His fingers played with your pebbled flesh while his mouth slacked against your lips.

"Ride my face."

He stared at you, waiting to see if you would respond. He wanted nothing more than to have you sitting on his face, and you had no reservations about his command as you pushed him down. Matching his heated stare before settling onto his face with your thighs encasing his head. You looked down at the expectant look he wore as Shigaraki controlled himself and made no move to drag you closer.

It was all on you.

Shigaraki opened his mouth in preparation, and that was all you needed. You aligned your cunt with his gaping mouth, brushing your hips towards his face, and nearly keeled over when his tongue brushed your needy clit. You leaned forward to brace yourself, allowing your desire to fuel your actions as you ground against his mouth, letting him taste your fueling lust.

You couldn't stop the whines that welled in your throat and spilled out as his tongue grazed your clit again and again. Your hips had a mind of their own as they moved in closer to gain more friction, and Shigaraki responded, following your lead so you could get what you wanted.

Then his hands wrapped around your thighs, holding you to his mouth as he suctioned your entire cunt. Tremors ran through your body, and you couldn't stop his name from falling from your lips.

"Shigaraki, please," you begged mindlessly, grinding into his frantic tongue. The only thought you had was to cum, and you were so close to the edge. Answering your plea Shigaraki focused on your clit, feeling it throb and pulse with need against his wet, messy tongue. His tongue lapped at your clenching hole as you leaked pathetically, swallowing the taste of your desire as it filled his mouth before returning to your clit. Your walls clenched in anticipation, preparing to release everything you had to offer into his awaiting mouth.

His mouth suctioned your clit, suckling as it swelled further, and he could practically hear your pulse. Above him, you stilled before tremors overtook you, making your gut twist and your walls spasm in pulses. Whimpers sounded from you as Shigaraki held on, keeping your cunt in his mouth as he swallowed every drop from the gush you released.

He didn't pull away until your body went limp. Then he sat up, moving you to his lap where you felt his throbbing cock pressed against you. You could see your arousal coating his mouth, and he looked so content and satisfied as if he orgasmed.

"You taste so good," he repeated before pulling you in. His lips connected to yours, and your combined taste melted in your mouth as you swallowed around his tongue.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki smut #mha smut #tw dark content #tw dubcon #tw somnophilia #black reader

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sweetwolfcupcake · 15 days ago

Text

Swords in the Court: Drums of War

Secret Garden

Yandere Don John x Reader

Word count: 7k+

Part 1

Warning: Violence, description of sexual assault, violence against women, the implication of violence against children, threats of violence, implication of sex and sexual activities

Note: This story is set in a fictionalised historical setting. Though there are clear inspirations drawn from the real world and history, this tale in no way tries to explain, change or state any historical, political, communal, geographical or religious 'facts'. Kindly treat this short-series as it is, a fiction

Unedited and poor attempt at medieval-world description

The knock on your door is heavy and urgent. You sit up on the bed and look around your room, it is plunged into the darkness that comes with a moonless night. Exhaling, you feel around the bedside for a candle, most of them are burnt out. With no choice, you wrap a robe around yourself and climb out of bed.

“Who’s it?”

“It’s me!” comes the muffled but familiar voice from the other side of the door

With rushed movements, you unlock the door and sigh in relief at the sight of Madeline with a lit-up candlestand.

“I received a message from the south. You need to go to the Queen with this?”

“What?”

“My cousin lives there, two nights ago, they saw ships landing there. Through the bay, they came, in the middle of the night. The Queen’s cousin has laid claim to the throne, he has the support of the enemies.”

“Wh–What?. Two nights ago, does the King know of it?” You ask her, ready to rush to the Queen.

“If they have attacked any of the provinces, or plundered any village, hopefully, yes.”

“Do you think the Spanish will help?” You ask Madeline, grasping her hand.

“If the Prince has made up his mind... They have brought some soldiers.”

“I must let the Queen know before she hears it from someone else.”

You put on something decent in a rush and take the candle stand from Madeline

------

“Go back to your room, and do not let anyone know. Go now,”

Once you have made sure that Madeline has slipped away safely, you make your way to the Queen’s chamber. And of course, the royal guards are on your way.

“Please inform her, I must see her.”

“The Queen is resting, woman. You cannot barge into Her Highness’ chambers!” The knight hisses.

“This is an utmost delicate matter that I ought to bring to her attention, I must meet her—”

“Listen here.” He seizes your arm with a bruising force “Lowborns like you may have won the Queen’s favour, but you must never forget your place, or you shall lose your head!”

You glare at him, hissing with an edge in your voice, growing restless with each delayed moment “I shall lose my head, anyway, Ser, if I do not get to see the Queen right now!”

“Listen you Blacksmith cunt!” the spray of spit on your face makes you cringe, and the ‘Knight’ mistakes it for fear and grabs you by the hair “Perhaps you forget—”

“Is this how all the Royal Knights treat ladies here or are you an exception Ser?” Ser Lorres unhands you quicker than you can gain your balance.

A witness to the mistreatment of any of the Ladies-in-Waiting for the Queen is not good for Ser Lorres, or any royal knight for that matter. You staggerer back, trying to regulate your breathing and keep your simmering rage under reins when you bump against a solid torso.

“Lo-Lord Juan! Uh–Duke—”

“Don't bother. I believe the Queen would not be pleased to hear how you treat her Lady-in-Waiting.”

Lord John makes a dismissive gesture while Lorres is already on his knees, the metal of his armour clanking unceremoniously against the floor. He is warm, you notice, and there is the district fragrance of spice mingled with the tinge of wine.

“Are you hurt, my Lady?”

It is bad news, he had most definitely heard you plead to see the Queen and a man of his stature must not have missed it.

“I am, I thank you for your kindness, My Lord.”

You step away and turn to him, but you are close enough to notice he is tall, slightly taller than his brother perhaps, it is not for the plain sight until one has the kite’s eyes. For a moment, you think of coming up with an excuse, but you have no time, you instead, seize the opportunity in hand and turn to Lorres, still on his knee.

“May I have an audience with the Queen, Ser Lorres?”

—---

“The bay, you said?” The Queen’s chamber is well-lit, while she pours herself some wine

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“My cousin has no real claim to the throne. His House has been exiled!”

“He has laid claim regardless, Your Grace. He has the Kingdom's rival supporting the claim.”

“Of course he has. The French would want a puppet of a King and perhaps some disgruntled Barons and Earls are ready to take up arms as well?”

“W-will we have a war then? Is it inevitable?”

“Not if the Crown Prince weds the Princess. As soon as possible.” She sighs, emptying her glass with a swig.

“What does Spain have to gain from this alliance?” You ask, feeling the trepidation.

“We share a common enemy, with the Kingdom’s port at its service, the Spanish ships shall have the upper hand if conflict breaks out, and an eye on the continent.” She explains

“But is it enough to marry our Princess? He is the Crown Prince of an Empire.”

“Power is earned, child, your birthright can take you only so far. Do you think, with Don Juan in the picture, his crown is safe? He needs an heir. My daughter is young and beautiful, and I have many children, she is my first-born.”

You frown at that, remembering Maddy’s words “But, did he not pledge his loyalty to the Empire the day he was publicly accepted in the court?”

The Queen scoffs, “Loyalty to the Empire? There is no loyalty in a court, Girl. They want nothing but power. Don Juan has risen up from nothing. Ostracised since childhood, he has faced many attempted assassinations for a reason. He is feared, for a reason. And here he stands, on the verge of Dukedom. Do you think the Spanish Crown sleeps on that? They need him, Spain knows that war is imminent, they need men like Juan.”

“So, he is a foe, then? " You ask. The answer, though, is quite.

“He is a threat until the Princess marries the Crown Prince and gives him an heir.”

“We need the Spanish, right now.”

“Yes.” She pauses to take a moment and turns towards you “Yes, we do. The threat of war looms nearer than a bastard’s possible claim on the Spanish throne. If they block the main route of supplies, people are going to starve here.”

“What shall be done then?”

“My cousin knows the routes, his father was the Earl of Esterwood for ages, and he will make this move. Fetch me my writing supplies, we must write to our friends. The Spanish came for a wedding, not war.”

“They brought some ships, as gifts.”

“The King shall be dealing with the Emperor, right now, we need the enemies surrounded in our land. I need to write to the East and the North, the West is closer but we have many sympathisers for my cousin’s House. The Duke of Reinckalf is our closest ally right now. And if we have the blessings, we would not need ships at all."

You nod and get to work.

—--

It is almost bewildering how a single night has changed the air around the palace. Once beaming with lights and chimes of wedding echoing, the palace is now preparing for a possible war, which can be avoided, if the Spanish agrees to send help. You have no clue though, neither the Prince nor his bastard brother has been seen since the break of dawn, you have slept a wink preparation for a battle is in full swing.

Hope flares in you, when you are sent by the Queen to serve refreshments to the men discussing battle plans. In her absence, you are her ears and eyes.

“The Emperor has been sent a letter. I have written personally to him.” The Spanish Prince sits in front of the King.

“I do not believe we have time to wait, now, My Prince.” Lord Juan speaks up. “The vessels landed on the shore two nights ago, this morning, a soldier has reported three villages plundered. They have the supplies, which tells us that they are preparing for a long conflict. He has the French support, through him, the French are going to test the King’s defences. It’s a gamble, especially after the news of the upcoming wedding is spreading like wildfire.”

“But the Prince’s life is not cheap, brother.” One of the princes speaks up with a sharpened tone.

“Of course, it isn’t. That is why I shall take the charge and lead the arms.”

“I appreciate your bravery, Juan but you cannot act without the permission of the Emperor.”

Don John looks into the Prince’s eyes, a distinct gleam under the light makes it seem like there is a slow-burning fire within dark orbs.

“I shall ride as a man of my own doings. I shall carry no Spanish banner under the sun, not until the Emperor sends a nod.”

The Crown Prince whispers something in Spanish with an edge in his voice, but Don John remains undeterred. He replies, betraying nothing of what might be unleashing in his mind.

In this delicate moment, you wish you had learnt Spanish, but you were so tired of keeping up with the mannerisms that had to be taught to you from scratch ‘a lot of work’ you appointed governess had complained to the Queen. You always had your own ways, thankfully, the Queen liked that, and she still does.

At last, the Crown Prince sighs and Don John turns to the King

“I shall be joining with my men and leading this battle along with your sons. I shall carry no Spanish banner. But I assure you of Spain’s support to your Kingdom, this is merely what traditions demand.”

“We shall forever be grateful, My Lord.”

“Please, Don John would do. Besides, my brother is to wed the Princess. Let us send a message, without murking up the diplomacy, we can do it, can we not?” He turns to the Crown Prince, who nods, despite the flicker of hesitance in his eyes.

The wedding is bound to happen, right?

For a brief moment, Don John’s eyes meet yours across the room, but the dark orbs are gone as swiftly as they caught your gaze, now moving towards the King as they engage in battle strategy.

“They should have come from the South, it was closer.” One of the men in the room comments.

“Yes, but the East has many who still harbour sympathy for his house.” the King responds.

“Tell me everything, my Lord. I must know the battlefield I am going into.” Don Juan urges.

—--

Your time in the chamber has been tedious but fruitful. You have all the right pieces of information for the Queen. As you bring her tea to her chamber, you provide the pieces that you have collected.

“I do not understand why he would want to lead the army to a battle that is not even his.”

“Should we worry, Your Grace?” You ask, frowning.

The Queen sighs, thinking “I need you to get to the Healer’s place and give him this letter. I need to know everything about the King’s court. And what do the masses think of this if they even know that the villages have been plundered? Are there any secret recruitments underway? This can decide much of the war, Girl. Visit the town’s brothel under disguise, if Katherine knows anything, she shall let you know—any new face, any discourse of concern. I need to know.”

“Is that how wars are won, My Queen?” You cannot help but ask.

She looks at you and ushers you closer, once closer, she stares into your eyes, her piercing stare sees you right through the deepest, darkest parts of your soul and reflects that in her orbs.

“I see the fire in you, Girl. One day you are going to be much more relevant. I know you want that. So here is a piece of advice I will give. This is exactly how wars are won. Knowledge is power. Men who go to the battlefield depending on their swords are fools. Battles are won with strategies, not swords.”

You can only nod.

—----

The brothel is bustling with soldiers, merchants and nobles—drinking, laughing, and gambling with half-naked women on their laps. With a dark hood protecting your identity and your hair braided tight you move past the roaring tables.

“Katherine of Waileswere.” You ask a barmaid who gestures towards the shut door.

Evading the drunk patrons, you walk towards the door, taking the shadows to be as discreet as possible. You knock on the door, but another girl answers the door instead of Katherine. The translucent cloth over her torse does little to cover her, but she does not seem concerned.

“Is Katherine of Wailswere inside?” You ask her, the fluttering curtains hinder your view. However, the faint whispers along with giggling give you the answer.

“She’s occupied at the moment.”

“This is urgent. I need to see her.”

“But the patron is a noble…” You do not care, walking right in.

“Noble from the court?” the girl opens her mouth the answer but you add anyway “Does not matter, I shall wait.”

You will never admit but you regret the moment you say it because the moans and gasps of pleasure along with a peal of hushed, honeyed but deep laughter fill the room. The opaque curtains keep the section of the room hidden but only in sight. You cannot help the heat that warms your cheeks.

The girl chuckles at you “As you wish, My Lady” she shrugs and walks into a quieter section in the chamber.

For a fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of a lean but athletic torso and a supple, feminine thigh against the deep red walls through the opaque curtains. You frown, but make no movement to come out of the shadows or take your hood off. Even though you are curious, you know better than to get caught here.

As a Lady-in-Waiting for the Queen, you have certain decorum to maintain, especially when you aspire to be a part of the court someday.

People will laugh at you if they come to know that. But you do not care. You have dared to dream and here you are, having the Queen’s favour. Your ambitions are beyond that, they always have been.

Lost in musings, you never notice Katherine walking out. She notices you before you realise.

“Do we have a guest here?”

Her alluring voice matches with her tantalising and enchanting aura. You understand why men go mad over a night for her—lovers, husbands, nobles, merchants—anyone who can pay the hefty prize that comes with the moments of molten gold over her golden skin, and yet it is she who shall be called the whore, no those men. It’s a good thing that she works for the Queen, she is an excellent source of information and gossip.

“Katherine, I….” Your gaze shifts behind her as the man she has been with saunters out, and you realise you have been too quick to remove your hood.

His glistening body is something that pulls at the gaze. It is tanned to a beautiful bronze, radiant under the daylight filtering inside. He is lean but the hard lines of muscles give away his experience on the battlefield, along with the deep scars. One, in particular, stands out, mapping almost the whole of his stomach in a straight, deep-hued line—healed but not vanished. You wonder what awful things he has stood witness to before your eyes meet his, and you can tell, many.

Recognition flashes in those deep pools that you fear, can cage your soul before he raises a questioning eyebrow, brushing his tousled hair back with his fingers.

“My, my, what do we have here? A lady from the Queen’s chamber?”

You gulp, trying to gather your bearings, well aware of the possibly grave mistake you have made by exposing yourself to the gaze of a man whose intentions are still unclear.

“I-I have come with an invitation from the court for the evening’s events.” You hate the stutter that accompanies your lie and you’re afraid that a man like John sees right through you.

“And they send the Queen’s Lady-in-Waiting? No soldier? This can be a dangerous place for a lady.”

His words confirm your fear.

“Katherine is well-acquainted with the court. This place is not for everyone.” You counter.

Lord John’s head tilts with a scoff and you cannot help but admire the way his hair, otherwise always set to perfection has turned damp with a few strands falling alluringly on his forehead.

“Every man is a monster when given the opportunity.” He says, fastening his pants and your gaze drops to the corner. You can practically feel his gaze on you.

To distract yourself, you turn to Katherine “From the…court.” You offer her the letter from the Queen, she understands and only nods.

Suddenly, the door opens and a girl rushes in “The knights are here, they say they want to have a word with Katherine.”

The urgency in her voice makes your blood run cold. You do not even realise it but your gaze gravitates towards Lord John, who easily reads the panic flushing through you by your eyes. You almost expect him to mock you—your lie has been exposed, after all. But instead, he quickly advances and pulls you towards the room.

“What are you—-”

“Here, you can escape through the window, quick!”

His voice is hushed and urgent as he pushes you towards the low window—it is the ground floor, you do not even have to jump. Despite the questions running through your mind, you comply, quickly making an escape, just as you hear the room’s door burst open.

You know you should leave, but you cannot bring yourself to. Instead, you put on the hood once more and wait behind a building. What feels like hours later, you watch the knights march past you angrily as you hide in the shadows.

They seem to have not been able to get what they want. You frown but as soon as you turn to find your way out of the place, you come face to face with the familiar tanned chest peeking behind the linen cloth.

“Just as I thought,” he comments as you look up and realise how tall he is. Towering over you with his amused but watchful gaze “Lady, if anyone sees you here, you will be in grave trouble.”

“I was worried.”

“About me?”

“About Katherine.” You narrow your eyes, although while you say that, you realise that it might not be entirely true.

“Uh-huh? She is safe, they won’t dare challenge me, I must admit though, I expected the knights here to be braver.”

“They would not challenge a royal guest.” You begin to walk ahead, but he catches up with you.

“And I thought she received an invitation from the court itself.” The mockery is clear in his voice and the sharpness makes your cheeks heat up slightly, you have nothing to say “Do not sweat though, you little secret shall remain with me.”

You glare at him “I do not understand… what do you want? You have no reason to fight yet you volunteered and now you helped me escape and saved Katherine.”

“What if I have a good heart?” His dark eyes gleam with the kind of sharp cynicism that lets you know that none of his words is true.

“Everything has a price.”

You recall one of the most valuable pieces of advice the Queen has given you “So, what possibly could you want, Lord John?”

For a moment, you brace yourself for a biting retort with the way his face hardens but he catches you off guard once more with his response-

“Everything.”

—-----

You know that you should tell the Queen about your little encounter, and what Don John said. But you cannot bring yourself to. When you let the Queen know of what happened at Katherine’s Merriment House, you cut out the conversation with Don John, after your narrow escape from the Knights. Of course, Ser Lorres was the one heading— even though he is to serve the Queen.

“I gave him no orders, the King gave the orders?”

“It is apparently in his name, yes. However, Your Grace, forgive me, for asking why would he?”

“Then one of his trusted advisors did. I have received some news regarding Earl of Walden’s increased participation.”

“Lord Beecham?”

“Why would he whore away his daughter then?” She asks sharply and you nod

“The King…So much burden to hold but all the wrong people to share it with. Listen here, child, can I trust you?”

“Yes, yes, My Queen, I serve you, and you alone.” You mean it, if not for her, you do not even want to imagine where you would have ended up.

“I cannot wait for a response from Katherine. You must ride away to Reinckalf immediately. Carry a letter of recognition and they will let you have an audience with the Duke. Hand my letter to no one but the Duke. I do not trust the Council and I want him to know that. Do you understand how important it is?”

You nod as she hands you over the letters.

“Guard it with your life, Girl.”

“I will.” You promise, clutching them tightly between your fingers.

—--

All his life, John has been called ‘Juan’ except for his mother who called him John with a tenderness he has never found again. What he found in the palace, was humiliation, betrayal and the twisted ways of the Empire’s palace. The Emperor did not acknowledge him as his bastard son then. But it was an open secret.

All his life, John has been ostracised—he has known shame, humiliation, he is a ‘disgrace’, a ‘mistake’ and his mother was a ‘whore’.

The mother who did everything to keep him fed and clothed. The mother who taught him to never bend his knee to this twisted world. The mother whom the Emperor used as he pleased and then cast her away. She was not from his land but worked in the palace—chambermaid of no social standing.

He wonders, often, how she managed to give birth to him, how she managed to live so long. It is a miracle, that he lived, right in the snakes’ nest, he lived. Maybe he was sent to a battle at the age of twelve for the very reason. But he lived then, and in every other battle he was a part of. One of the commanders even took him in as a squire, and he learnt the best ways to handle weapons—it was a privilege, he was not supposed to be as good as any prince, or noble and they never let him forget that.

After his mother passed away, he left the palace, to travel, but deep down, he knew he simply wished to be as far as possible from the twisted place.

He thought he could escape—-his reality, his truth, the burden he carried since his birth, the burden he played no role in. John has been to places, to courts—travelling, serving as a sellsword all those years, meeting and knowing many, befriending a few, but trusting none.

John has been shaped into the man he is today, through his experience, but most of it has been a long, unending dance with death. At times, he wanted someone to succeed in pitting a sword through his stubbornly beating heart, slice an artery and make him bleed till his heart ceased to beat. But alas! The bastard John lived on, grew better, quicker, cleverer.

But one day, he woke up, looked at the beautiful woman in his arms, some fellow soldiers lying around, naked, clothed, drunk, snoring after a decisive victory, and decided that he wanted to live after all. Death would come anyway, it was so certain. Life, so far, had been full of surprises—tumultuous, stern, exacting and thrilling surprises.

By then, he was twenty and seven, he decided to return to Spain. He had acquired some recognition after these years, and the then commander was willing to take him into the Empire’s army.

The interesting thing about the arms is that despite the bias towards nobles, it provides opportunities, even to bastards like him, to rise. He led battles, he aided in military treaties, and strategies and two summers later, he was leading the men in battles. The Empire needed men like him, John knew that, and he had learnt the game.

John wanted to live, but not as a disgrace. He wanted to rise to honour—that was all he had dreamt of, and being officially recognised by the Emperor as he stood at the cusp of thirty and two, was the closest to what he aspired to be. But John has always been ambitious, for all he has suffered, right under his father’s nose, he wanted more than just recognition and military leadership. He continued to strengthen his position in the court. From Juan, the bastard, he became, Don Juan,

When the Crown Prince’s marriage was fixed as a strategic alliance with a Kingdom a good sail away, he decided to join the men who would reach there first, in disguise to ensure that the wind was indeed in the Empire’s favour. To him, it was nothing more than responsibility, another step on the ladder. And it had been so until he wandered into the unassuming woods to bask in solitude and clear his head.

Until he wandered near a creek, for his beloved stallion to quench its thirst, and there, he saw you—floating so carelessly through the streams, while two of your friends chatted a distance away. He wanted to be closer, but he stepped back, hiding behind the thicket, so he could watch you, and the way hair moved along, the manner you swam on your back, eyes closed under the tender autumn sun. John’s heart had been beating in a stubborn, steady rhythm for a while, but after a long time, he felt his heart pick its pace.

He thought he might never see you again, but there you were, in the Grand Feast, and he had the most striking gaze fixed on him—not out of malice, or the arrogance he had expected, but with pure curiosity—and this time, his heart skipped a beat.

And you have been on his mind, as much as he frowns upon it, this is an undeniable truth that thrums with every beat of his heart. For now, he is aware that the Queen puts her trust in you–-the letter meant for Katherine in his hold tells him so.

—---------

“Deus adiuvet in proelio”

John bowed his head, letting the Bishop bless him and his sword before handing the naked steel back to him.

—--

The world around you is a blur as your trusted horse rides through the forest. The cold gusts whip against you, like inhaling ice as the night rolls on, but you cannot stop to rest, you must reach Reinckalf before it is too late.

—-

“We ought to safeguard the route for supplies first, lest they capture the main route the capital shall perish. Have you sent the message to the provinces?” John enquires as he reaches his stallion—a black beauty, almost invisible in the dark.

“Yes, My Lord, their soldiers are on their way, some from the nearest provinces have joined us tonight.”

John nods.

“We must ride through the night.” He states before getting on his horse “Come on, boy.” He whispers to his trusted companion before tightening his hold on the reins.

As if his eyes developed a will of their own, his eyes turn towards the nearest tower, where some court ladies stand, most of them, to bid their loved ones a good fortune. A part of him hopes to see you among them. But he returns his gaze to the road ahead with a tinge of disappointment before squeezing his legs as his horse begins moving, followed by the rest of the men.

—--

The room is quiet, except for the crackling of the fireplace and the rustle of the Duke’s clothes as his eyes take in the contents of the letters the Queen has sent you all the way to this place. You have ridden through the night and dawn, finally reaching the gates of the Reinckalf.

As soon as he raises, you follow.

“My men shall meet the King’s army eastward. The maids shall lead you to a chamber, you are free to ride back to the capital, My lady. A battleground is no place for a Lady.”

“Yes, my Lord, I know so. But I have vowed to return to the Queen only with a pleasant word.” You bow before meeting his eyes.

The Duke stands as if studying you briefly before nodding “As you wish.”

—-------

“The Eastern Provinces may sympathise with the fallen King, and since George, the Queen’s cousin, is the only male heir, they may refrain from sending their men to fight against him, at best.” The Earl of Easterwood states as he stands with John in his chamber. “If forces are joining, Esterwood castle walls can hold them for only so long. But since the army has arrived from the capital, we are relieved.”

“John eyes the layout along the table-sized map.”

“How many of the barons fought with the previous King?”

“The previous earl was armed by more than a handful of them before they reluctantly surrendered.”

“And how many men do they have right now?”

“I’m afraid, we have no exact numbers, My Lord.”

John’s gaze is sharp as he glances up, but he says nothing and returns his focus to the map. “How many days will it take for the Northerners to reach?”

“If they are fast as they claim, two more days, My Lord.”

“But we have less time if George is marching forward.”

“They say the French have provided them with some of their best troops, two sakers.”

John sighs “I see. Prepare your men, put them on guard for the castle.”

“At your command Lord Juan,” the Earl bows as John walks past him.

—-----

“I believe that you are well-acquainted with the histories of this land?” The Duke asks as you ride beside him, two bannermen trotting ahead on their horses while his troops ride behind you two.

“I have, as a lady must, my lord.”

“Then you must have noticed that tis a cycle, my lady. A King is crowned, then comes another, and another, cities burn, villages are plundered, hundreds die until an empire crumbles to ashes.”

“Then comes another.” You add in a hushed tone, speaking more or less to yourself. “But we must do our duty.” You conclude, raising your chin.

“People have walked through blood to reach the throne, My Lady. I have seen the Queen’s father rule over this Kingdom, and I am seeing her husband rule over this Kingdom—there is no duty—there is only blood.”

You eye him, wary, intrigued and confused “The Queen tells me that you are her friend.”

“I assure you of my allegiance with the Queen. We have been friends since we were children.”

“I would not dare to question your loyalty, My Lord.” You assure him. Offending a man of his stature is the last thing on your mind.

“When we face the enemies tomorrow, My Lady, you shall see my loyalty anyway, and let the Queen know, that she has friends, true friends still.” He states as they continue through the trodden road.

—---

“John, will you tell us what is going in your head?” Borachio and Conrade follow John as they ride deeper into the woods.

“For now we are taking cover. I do not wish to be dead anywhere other than the battlefield.”

“So honourable and glorious.” Conrade comments with a chuckle

“You think I am honourable? Do you think I seek glory?” John scoffs, glancing at his friend. "They're all built on lies."

“Why are we here?” Borachio asks

“Because nothing matters in a war, only victory,” John responds as his stallion stops at a point. They can now see the enemy camp but are perfectly hidden from sight.

—--

It has been a long day for the soldier. Other than the village, they plundered on their way, and they had no rest or food.

‘Rest’ is not the way to describe how he and his friend barged into one of the many cottages. It was dark inside, but there was unmistakably a woman there. His friend threatened her with his dagger while he grabbed some fruits and bread.

He does not remember her face or know her name, but now, as he lays in the tent, guarding the cannon balls and some steel, her cries haunt him. His friend held her down by the neck while he tore her clothes and thrust inside her. And after he was done, his friend took his turn before he cut her throat and left the cottage to burn.

He closes his eyes, feeling much lighter without the armour. Sleep is not far away either. He is tired and they have been travelling. Tomorrow may—

The sudden smell of smoke catches him off guard. He springs on his feet, frantically looking around. His eyes widen as he sees one of the tent walls in flames, nearing the containers for explosives and canon balls, placed along with a pile of others.

“N—!”

But it is too late, as the tent explodes with a deafening boom, throwing the camp into a burning, bloody and miserable chaos. It gives way to many more explosions and fires like cards inevitably falling one after another.

And amidst the havoc, three men slip away into the woods, unnoticed.

—------

“Good Lord! How did you know they have already reached?” The realisation and fear dawn upon Borachio as the adrenaline wears off while they ride through the woods.

“Before we reached here. Lord Beecham said that he had information regarding the route they had taken. He most obvious lie I have heard here. Lord Beecham is no friend of the King.”

“What is it to you? Why do you risk us, yourself for this?”

John turns to Borachio, as their horses trot through the woodland “Because I want to.”

“You never walk on a whim.” Conrade pushes.

There is no trace of pride in his eyes for what he has done. He simply has done what was needed to be done to gain the upper hand.

“Then you know me.” That is all the explanation John provides them with as they ride back to the palace.

“Be prepared for tomorrow.” He breaks the stretched silence during their ride back once the horses are back in the stable.

—----

The early arrival of the George, backed by the French Army at Esterwood catches most off guard.

The battle has been decided tomorrow, why not today?” The earl wonders aloud as he shows John potential battlegrounds.

“Because they are not prepared yet,” John replies before putting a paperweight over a shallow hill on the map.

“The Northerners are yet to arrive, we are short of men. If Esterwood falls, it shall be a blow to the Crown---a humiliation! George will win.”

“I understand, My Lord, and that is why, we take downhill.”

“What? You baffle me good Lord, why take such a disadvantageous position?”

“You have a great knowledge of the geography here?”

“I assure you, I do.”

“Then prepare your men and send them the message to meet us tomorrow at the uphill.”

“But that gives them momentum.”

“That is what I want. Here,” he raises the paperweight and points near the hill, “if I am not wrong, is a bog. I want the troops to start working on the spears”

—---

The sun rises with two royal sigils against each other on the battleground.

“Take positions!”

John commands and the men behind him point their spears.

“Archers! Take positions!”

He commands again and the archers positioned strategically ready themselves and their bows.

“Lord Commander, who gave you information about the troops?”

“I believe a handful of barons holds sympathy for the Pretender.” The older man sighs, eyeing the expanded enemy troops, holding up the sigil that once stood over the capital of the Kingdom.

“Where are the Northerners?”

“On their way, I assure you. The enemies have reached long before the estimated time.”

John gives him a sharp glance before straightening up.

“Either way, we must fight. And we must win”

With that, he puts on his helmet, and the heavy metal clanks against his armour as he positions his sword over his horse, the men on foot have already taken position around the bog.

Finally, the Lord Commander raises his sword and the horns blow.

—--

From a vantage point of view, it might look like ants rushing down a slope, pointed and organised initially, until they reach the bottom and their horses fail. Like a pile of cards, they fall. And that is when the men around the bog charge with arrows raining down.

Speas, swords, blood, dirt and mud, all become one on the wet ground. Those who manage to escape the bog—-on foot or on horse, are met by John and other men on their horses. But that is not enough. With a command to charge them on foot, John gets off his stallion and charges towards the incoming enemies with his naked sword.

The epics and the ballads sing of such scenes as glorious, something heroic. The plays, the paintings, the history records—all paint them in golden light.

In reality, there is nothing heroic, or glorious about battles—it is simply men trying to survive. And there is only one way to survive on a battlefield without humiliation–to fight, to keep fighting. John’s breaths come out as gasps as he pushes, cuts, punches and wrestles through the armoured men.

It is a brutal chaos. Fight and live, or fight until you die.

His sword clashes with another's, he is swift on his feet—he has fought worse. He stands his ground, swiftly using his shield to protect himself against the incoming blows before attacking again. His sword meets his rival’s shield thrice before another armoured man attracts. But John is swift to move away and take position again. Using this shield, he hits one on the head, destabilising him before taking off his metal helmet and hitting one with it. It gives him enough time to push him onto the ground and swiftly push his sword through the gap, the blood and the sounds of the flesh being pierced are drowned by the man's short-lived but blood-curdling scream before he falls limp while John blocks another hit from the other man with his shield. His hands shake under the attack but he refuses to budge.

So much within a span of a moment. His attention shifts to the other man’s raised sword before John blocks with his shield again before getting back on his feet. He quickly attacks one of the approaching horses, cutting off the strap as the man on it falls on his current, bloodthirsty rival. Giving the fallen soldier no time to think, John takes his dagger and stabs the man in his eyes through the gap in his helmet before forcefully pulling off his helmet and stabbing him through the neck. He barely even looks into his eyes before pushing the body away and finally holding the man he has been fighting down, kicking his shield away and hitting him with his armoured head with his helmet until it bends. Finally, he takes off the helmet and hits his enemy’s bare and vulnerable head with his helmet with gritted teeth and lips curled up in a snarl until his face is marred with his rival’s blood and his rival, dead underneath him.

But the battle is far from over and victory is not near enough. Back on his feet, John pushes and punches through armoured men, grabbing one in an armlock before hitting his head with the back of his sword. He throws him on the ground, where he is stomped over by the rest of the fighting soldiers and frightened horses.

Breathlessly, he fights through, until he hears horns at a distance. His eyes move to the source as relief washes over him at the sight of Reinkalf’s sigil along with the Kigdom’s. There is cheer, uproar and newfound vigour as the men fight.

“The Northern army!” Another man roars.

From the other side rides down a large, imposing army from the north, scattering and completely overpowering the rest of the French troops. Their horses and swords cut through the enemy forces swiftly.

This indeed is his day.

John can’t help but think as a rare laugh bursts out of his bloodied mouth before he pushes against and attacks the enemy soldiers with newfound vigour.

It is a decided battle now, but his eyes search for George. As he fights through the men, reaching the middle, he misses a swordsman rising on his feet before it is too late, he is hurled on the ground, mud in his eyes and a heavy, armoured hand comes for for his jaw. John spits out blood, disoriented, half-blinded but swift enough to block another blow with his hands. His hand grabs a fallen helmet before he swings it on the man over his with full force. Breathless and bloody, he spits out again before snatching swinging the helmet again, and again, and again. Until the man falls beside him. Swiftly, John climbs over him and continues to hit him with the helmet until it breaks. Taking his dagger, he plunges it through the gap of the helmet.

Breathless and exhausted, he reluctantly takes off the armour protecting his torse—it is slowing him down. This man almost had him. He turns to swiftly block another incoming sword with his. Now much lighter and quicker, he easily manoeuvres through the battlefield. His sword slices through metal and flesh, leaving it dripping with warm blood.

He can almost taste victory along with the mud and grass until he feels the sudden piercing of a dagger on the left of his torso. He growls and turns to the attacker.

He is not wearing the enemy’s armour.

But he has no time to think through as the armoured man hits him with his shield, throwing him on the ground. John moves as fast as he can, rolling away deeper into the fighting ground spitting blood, and feeling the warm liquid flowing down from the side of his face.

The horns of victory blow, but it is all muffled by John, who finds his breath slowing as his vision dims.

*****

Phew! A long, boring chapter. But do not worry, things will pick up pace in the next.

#don john x reader #yandere john don #yandere don john x reader #don juan #keanuverse

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