#you should all take a look in the reblogs

[navybrat817]

Hit to the Head

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Nurse!Female Reader

Summary: Bucky doesn't think he needs medical attention after a hit to the head, but he's glad he met you.

Word Count: Over 3k

Warnings: Meet cute (of sorts?), possible concussion, mention of HYRDA, team dynamic, humor, Bucky's POV, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?) and he's smitten.

A/N: A new AU (as if I need more) inspired by this wonderful nonnie. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @mumbles411 (and thanks for the assurance on the medical discussion), but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky didn't need medical attention. That was what he told himself, and he said the same thing to the team after he took a hard hit to the head. But he made the mistake of telling Bob that he admittedly felt a little dizzy, who then told Yelena, who then demanded that he go to the hospital. Not only did she demand that he go, they all went and were currently hanging out in the lobby to make sure he was okay. 

It was a sweet gesture, if not a wasted one. 

He took a hit to the head. So what? He experienced much worse when it came to his head and he was a super soldier for God's sake, so he’d heal just fine. It was a bit cocky to think like that but others needed help more than he did and he wasn't in the mood for anyone to inspect him or ask questions. 

At least he wasn't until he saw your face. 

“Hi,” you smiled, pulling back the curtain to give him some privacy. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

He opened his mouth to say he hadn't waited long at all, but no sound came out. Thank God he wasn't hooked up to a heart monitor because it would've picked up on the accelerated rate when you smiled at him again. He almost forgot to breathe before his body reminded him that he needed oxygen. No one should look as beautiful as you in medical scrubs or under the harsh hospital lighting. He wondered if he looked okay despite the blood and dirt on his clothes. 

Wait, why did it matter what he looked like? He wasn't there to flirt with or impress you. There was no reason for him to sit up straighter or flex his right arm. There sure as hell wasn't any reason to run his fingers through his hair to get the tangles out. It was a hospital visit, not a date. 

You wore a name tag, but introduced yourself before taking a look at his chart. “I understand you took a pretty hard hit to the head, Mr. Barnes.”

His voice came out huskier than he anticipated when he said, “Call me Bucky.” Clearing his throat he added, “If you consider a slab of concrete to the head hard, then yeah, but at least my head didn't split open.”

He felt the need to assure you he was fine when concern crossed your beautiful features. “I’m very thankful your head didn't split open, Bucky.” He liked the way you said his name. “But a concrete slab to the head is no joke.”

“You should see the other guy,” he joked, making you giggle. Was he funny or were you only laughing for his benefit? “But seeing the other guy wouldn't matter anyway since you won't let me leave without an exam,” he guessed. Even if he didn't believe he needed one. 

It wasn't just his belief that he was fine. Most didn't know it, but every now and then hospitals made him feel like he was back at HYDRA, ready to be strapped to a chair to await his next form of torture or to be experimented on. He wouldn't say he was afraid, but there was discomfort. Enough to make it feel like the walls were slowly closing in. 

With a deep breath he thought instead of his wonderful treatment in Wakanda and reminded himself that he was safe, free. It helped the next breath come easier. He then looked at your face where he only saw concern and compassion. You weren't going to hurt him. You were there to help. 

“Well, I wouldn't be a very good nurse if I just let you walk out, would I?” you gently smiled. 

He managed a smile for you because you weren't just doing your job. You also seemed kind. “I guess not.”

He could get through a simple exam. 

Bucky inhaled, detecting a hint of something sweet under the sterile surroundings as you checked his heart beat. It was so subtle that he wouldn't have been able to pick up on it if it weren't for his heightened senses. He almost leaned into you before you pulled away, and thank God for that. Would he have been able to blame it on his head if he did?

“I don't have a concussion,” he blurted out. 

“Is that right?” He swore there was amusement in your tone when you shone a light in each of his eyes. “I imagine you're somewhat familiar with them in your line of work.”

“You can say that,” he said. He had his fair share of hits to the head, and helped his teammates get through injuries. “No nausea, no stiffness or imbalance.”

He didn't mention the dizziness since he didn't want to stay longer than he needed to. 

“Any issues with your memory?” you asked. 

He smirked a little. “That's a bit of a loaded question.”

“Can you tell me what day it is and what hospital you're at?” you asked. 

He answered the questions with ease. He also spelled “world” backwards when you asked him to. “See? I’m fine,” he said. 

“Your vitals are normal. Pupils reactive. But-”

“Look, I appreciate you checking me out,” he cut you off, keeping the bite out of his voice because he refused to snap at you. “But I don't want to waste your time.”

Bucky hated that he was trying to rush out when you were only trying to help, but he could hear people in the other rooms even as he tried to block it out. They were in pain, struggling. They needed you more than he did. 

“And I appreciate that you're thinking of my time, but it’s my job and I wouldn't feel comfortable with you leaving without completing my exam,” you said, taking a closer look at him. It wasn't concern he saw in your eyes now, but understanding. “You're not exactly a fan of hospitals, are you?”

The question took him by surprise. How did you guess? “Not exactly,” he replied, choosing not to elaborate on that and you were thoughtful enough not to push. Just a sympathetic nod, which he appreciated. “But the work you and everyone else in the medical field does? It's incredible. Thank you.”

In his eyes, people like you were the real heroes. You didn't just face battles, you faced pandemics and life changing events. You risked your lives, saw the best and worst of people, and how many thanked you in return? And from the little time he knew you he could sense the love and dedication to your job and patients. He respected that. 

“Thank you. And thank you for all that you do, too,” you said sincerely. The compliment had the corner of his lip tugging in a smile. “I know you want to get out of here, but I am here to help. If you're fine, great. If not, please, let me help you.”

He tried to look anywhere but at you. It unnerved him that you got under his skin with so few words and he wondered for a second if that hit to the head did more damage than he thought. “I feel a little dizzy, but that’s all,” he admitted, and he felt better by doing so. 

You put a hand over his, little currents of electricity shooting up his arm. “Thank you for telling me,” you whispered, like it was your little secret. “Since you are feeling dizzy, I would like you to stay for observation.”

Bucky sighed. “How long do I have to stay?”

“As long as everything is stable and there are no new or worsening conditions, you’ll likely be discharged within an hour or two,” you replied. He almost argued that he healed from injuries faster thanks to the serum, but that wasn't too long. Better safe than sorry. At least it wasn't a headscan. “Would you like some water? I can get you a snack, too.”

The snack and drink were likely to make sure he could keep them down. “Sure, thanks,” he whispered. 

“Sorry that you’re stuck with me checking on you for the next hour or so,” you said. 

Bucky’s smile grew before he chuckled. “You won't hear me complaining,” he promised. 

Hell, he'd probably fake an injury just to see you again, or at least ask for you if he ever had to come back to the hospital for any reason. He wondered if you were single. You weren't wearing a wedding band or an engagement ring. That didn't necessarily mean-

“I’m single,” you said quickly.

He glanced at you before his eyes went wide. Shit, he said some of that out loud? “Oh, well, that’s…” He wasn't sure what to say. Should he apologize? “Nice.”

He grimaced. Nice? What was wrong with him? Maybe he had a concussion after all. 

You looked at him, your smile soft and easy. He either wasn't the first patient to make a fool out of himself like that or you were being nice. “I’ll be back shortly, but buzz if you need anything.”

“I will,” he said, his finger itching to push the remote the second you left him alone.

He leaned back in the bed and tried to make himself comfortable while he slowly looked around. How was it that the room seemed darker, as if you took a bit of the light and warmth with you? He shook his head slowly and carefully. It was a ridiculous thought. 

“Observation for an hour or two. You okay sticking around so you can drive me back?” he messaged Yelena. 

Yelena messaged back almost immediately. “Everyone is staying. Even Walker.”

He scoffed, but there was a smile behind it. “Not that you need my permission, but you can punch him if he steps out of line.” Yeah, John was still an asshole, but they did work together and he was trying. Some days. 

He perked up when you came back with a cup of water and a snack. “You doing okay?” you asked. 

“Since you left a minute or two ago, yeah,” he teased. 

“Were you a sarcastic guy before the hit to the head, or is this a new side to you?” you teased back. 

“Oh, the sass has always been there,” he said, taking a sip once you handed the drink over. “Better to be smart-ass than a dumbass, right?”

Why was he talking so much?

“So much better,” you smiled, going to the small computer to type something in. He tried not to stare as your fingers flew across the keyboard. He could always blame it on his head if you caught him. “I’ll be back in just a bit, but-”

“Buzz if I need you. I know,” he smiled. 

“At least there isn't too much sass in your tone,” you joked before you left him alone once again. 

If he didn't know any better he would think you were flirting with him, but you were just being a friendly nurse. 

He also tried not to eavesdrop when he heard you assisting others, but your voice drew his attention and he hung on your every word. You were professional, yet personal, showing each patient expert care. You lightly scolded an older gentleman who hadn't listened to you, which brought a smile to Bucky’s face when the man apologized and didn't give you any trouble after that. It was a delicate balance to be kind and assertive and you did it well. 

“You are something,” he said to himself. 

For the next hour or so Bucky didn't say much when you checked on him, but you had his undivided attention, his eyes following you wherever you went. He wanted to find excuses to keep you there and possibly make small talk, but it felt wrong when there were other patients who needed your attention. He caught that sweet scent again whenever you were close to him. Alluring, captivating. He tried to figure out if it was a body wash or just you. 

Something he noticed and tried not to was that your heart raced faster when you were near him. Maybe there was a slight chance that you were attracted to him? Beyond being a friendly nurse, maybe the possible attraction was why you kept smiling at him. He wanted to believe so. He wanted to feel your hand on his hand again. The brief touch had him wanting more, which was crazy. 

And before Bucky knew it, it was time to leave. 

“Vitals still look good. No change in symptoms,” you confirmed after he said the dizziness had subsided and he didn't feel at all nauseous after the snack. “Do you have someone to drive you home?” you asked. 

“Yeah, I have some friends here,” he answered. Even if he wasn't dizzy there was no way they'd let him drive after that. 

“Try to take it easy for the next 24-48 hours. If there are new symptoms or if the dizziness gets worse, you should return to the hospital,” you told him. “Other than that, I think you're good to go,” you smiled, but it didn't look as bright as before. 

Were you disappointed that he had to leave? Bucky was disappointed, but what could he do? He had no excuse to stay. Ironic how he was itching to leave when he got there when he now wanted a reason to stick around. 

“Thanks.” He grabbed his jacket after slowly getting to his feet, your gaze lingering on him when he slipped it on. 

“Why don't I walk you back to the lobby?” you offered. 

“Oh, you don't have to do that,” he said, regretting it since it sounded like a brush off and that wasn't his intention. “But if you wouldn't mind?”

Your face lit up, at least he thought it did. “I don't mind at all.”

Keeping a respectful distance, but not too much of a gap as you walked together, he stole a couple of glances at you. The quiet confidence in which you carried yourself was beautiful and you turned a few heads from nearby patients. He wondered if you noticed. 

He smiled to himself when he spotted his teammates sitting in the waiting area. None of them looked particularly comfortable, but they stuck it out for him. It meant a lot. 

“That group right there is my ride,” he said, not wanting you to go any closer. If they got the slightest hint that he enjoyed your company for a short time, they’d pounce. “Thanks again.”

“I’m glad I could help," you said, gazing at him. “Havd a good night. And don't forget to take it easy for the next 24-48 hours, hero.”

Hero. The nickname almost made him smile. “You have a good night, too.”

You lingered for just a moment, almost as if you expected him to say something else. When he didn't, you offered him one last smile and scanned your card to get back through the double doors. His shoulders dropped once you were out of sight. He should've said something. 

“Hello?” Yelena asked, snapping her fingers in front of his face. “What are you staring at?”

He blinked a few times. “Nothing.”

“Nothing? Oh, I think he was staring at that pretty nurse,” Ava answered. 

Bucky shot the entire group a glare, his cheeks hot. “No, I wasn't,” he grumbled. Except he was. He stared at you. And by the amused looks on their faces, they all saw it. 

Yelena exchanged a look with Ava before they both smirked. “Yes, you were. Do you like the nurse?”

Bucky’s fists curled. He was not having this conversation after a hit to the head. “Can we leave?”

“It’s okay to stare or have a crush. She’s a beautiful woman.” Alexei clapped a hand on his shoulder. “She would be lucky to date the Winter Soldier.”

A growl escaped before Bucky could stop it. Yes, you were beautiful. Did he need Alexei to point that out? And he didn't have a crush. How could he? 

“When was the last time you went on a date?” Ava asked. 

Bucky took a deep breath. He really didn't want to talk about this. “Does it matter?” he asked. 

“Ask her out! I drive you for your date!” Alexei offered, rubbing his hands together. “I’ll set the mood. You see.”

Yelena pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered, “Dad, stop.”

Bucky shook his head and shut his eyes, wishing he could teleport himself out of there. “Yes, please, stop.”

“Is your head okay?” Bob asked, making him open his eyes. Of course he was concerned with his pain, and Bucky was glad for the change of topic. 

“I’m fine,” Bucky assured him. There was nothing for him to worry about. “I just need to take it easy for the next day or so.”

John stretched his back once he stood up. “If you really want to see that nurse again I can make sure you get another hit to the head.”

Bucky’s eyes turned cold. “I’m not a killer anymore, but I may make an exception if you try anything.”

John held his hands up, but still had a smirk on his face before Yelena shot him a look. “A small injury could bring you back here.”

“No one is injuring me to bring me back here,” he announced. Everyone looked disappointed except for Bob. “What, you all want me to get hurt?”

Why did he decide to join this team again?

“No, we just want you to see the nurse again,” Ava said.

“Let’s go,” he ordered. 

As the group left, Bucky snuck one last look over his shoulder. You were a good nurse, and you made his night better. A small part of him hoped he made your night a little better, too. And while he certainly didn't want more injuries, a part of him did if only to bring him back to you.

So, what injury is Bucky getting so he can see you again? sebastian stan x reader, james bucky buchanan barnesLove and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[phoenix-drowning-ina-rainy-world]

I love seeing takes that on the surface seem okay, but when you look closer, are so dogshit almost everyone in the reblogs tear it to shreds.

Also, combining two entirely different genres and stories, so much so that they become almost nothing, and then calling both of them shit is entirely disingenuous and stupid.

robots as a genre are unique and a great metaphor for capitalisim and ableism through the fact that they are a being made purposefully to work without stopping or complaint, but are still made to be aware of their condition, and are also seen as less human, which is an excellent metaphor for late stage capitalisim(a class of workers seen as less human, forced to work day in and day out, and if they step out of line or show any defects at all they get slaughtered)

The reason why robots are a shit take on racism as a genre is because that's not the godamn story it's trying to tell, the story its trying to tell a lot of the time is one of worker suppression, and abuse, and how eventually if they get pressed hard enough, they will snap and kill and its no ones fault but the humans who pushed against them.(a warning of how the lower class will and should eventually wake up to their oppression and realize that they have far far more power then the upper classes.)(dont you fucking dare tell me that my favorite goddamned genre is pointless when its never been more pointed and direct then ever before)

As for vampires, i dont really know because I'm not in the genre, but i do know that they are not comparable and are actively trying to tell a different story than in the robots genre, so comparing them as consepts for the sake of discrediting both of them is entirely disingenuous and foolish.

Maybe read a book or two.

the reason "robot racism" is often a really stupid metaphor is the same reason that like. discrimination against demons or vampires or whatever doesn't work, is because there's often a pretty justified reasons humans are scared of vampires or robots or whatever, in a way that doesn't apply to real life minorities, like a fantasy author will be like "the reason vampires are discriminated against is because most of them and kill and eat people for fun and pleasure, and so humans respond by trying to kill them, isn't that so sad" and like no that's a perfectly fine reason to not trust vampires i think.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

butterflygirl738 (6)

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, power imbalance, sickness, medical bills, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You love butterflies and your mother, but life isn’t that simple. As life gets complicated, and expensive, you find yourself in need and an unexpected miracle presents itself.

Characters: Steve Rogers (CEO/Sugar Daddy)

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"It was a nice day," S says as he checks the rear view mirror.

You twitch out of your trance. Your eyes are itchy, the way they get after a double shift. You suppress a yawn and nod.

"Very nice, thank you," you agree and twiddle your fingers in your palm.

"But you're anxious to get home..." he says.

"Well....my mom..." you begin. "I'm not trying to ditch you--"

"Ha, I know. I'm selfish. I've had you all day." He keeps his eyes on the road. "Should we stop and get her something?"

"Um, that's. Mm. I'd love to but..."

"Might be suspicious. Got it." He clucks. "Well, what about tomorrow? You got plans?"

"She has an appointment," you say. "Check-up."

"Ah, makes sense," he says. "When is it? Maybe after..."

"Yeah, er maybe. But... how long are you here? What about New York?" You wonder. The big city, his company, all that is still a mystery to you.

"It can wait. Besides, the hotel has wifi. I got all night to catch up emails."

"Oh, right." You stare at the street ahead.

"Tomorrow?" He prompts before the silence drags.

"Tomorrow. After noon? Should be done by then," you assure him, twisting your fist around your finger.

"Can I ask you a favour?" He slows as he gets to your street.

"A favour?"

"Yeah. Nothing big. Promise." He turns the corner and keeps a snail's pace.

"Alright," you utter.

"Will you bring a few bills tomorrow? We can go through them. Sort that out--"

"S. No. I can't--" 

"But that's the deal," he insists. "How can I help if I don't know the situation?"

"I... I don't know. It's a lot."

"A lot you shouldn't be worried about. You should be focused on your mom. Not money." He stops in front of your building. He angles in his seat and puts his hand on the back of yours. "This is what I'm here for. To take all that off your shoulders."

You exhale and swallow dryly. "It feels like too much."

"Not to me." His thumb rubs the seat, close to your shoulder. "Look, I'm just me. I got more than enough for that. I want to do this. I want someone to share this with. To spoil, if I can."

You look at him. He's too good to be true. After all the bad days, all the set backs, all the red numbers, you just can't believe it's what he says it it.

"I'll bring one," you offer.

"One?" He echoes.

"Mhmm," you nod.

"The highest one then," he says. His tone is even but demanding. 

"Okay."

"Okay," he repeats and clears his throat. "Look, sweetheart, let's not ruin the day. Go inside, spend some time with mom. I'll text you."

You chew your lip. You should tell him. It won't help if he thinks you're ignoring him.

"Maybe not." You fidget. "I'm... I'm almost out of... I uh, the internet is down and I pay per message."

"Hm, why didn't you mention it before?" He challenges.

You sink down, pushing your shoulders high. "It's embarrassing."

He sighs. 

"No problem. Tomorrow. After noon," he pats the seat and rescinds his hand. "Hope the appointment goes well."

"Me too," you murmur in dread.

You undo your seat belt and grab your purse. You sit up and glance at him. He watches you expectantly but you're not sure what he's waiting for.

"Good night," you say.

His jaw ticks, "good night, sweetheart."

You smile weakly and get out. You shut the door gently and turn to step over the curb. You march up to the front doors and peek back. You wave then go inside.

You feel bad now. Like you're abandoning him. After such a nice day, you're just strutting off without giving him anything...

Your chest knots up as you climb the stairs. It isn't just him, it's the lies. You're not sure you can keep this up but if you don't, what are you going to do? You can't pay him back and the missed hours at work won't do much to help that. And if you keep calling in, well, you might not have time to make up for what you missed.

You're confused. This was supposed to make it all easier but it all feels so much more complicated. Why can't life be as simple as the chrysalis in the hamper? 

🦋

"Will you come in with me?" Your mom asks as they call her name.

You nod and stand with her. It's not like the early days. When she went on her own. She didn't tell you the diagnoses right away. Not until the first treatment. That was a horrible day and there's been many of those since.

You follow the nurse to the sterile room. You sit in the chair in the corner and your mother sits in the chair by the small counter top. You're silent. Both anxious.

Dr. Vincent enters. You almost feel like you should stand. You cross your legs and return his greeting. It's not a very good morning but you won't say so.

"So, Noreen," he says to your mother. "I have some news."

Your mother looks at him from her chair. She looks small like a child. You've never seen her afraid but in that moment, you see her eyes gleam.

"You're a candidate for stem cell transplant." He says.

Your mom looks at you and back to him. You don't know what that means either. You remember they mentioned it early on but it never came back up.

"No more chemo. At least for now. We think this is the opportune time and it could help with recovery in the long run," he explains.

"Oh, right," she breathes. 

"We'll send you for a few scans to see how things are looking but your last images were positive."

"Uh huh, okay," she blinks. "Is it very expensive?"

He hums. "It can be. Depending on insurance. Of course, it would be my recommendation for you to go with it. Chemo is showing results but in my experience, this is the best course of action. If you wish to continue as you are, it's entirely within your discretion."

You're both quiet.

"I'll provide you some information on it before you go. How about that? Give you some time to think." He says.

"That's good," you say as your mom stays silent.

"Alright, then, we'll do the usual," Vincent diverts. "Let's get you on the bed."

You sit patiently as he checks your mother over. He's quick and efficient. He has a full waiting room, even this early in the morning. You thank him after your mother does and he leaves the room.

She steps onto the stool and down to the floor. As you approach her, she sighs. She doesn't say anything as she leads you out of the room.

As she stops at the admin desk to get the folder of pamphlets, she bids them a good day. As you come out into the gloomy of the rainy day, you take her hand. She stops and stands at the curb, looking out into the distance.

"I'm tired, pie."

"I know, mom," you say.

"What do you think?" She asks.

"I don't know. Maybe... we should read the stuff."

"It'll be expensive."

"It's all expensive," you mutter.

She drops her head. "My last days and I have to watch my daughter work herself half to death just to suffer more and more."

"Mom, please, he said things are looking good--"

"Maybe but I don't know how much longer I can keep this up."

You swallow as your eyes burn. "It's... it's your choice. Always your choice." You look away, trying not to cry.

"Honey," she squeezes your hand. "I don't want to give up. I know you won't, either, but you're tired too. It hurts me to see you like this."

"Mom," is all you can eke out.

She lets go of you and looks at the folder. She exhales. "I'll read it over."

"We'll read it together," you offer. 

"When's work?" She wonders.

"Noon," you answer. Not work, per se. Just an obligation.

"Enough time for breakfast," she says. "My treat."

"Mom," you say.

"I know, I know. But I just want one last cinnamon bun before I go," she insists.

🦋

You're trembling. You haven't been able to stop since you left the apartment. You couldn't let your mom see the panic. She's already having a rough day.

You stand under the awning of the building, waiting. S drives up and you run out without pulling up your jacket hood. You feel in your pocket for the pamphlet.

You get in the car and flick the moisture from your cheeks. You gasp. "It's really coming down."

"You don't have an umbrella?" S says.

"Forgot," you shrug.

"Mm, well, looks like a day best spent inside. I was thinking, they got pretty good food at my hotel. We could have lunch."

You hesitate. The thought of his hotel room makes your stomach stir. You remember what he said. 'We'll see where it goes'. It's feeling more and more like there's only one way this goes.

"Sure, whatever you like." You sniff.

You buckle up and sit back. You tilt your head up.

"Long morning?" He asks as he pulls into the street.

"Yeah... a little."

"Bad news?" He asks cautiously.

"Mm, news... stuff to think about."

"Right," he steers on as the wipers swing back and forth. "Well, just relax. Once we get to the hotel, you can get dry and clear your head."

"Yeah. Thanks."

You close your eyes, content to let the rain and the motion soothe you. It's a moment to prepare yourself.. Maybe once you tell him, he'll change his mind.

When the car stops, you snap up as if you were sleeping. Your mind slows as the world does the same. S smiles at you and reaches behind your seat. He grabs an umbrella out of the back.

He gets out, shielding himself from the downpour, and comes around to open your door. He walks you up to the hotel doors and folds up the umbrella before he enters the lobby. He points you to the elevators.

"Got some work done this morning," he proclaims as you get on. "You were asking about my company."

"Oh, right. I was. Curious, I guess. I don't know anyone who owns one."

"You do now," he chuckles. "It's not as glamourous as it seems. This is as much time as I've had to myself in... a decade?"

"Really?"

"Not to complain. I mean, certain things I don't have to worry about. It's not a bad life. Solitary," he shrugs and the doors open.

He guides you along the hallway to his suite door. He lets you in ahead of him. He puts the umbrella in the tall vase by the door.

You unzip your jacket and hang it. You look down at your jeans. They're soaked. You rub the damp fabric.

"I got a spare robe in here, if you want to let those dry," he says.

"Sure, uh, probably," you agree.

He takes off his shoes and you step out of your boots. You linger by the door, shyly glancing into the suite. He stands up and combs his fingers through his hair.

"I'll get the room service menu," he grins and struts away. "Make yourself at home."

As he looks around, you reach into your jacket pocket. You hide the pamphlet behind your back, clasping your wrist tight, and tiptoe further inside. He waves the laminated menu at you.

"Right here," he puts it on the small round table between two chairs. "I'll get that robe."

"Sure."

You wait, reluctant at the edge of the sitting room. A couch and a clamshell chair in velvet. It's all so nice.

He comes back in.

"If you want to change before you make up your mind--"

"Uh huh, yeah."

You keep the pamphlet behind you and take the robe. He points you to the bathroom and you scurry into it. You lock yourself inside and strip off the wet jeans. The texture leaves your skin itchy. Ugh.

You hang them on the bar meant for towels and pull on the robe. It's soft and roomy. You tuck the pamphlet into the pocket and face the door.

You emerge as S sits at the table. You walk carefully, paranoid that the robe might fall open despite the tight knot around the middle. You sit down and lean over to read the menu. It's a good distraction.

"I recommend the mac and cheese, as simple as it sounds," he taps with his finger.

"Oh, I like mac and cheese," you say.

You continue your perusal. You'll probably just go with what he says. Your appetite is lost in the storm of your inside.

"So, uh, did you bring that bill?"

You sit up stiffly and blink at him. Your hand goes to the pocket of the robe. You gape at him. How do you do this?

"We can wait--"

"No, I can't. Not-- no. Because..." you stammer as your heart races. "Because it's... it's too much and... you can say no and... I'll be okay. My mom will be okay. I'll figure it out. I will."

"Woah, woah, sweetheart," he gets up and comes around the table. He gets down to his knees as he puts his hands on your arms, his thumbs caressing you. "It's alright. I asked you to--"

"No, no," you jitter as you reach in the pocket and slide out the pamphlet, slightly damp from the rain. "It's... it's more... it's..." you look down at the paper as you clutch it in your hands. "The doctor said it will be good but..."

He drags his hands down your arms to your hands. He eases the pamphlet free. He sits back on his heels and opens it. He reads it over as you cover your face.

"I think I should go--"

"I can do it," he says calmly. "One hundred? Easy."

"One hundred thousand!" You drop your hands. "S!"

"It's just money. This isn't about that. It's about your mom, isn't it?"

You stare at him. You don't understand how he can be so generous. It's just take, take, take, and you have nothing to give. And the more he gives, the more you depend on it. The hole only gets deeper and deeper.

[krirebr]

Lips Like Sugar 2

Pairing: sugar baby Ransom x late 40s female reader

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: Finally cut off by his mother and grandfather, Ransom has to find a new way to access the lifestyle he's accustomed to. He figures it won't be too hard to find some rich old lady willing to bankroll him in exchange for sex. You aren't exactly what he expected.

Warnings: sugar baby au, sex work, d/s relationship, power imbalance, explicit language—All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI

Dividers by me

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

A/N: I'm having too much fun with this one! Where did all the angst go????????

Huge thanks to @bigtreefest for talking through so much of this with me. Thanks for being so fun to riff with, Essie!

Any comment, reblog, or ask to let me know what you think will be greatly appreciated. And if you need to come scream at me, that's ok too!

As always, thank you so much for reading! 💜

Ransom checked his hair in the mirror for the fifth time, rolling his eyes at himself. It was fine, he looked hot. Why was he so nervous? Probably because he was down to thirty-three days before he had to be moved into somewhere new. He didn’t think he’d ever felt this kind of pressure before. 

He was going to be meeting you for the first time in—he checked his watch—twenty-six minutes. You had asked him if he’d like to meet for dinner two days ago. Well, no, that wasn’t quite right. You’d sent him a message that said, “Let me take you to dinner,” and when he’d said he’d like that, you followed up with, “Great. My assistant will be in touch with the details.”  There wasn’t really much asking involved.

And that seemed to be par for the course with you. When you wanted to stop communicating through the app, you’d said, “We should take this conversation to texts.” When you wanted to know something, you’d say, “Tell me about…” And when you wanted to see more of him, you said, “I bet you have such a pretty cock, send me a picture.” Thank god, he’d already had a bunch of dick pics locked and loaded.

It was uncommon for him to feel like he was on his back foot so much. He rationalized that it was because all of the communicating so far had been over texts. It would be better in person. He would be better. More in control. More in his element.

He looked in the mirror a sixth time. He looked fucking good. He was wearing a crisp, long-sleeve button-down in a dusty shade of blue that matched his eyes. He had it unbuttoned lower than necessary, but not so much that it’d be too slutty for an upscale restaurant. He paired it with his tightest gray slacks and finished the look with his Italian loafers. Fuck, yeah, he looked good. He looked expensive.

He drove himself to the restaurant your assistant had made a reservation at and handed the keys over to the valet. Maybe he should be saving the little money he had right now, but if everything went to plan tonight, he wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore. It was a show of confidence, he thought, as he handed the folded bills over to the kid parking his car. 

Just as he made his way inside and gave his name to the hostess, his phone buzzed with another text from your personal assistant, Julia.

Hi, Ransom. Her last meeting of the day went long, so she’s going to be a little late for dinner. She wanted me to tell you to go ahead and order whatever appetizers and drinks you want. She should only be about fifteen minutes.”

Damn it, the one time he tried to be ontime, he was left waiting. This was why he was always late. But no, tonight he’d wanted to make a good impression. And of course, it bit him in the ass. So, fuck yeah, he’d order whatever he wanted.

The hostess led him to a lone table in a private room. That’s what he was fucking talking about. This was the treatment he deserved. Private dining, special menus, special treatment. He couldn’t wait to get used to this.

But first, he needed to close the deal. He needed to convince you that you needed him, that he was worth taking care of. He’d never had a job interview before, but if there was one thing he could do, it was turn up the charm. He was gonna flirt like his life depended on it. Because it did.

So he ordered a Macallan and the carpaccio and decided to use this extra time to strategize.

Later, Ransom would deny it, but he felt the air still when you finally walked into the room twenty minutes later. It was clear you’d come straight from the office, your belted shirtdress reeking professionalism. But it was also obviously designer and had been tailored to fit your curves perfectly. And there was an elegance too that wasn’t out of place here. Combined with the obviously high-quality jewelry you wore, it was clear you belonged in rooms like this. He could see it immediately, you were dripping not just money but sophistication. 

He’d only seen you in bits and pieces in your profile. Carefully cropped photos, so as not to give away the whole of you. He’d assumed that meant you’d been hiding something. He hadn’t put much thought to what, only focused on the dollar signs. Figuring he could make anything work as long as it came with enough money. But now, seeing you, all of you, in person, he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why you would want to hide any of it. His worries of how much he’d need to rely on little blue pills completely disappeared.

You strode toward him quickly, and he stood up to greet you. “Ransom,” you said, your voice warm. “It’s so lovely to see you in person.” You gave him a brief embrace accompanied by a soft peck to his cheek. He felt your touch linger even after you’d sat down in your seat. 

He sat down as well. “It’s lovely to see you, too,” he said, his voice pitched low in the way that so many women he’d been with liked. “You’re even more beautiful than I was expecting.” He let his eyes rove over you for a moment, a predator’s smile on his face. It was a move that had worked for him countless times.

So he was surprised when your response was to snort derisively. “Ah, I see I’m in for the hard sell tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

“Listen,” you leaned forward, “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t already mostly made up my mind. But it’s been a long day, and I’d rather not talk business on an empty stomach, alright?”

Ransom felt his jaw tick, but he tried to school his expression, not let you see how much that irritated him. “And what are we supposed to do instead?” He may not have been completely successful.

You gave a careless shrug. “Try talking to each other like real people?”

Ransom opened his mouth to respond when the waitress approached the table, carrying a bottle of wine. “Welcome back,” she said to you as she poured you both a glass. 

“Jen,” you said, smiling broadly, “how are you?”

“I’m doing well. I was happy to hear you and your guest would be joining us tonight. The chef has prepared a tasting menu for you. I’ll be out with the first course shortly.”

“That sounds lovely, thank you. And pass my thanks on to Antonio as well.” 

Jen nodded and smiled in response, then left the bottle on the table and exited the small room.

When you turned back to Ransom, he raised an eyebrow. “They know me here,” you said casually.

Yeah, clearly. His thoughts couldn’t help but flit to his mother. How she would kill for this type of treatment. To have her wine brought out to her without ordering. A special menu created just for her. To be on a first-name basis with a five-star chef. He might not be so eager to never see her again if it gave him the chance to tell her about this. To rub her face in it.

His thoughts returned to you when he felt your gaze on him, an expectant look in your eye. You were obviously waiting for him to do something. Shit. What had you said before the waitress came in? That you wanted to talk to each other like real people. Fuck, did he even know how to do that? He cleared his throat, searching for something, and finally asked, “What made your day so long?”

A satisfied smirk passed over your face before transforming into a genuine smile. “Thank you for asking.” You sighed, and he saw it, just for a split second before it was gone again. You were exhausted. “I have many board members with many opinions. Some more informed than others, but I have to listen to them all. Those days can be draining.”

“What kind of company is it?” he asked. You’d been fairly cagey with personal information over texts. He wondered if you might be more forthcoming in person.

“Medical technology,” you said, somewhat dismissively. “Primarily portable scanners for things like MRIs. I won’t bore you with the details.” 

Ransom hoped you couldn’t see the dollar signs in his eyes at that. Shit, proprietary tech? You must be loaded. No wonder this restaurant was bending over backwards for you. He would, too, if this night went to plan.

As he was trying to formulate a follow-up question, you switched gears. “What about you? What do you do with your days?”

For one terrifying moment, Ransom’s brain went completely blank. What did he do with his days? Absolutely nothing, if he could help it. He went shopping, he went drinking, he went sunbathing, he read, he watched TV, and he went to the gym. It all added up to a big fat zero and that was the goal; that was why he was doing this now. But that wasn’t what you wanted to hear, was it? No, you wanted him to say that he was putting himself through law school, or caring for a sick parent, or that he wanted to quit the three jobs he hated. There was no way to explain how he’d been able to do absolutely nothing up until this point and why he wasn’t able to continue that way now without getting into who his family was or what they’d done to him. No, thank you. You didn’t need to know any of that.

As a stalling technique, he swirled his wine glass and then took a sip. A little hum escaped him at the taste. Your lips curled up into a smirk. “You like it?” you asked. “Jen brought us one of my favorite bottles. They always have it on hand for me here.”

“It’s excellent,” he said with a nod, which earned him a pleased look from you that he felt in his chest.

Jen chose that moment to come back in, bearing the first course. By the time she’d finished telling you both what was being served, your question to Ransom had been thankfully forgotten.

You took one last bite of your entree, then set your silverware down on your plate decisively. You looked Ransom in the eye. Having your full attention on him was almost disconcerting. “Alright,” you said. “I’d very much like to enter into an arrangement with you. High level, I’ll support you in exchange for you being available to me. What are your initial thoughts on that?”

Fuck. Yes. Finally. He nodded slowly. “Yes, I think I’d like that,” he said, trying to keep his tone even so as not to betray his eagerness.

You smiled like you'd won something. “Excellent. That makes me very happy. Now, what I'm offering: I'll cover all of your living expenses. Rent, utilities, bills–”

He cleared his throat, and you paused, giving him a questioning look. “I need to be out of my current place soon. Very soon. I’ll need a new place to live.”

You took out your phone and immediately started typing. “That’s right, you mentioned that on your profile. I’ll set up a few showings for us in the coming weeks. When do you need to be out of your current place?”

“Thirty-three days,” he said, too quickly.

There was a hint of something in your eyes, recognition, maybe, or– Ransom didn’t know, but whatever it was sat uncomfortably in his chest.

But after looking at him like that for too long, even if it was just a nanosecond, you nodded and made a note in your phone. “I’ll tell my real estate agent to prioritize listings that are available immediately. But, if it takes some time to find one we like or it isn’t available right away, I want you to know that I’ll get you somewhere to stay in the meantime.” You reached over and gently laid your hand over his. “I don't want you to worry about that.”

He swallowed, trying not to show his relief, and nodded.

You waited a beat and then said, “Say ‘thank you,’ Ransom.”

These fucking women. “Thank you,” he gritted out, realizing much too late that he hadn't managed to suppress his accompanying eyeroll. 

Luckily, you just chuckled in response. “Oh, I’m gonna have to teach you some manners, aren’t I?”

“Yeah?” he asked, starting to get a read on you. “Is that what you think I need?”

You leaned forward, your voice dropping an octave. “I think you’re begging for someone to put you in your place.”

He matched your posture. “I don’t beg.”

A smirk bloomed on your face. “But you’ll do it for me, won’t you? I’ll teach you how to beg so pretty.”

Ransom cleared his throat as heat engulfed his whole body. That picture of your legs in leather boots that went up to your thighs flashed in his mind. “So that’s your thing? Control?”

You leaned back in your chair. “That’s one of my things,” you said evenly. “But it’s one of yours, too, isn’t it? You marked an interest in submission on your kink list.”

Oh. Well, he must have, amongst all the others he hadn’t really read. And it’d done the trick. He was here, so close to his end goal. He couldn’t back out now. “Yeah.”

You nodded once, seemingly pleased. “And have you been in a relationship like that before?”

“I have,” he lied, adding his own smirk. He was so fucking close.

Your eyes narrowed as you looked at him. You were silent for too long. Then, “I’m going to have a lot of rules for you. We’ll go over them later, but the first one is that you don’t lie to me. Not ever.”

“What–”

“Have you been in a relationship like that before?” Your voice was firm this time, demanding. It almost made him want to–

He swallowed, but didn’t let himself look down. “No,” he said, “I guess I haven’t.”

Your posture relaxed some, but you didn’t let go of his gaze. “Thank you, Ransom, for telling me the truth.” There was a beat of silence that he wondered how to fill, but then you spoke again. “Good boy.”

Suddenly, Ransom could hear his heart beating in his ears. He swallowed dryly. Your expression had turned smug.  The irritation that caused in him helped him to shake himself out of whatever had just happened. “Rules, huh?” he asked, trying desperately to regain his defiant air.

The smirk from earlier returned, got wider. It reminded him of that other picture from your profile. The one he’d looked at too many times. It was even better when he could see your whole face. “Yeah, rules. What I want you to wear, where I want you to be, how I want you to speak to me,” you paused, making sure you had his full attention, something sparkling in your eyes, “when and how you’re allowed to cum.”

Heat flooded his face, he wasn’t able to stop it. He felt it travel to the tips of his ears. And by the way the sparkle in your eyes got even more intense, he knew it was visible to you.

You leaned forward again, your voice a little rough, “I was fucking hoping you’d blush pretty for me. Even better than I imagined.”

He didn’t have a response for that, so he looked away for a moment, to the corner of the room. Your gaze was too intense to hold. He cleared his throat again, then looked back at you. “Well,” he said, slow but determined, “for all that I’m going to need a monthly allowance. In addition to everything else.”

You nodded. “I’m prepared to offer $3,000.”

He leaned back in his chair. He had something you wanted. He could see it now. He’d press this advantage. “Seven.”

One corner of your mouth twitched and your eyebrow raised almost imperceptibly. Or it would have been if he hadn’t been watching you so closely. “Greedy boy.”

He shrugged casually. “You wouldn’t respect me if I just blindly accepted your first offer, would you?”

The twitch in your lips turned into a small grin. “Five thousand,” you said, ignoring his question. “Final offer. For now.”

He sat up straight. “For now?”

You nodded. “For now. If we need to look at these things again in a few months, once we’re settled, then we can. Adjust if we need to.”

“Alright. I can accept that.”

“Excellent,” you said, making a few more notes in your phone. “I’ll have the financial elements drawn up and sent over for you to review and sign tomorrow.” With that, you put your phone away, and smiled at him, genuinely. He couldn’t help but smile back.

The shortest moment later, Jen was back with dessert—a chocolate torte dusted with gold, a collection of red berries artfully pressed into its center. She placed it between you and you immediately dismissed her with a sincere, “Thank you, Jen,” without ever moving your gaze from Ransom.

When she was gone, Ransom picked up his dessert fork to have a taste, but you stilled his hand with a quiet, “No,” and picked up your own fork. He struggled to repress his eye roll at whatever power play this was. But you surprised him when, after effortlessly sliding your fork through the cake to collect a small bite, instead of taking it for yourself, you held it over the center of the table. For him.

He reached out to take the fork from you when you admonished him again. “No, Ransom.” He looked at you questioningly, but you just stared back, unblinking, challenging. Finally, he leaned forward and opened his mouth to accept the bite. His eyes slipped shut as he closed his lips around your fork and you slowly pulled it back. As he savored the bittersweet chocolate, he felt the tips of his ears go red again. His eyes snapped back open when he heard you breathe out, “So fucking pretty.”   

You gaze was on him, drilling into him and he couldn’t look away. At least until the screen on your designer smart watch flashed. You quickly pressed a button to dismiss the alert, but then it happened again. And again. You sighed as you actually looked at the messages coming in.

“Shit,” you muttered, then gave him an apologetic smile. “I need to go take care of this.” You sighed again, heavily. “I’m sorry to cut our evening short, but please stay as long as you’d like and enjoy the dessert. Everything’s been taken care of. Julia will reach out with the details of the apartment showings.”

 He stood up as you did, still a little dazed from you fucking feeding him that cake. You took the few short steps to join him on his side of the table. You wordlessly placed your hand on his cheek and brushed your thumb over his bottom lip. Then you grasped the back of his neck with your other hand and pulled him into a kiss. 

It was– It was fucking dirty. Wet and hot and demanding. He kept trying to gain control of it, but you wouldn’t let him. You wouldn’t give up anything. It was the closest he’d ever felt to being consumed.

Too soon, you pulled away, leaving him a little breathless. Your hand was still on his cheek. “I will see you so soon,” you said, softly. Then you pulled away, and left. You were already on the phone demanding details by the time you’d made it to the door.

Ransom just stood there for a moment, trying to let his mind catch up. Then he let out a breath. He’d done it. He’d gotten everything he wanted. He sat back down in his chair and picked up his fork. This cake seemed like the perfect way to celebrate.

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[florihaei]

• ౨ৎ ────── HEAVY HANDS, TENDER HEART ⟡ 🫐 ₊ ˖ ་.

˖ ！for my love lee jeno ❞ 💭 ( 이제노 ) ꒰ lee!jeno x fem!reader

in which … lee jeno fights battles inside and outside the ring, but the hardest one is keeping you at arm’s length. when misunderstandings and bruised hearts threaten to pull the both of you apart, jeno has to choose, keep guarding himself, or fight for the one person he can’t afford to lose ⟡ 🫐

⟡ 🫐 - boxer jeno !, angst/ suggestive/fluff- miscommunication, mentions of physically injures(bruises, cuts), happy ending!, names : pretty, baby, pretty girl, angel!

౨ৎ … WC - 2k! ( FLORIHAEI’S VALUT )

⟡ 🫐 秋のメモ… ︵ ︵ ིྀ - decided to do a little change to the theme, i don’t know how to feel about it! let me know!!, but feedback and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!!, please enjoy!!

©florihaei 2025 ꒰ do not rewrite, copy, repost, or translate any of my works without permission ۟ ׅ ͡ ୨ৎ

the gym always smelled like sweat every time you came. punching bags swayed the ceiling, the sound of gloves hitting the leather echoing off the concrete wall as. and the center of it all stood. lee jeno, your boyfriend, your boxer, your biggest heartbreak waiting to happen.

you watched him from the corner bench, arms crossed tightly against your chest. his movement were sharp. there was something so captivating about how focused he was. but today, you weren’t just here to admire him. today you were here because he hadn’t answered your calls in three days.

jeno ducked under a punch form his partner and finished with a clean uppercut. the partner stumbled back, waving a gloved hand to signal to end the match. jeno ripped off his gloves, tossing them to the side, and finally after what felt like ages his eyes met yours.

you stood up, tension stiffening in your spine.

“hey” he said as his voice was low and rough from his match you guessed.

“hey..” you stared at him, taking in his he bruises that were going along his jaw. “you good?”

he shrugged, wiping his face with a towel. “it’s just training.”

“you didn’t call me back” your voices cracked a little bit, and you hated that.

jeno avoided your gaze, tossing the towel onto a bench. “i’ve been busy.”

you stepped closer, feeling like you were standing at the edge of a cliff. “too busy to text me once?”

there was a moment of silence. the sound of gloves hitting bags filled the air again, but it feels like the world had shrunk to just you and him.

“im not trying to hurt you” jeno muttered, finally looking at you, and you just wished he hadn’t. his expression was closed off, his expression was closed off, his guard up, like you weren’t just another opponent.

“then what are you trying to do jeno?” your voice was small, honest…

he breathed out sharply through his nose. “im trying to focus, i have a fight coming up. I don’t need distractions..”

those words hit harder than any punch.

“oh” you laughed bitterly, wrapping your arms around yourself: “right .. im a distraction”

he flinched like he hadn’t meant for it to come out like that. but it was too late. you were already backing away, your chest filled with hurt.

“good luck with your next fight” you said tightly, turning before he could see your eyes blur with tears.

-

you didn’t hear from jeno for a week.

you didn’t watch his fight, event those you saw it trending online.

you didn’t answer when he text late at night, with two simple words, “im sorry”

you didn’t trust yourself to answer, because if you did, you knew you would forgive him to easily, and you weren’t sure if you should.

but love is messy, it’s stupid, it doesn’t listen to your logic.

so when someone knocks on your door at midnight two days later, you knee before you opened it that it was him.

jeno stood there, hoodie pulled low over his forehead, hands shoved into his pockets. a fresh cut split the corner of his lip, and bruises shadowed his knuckles.

“can i come in?” he asked, voice horse.

you hesitated, every instinct screaming at you to protect yourself, but you stepped aside anyway.

he walked in slowly, like he was scared to break something. you stayed by the door, watching him like he might vanish.

for a long moment, neither of you said anything.

then jeno finally turned to face you, his walls down for once, his eyes raw and vulnerable.

“i won” he said quietly. “the fight.. i won”

you nodded stiffly. “congrats”

he swallowed hard. “it didn’t feel good.”

that caught you off guard. “what?”

jeno ran a hand through his messy hair, pacing a little like he was in the ring again, trying to find the right angle.

“i thought winning would fix everything, i thought if i just.. pushed everyone away, i could focus.. be better. be stronger”

he stopped, fist clenching at his sides.

“but i was wrong, i was so fucking wrong baby.”

you pressed your back against the door, trying to keep steady as he stepped closer.

“you’re not a distraction ___” jeno said, his voice breaking. “you’re the only thing that’s keeping me sane”

tears stared to prick your eyes, but you blinked them away. “then why did you push me away jeno?”

he looked at you like you were asking him to pull his own heart out. “because i was scared angel.. scared that if i let myself need you, and something happened.. i’d lose everything”

“you wouldn’t lose me jen” you whispered. “you never had to choose between fighting and loving me.”

he stepped closer, so close that you could feel the heart radiating off him, you could smell the faint scent of leather and sweat clung to his skin.

“i know that now pretty.”

his hands hesitantly, then dropping again, like he didn’t know if he had the right to touch you anymore.

you reached for his first.

your fingers brushed against his bruised knuckles, gently and tenderly, and jeno let out a shaken breath like the smallest touch was enough to undo him.

“i’m sorry” he whispered again. “for everything baby”

you nodded, your throat too tight to speak. then he reached up, cupping his batted face, pulling him down for a kiss.

it wasn’t perfect, he winched slightly against the cut on his lips, but it didn’t matter. it was real, it was yours.

when you pulled away, jeno pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

“i love you” he said, his voice raw.

you let out a broken laugh, tears finally slipping free. “i love you too idiot”

he smiled, it was small.. real, the kind of smile you hadn’t seen in weeks.

“stay?” you whispered.

he nodded without hesitation, pulling you tightly against his chest like he was scared you might slip away again.

“always..”

jeno was a fighter in and out of the ring, but when he was with you, he didn’t have to fight anymore he could just be him.

[chamerionwrites]

#You are right - but I don't care#They'll figure it out or they won't & I don't mind reading slop#Fandom is pretty ametuer as a space & also has a history of being looked down upon#So they/we/whatever rally against any criticism harshly#But also so does any art movement or whatever because art movements & the Platonic ideal of the artist or whatever#Is the most annoying person you've ever met#It's tumblr#I think we're all someone's the most annoying person you've ever met#You think that u have an opinion#and it matters & you're right#But also because nobody is obligated to like or agree with or even argue coherently with your opinion#You get shit#And it does suck#But maybe stop poking the bear & expecting not to get poked

Man people will really just tweet it right out sometimes, huh. Next time tell me I was asking for it; that would get the point across much more succinctly.

Anyway before Tumblr loses reblogging privileges I have three things to say, the first two more measured and patient than the last:

(1) This post was specifically sparked by a scene of quite brutal racialized violence that often gets downplayed, reinterpreted, and erased in that fandom's gifsets. More broadly, it's about the tension between fandom touting itself as a progressive space and fandom's aggressive allergy to criticism, and how in practice the latter often makes fandom INCREDIBLY hostile toward anyone who wants to discuss broad trends in (eg) fandom's handling of race or imperialism or etc, including other fans making really very reasonable observations from a place of their own fannish love and investment. (Naturally this issue often hits fans of color first and hardest.) In the post's original context this is a lot clearer and maybe I should have been more specific here, but in my defense I didn't know it would break containment.

(2) When somebody leaves a long, lavish comment calling out every little word choice and plot point and thematic thread that they adored in a fanfic - this too is criticism!!! This is the result of someone reading fic with a critical eye, taking note of how it's crafted and what makes the narrative tick and exactly why they enjoyed it. Broadly speaking, a lot of people who read with this kind of analytical bent are also the people who like to analyze trends and patterns and subtext in fannish culture - and sometimes to question or challenge those trends. More and more frequently I hear fanfic authors lamenting that nobody leaves comments on fic anymore. I think it's worth asking ourselves whether this is in part due to fandom making itself a deeply unwelcoming place for people who read critically.

(3) That whole uwu we fans are just poor unfairly maligned smol beans, oppressed under the boot of other fans who care about fandom's flaws because they live here too big meanypants outside agitators who don't understand our beautiful community and want to tear it down, so really if you think about it it's YOUR fault if we lash out at you because you aren't ass-kissingly stepford-wife positive about fandom at all times stance is absolutely PEAK gamergate-manbaby and/or evangelical christian-style persecution complex, and so long as we're being frank here - I find it pathetic.

Honestly this gets at my chiefest complaint/frustration/discomfort with fandom as a whole. Which is: in their rush to defend the artistic merit of fanworks I think a ton of people have really valorized transformation and remixing and reinterpretation in and of themselves, when imo those are all quite neutral actions. When done well, they can expand and build upon and subvert meaning in really powerful and thought-provoking (and fun!) ways. When done poorly, they are just as likely to flatten and oversimplify and decontextualize and completely erase meaning. The simple act of changing something does not imbue the choice to do so with creative validity. It is entirely possible for a cover song to be bad (or just boring!). To exactly the same degree that it is possible to transform a pretty shallow and straightforward work into something deeper and more nuanced and subversive, is possible to transform a work into a vastly shallower and less interesting shadow of itself. As with nearly everything in art, it's all about the execution!

But the second you voice this position (which should honestly be a pretty uncontroversial one imo), you get people shrieking at you about being gatekeep-y and pretentious and betraying the sacred fandom etiquette of Don't-Like-Don't-Read.

And like...listen. I was not raised in a barn. I am 150% capable of quietly back-buttoning out of a fanfic I think is bad or boring - which is exactly what I do when I encounter them - and I am obviously not advocating for stupid ships wars or any kind of harassment or leaving hatemail in people's AO3 inboxes. (Which some people will also accuse you of the second you say anything less than lavishly positive about fandom, in true piss-on-the-poor fashion.) Literally all I am saying is that you can't have your cake and eat it too - that if fandom and fanworks (in the broadest sense) have artistic merit then fandom and fanworks (in the broadest sense) are fair game for artistic critique. Which means, in practice, that I can go on my own blog and make a post exactly like this one - critiquing broad trends, or stating that some interpretations are bad actually, or pointing out that subverting or talking back to or reading against the grain of canon is very different from simply ignoring it, or saying "fandom's culture of collage/remix/fuck-canon-I-do-what-I-want can lend itself to to really creative and interesting art but also to a lot of really bland homogenized cut-n-paste art, not to mention some pretty troubling decontextualization." And that if you feel this rains on your personal parade, you are then free to DLDR by back-buttoning out of my blog and/or blocking me so you never have to see my hot takes again, rather than clamoring in my notes about how I should let people enjoy things.

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a beautiful little lie. [chapter 6] l Harry Castillo

Summary:  you are the personal assistant of Harry Castillo, a wealthy entrepreneur who asks you to go with him to his friend's wedding. there you meet your ex-boyfriend and things get out of hand

Warnings: fluff, friends to lovers (maybe?), some kissing, ex-boyfriend, Mrs. Kruger, some tears, an unpleasant situation, some romance, some nerves

A/N: I wish I could write better to show what I have in my head when I plan this story. I'm not completely happy with it, but I hope it's just my mood and being overwhelmed. Thank you for every heart and reblog and comment. I don't want to demand or put pressure on you, but if you wrote a few words, I would be glad that I could read what you think about it all. Thank you for being here!

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Harry Castillo masterlist] [a beautiful little lie- series masterlist]

When you woke up in the morning, you felt a strange anxiety in your chest. Even though the previous evening had been really pleasant, nothing more had happened between you and Harry except for that kiss, you had the impression that you had crossed a certain line that you shouldn't have crossed. You wanted to blame it on the alcohol or the influence of the stars, but you couldn't hide one thing - you really liked that kiss.

"But he's your boss..." you groaned, rinsing your face with cold water. You repeated the same words later while taking a shower and getting dressed, as well as in the elevator and on your way to the dining room for breakfast.

But as soon as you saw Harry sitting at a table covered with a snow-white tablecloth, the thought that had been occupying your head quickly disappeared.

He noticed you as you entered the room. Your simple, casual dress nicely emphasized your shapes as you headed to his table.

"Good morning." he greeted, rising slightly.

"Hi." you replied with a smile, sitting down next to him "Have you been waiting long?"

"I just got here." Harry nodded to the waiter and he immediately appeared next to you "Would you like some coffee?"

After a moment, coffee and your breakfast appeared on the table. All the worries you had were blurred in the casual and pleasant conversation, and Harry didn't once refer to yesterday evening, for which you were grateful. If Harry had different impressions than you, you didn't want it to cast a shadow over such a promising day.

"Do you have any meetings today?" you asked, putting a piece of croissant in your mouth and reaching for your phone "I could work in the meantime. I'm sure I have a backlog of emails and..."

The phone slipped out of your hand and Harry without hesitation pressed the side button, turning it off. The screen went black. "We're not working today." he said, a mischievous smile appearing on his face "Neither you nor I. Tomorrow we go back to New York, we should use this day."

"What do you mean?" you asked surprised "Harry, your clients won't be happy if..."

"They can handle it." he interrupted you, took a sip of coffee, and then smiled again "We can spend this day however we want. Do whatever we want, eat whatever we want."

You watched him carefully as if you wanted to catch him in some trick. Maybe he was joking and just checking your reaction? You guessed that there must have been a few unread emails in your inbox, not to mention other messages. But your switched off phone was still resting on the table next to Harry, and his brown eyes were staring at you with audacity.

"Are you serious?" you asked finally.

He nodded. “Of course. You haven’t seen much yet, but if you just want to go to the beach, that’s fine with me.”

He noticed right away how you frowned and looked at him suspiciously. However, when you spoke, the corners of your mouth turned up slightly. "You just want to see me in a swimsuit again."

Harry raised both hands. "Guilty. But can you blame me?"

You chuckled, shaking your head. "I feel like I'm going to regret this, but... Damn it. Let's do this."

When Harry said you could do whatever you wanted, he really meant it. In the rented car, you set off through the streets of the city, visiting all the most popular places. You couldn't take your eyes off what the city had to offer, you admired the beautiful people, buildings, iconic places. Even though Harry had been to LA many times, he never once let you feel that he was bored. On the contrary, he accompanied you everywhere and was present one hundred percent.

Hidden behind his black glasses, he watched the delight in your eyes and the smile that never left your lips. Those small details and gestures that he knew so well about you, now seemed even more expressive to him.

He was afraid that after what had happened between you, some tension would appear, but you were so free with him that Harry felt relief. He didn't want to ruin your friendship, but he didn't think that what had happened was bad either.

"Harry! Come, you have to see this."

"But you wanted coffee." he was surprised, but you had already grabbed his hand and pulled him in front of a shop window with some trinkets to show him something. His brain didn't even understand what you were saying to him, he was only focused on how your hand fit perfectly in his.

You ate lunch in a nice little restaurant, and then ice cream in some booth by the beach. When in the evening you found yourself in a crowd of people and Harry, so as not to lose you, grabbed your hand again, you didn't let go of it even when your steps headed towards the beach.

“I’m gonna miss this sun,” you said as the waves lazily lapped at your feet.

“It’s only a few hours of flying. We can fly back anytime you want.”

You looked at him. He was standing with his hands in his pockets, his pants pulled up so the waves wouldn't get them wet, and his face was directed straight at the setting sun. He looked really handsome. The wind gently played with the strands of his curly hair, and his skin glowed as if Harry himself was the sun.

"You probably say that to all your assistants." you said, and he burst out laughing.

"Only to you, darling, I assure you." he replied.

"Such cheesy." you shook your head, but you couldn't hide your smile. "Oh, any woman would fall in love with you, Mr. Castillo."

He watched with interest as you lowered your head and lifted your foot slightly, playing with the waves that were steadily hitting the shore. This moment seemed to him cut out of life, where there was nothing more than you. Maybe that's why he decided to ask.

"And you?" you looked up at him. "Could you fall in love with someone like that?"

"Not with someone. That's not what you want to ask, is it?"

You were right. That wasn't what he was asking you. He wanted to know if you could fall in love with him. Was that even possible? You had crossed the line between boss and assistant a long time ago. The long evenings that you theoretically spent together at work, but in reality you just talked, the dinners, the occasional movie together, and many other things when you were just two friends.

“I think we make a good duo,” he finally said. “In and out of work. You know what I mean?”

You nodded.

“I would get first prize for Assistant Of The Year?”

“Definitely.” He frowned suddenly. “Does such a thing exist?”

You shrugged. “I have no idea. But I like working for you, Harry. I really do.”

“And I like spending time with you.” You smiled. “You’re smart, funny, beautiful…”

“Oh God, don’t do that…” you mumbled, feeling the heat rise to your neck.

Harry took a step toward you. “What shouldn’t I be doing?”

“That! You make me feel… embarrassed.”

One more step. “Is it bad? Tell me, when I kissed you last night, was it embarrassing?”

You took a deep breath, your chest heaving, and your eyes briefly darted away from the people walking in the distance. When you looked back at Harry, he had already taken off his glasses, his eyes looking at you softly, as if waiting for that one answer.

“No.” You answered quietly. “It was nice. Very nice, even.”

“I liked it too.” He replied. You didn’t even flinch as he gently brushed away a strand of hair that the playful wind had been playing with in your face. “And you know what? I still want more.”

His fingers gently trailed over your jaw, then down your neck to your shoulder. A warm shiver ran down your spine. You were almost certain Harry could hear your heart beating, he was so close. He waited for just one signal and he got it a moment later when a quiet, "So take what you want, Harry..." left your lips. And so he did.

His lips captured yours in a sweet and gentle kiss. Carefully, as if you were both exploring the area, testing how much you could allow yourself. His hand slid into your hair, pulling your face closer, the other rested on your hip, as if he was afraid you would run away. But you didn't have that in mind.

The scent of his cologne mixed with the scent of the sea, and you felt completely intoxicated by Harry. You gave yourself over to this moment completely, against all arguments of logic. Parted lips were an invitation to him. Without hesitation, Harry deepened the kiss, his soft tongue slipped in and you moaned quietly. The bastard smiled, you felt it.

"What?" you whispered. He stroked your cheek with his thumb, still smiling.

"Nothing." he rubbed his nose against yours, still smiling, until you finally patted his chest and pulled away.

"You're unbearable, you know that?"

Even though you stepped back, Harry's fingers slid down your arm and then tightened around your wrist. He tugged lightly, pulling you back to him. "And you're cute."

You rolled your eyes. This guy was taking you apart with childish ease.

"Tell me..." you looked at Harry with interest, "When we get back to New York, will you go out with me? On a real date?"

You watched him carefully, analyzing his words. There was nothing but sincerity in Harry's eyes.

"Do you really want this?" you asked.

He tilted his head, smiling. "Of course I do. I wanted to ask you out two weeks after you showed up at my office."

You shook your head in disbelief and giggled. “Okay. I can’t keep Harry Castillo waiting for me any longer.” He pulled you in again, kissing you lightly. You gladly let him.

Your suitcase was almost packed when you closed the door behind you and went to breakfast. You had a few hours before you were supposed to be at the airport, so you and Harry didn't have to rush. The elevator stopped on the ground floor, and you entered the lobby. You hadn't even taken a few steps when someone said your name.

"Daniel?" You frowned in surprise, not really knowing what was going on. "What... What are you doing here?"

The man smiled, walking up to you. It looked like he had to wait here. "We flew in at night. Nice to see you."

"Is Beth with you?" You looked around the lobby, but didn't see a familiar face.

"It's a business trip."

He didn't need to say anything more. A heavy stone fell into your stomach as you looked towards the dining room door. You already knew who you would meet there.

"And you?" he asked.

"W-what?"

Daniel smiled, then lightly placed his hand on your elbow and led you towards the dining room door. "I think you could use some coffee. Still drinking the same one?"

You noticed them immediately as you entered the sunlit hotel dining room. Many of the tables were occupied by guests, but where you usually sat, Mrs. Kruger-Waltz was now sitting with Harry. Her blonde hair fell smoothly over her shoulders, and her lips stretched into a dazzling smile. She rested her chin on her hand, completely engrossed in her conversation with Harry.

A cup of coffee was pressed into your hand, and Daniel led you straight to the table you had been eyeing.

“Mrs. Kruger, Mr. Castillo.” Daniel greeted politely, and Diane looked at you.

“Oh! It’s good to see you.” She said. “I was just telling Harry how hard it is to find you here. Could you answer the phone or at least answer your emails, darling? I thought you were responsible for that.”

Harry cleared his throat. “We’ve been busy.” He replied. “Sorry, Diane. I’m to blame too.”

Yes, he was. The phone he had turned off was still at the bottom of your bag. You hadn’t had time to check your emails. Cold sweat ran down your back at the thought of what you would find when you turned those devices on.

“Harry…” Diane placed a tender hand on Castillo’s shoulder. “That’s what we have assistants for. I think she should face the consequences of her negligence. But never mind!” she smiled happily. “I have some really good friends in Los Angeles that you should meet. Working with them could really benefit you.”

You noticed the quick glance Harry gave you. You must have looked like an idiot, standing at the table with a cup of coffee in your hand and complete surprise in your eyes.

“I have to apologize again, Diane, but we’re leaving today. In a few hours…”

“That’s no problem. I have my own private jet.” The woman took a sip of her coffee and winked. “Your assistant can fly back to New York on her own, right? Will you be okay?”

"Y-yes." You stuttered in surprise. "Of course."

"You see! Brave girl." Diane beamed. "She'll have a lot of work to catch up on, and we'll have a nice time here."

You didn't know what to say. You didn't have the courage to look at Harry, because Diane was watching you carefully. Finally, someone gently squeezed your elbow, said goodbye to them for you, and led you out of the dining room.

"You look really good, you know that?"

Daniel's words tore you out of your stupor. You looked at him in surprise and carelessly tilted your mug, spilling coffee on yourself.

"Fuck!" you hissed louder than you intended. You put the mug down on the small table by the wall and saw a stain on your shirt. "Ugh! Not that."

Daniel watched you carefully, a smile never leaving his lips. "Hey, don't worry. It's just a shirt." he said. “You’ll have time to change before the flight.”

“Yeah, I know.” You mumbled. “I just… didn’t expect you’d be here. If I checked my email or something…”

You felt a familiar touch on your shoulder, and Daniel placed a hand on it, trying to calm you down.

“Nothing happened. We all make mistakes sometimes, right? You’ll go home and make up for it.”

You quickly glanced at the door where you had left Harry and Diana. An unpleasant feeling of disappointment washed over you. You felt like you had let down not only Harry, but Kruger-Waltz as well, even though she wasn’t your boss. If you weren’t standing in the middle of the hall, you probably would have burst into tears.

“Listen…” Daniel caught your attention again. He pulled a white business card and a pen out of the inside pocket of his jacket. “If you need any help or… want to talk.” He scribbled something on the back of the card and handed it to you. “Call anytime. You know, I always liked talking to you.”

You looked at the card and then at Daniel, completely confused by the whole situation. In the meantime, he led you to the elevator, pressed the button, and the doors opened.

The next few hours passed at an alarming rate. Checking out of the hotel, taking a taxi to the airport, checking in and heading to the terminal. Your brain was on autopilot and you weren't entirely sure what to think.

In the morning, when you woke up, you felt like you had touched the sky, and at this point you were already down. You hadn't had a chance to talk to Harry and honestly, you wouldn't even know what to say. You felt like you had let him down, that your resignation letter was already on his desk. You shouldn't have let him turn off your phone, or at least you should have done your chores when you weren't with him or kissing him.

When you got on the plane, you felt even worse, if that was even possible. You sank into your seat and stared out the window. You exploded. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you hastily pressed your hand to your mouth to hold back a sob.

You hadn't felt this humiliated in a long time.

"Is this seat free?"

Shit. You wiped your tears with your sleeve and nodded. "Y-yes, go ahead." You waved your hand, trying to hide your face from the passenger sitting next to you. From the quiet sounds, you guessed he had taken the seat that was supposed to be Harry's.

"Did you enjoy LA?" the voice next to you said again.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down and not sound desperate. "I really had a good time here."

"I'm glad to hear that. Are you free this week?"

"You know, I'm really not..." you turned to the other person and froze. Harry sat down right next to you, a gentle smile on his lips. He was clearly pleased with the effect of surprise and your expression.

"What are you doing here?" you asked. "Diane... She's waiting for you, Harry."

"I had to decline her offer. I hope she takes it well, although she didn't seem thrilled." he replied.

You looked at him, completely speechless. A few moments passed before you spoke again.

"You shouldn't have done that. You were supposed to sign a contract... Your company could have lost a lot of money." You spoke so quickly that even if Harry wanted to interrupt you, he wouldn't have succeeded. "You should have stayed in Los Angeles. I've already caused so much trouble. Of course, I understand that my resignation is just a formality..."

"Hey! Stop it." Harry grabbed your hand and that made you fall silent. "I won't accept any resignation, not from you."

“But Kruger…”

“Mrs. Kruger-Waltz is not someone my company would want to work with. Her attitude towards people in lower positions goes against my principles. As my assistant, you should know that.”

Your eyes widened even more, but you didn’t say anything. You stared at Harry with a mixture of awe and fear. Had he really rejected Diane and appeared on that plane?

“You should stay.” You finally said quietly.

He looked at you, then smiled gently. “One woman promised me a date. She’s worth coming back for.”

You shook your head in disbelief, but you smiled back. This was crazy. But it was Harry.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist: @nrschuster30 @maried01 @lunariantears @thatesqcrush @suzysface @youkeeno @legoemma @nuo0n @sarahhxx03 @hazzzy418 @pedrofan @peepawispunk @readingiskeepingmegoing @maryfanson @anoverwhelmingdin @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @axshadows @picketniffler @underneath-the-sky-again @kaysfanficcorner @noisynightmarepoetry @xmaykeca @orcasoul @sincerelywithheartt @southernbe @chaoticfestninja @telumendilsoul @hermionelove @paleidiot @lemon-world1 @diabaroxa @scarcetti @thatoneperson38747 @pascal-mynightlyobsession @sunnytuliptime @krystal---meth @nikoanna @capuccinodoll @titlee78 @goodvibesonly421 @crlsummer @chewie-bars @dean-and-baby343 @warmdragonfly @harriedandharassed @speaktothehandpeasants @pasc4lfuzz @darkheartgatita @deesparticus @beezusvreeland @sunnytuliptime

[little-diable]

Cherry - Dean Winchester (smut)

I dedicate this one to @waynes-multiverse since we still haven’t managed to meet up (us busy bees). But I hope this little piece will still be fun to read!! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. Xxx

Summary: Dean has been a subscriber of Cherry’s page for quite some time, so it feels like an absolute dream once their paths cross in real life.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, car sex, strangers to lovers, reader posts spicy videos online, loverboy Dean, choking, spitting, handjobs, the full program

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (1.9k words)

With a sigh Dean stepped into the bathroom, thankful that Sam had fallen asleep a while ago. He sat down on the edge of the bathtub, green eyes focused on the screen. It was a routine by now, hiding away in the depth of the night after another exhausting day, only to find her profile for a few moments of distraction. 

Dean couldn’t remember how he had first found the profile, but he was grateful for it. He loved seeing her pop up on his screen, offering glimpses of the body he wanted to feel beneath his hands. His tongue ran along his lower lip, waiting for the shitty motel wifi to finally load her full profile and the new posts she had uploaded, which forced a groan out of him the second he finally saw all of her. 

Without taking his eyes off the screen, Dean undid his trousers, set on quickly getting himself off before catching a few hours of sleep. He leaned back further, back pressed against the old tiles while he clicked onto the newest video she had uploaded. Fuck, he loved watching her, loved the sounds she made while touching herself for all the people paying for her content. 

His hand took care of his aching cock, stroking himself to match the rhythm of her moans. Dean swore that he had never seen something this beautiful before, the lace barely covering her breasts, the perfectly painted fingernails which circled her bundle of nerves with enough pressure to make her tremble. He hated how much power this woman he had never met before had over him, but Dean wouldn’t ever pull back from her. She was everything he wanted, everything he’d never have. 

…

“I’ll be back in a minute.” Dean mumbled the words while Sam kept looking at their notes, combing through their research. With fast steps Dean entered the shop, set on buying some more beer before they’d leave for their next appointment at the sheriff’s office. 

He hummed a song while walking down the aisle, hoping that the following hours would pass quickly enough for him to be able to check her profile again. But just as Dean rounded the corner, he bumped into someone, arms reached out to catch the falling person. And then everything stopped moving. 

“Cherry?” The name rolled off his tongue as he took the familiar face in. Wide pupils stared at him as she cleared her throat while letting go of an embarrassed chuckle. 

“Well, this is awkward.” Dean couldn’t stop staring at her. She was even more beautiful than in her videos, he was utterly fucked. 

“Sorry, that was probably creepy of me, huh?” A small giggle left her while her eyes took in his features, and slowly Dean began to relax. He was all too used to the effect he had on most women, loving the way they stared at him with big eyes, taking in every inch of his features as if they were scared to miss something. 

“Don’t worry, I guess I should expect this to happen more often. But thank you for catching me, -“ she looked at him expectantly, with her smile only growing wider as he introduced himself with his first name. “Thank you, Dean. I should let you get to it, but how about a beer tonight, as a thank you?”

“I certainly won’t say no to some beer and a pretty girl keeping me company. Give me your phone, then you can text me a time and a place.” Dean typed in his number before he gave her the phone back with a smile. Both held eye contact for another second before she turned from him with a small wave, disappearing from his sight. 

The second she was gone, Dean had to let go of a deep breath to ground himself and to realise what had just happened. His head was spinning, even as he stumbled back to Baby and almost fell into his seat with a smirk so wide even Sam began to pick up on it. 

“Dude, you won’t believe what just happened.”

…

“So, you’ll leave tomorrow?” She leaned closer, fingertips firmly pressed against his lower arm. (Y/n) had met Dean at the bar hours ago, easily falling into a conversation both didn’t ever want to end again. 

“Mhm, probably. Why? You’ll miss me?” (Y/n) threw her head back with a laugh, but her hand tightened his grip on Dean. A part of him revelled in the fact that she wanted him close while she undoubtedly could have any guy she wanted. Another part cursed him for giving into this longing when he knew he’d struggle to let go of her. 

“I don’t know yet, I guess you’ll have to show me what else is there to miss.” Without understanding what she was doing at first, Dean watched her lean close enough for her lips to ghost over his. After a second or two he gave in, deepening the kiss with a gritty laugh leaving him. Even kissing her felt more perfect than he could have imagined, only worsening the inner struggles he felt. “I want you to fuck me on the backseat of that nice car of yours.” 

“That car has a name and I don’t play around when it comes to her. I only fuck the special ladies on Baby’s backseat.” The grin he wore only grew wider as (y/n) broke out into another fit of giggles. Giggles that were drowned out by the sound of Dean pushing back his chair to stand up before reaching his hand out for her to take. He pulled (y/n) out into the night while his hand found its way to her ass, disappearing in the back pocket of her jeans. 

Wordlessly he helped her into Baby before he started the car, set on driving a few miles down the road until they’d find a quiet enough spot. It didn’t take Dean and (y/n) long to move into the backseat, lips connected, hands fumbling with one another’s clothes. 

“This feels like a fucking dream, you’re even prettier than on all of your pictures.” Dean mumbled the words against her lips the second he felt her breasts against his hands. He had to part from her for a second, green eyes taking in her upper body as (y/n) rolled her hips. It was a sight for sore eyes, a sight so beautiful, Dean feared he’d cum in his pants before he even got a chance to fuck her. “Careful there, sweetheart, I don’t know how much longer I can hold back.”

“Oh, I don’t want you to hold back, Dean. Definitely not.” The devilish smirk she wore made his cock twitch in his pants, drawing a groan from Dean’s lips. He kissed her again, firmer this time while he silently thanked her for wearing a skirt which allowed his wandering fingers to find her already damp panties. 

(Y/n) was just as impatient, set on burning her touch into his body as if it was a map people would find centuries from now, using it to decode an old secret. She was quick with her hands, undoing his pants to grasp his aching cock with skilled fingers, pumping him at the same time he pressed his fingers against her bundle of nerves.

Both moaned in unison, pushing even closer to use more pressure for their touch. They were ready to lose themselves in the moment, unable to think of anything but the somewhat stranger they were ready to give their body to. It was a dance, a dance both seemed to have perfected years ago but were only now getting the chance to fully pull through with.

“Fuck, you’re so big, I can’t wait to fuck you.” (Y/n)’s moaned words made Dean groan into the darkness. His lips found hers with one hand pressed to the back of her head, not daring to leave any room between them. Their tongues met, tangling themselves together as their bodies burned from inside out. 

“Babygirl, you can fuck me any way you want.” It was all (y/n) needed to hear. She pushed back on his lap to get lost in his eyes while Dean reached for a condom she then rolled down on his cock. Deep down he wanted to drag out this moment, well aware that this was probably the only chance he’d ever get to fuck her, but his body was too eager, needing to feel her wrapped around him.

They held eye contact as (y/n) sank down on his cock, panties pulled aside. Baby seemed to grow hotter with every passing moment, allowing their moans to fill the car like it was the only song Baby would ever be able to play. With one hand placed on (y/n)’s hips, the other found her throat, as if Dean needed to hold her to remind himself that all of this was very much real. 

“Look at that fucking perfect pair of tits, shit, I fucked my hand to them too many times.” A breathy chuckle left her at his praising words, a chuckle that turned into a moan the second Dean tightened his hold on her. He stared at (y/n) for a second before he shifted them around, pulling out of her to press her down on the seat. 

“Oh God, Dean.” Her eyes fluttered close the second he entered her again. Their hips met with every ferocious thrust, burying him deeper and deeper inside of her as if he was closer to heaven than ever before. “Right there, fuck, please.”

He fucked against the spot again, set on making her cum with his eyes fully focused on her pleasure-drunken features. Wordlessly he tapped her chin, proudly grinning as she opened her mouth, staring at him while he spat down on her tongue, making her swallow as if she had always been his. 

“You’re mine, hope you’ll fucking remember this.” His raspy words made her whimper, all she could do was nod her head while tightening her legs around his waist. She was about to cum, walls fluttering around his cock, while she rubbed her bundle of nerves with trembling fingers.

And then she came. And Dean could have sworn that he’d never seen a sight this beautiful. She choked on his name, eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back. He kept snapping his hips, high on the feeling of her walls clenching around him so tightly he feared he’d never be able to pull away again.

“Christ, baby, you’re perfect.” Dean groaned the words the second he came, filling the condom with his release. Both were panting, unable to let go of one another while she chased his lips for another kiss. 

“I don’t think I can let you leave tomorrow.” (Y/n) whispered the words into the darkness, feeling Dean chuckle against her throat as he kissed her there. 

“So I managed to show you what’s there to miss, hm?”

[duskvsdawn]

I don’t see much about my boy Seible so can you do a fluff post of no.7 wearing his clothes after your requests are open again?

Like cuddling after stream and him finally noticing his clothes on reader?🤭

🛐🛐🛐

≫ A/N: You know what, I'll do this now since all other requests are staring at me and I just can't bring myself to do them now. Sorry to those who are still waiting T_T also sorry that this isn't really that long. I really tried to stretch it as much as I could, but man :(

Content: nothing special, just cute stuff. It is a bit suggestive here and there (especially the ending) cause Seible is a motherfucking FREAK.

Art credits <3

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

If you like my works, please like, comment and reblog! It is much appreciated ❤ And if you really enjoyed it, please follow me so you can be kept up to date on future uploads! Please do not re-upload, translate, or use for AI training.

That looks better on you than it does on me!

You had come home from work incredibly tired, but sadly, your work wasn't done yet. There was still lots of paperwork that had to be done, but thank fuck, your boss was okay with you doing that at home. You had a high position at your job, so you got more privileges than your colleagues, and your boss was pretty lenient with you deciding on doing what you wanted to do when. You were typing away on your laptop while you sat at the dinner table, headphones on your head to listen to some music, while you compared some sheets to take out some mistakes and add some budgeting info.

Your boyfriend was doing his own thing upstairs. If you remembered correctly, he would be streaming today. But it was getting pretty late now, so he should be done any minute. You had walked to the kitchen to make yourself some coffee, your headphones still on your head since they were wireless. You were moving and singing along to the music while you were making said coffee, not noticing that your boyfriend had walked up behind you. He gently tapped you on the shoulder, scaring you shitless. You paused the music and took off your headphones.

"Hey, baby! I'm making some coffee, would you like some?" you asked your boyfriend with a beaming smile on your face. "Yeah, sure, I'd like some!" your boyfriend replied while he put his head on your shoulder as he hugged you from behind. And then he spotted it, his tie around your neck. "Aha! So that's where it was! I thought I was missing a tie!" your boyfriend said as one hand snaked towards the tie to lightly tug on it. A smirk appeared on your face, knowing full well your boyfriend loved it when you stole some of his clothes.

You had finished making the coffee for both of you, and you took it to the dinner table with you. You told your boyfriend you still had some work to do, but he didn't mind. The promoter sat in the seat you were previously sitting in and patted his lap. You shrugged and sat down, knowing full well that his hands would be all over you as you tried your best to finish your work. As you tried to finish your paperwork, Seible's hands were indeed all over you while he hungrily kissed your neck every now and then.

"Damn, that tie looks so good on you... It looks better on you than it does on me! Then again, you know I love it when you're wearing a full suit. Makes you look so sexy and powerful..." Seible said as he lightly tugged on the tie once more, moving your head to the side so he had more access to your neck to leave some more needy kisses there. "Mmm, babe, I am trying to work here. The more you keep teasing me, the longer it will take for me to finish. Which means, the longer it will take until you can drag me to bed," you said with a chuckle as your typing became more furious and frustrated because gosh, you really just wanted to go to bed already and tease him some more.

"Fine, fine... Go finish your work, then. When do you think you'll be done? Do you want me to start running a bath for us?" the promoter asked as he kissed your shoulder blade. "If you can leave me alone for long enough, it shouldn't take too long. About an hour or so? I will let you know when I'm almost done, okay?" you said with a smile as you looked over your shoulder. "Sure thing. I'll grab you a snack real quick. Knowing you, you haven't properly eaten all day again. I can hear your stomach growling," your boyfriend said as he rubbed gentle circles on your tummy. "I would love that," you said as you got up so your boyfriend could stand up.

So, Seible went on the hunt. He looked in the kitchen for something tasty for you to eat, and he found some of those desserts from your local supermarket that you really loved. He brought you one of each of your favourites, straciatella with caramel and vanilla cookie, and a spoon, of course. You thanked your boyfriend and started wolfing them down while you had put on some music once again. While you were eating, you went over all that you had typed so far. It was looking pretty good for now. You decided you would only do a little bit more work and finish the rest tomorrow. You just really wanted some quality time with your boyfriend for the rest of the night.

"Babe? Would you be okay with running that bath now? I'm only doing a little bit extra, and I'll finish the rest tomorrow," you said as you took off the headphones so you could hear his answer. "Sure, no problem! I'll wait for you in the bath," your boyfriend replied as he blew you a kiss, then headed up the stairs to make an extra hot bath for you with all your favourite oils and bath gels nearby. You shook your head and thought about how lucky you were to have your boyfriend in your life. He could be such a sweetheart. But once the two of you would end up in the bedroom, or anywhere, really, he turned into a total freak. Especially if you'd been wearing his clothes that day. So, yes, you had been wearing his tie on purpose for that very reason.

You finished your work for now, shut off your laptop and cracked your knuckles while doing a super satisfying stretch. You went up the stairs to join your boyfriend in the bath. You undressed and got in the bath with him. Gosh, he wasn't sure what he loved more. Seeing you naked, or seeing you wearing his clothes. He tried his best to hide his lustful intentions for now; he just wanted to wash you so you could relax. It had been a long day for you, after all. He plopped a beautiful blue galaxy bath bomb into the water and started lathering up his hands to wash your hair. You relaxed while you sat between his legs, just enjoying his gentle touches, letting him completely spoil you.

After your boyfriend had thoroughly cleaned you and also himself, you just leaned back against him for a bit, feeling his heartbeat against your back. You wondered why his heart was beating so fast, but then again, you had instantly noticed his "little problem" (which was anything but "little") down there the second you sat down. After both of you had rinsed off and dried off, the two of you headed towards bed.

Your boyfriend had a special surprise up his sleeves. He walked over to the cabinet with ties, socks and underwear, and took one of his ties out of it. He walked over to the bed and asked you to put your hands above your head. He tied your hands to the bed with a smirk on his face. "I know you decided to wear that tie on purpose. Now you're wearing another one. Be prepared for a whole night of fucking." Seible said as he leaned forward to leave some heated kisses on your lips. It was going to be a long night, all right. But your boyfriend didn't want to make it too long and intense, since you were tired after all, and you needed your beauty nap. He was going to put in all the work for you. "I'll take care of you, baby. I'm going to take care of you real good. Just lie there and be pretty, princess."

[antianakin]

This is a nice way of looking at it, and you're probably not ENTIRELY wrong in the sense that I think I tend to read the theme you're picking up as less "no one knows everything" and more as "there's always two faces to a revolution and the rebellion is no different, but one of them gets to be public and live in the sun as heroes, while the other (by necessity) has to be hidden and live in the shadows, but both are necessary to the success of the entire cause." My problem is not the ACKNOWLEDGMENT of Luthen's contributions, but the way the narrative in this season, especially at the end, feels like it IS devaluing people like Bail or even Saw in place of characters like Mon and Luthen as vital and established founders of the rebellion.

I've made multiple reblogs now pointing out the places where I feel like this is done, but I'll try to run through it quickly again here.

Mon's escape from the Senate is given to Luthen's team because Bail's people that he vouches for happen to be compromised and only Luthen could possibly know that so he sends in his own operative and then Bail's people manage to somehow step in again to insist that they deliver Mon to Yavin in order to make it more of a big deal and so Luthen and Cassian have to step back and pretend they didn't do anything to help (which makes Bail and his team out to be a bunch of blowhards who are in this for the glory but who are ultimately incompetent/less competent than Luthen and his team who are actually prepared to do whatever's necessary to ensure success).

The way Cassian presents Luthen's information as valid specifically because "he died for it" and it's his pure FAITH in Luthen (as well as Kleya's faith) that allows Vel to convince Mothma into vouching for the information and convincing Bail to act on it. Luthen is turned into this larger than life figure who should be trusted simply because IT'S LUTHEN rather than because they have proof in hand that the information is real.

And lastly, Tony Gilroy apparently said this in an interview a little while back: "in our story Mon and Luthen really are the founders." Not that Mon and Luthen are "part of the GROUP of founders" or "some of the initial founders" or anything like that. But "really the founders." Period. It is Mon and Luthen's efforts that count and no one else's in this story. And it's hard not to view some of the other scenes like Mon's escape and Cassian's defense through that lens.

Some of the issue is also that this is one of those places where they didn't set this up enough for it to feel truly believable. Cassian argues that nothing on Yavin would be there if it were for Luthen, but we've never once seen Luthen do ANYTHING about Yavin, he's never mentioned it or been there prior to this, there's never been anything to indicate that Luthen built up Yavin as a rebel base of any kind. And honestly, most of the people who are there now seem to be from BAIL'S rebel groups as opposed to being connected to Luthen. There's a pretty strong implication that people who were once connected to Luthen are on Yavin now because they LEFT Luthen to join this group when they couldn't stand working for Luthen anymore. So while Cassian does seem to imply that the base there is only there because of Luthen, we have zero details on that and it's never been established prior to him saying it, so we just have to accept it at face value without really understanding where it's even coming from. If we'd SEEN Luthen working on setting up Yavin as a rebel base and a conflict between Luthen and Bail's rebels about who got to use it or something, it would feel more earned, but we don't, so it just feels confusing and like they're intentionally taking something that's historically always been associated with Bail Organa's rebellion and just saying "well actually secretly it was always Luthen's, we just never told you." And I can't take that seriously or respect it all that much.

Luthen is clearly a major player, and there's no disputing that, and I'm not saying that it makes no sense for Cassian to be trying to give him his flowers, especially after he's dead when it's most likely that Cassian is feeling more forgiving about the man.

I don't know, it just kinda is feeling like characters like Bail and Saw are having many of their contributions that have long been established be sort-of... brushed aside a little more recently in favor of characters like Luthen or Mon Mothma, and while I'm happy to have new characters come in who are equally as important to the narrative and show that it's never just one person, I refuse to dismiss the earlier characters' importance just because some newer, shinier ones got introduced.

It seems a little hilarious to me that they have Cassian making the argument that the only reason any of them are here, the only reason the REBELLION exists at all, is because of Luthen... and he's saying it to BAIL FUCKING ORGANA.

I'm sorry, but while I am happy to accept that Luthen did do a LOT of things to keep the rebellion alive and likely recruited quite a few of the people on Yavin to this cause himself and trained them up, there are just as many if not more who are there explicitly because of BAIL ORGANA.

Bail Organa who began fighting the Empire the moment he showed up at the Jedi Temple the night of Order 66 and turned around to save any Jedi he could and then became a GETAWAY DRIVER as Yoda went to assassinate the Emperor and then proceeded to agree to take in Anakin Skywalker's child in order to hide her from the Empire.

Bail Organa who has literally been shown helping recruit the entire Ghost Crew and likely brought on the entire Phoenix Squadon and theoretically the entire Gold Squadron. Bail Organa who was the one who helped Riyo Chuchi try to fight for clone rights. Bail Organa who saw Ahsoka Tano on Naboo for Padme's funeral and immediately turns around to offer her a chance to join the rebellion which she does eventually choose to take. Bail Organa who eventually does allow his own DAUGHTER to join the rebellion and run missions when she's old enough.

You cannot convince me that somehow Luthen Rael is MORE responsible for the creation of the rebellion and its existence and people's involvement in it than Bail Organa. You can't.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Crimson Ties ~ 22

CRIMSON TIES MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,665ish

Summary: Weeks pass and you're getting better... Then it all caves in around you.

Warning(s): talk of rape, talk of abuse, death, mental health, violence

Note(s): I just cannot stop. Honestly, at this point, the series will probably wrap up in the next week or two.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

You nervously played with the hem of your sweatshirt as your therapist studied you. It had been a few weeks since you started therapy now and things were looking up, though you were waiting for the next bomb to drop.

“Is there something else on your mind today, Y/N?” Your therapist asked, reading you easily.

“I… I’m struggling with what I’m feeling towards Tony,” you admitted softly.

“Oh? Tell me more.”

You kept your gaze on the thread you were pulling. “I don’t really understand it. It’s not what I expected… And I don’t know what to do with it.”

“What exactly is it that you’re feeling?”

You hesitated. “It started small… Like before everything that happened. He was attentive and asked questions and tried to get to know me… No one has ever done that. I thought that would go away after the attacked but it’s only multiplied… He reads me to sleep almost every night because it helps the nightmares. He always is careful when he moves around me, not to spook me… He never makes me talk… But I want to talk to him because no one has ever listened to me like he does… And he listens to not just what I’m saying, but what I’m meaning. Even when I struggling to get it right… I catch myself looking for him, hovering near his office. I feel like I can fully take breaths when he’s around… I think I’m starting to care about him. Like… really care… and it’s terrifying.”

“What do you think it’s so scary?”

Your eyes begin to sting as you bite your lip, the words rushing around in your head. “Because… what if this is him just doing his duty? Like… what if he’s just doing this because he thinks he’s supposed to? If that’s true, them I’m setting myself up to get hurt… Again… And this time, it won’t just be my body and mind… my heart would be involved too… I’m not used to someone like him… Someone who doesn’t expect anything from em, who just… stays. Even when I’m drowning.”

“It sounds like he’s become a safe place for you.”

“Yeah… He is… Sometimes, I catch him looking at me like… Like I’m not broken. Like I mater… I don’t know how to trust that. And he thinks that I haven’t noticed, but he calls me sweetheart and honey. Like it’s so natural… I like it.”

“You’re allowed to want that, Y/N. You’re allowed to feel something good. And you don’t have to apologize for it.”

“But what if this is all because emotions are running high?”

“If this all started before the incident, then trust it, Y/N. Trust yourself. You are allowed to.”

~~~

You stepped out of therapy feeling like a heavy weight was lifted off of you. Tony was there in the waiting room, another bouquet in his hand as he still tried to find you your favorite flower. He stood immediately, soft smile on his face. You smiled back.

“How’d today’s session go?” He asked.

“Good,” you nodded. “Really good.”

“That’s great, sweetheart. Should we go to lunch to celebrate?”

“Can we go somewhere close? I— I want to walk.”

“Of course.”

He held the door open for you and the two of you were soon walking down the street. Tony still had your bouquet in his arms, wanting to carry it for you. You kept stealing glances at Tony. You wanted to reach out to him, but didn’t know how. Tony caught sight of your fingers nervously tapping against your leg.

“Is everything alright?” He wondered.

“What? Yes,” you quickly responded.

He lifted a brow, unconvinced. “You sure?”

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“There’s a diner just another two blocks from here. Is that okay?”

“Mhm.” 

You let out a long breath before you slipped your arm through Tony’s. He tensed for a brief moment before stepping closer to you to make sure there wasn’t much strain on your arm. The two of you walked in silence the rest of the way to the diner. Happy, Natasha, and Bucky were following in the cars while Steve and Yelena were close behind you.

The bell above the door jingled as you and Tony stepped inside the little diner. The place was quiet— just a few booths filled, the scent of coffee and fried food hanging in the warm air. Tony glanced around before guiding you to a booth in the corner. His arm slipped from yours, his hand moving to hover near you back, not touching you, as you sat down. He sat across from you, resting the flowers off to the side. A waitress brought by two menus for you and you began looking it over.

“What are you thinking?” Tony asked, focused more on you than his own open menu.

“I… I don’t know,” you whispered. 

“Take your time, honey. No pressure. Order the whole menu if you want. I don’t care.”

The waitress checked in two times before you felt somewhat comfortable with making a choice. Tony silently urged you on as the waitress waited patiently for you two tell her your order. You didn’t even register Tony’s order, too busy processing what you had just done. Once it was just the two of you again, you risked looking at Tony. He was smiling— not in a smug or surprised way. It was soft, like you had just done something so monumental and changed the world. And maybe, in some way, you had.

~~~

“And your sure it was her?” Tony asked, staring at the documents in front of him.

“Yes,” Rhodey responded. “Pepper was the one who put the video footage on the screen.”

“And there’s still no sign of her?”

“No.”

Tony’s jaw clenched. “And Obadiah?”

“No movement.”

“He’s planning something again. We cannot be unprepared like we were last time.”

“We’re trying.”

“I need better than trying. Are all the safe houses renovated and ready to go?”

“Yes,” Peggy answered. “And they’re stocked with food and clothes.”

Tony nodded, fingers tapping on the desk as he turned to look at two photos framed on his desk. One of his parents and a candid one of you that he snuck a week ago while you had your hands deep in clay.

“I want this over,” he mumbled. 

“We all do,” Rhodey agreed.

A hand ran down Tony’s face as he sighed. “She’s doing better but I can tell she doesn’t trust it fully. She’s still looking over the shoulder for the next shoe to drop.”

“We’re trying our best, Tony.”

“I know… I just wish that was enough.”

~~~

You often left your new studio door open, mostly for comfort. In the weeks since Tony gifted it to you, you hadn’t finished many projects but you were content with that. You focused more on feeling the clay in your hands and how it seemed to cause all your troubles to go away. Tony leaned against the open door, watching as you worked the clay on the wheel, pushing it up and down. You could feel eyes on you, but you were scared. Tony’s stare had become something you could sense and allowed you to feel safe. You glanced up with a small smile.

“Hey, Tones,” you greeted. “You done for the day?”

“Unfortunately, not,” he pushed himself off the door and began walking towards you. “But I came to check on you. You working on something?”

“No. Just feeling the clay.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes. Yelena had the cook put something together. I think there’s leftovers in the fridge if you want any.”

“I’ll check it out. Do you need anything before I’m busy again?”

“No,” you shook your head. “Do you?”

“Huh?”

“Do you need anything Tony?”

He could have melted right there. “I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“I’ll let you know if it’s anything different.”

“Yeah?”

“I promise.” Silence grew between you two for a bit. “I’ll let you continue working.”

“Okay… Please don’t work too hard, Tony. You need to rest too.”

“I’ll head to bed soon, as long as you do the same.”

“Come get me when you’re done and I will.”

~~~

Tony quickly took care of things within the hour as to make sure that you don’t stay up too late. He came back to your studio to find you cleaning up. He helped you with what was leftover before walking you to the bedroom just a few steps down the hall.

“Are you going to be alright?” Tony asked softly. “Do you need anything before bed?”

You shook your head. “I’m tired, so I think I’ll fall asleep easily.”

“Good… good. I’ll just be down the hall if you need anything.”

“Thank you and… goodnight, Tones.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

~~~

You knew that a storm was coming, there was still a tension in the air and Tony was busier than ever. But you were feeling better about things and everyone was doing their best to let you focus on your healing. 

Another two weeks passed and you were in your therapist’s office again for another session. The session had gone well so far.

“You’re doing much better than you give yourself credit for,” your therapist said with a small, encouraging smile. “Like, have you noticed how much calmer your body is today? You’re holding yourself differently.”

“I feel it,” you responded. “It’s… It’s easier to breathe lately… Especially when he’s nearby.”

Your therapist nodded. “You’re trusting more. That’s good.”

~~~

Outside in the waiting room, Tony already had your flowers sitting beside him as he read a book you recommended. Happy was outside with the car while Yelena, Natasha, Bucky, and Steve were stationed around the office. Bucky was closest to the door when he heard a thud outside. His brows furrowed.

“Something’s wrong,” he mumbled.

Before anyone can move, the windows in the waiting room crashed open, small explosions activating. Smoke filled the room as objects and debris went flying. Before any of them could get their bearings together, armed men came filing through the door and immediately began fighting your bodyguards and Tony. Guns began firing.

“Get to Y/N!” Steve shouted.

~~~

You jumped from the couch when you heard the windows break. Your therapist stood up as well.

“Get behind the desk,” your therapist ordered.

You couldn’t move as the sound of guns firing and shouts filtered through the door. Your heart was pounding. Your therapist grabbed your wrist and dragged you to the other side of her desk. She shoved you under.

“Stay here,” she ordered.

~~~

“Someone get Y/N out of here!” Tony shouted.

But no one could focus on getting to you. There were too many men. Before anyone knew it, Natasha was knocked out, Yelena was shot on the side, and Bucky had a knife through his arm. Yelena and Bucky were still fighting, but their movements were slower now. Steve and Tony were trying their best, but they were coming up short. 

Tony’s focus was you. He needed to get to you. To make sure that you were safe and okay. But as he turned, he was whacked in the head with a thick baton. He fell to the ground, knocked out cold.

“Tony!” Steve shouted as Tony was tied up and began to be dragged out of the office.

~~~

Your heart stopped when you heard Steve shout Tony’s name. You curled under the desk further, shaking. Tears were sliding down your cheeks. Was Tony okay? Were any of them okay?

Steve burst through the door, frantically scanning the room for you. Your therapist motioned to under the desk as she took in the ruined waiting room. Steve’s long strides made it possible for him to quickly get in front of you.

“Y/N?” He softly called your name. There was blood splattered across his face. “I need to get you out of here. Rhodey and Peggy and others are on their way. But I need to get you to a safe house.

“Where’s— Where’s To—Tony?” You stammered. You couldn’t quite figure out the look on Steve’s face. “Steve… Where is he?”

“I promise that will will get him back, Y/N.”

“No.” You shook your head, curling into yourself further. “No!” Sobs wracked your body. “He’s gone! He’s gone!”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. But we have to go.”

Steve didn’t waste another second. He grabbed you and picked you up. You were crying and shouting for Tony as he carried you through the fight scene. Bucky, Natasha, and Yelena had helped each other into one of the cars. You gasped when you saw Happy’s body, bleeding out into the streets. You began to cry and shout more, thrashing in Steve’s hold. He stuffed you into the back of the car and rushed around to the driver’s seat and took off. The others stayed close to the therapists office, waiting for Rhodey to arrive.

“No! No!” You cried. “Tony! Tony!”

Steve gripped the steering wheel tight as he sped towards one of the safe house. Your cries where making it hard for him not to just pull over and hold you. But he had to get you somewhere safe. Tony would never forgive him if he didn’t.

~~~

Tony stirred awake with a groan, every bone in his body protesting. His vision swam, a dull throb in his head where he had been hit. His arms were cuffed behind him, now shackled to a metal chair bolted to the floor. The room was dim, concrete walls cold and dripping. 

The heavy door creaked open before Obadiah stepped in. His presence filled the space like a poison. His hands were tucked behind his back.

“You could’ve just called,” Tony couldn’t help but tease. 

Obadiah didn’t respond right away. He circled the chair, like a vulture, finally stopping behind Tony. “I always wondered what would finally bring you to your knees. Turns out it wasn’t business. Wasn’t power. Wasn’t even the death of your parents.” Obadiah moved around, a smug look on his face. “Turns out, it was my daughter.” Tony’s jaw clenched. “She’s made you soft.”

“She’s made me human.”

“Human,” Obadiah repeated, like the word offended him. “She was supposed to a burden. She was also supposed to be a snake in your midst. But she’s weaker than I ever realized. You somehow gained her trust. Made her believe that she’s matters.”

“She does matter. Far more than you ever deserve to understand.”

“Do you know what weakness looks like, Stark? It’s loving someone who can be taken from you. Who can be broken, again and again. It’s why I’ve never loved her.”

Obadiah crossed the room to a small table. He picked up a tablet and turned it on. He faced the screen towards Tony. A paused security feed filled the screen: you under the desk, sobbing with Steve crouched in front of of you. Tony’s whole body tensed.

“You see that?” Obadiah taunted. “She’s already unraveling.”

“If you dare go near her again—“

“Oh, Stark, I already have. And I will again and again. You think you’re protecting her? All you’ve done is make her more important. Now she’s not just my pawn. She’s yours. Because what I’ve learned is that if I kept her broken, I keep you weak. And you feed into that.”

“I would never use her like you have!”

“Clearly. Or she would already be with your child.”

“If you touch her—“

“You’ll what? You’re bleeding. Cuffed. Kidnapped.”

“They will find me.”

“Not in time.”

Obadiah slammed the door shut as he left. Tony leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He pictured your face. The way you looked at him before you went into your session. The way your eyes lit up as you worked with the clay. You had become his anchor. And if you were out there, still breathing, he would survive. Not because he had an empire to return to run. But because you needed him to.

next chapter >

[asexualbookbird]

*taps mic*

If you have or have had an IUD can you share your experiences if you're comfortable? Especially looking into

did it help endometriosis/adenomyosis pain or make it worse

what about fibroids

did it help level your PMDD symptoms

does it fuck with your EDS at all

how long did it take to 'settle' (doctor people ASSURE me youre good after a week but i have multiple friends who have waited months to stop being in excruciating pain, one took over a year)

I FORGOT THE FATIGUE AND BRAIN FOG DID THAT IMPROVE AT ALL

DID YOU GET ENERGY AT ALL

sorry just gotta be Vulnerable and Scared for a second replies asks and dms should be open

this IS OKAY TO REBLOG but if youre rude to anyone about anything you will be blocked

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Not a Word 6

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, violence, parental abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You live a life in hiding, away from your father and the world, until a man decides to drag you into the light. (non-verbal reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note:😻.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"We can come back for the rest," Sy assures as he lifts the suitcase into the bed of his truck. "This should do for the night."

You stand beside the truck. You twist to look at the house. You've always lived there; so long that you never imagined leaving. Yet, after what happened to your father, you can't fathom staying. Still, what lays ahead is just as scary.

"Come on then," Sy shuts the door of the truck bed. "It's gon' be dark soon. We should get home."

He urges you around to the passenger's side. He opens the door. You look at him then the seat. You frown.

You turn and grab the interior of the door. Your eyes widen as his large hand boosts you up from behind. He chuckles and quickly recoils.

"Ah, sorry, darlin', promise I wasn't gettin' handsy."

You sit heavily and stare ahead. He does that. He touches you. He never asks.

"You okay?" He asks as he lingers. You shrug and look at your knees. You slowly pull the seat belt across your body.

He shuts the door then marches around the hood and climbs into the driver's seat. The truck axle lurches with his weight. He buckles up the seat belt and flips the engine. It rumbles noisily and he shifts into gear.

You crane to stare at the house as he drives away. Your heart sinks as it fades into the grim horizon. Even though he promises you'll be back, you know it won't be for good. The life you knew there is over, yet what is there to miss about it? What about the one ahead of you? Will it really be any better?

"You're tired. Well, I got some new sheets just for ya," Sy says. "And some tea. You can just relax."

You shift and lean into the door. You stare through the window. He rolls along the country roads, just along the edge of the town centre, and you watch the crops blow and the trees sway. The air feels like sludge around you. The world is not real to you. Not yet.

He pulls up to a farmhouse. It's in much better shape than your dad's. The siding must've been painted recently and the roof doesn't have shingles peeling off. There's a garage to one side with four doors, almost as big as the house. Sy cranks into park and turns the truck off.

"Home sweet home," he declares.

He looks at you. You don't react. He clicks his tongue and taps the steering wheel. He undoes his seat belt and hops out. The descent is nothing to a man his size.

He circles around and opens your door. You reluctantly unbuckle the seat belt. He keeps his hand on your arm as he helps you down.

You shrug away from him and he peers around. He puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles. You cover your ears at the sharp noise. He waits and you look around in confusion.

It's then that you notice the flap in the lower half of the front door. A dark snout pokes through as a dog pushes the flap out. The german shepherd prances happily across the porch and down the steps. Sy greets her with an extended hand.

"There y'are, Aika," he scratches her head. "Told ya I'd be comin' back. Did ole Walt come and feed ya?" The dog hops up on her back legs and hops, trying to get higher as she dances. He gently urges her down as he chuckles. "Good girl."

She pants happily and her nose twitches. She turns to you and sniffs your hand. Your eyes round. She's a big dog.

"Aika's a nice girl," Sy assures as he trods around the truck bed and opens it with a loud creak. "She's happy to have ya."

She licks your fingers as you freeze up. Your dad never let you have animals. He didn't like dogs and told you how one nearly took off his ear as a boy.

"You can pet her," Sy suggests as he approaches once more. "She only bites who I tell her to."

You look at him and bring your hands up to clutch over your chest.

"I'm kidding. Didn't mean to scare ya," he says. "Aika, inside."

The dog obeys. You watch her bushy tail as she runs back to the porch, her claws tapping on the wooden steps. Sy nudges your arm gently.

"She's good to have around. 'Specially at night. There's all sorts of wild critters out in the woods."

You peer out at the cluster of trees. There were some possums around your dad's place but nothing too worrisome. Mostly field mice trying to eat through the garbage bags.

You head toward the house. You don't have much of a choice. You never have, yet it feels all the more oppressive now.

Sy opens the front door and lets you in ahead of him. The entryway is nice and tidy. There's a bouquet of sunflowers on the side table next to a coat rack and the shoe mat. You turn and examine the mostly bare walls.

"You got a lady's eye. I figure you could help liven up the place. Maybe hang some of them pictures you make. Something right here," he frames a part of the wall with his hands.

You nod. Whatever he wants. That's the way life is. It's how it's always been, it's just with someone new now.

The dog sits in a bed in the corner of the front room. You peer around, feeling lost, feet treading along without direction. This place is nice but strange.

"You tell me if I missed anything," he says.

You stop in the middle of the front room. This can't be done overnight. This takes time. He claims it's all for you, but is that true? If it is, how long was he planning this? Was it all planned? Hurting your dad, lying to the police...

"Is it alright?" He sounds almost nervous.

You look at him. You just feel small. And tired.

"You hungry? We didn't have dinner yet."

You shake your head. His brow furrows.

"How about I show ya the bedroom? You can get settled."

You walk forward. He waits until you're in the hallway then he leads you toward the back of the house. Opposite the kitchen, there's the bedroom. It's spacious and done up as nicely as the rest of the house. He must have had some help... right? You couldn't do all this.

The bed is made up with floral sheets and a thick coverlet. And the lamps on either side look like drooping tulips. He slips in past you as you stand just inside the door. He opens the sliding doors to reveal a closet.

"Found some nice stuff. I don't know too much about clothes but..." he takes out a dress. The lavender farm dress is pretty; a drawstring waist and little eyelet patterns around the collar. You nod. "Something to sleep in..."

He turns and puts the hanger back and takes out another. The white nightgown is shorter than the dress. And has only straps. He brings it to you. "All your intimates in the dresser. I'll bring your bag in for you to unpack what you brung."

You take the nightie. He leaves you and you examine the cotton. You shiver as you look around the room. Home? You guess.

He comes back with your bag and leaves it on the bench at the foot of the bed. He goes and you change into the nightgown. It's fresher than the linen pants and dusty tee. You put your clothes on top of the bag. You'll deal with it later.

You climb into the bed and hide under the blankets. You curl up and close your eyes. You push yourself away from this place, away from this reality. You just want to stop being, stop thinking for a little bit longer.

🌼

A coolness spreads over your back and just as quickly, dissipates. A warmth swirls around you, pluming beneath the fresh linens. Your eyes roll back and forth beneath their lids as you slowly wade up from the grey. There's a tickle along your side.

"Sugar, you okay?" Sy's deep timbre weaves tension through you. "Hey, you awake?"

He squeezes your side and you roll onto your back, poking your elbow into his chest to keep him away. You look at him sharply. It's dark, you can barely make out his silhouette. He lowers himself down to his side.

"Just wanna make sure you're alright. You been quiet." He drawls.

You tut and roll over again, keeping your back to him. He huffs and you lay rigid, waiting for him to touch you again. He doesn't.

You close your eyes. You listen to his breathing. He fidgets for a while, tossing and turning. Eventually, he begins to snore and you're reassured by the steady tempo.

You're tired enough to doze. You float in and out of consciousness. Each time you wake, the wall is a bit lighter. When the birds begin to sing, you're kept awake by their ceaseless tweeting.

You lay on your back as the morning hues light the plaster. You shiver as you feel something crawl up your thigh and onto the fabric of your nightgown. Sy spreads his hand over your stomach and shimmies closer.

"Morning," he grumbles.

You blink at him. His eyes are sleepy as he blinks and his beard has shanks jutting out. Your eyes follow the thick tendons of his neck down to his bare shoulders and chest above the blankets. He moves even closer and you realise he doesn't have much on.

"I like waking up next to you," he pets your stomach through the fabric.

You clasp onto his wrist and shake your head.

"I'm not gonna go too fast. I'm just... getting a feel of ya. Let you get a feel of me, too."

He twists his hand around and catches yours. He yanks on your arm. You're not strong enough to resist. He presses your palm to his furry chest. Your eyes round and your brows arch.

"Not so bad," he pushes your fingers into his firm flesh. 

You shake your head and try to sit up. He won't let go.

"Relax," he insists and slides his hand up your arm. He pushes you back down. "I know you heard me. We're gonna get married so we go get used to each other."

You shake your head again.

"Now, I know it's new for you," he wraps his arm around you and traps you against him, "but you gotta try."

You pout and lean away from him, pushing on his chest.

"You needa think. No one else is gonna take care of you. No one else ever said nothing to your daddy. Only me," his voice darkens. "The least you can do is let me hold ya."

You wriggle against him. Panic stirs in your chest and tingles behind your eyes. His heat is overwhelming, his strength too. All this touching is too much.

"Not like I'm tryna do more," he growls and squeezes you until your arms collapse. He curls his arms around you, holding you flush to him.

You heart pounds. More? You're not stupid. Maybe inexperienced. He will eventually. Especially if he's talking about marriage.

"You're nice and warm and soft," he keeps you locked in his arms. He rests his chin against your hair. "And you smell sweet." Your lip trembles as his hand grazes down the back of your nightgown. He gropes your bottom and you twitch. "Just touching. Just a little." He purrs. "You got a nice figure, you know? You're built well."

You close your eyes and shudder. You couldn't move, even if he didn't have you trapped.

"I think you'll like me too, sugar," he rasps. "You know, you can touch. I don't mind. Get to know me." He hums into your hair and inhales your scent. "I know I'm your first and only man, so I'll be gentle. Long as you're gentle with me."

[everythingwasnormalhere]

trans day of remembrance please for fuck's sake remember disabled trans people this time, dont leave it to us to be the only ones who mourn them

so many posts about today and ive seen nobody mention them. nobody at all.

im fucking tired.

[sunkissedliterarylightofchrist]

When people ask "What do you do for fun?" why isn't "Looking at art of my friends oc ship and giggling and kicking my feet <3" an appropriate answer?

[tryingahandinholdingapen]

OH WAIT I remembered the last thing i wanted to add

(I promise it really is the last thing this timeL

(I should have made this a series of posts instead of one long reblog chain, fuck)

The last thing is...okay even when I reread this I STILL can't tell whether KRS!Cale was referring to TBOAH in general or the Henituse Territory specifically, but you know in the very first couple of pages of book one when KRS!Cale is talking about hidden experts everywhere, and also mentions about Ron being an assassin? Well the first time I read that I assumed he was specifically referring to Henituse Territory having all the hidden experts

My point being that in this AU, the Henituses' Territory is run by a family who are not GUARANTEED to be fucking with everyone's reputation/perception of things/being manipulative, but it's highly likely that AT LEAST one member of the family is. AND plenty of people come to the Territory to escape their past and/or identity, for example, the kittens and the Molans, AND there's a lot of hidden experts including existing residents discovering+nurturing new skills, and there's a lot of secrets in general and...

What I'm saying is that, in this AU, the Henituse Territory looks like super normal. If anything it's a bit more average/lesser than other places with perhaps less crime. But to anyone in the know it's more of a case of "plausible deniability is the name of the game, don't just trust anyone's telling the 100% truth take everything with a grain of salt and maybe poke around a bit, but for the love of fuck do NOT ask TOO MANY questions or press too hard. most people are lying and most people have secrets to keep and it's reasonable to want to know a LITTLE BIT....but ultimately we're all (dangerous) friends here so just, be polite about it would you?"

I keep forgetting to type this up so this may not be as well written as I'd like but I feel like I gotta get it down before I forget about it

anyway

TCF AU in which the Henituse are in fact just as mad about inheritance as most other nobles, they just happen to approach it completely differently and therefore nobody (...outside of Henituse of territory) is aware of this

Side effects of this include the Henituse family generally getting along better + being tighter knit than in canon, and KRS!Rok Soo not having to worry as much about doing anything out of character for og!Cale because others can make the actions fit <-sorry this doesn't really make sense before I've explained the rest of the AU I may be doing this out of order

UH okay so

I'm using the Stans and the Crossmans as my reference for what other nobles may be like in regards to inheritance btw, since I don't recall much information about how any others in the Roan Kingdom deal with it (yes I know the Crossmans are royalty not mere nobility, I'm doing the best I can with the info I got)

Anyway. My point is that most nobles in Roan might view inheritance something along the lines of

- There is one (1) position that matters and that is Leader Of The Territory, whether that be duke/count/king/whatever, that's the one position that matters

- Every potential heir is gunning for this one position, and generally (may be exceptions in some households or in extenuating circumstances) does not support each other at all. Every man for himself

- Whoever currently holds that Leader position probably doesn't care too much about what their potential heirs do to try and secure that position for their own future..

- ...which means that sabotage, violence, messing with each others' alliances or reputations as well as forming their own, and using even less scrupulous means (cough assassins cough) to try and secure their own position or fuck each other over are ALL very much on the table (your milage may vary depending on how nice your particular family is)

- Outsiders are more or less aware of the ongoing fight for whatever position, as well as how it's going for each party, and can+will take sides themselves in supporting a potential heir, dependent on how important the family is

- If you are a potential heir and you do not end up getting that One Position then depending on how nice your particular family is you'll end up somewhere between "brutally murdered" (...Stans I'm looking at you), "have to get a job + support yourself, with varying extents of help from whoever leads the territory", "okay cool no responsibilities but still some inherited wealth you get to do Fuckall Forever"

This post is getting way too long so I'm putting a read more before I put the Henituse rules and then I'll reblog this post to write about how I think this could affect the canon Henituse (Deruth as well as both his late wife and current wife, OG!Cale, KRS!Cale, Basen, Lily)

And then there's the Henituse who...don't follow any of those rules about inheritance. They have their own, entirely separate rules, for all this. Everyone else assumes they don't have any inheritance bullshit going on - and to be fair, in some generations, they don't! In some generations, it's all resolved very quickly and neatly and it's no big deal. Other times it's a massive mess or takes absolute eons to sort out but it's an INTERNAL AFFAIR that others don't hear of and also they're not anywhere near as hostile to each other so like...nobody knows this. This is how the Henituse have been running affairs for basically forever and it works very well so they've kind of just kept doing it

Um. Here's some rules for how inheritance works for the Henituse

1) The biggest difference to note is that the Henituse do not only have one position (Count, at the beginning of TCF, I guess that switches to Duke when they become a duchy though). Instead they have broken up every possible role into about as smaller pieces as they can, and made each of those a separate position, so that there's like...more than twenty

Some examples of these positions/roles/jobs:

- Count/Duke, obviously

- Knight/in charge of all knights

- Guard/in charge of all guards

- Information gathering (may or may not be separated into "civilian friendly", "welcome to the underworld" and "okay now you're getting involved in things outside of the Henituse territory (military, marrying out into other households, etc) and reporting back" versions)

- Information control (instead of gathering information they're controlling what information others get e.g. starting or spreading rumours, planting evidence, etc.) This one may or may not be further separated into like "this is legal and there will be no/minor problems if you get caught" and a "okay good luck dealing with the underworld" versions of the role

- Free good stuff for the territory/kingdom e.g. anything involved with charity or things that benefit the public at the expense of the Henituse. This probably includes anything to do with orphanages and some things to do with taxes maybe

- Ambiguous role thats in direct opposition to any crime/underworld in their territory

- Effective second in command to above role

- And an admin type role for the two aforementioned, if necessary

- Ambiguous role that minimises harm to their civilians by PERSONALLY running+controlling crime/underworld in their territory

- Effective second in command for above role

- and admin for the aforementioned two, if necessary

- Admin role to assist Count/Duke

- let's have our own personal mage

- let's have our own personal researcher for [insert topic that directly benefits territory here]

- consort/wife/husband type role to whoever is the current Count/Duke. In charge of hosting parties/events and networking with others in the equivalent role

You get the gist there's a lot of potential roles. It's impossible for them all to be filled by direct family members of the Henituse at any given time, which is the POINT. Ideally they want each potential heir to occupy a separate role from each other, and for each to choose something that they personally are interested in + would excel at. The remaining roles that aren't fulfilled by them are either left unfulfilled, if deemed unnecessary or if they don't have the people to fill 'em, or they're rolled together with other role(s) and one person then takes on the combined position of those, or they're given to trusted members of extended family and/or trusted subordinates. But like the point is that everyone gets a defined role and hopefully everyone gets a defined role that they specifically chose that suits them

You could also choose to marry/get adopted out of the Henituse and say "actually, I am prioritising my new family and will therefore not be working as much/at all for the Henituse anymore". In which case you're still expected to be working towards the betterment of the Roan Kingdom

Or you could get disowned. That works too

2) Directly related to there being so many roles...terms and conditions apply (there's age cutoffs and exceptions in case of illness or disability) but for the most part? If you're a Henituse you have to be working for the betterment of the Henituse territory and/or the Roan Kingdom, or if you're too young for that yet, you have to be actively working towards that goal. There is no option to slack off or coast off inherited wealth. Reports are required, either from you or about you from those around you, at least three times a year, with either "here's what I'm/they're doing" or "here's why I'm/they're not doing anything <- this is for illness, disability, or extenuating circumstances"

(I'm so sorry KRS!Cale. No slackers' life for you)

There's fairly strict rules about this. If you miss a report (there's a fairly long time you can submit them in! like at least 2-4 months. just get them to whoever currently runs the territory) then you get a limited time extension. If you miss that then you're suspended/put on default duty (more on what that is in a minute). If you miss a second report in a row (not counting the extension on the first report) then you risk getting disinherited. If you do fuckall for over a year without a single word about why (in other words if you miss 3 reports in a row AND there's no word from anybody else on what you're doing in that time frame that would excuse you) then fuck you you're getting disowned

(Again I am so sorry KRS!Cale)

3) Because there are multiple people and multiple roles in play, things can potentially get a whole lot more complicated than "I want to be Count and I want everyone else to NOT be the Count". Because theoretically every single person involved may have

- opinions on what role(s) they want for themself

- opinions on what role(s) they DO NOT want for themself

- opinions on what role(s) they want [insert another person] to have

- opinions on what role(s) they DO NOT want [insert another person] to have <- this may be because they think the other person isn't suited for it or because they personally want that role and therefore they don't want anyone else getting it because of the preference for everyone to get a separate role to each other

And then multiply that by approximately a thousand for the like 20+ roles there probably are, and then make it several times more complicated for every additional potential heir that is involved because that drastically increases the potential different combinations

It's a lot!!!

Anyway that means that in any generations that do have disagreements about inheritance things get SO fucking messy words cannot describe,,,I'm laughing just thinking about it oh my god

4) Therefore, as equal parts "necessary damage control" and "the Henituse are genuinely a lot nicer about inheritance + each other than most noble families" there are...rules. About the infighting. Jfbsjfbjdnf

Okay rule number one on that front is that you must not harm or cause genuine distress to any other family member or potential heir (no fucking assassins in this household thank you very much). Rule number two is that, ideally we want a family that loves and respects each other, but bare minimum you must look out for each other and have SOME small element of trust+mutual respect there. Rule number three is no involving outsiders. This is an internal matter about inheritance it's not a fucking civil war in the making (....I will forever be mildly puzzled about the whole,,,different factions supporting different princes thing. that seems like it had potential to escalate so badly if, yk, they didn't have much bigger problems cropping up) and therefore you WILL NOT have outsiders sabotage other heirs' chances at any given position, and any allies of yours should either be your ally or the Henituse's ally but NOT EVER an enemy of the Henituse as the whole or of the other potential heirs'. Rule number four is that no matter what else you do you MUST NOT disadvantage the Henituse as a whole nor the Roan Kingdom as a whole, under any circumstances

The fact that they can't harm each other or each others' chances for a position means that their options are to just work really hard to prove that THEY personally are a better fit for it, try to go convince the other themself that [blank] would be a better idea, or resort to psychological warfare (without tripping over the line of "harm or genuine distress"), or start doing elaborate social engineering + crafting their own and each others' reputation. No physical harm here only (limited) psychological/emotional/social harm <3

But again like there are limits to that. Not too much harm. If you're not still 100% happy thinking of the others as your family (even if only distant family) who you'd be glad + not too uncomfortable to eat a meal with, you fucked up. If you ever make a family member feel unsafe around you you definitely fucked up