#like it needs some adjusting but i could do it in the main fabric i think

[arsenicflame]

so like.... i could just jump into making my janet cosplay right now if i wanted to. i shouldnt.... but should i?

[petermorwood]

More on pre-electricity lighting.

Interesting to see this one pop up again after nearly two years - courtesy of @dduane, too! :->

*****

After experiencing a couple more storm-related power cuts since my original post, as well as a couple of after-dark garden BBQs, I've come to the conclusion that C.J. Cherryh puts far too much emphasis on "how dark things were pre-electric light".

For one thing eyes adjust, dilating in dim light to gather whatever illumination is available. Okay, if there's none, there's none - but if there's some, human eyes can make use of it, some better or just faster than others. They're the ones with "good night vision".

Think, for instance, of how little you can see of your unlit bedroom just after you've turned off the lights, and how much more of it you can see if you wake up a couple of hours later.

There's also that business of feeling your way around, risking breaking your neck etc. People get used to their surroundings and, after a while, can feel their way around a familiar location even in total darkness with a fair amount of confidence.

Problems arise when Things Aren't Where They Should Be (or when New Things Arrive) and is when most trips, stumbles, hacked shins and stubbed toes happen, but usually - Lego bricks and upturned UK plugs aside - non-light domestic navigation is incident-free.

*****

Here are a couple of pics from one of those BBQs: one candle and a firepit early on, then the candle, firepit and an oil lamp much later, all much more obvious than DD's iPad screen.

Though I remain surprised at how well my phonecam was handling this low light, my own unassisted eyes were doing far better. For instance, that area between the table and the firepit wasn't such an impenetrable pool of darkness as it appears in the photo.

I see (hah!) no reason why those same Accustomed Eyes would have any more difficulty with candles or oil lamps as interior lighting, even without the mirrors or reflectors in my previous post.

With those, and with white interior walls, things would be even brighter. There's a reason why so many reconstructed period buildings in Folk Museums etc. are (authentically) whitewashed not just outside but inside as well. It was cheap, had disinfectant qualities, and was a reflective surface. Win, win and win.

*****

All right, there were no switches to turn on a light. But there was no need for what C.J. describes as stumbling about to reach the fire, because there were tinderboxes and, for many centuries before them, flint and steel. Since "firesteels" have been heraldic charges since the 1100s, the actual tool must have been in use for even longer.

Tinderboxes were fire-starter sets with flint, steel and "tinder" all packed into (surprise!) a box. The tinder was easily lit ignition material, often "charcloth", fabric baked in an airtight jar or tin which would now start to glow just from a spark.

They're mentioned in both "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings". Oddly enough, "Hobbit" mentions matches in a couple of places, but I suspect that's a carry-over from when it was just a children's story, not part of the main Legendarium.

Tinderboxes could be simple, just a basic flint-and-steel kit with some tinder for the sparks to fall on...

...or elaborate like this one, with a fancy striker, charcloth, kindling material and even wooden "spills" (long splinters) to transfer flame to a candle or the kindling...

This tinderbox even doubles as a candlestick, complete with a snuffer which would have been inside along with everything else.

Here's a close-up of the striker box with its inner and outer lids open:

What looks like a short pencil with an eraser is actually the striker. A bit of tinder or charcloth would have been pulled through that small hole in the outer lid, which was then closed.

There was a rough steel surface on the lid, and the striker was scraped along it, like so:

This was done for a TV show or film, so the tinder was probably made more flammable with, possibly, lighter fuel. That would be thoroughly appropriate, since a Zippo or similar lighter works on exactly the same principle.

A real-life version of any tinderbox would usually just produce glowing embers needing blown on to make a flame, which is shown sometimes in movies - especially as a will-it-light-or-won't-it? tension build - but is usually a bit slow and non-visual for screen work.

*****

There were even flintlock tinderboxes which worked with the same mechanism as those on firearms. Here's a pocket version:

Here are a couple of bedside versions, once again complete with a candlestick:

And here are three (for home defence?) with a spotlight candle lantern on one side and a double-trigger pistol on the other.

Pull one trigger to light the candle, pull the other trigger to fire the gun.

What could possibly go wrong? :-P

*****

Those pistol lanterns, magnified by lenses, weren't just to let their owner see what they were shooting at: they would also have dazzled whatever miscreant was sneaking around in the dark, irises dilated to make best use of available glimmer.

Swordsmen both good and bad knew this trick too, and various fight manuals taught how to manage a thumb-shuttered lamp encountered suddenly in a dark alley.

There's a sword-and-lantern combat in the 1973 "Three Musketeers" between Michael York (D'Artagnan) and Christopher Lee (Rochefort), which was a great idea.

Unfortunately it failed in execution because the "Hollywood Darkness" which let viewers see the action, wasn't dark enough to emphasise the hazards / advantages of snapping the lamps open and shut.

This TV screencap (can't get a better one, the DVD won't run in a computer drive) shows what I mean.

In fact, like the photos of the BBQ, this image - and entire fight - looks even brighter through "real eyes" than with the phonecam. Just as there can be too much dark in a night scene, there can also be too much light.

*****

One last thing I found when assembling pics for the post were Folding Candle-lanterns.

They were used from about the mid-1700s to the later 20th century (Swiss Army ca. 1978) as travel accessories and emergency equipment, and IMO - I've Made A Note - they'd fit right into a fantasy world whose tech level was able to make them.

The first and last are reproductions: this one is real, from about 1830.

The clear part was mica - a transparent mineral which can be split into thin flexible sheets - while others use horn / parchment, though both of these are translucent rather than transparent. Regardless, all were far less likely to break than glass.

One or two inner surfaces were usually tin, giving the lantern its own built-in reflector, and tech-level-wise, tin as a shiny or decorative finish has been used since Roman times.

I'm pretty sure that top-of-the-line models could also have been finished with their own matching, maybe even built-in, tinderboxes.

And if real ones didn't, fictional ones certainly could. :->

*****

Yet more period lighting stuff here, including flintlock alarm clocks (!)

[trenchcoatimpala]

To Keep

“Would you kneel for me?” Castiel sounded nervous, like he wasn’t sure if Dean would give him this, as if Dean wouldn’t give the angel his soul if he asked. 

Keeping eye contact, Dean sank to the floor and watched as Castiel’s pupils grew impossibly bigger and his lips parted as he took in a breath. It sent a thrill through him, knowing that he was the one making Castiel feel like that, just by getting on his knees.

“You like that, huh?” Dean said, his voice catching slightly at the realization. He moved forward, his hands coming to Castiel’s waist, fingers slipping into his belt loops as he tugged the angel closer to him. “You like being worshiped?”

Castiel’s hand nestled in Dean’s hair, gripping just enough to pull slightly. “I’m an angel, Dean,” he said through his teeth on the back a groan. “I was made to be worshipped; prayed to; heralded.”

Dean began to work to open Castiel’s pants, the hard line of him already visible against the fabric. “Well, c’mon then, angel, if you want me to worship you I’m gonna need some proof you are who you say you are.”

Castiel’s fingers tightened against Dean’s scalp, his gaze darkening. “What would you have me do?”

Dean leaned forward and began to kiss at Castiel’s hip bone, easing the angel’s pants down, before he looked back up at him, something innocent in his voice as he said, “Well, you’ve got wings, haven’t you? Show ‘em to me.”

Castiel shuddered above him, his breathing turning slightly jagged and labored. Dean watched him pull himself together slightly, enough to take his hand from Dean’s head and ease himself out of the rest of his clothing. His shoulders rolled back and he fixed Dean with a look that was nothing but holy as Castiel sucked thunder into the room, lightning clapping back against it as a shadow of wings fell across the wall. 

Dean stared in awe, sinking back on his heels to see Castiel in all his glory. The angel’s eyes glowed softly and Dean watched as Castiel manifested his wings fully, real feathers unfurling from his back. They touched the ground, shushing over the floor as Castiel spread them out, large and real; Dean itched to touch. 

“You’re so fucking hot right now, Cas,” Dean said. 

“And you are stunning on your knees for me,” Castiel replied, his voice the same timbre as the thunder he’d just called to the room. Dean licked his lips, Cas’ cock still inches from his face, hard and leaking. “Do you want to suck me off?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, the single word nothing but a breath. 

Castiel brought one of his wings forward, some of his feathers brushing lightly against his cheek. Dean shivered at the spark of power he could feel emanating from Castiel’s body, at the way Castiel himself gasped at the contact, grace brightening his eyes as he continued to look down at Dean.

“Go on then, worship me,” Castiel commanded. 

“‘M gonna take you apart,” Dean said as he began to place open mouthed kisses along Castiel’s inner thighs, working his way up to the main event.

He let his breath ghost along the head of Castiel’s cock for a few seconds before he took him into his mouth. The angel’s hips tipped forward, chasing the heat, and Dean hummed around him, swallowing as he adjusted his jaw to accommodate him. Castiel’s wings came to crowd around Dean’s back, locking him into his own little cave, away from the outside world, away from anything that wasn’t this moment, here; Castiel.

He could still see the angel through the gap above his head and their eyes locked as Dean tongued at him. Castiel looked like sin, which should be blasphemy for an angel, but on Castiel it was nothing short of splendor, with his eyes half lidded and his hips bucking to Dean’s ministrations; his wings trembling around him, sometimes brushing up against Dean’s back. He grinned at the sight, at the fallen angel above him who had dared to reach out and touch humanity and embraced it when humanity touched him back.

Dean could tell Castiel was close and he pulled off despite the angel’s whimpered protests. “Not yet,” Dean said. His own erection was poking at his jeans and he reached for his belt as he got to his feet, Castiel’s wings fanning out to give him space. 

Dean shucked his clothing under Castiel’s heated gaze and there was a moment where they simply took each other in, their bodies in their most vulnerable state, where armor was shed and imperfections were laid bare. Dean’s eyes searched Castiel’s, for what he didn’t know– acceptance? Want? Forgiveness for what they’d done to each other in the past and what they were most certainly going to do to each other in the future?

“Come here,” Castiel said, and it wasn’t an order or a request, it was simply what they knew they both needed. 

Dean stepped into Castiel’s arms and the angel’s wings swallowed him as he held him close. He shut his eyes against Castiel’s chest, relishing in the warmth and safety that the angel provided; that slight hum of power that seemed to radiate off him. 

After a moment, Dean began to back Castiel towards the bed, smirking when the angel’s knees hit the edge of the mattress and Dean guided him down. Castiel went willingly and Dean crawled on top of him, locking their lips together in a kiss that spoke for every unsaid word Dean ever struggled to say. Castiel kissed back like Dean was the most precious thing he’d ever held. 

Dean wanted to mold himself into the angel, leave an imprint of his own against tanned skin like the angel had once done to him. He broke away from the kiss and started nipping at Castiel’s jaw, down his throat, sucking a bruise between his teeth that he soothed with his tongue. The angel moaned under him, hands pressing into Dean’s back, moving to cup his ass. 

Dean’s fingers shifted to touch the feathers splayed out across the mattress and Castiel’s entire body seemed to melt as he groaned at the contact. The feathers themselves seemed to be reaching out to him, sliding up and along his fingers, wanting to touch him just as much as he wanted to touch them.

He kissed down Castiel’s chest, pausing to tease each nipple between his teeth– which had the body under him bucking up in pleasure. “Dean,” Castiel gasped, his hand coming to land in Dean’s hair. 

He freed one hand from Castiel’s wings and reached between them to take them both in hand. He gazed into electric blue, felt the feathers in his other hand standing on end as they chased the edge of a precipice together. “Fucking beautiful, Cas,” he panted.

Castiel smashed their lips together again and Dean let the angel’s tongue explore his mouth as their hips moved in tandem, precum sliding between Dean’s fingers, one of Castiel’s wings coming to drape over his back and hold him closer. The build was slow and perfect, Dean dug his fingers into feathers, which caused Castiel to bite Dean’s lip and hold it between his teeth as Dean’s hand worked faster and faster between them. He couldn’t look away from the angel for a second, he didn’t want to miss this; Castiel unraveling. 

Dean was close and by the noises Castiel was making he was too. It didn’t take more than three more twists of Dean’s wrist to have them both spilling over his hand. Dean gasped into Castiel’s mouth as feathers glided over his back, trembling in the aftershocks, and Dean collapsed on top of the angel, breathing hard. They stayed like that for a long time just… being. 

Until Dean broke the silence some time later. 

“Hey, Cas?”

Castiel’s hand stilled where it had been running gently up and down his side. “Mm?” 

“I love you, you know that right?”

Castiel shifted to look at him, the fondest smile on his face. “I know.”

Dean settled back against the angel’s soft feathers, sighing contentedly. “Okay. Good.”

A kiss was planted gently on top of his head and then Castiel whispered, “Thank you for loving me. It is the greatest gift I have ever received.”

Dean smiled as he leaned forward to press a kiss to the angel’s lips. “Yeah? And do remember what to do with gifts?”

Castiel nodded sincerely, tightening his hold on Dean as he said, “Keep them. And I assure you, Dean Winchester, I have no intention of giving you up.”

tag list, ask to be added or removed

@undeadcas @tearsofgrace @hellerstiel @casgetoutofmyass0907 @wantstoflyafraidtofall @gayhuckleberryinatrenchcoat @thepixelagora@thelahatiel  @im-sam-fucking-winchester@piebook67 @theedeangirl@november5th@bixlasagna@ancient-fangirl@famouspsychicpizzabandit@you-cant-spell-subtext-without@bumbledumble1@cascigarette@addicted2demons @our-stars-graveside @fivefeetfangirl @evillittleguy @nekoshi13 @notreallyaroad @quiltcas @dotti55

[pankowcrumbs]

Premier X Joseph Quinn

MasterList

Joseph Quinn Masterlist

Stranger Things and Cast Masterlist

The flashing lights were relentless.

I’d been to a few red carpets before mostly for work, usually lowkey but nothing like this. This was Warfare. One of the most anticipated war dramas of the year. Joe’s biggest film to date. And I was here… not for work. Not on the sidelines. I was here with him.

I adjusted the silky fabric of my dress, trying to keep a natural smile on my face as the photographers shouted Joe’s name over and over again. His hand tightened gently around mine.

“You alright?” he leaned in and murmured near my ear.

I nodded, eyes scanning the crowd. “Just… a bit overwhelming.”

His brows creased instantly. “You sure? We can go slower. Or step aside for a bit.”

Bless him. I hadn’t realised how tightly he was gripping my hand until I tried to flex my fingers.

“I’m okay,” I said, giving him a smile. “I’m just not used to this many cameras.”

Joe turned toward me slightly, using his frame to shield me from the majority of the chaos as he whispered, “You look bloody perfect, by the way. Proper showstopper.”

That made me grin. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

He smiled bashfully and pressed a kiss to the side of my temple. The cameras definitely caught that.

“Joe, over here!” someone shouted. “With the missus!”

He chuckled under his breath. “Think they’ve already decided we’re married.”

“You mean we’re not?” I teased.

He turned to look at me, eyes twinkling. “Don’t tempt me, darling.”

Before I could reply, a security man gestured for us to move further down the carpet. Joe kept a hand on the small of my back, guiding me gently, constantly checking that I was alright. Every few metres, a flash would go off right in my face, and I’d blink against it, trying not to look startled.

At one point, a cameraman stepped back without looking straight into me. I stumbled, and before I could even react, Joe’s arm was around me, steadying me.

“Oi!” Joe barked, voice sharper than I’d ever heard. “Watch where you’re bloody going!”

The man turned, looking sheepish.

“She alright?” someone asked.

“She will be,” Joe snapped, pulling me in close. “Jesus she’s not a prop, lads. Give her some bloody space.”

The crowd quietened for a beat. Joe’s eyes scanned me with concern.

“You okay, love?” he asked again, softer now, hands on my shoulders.

“I’m fine,” I said quickly. “Really. Just a bit shaken.”

He looked like he wanted to murder someone.

“I told you we could’ve stayed in bed,” he muttered, thumb brushing under my jaw. “Could’ve watched the premiere from the telly. I don’t give a toss about the photos.”

“You’ve worked too hard on this film,” I said. “I’m not letting you do this alone.”

His expression softened. “You’re mad.”

“You love it.”

“I really do,” he murmured, then pressed another kiss to my cheek, possessive and tender all at once.

Once we got through the main gauntlet of flashing lights and shouting, we were ushered into the press section. He did a few interviews, holding my hand between questions. I mostly stood to the side, offering him smiles when he glanced over, which was… often. It made the nerves flutter in my stomach, the way he’d reach for me without thinking, like he needed me nearby.

Eventually, a voice called out, “Joe! The lads are waiting for you by the main theatre entrance!”

He turned to me, smiling wide now. “C’mon. You’ve got to meet the boys.”

“Think they’ll like me?”

“Oh, they’ll bloody adore you,” he said confidently. “Mainly ‘cause I’ve done nothing but talk about you.”

I laughed, but my cheeks were burning. “You have not.”

“You’ll see,” he said, leading me toward the inner part of the venue.

The other Warfare cast members were grouped together, all laughing and sipping from flutes of champagne. When they spotted Joe, a cheer went up.

“Quinn!” shouted one of them Charles, I recognised him from the trailers. “There he is! And this must be the elusive Y/N!”

I was immediately wrapped in a bear hug.

“Oh my God hello!” I laughed, barely able to breathe.

“Mate, he’s always talking about you,” said another, who I realised was Will, the guy who played Joe’s closest mate in the film. “We feel like we know you already. It’s actually a bit mental.”

“Obsessed, honestly,” chimed in another. “Won’t shut up.”

Joe groaned. “Alright, alright she’s here now, isn’t she?”

Kit grinned. “We’ve got to make sure she’s real!”

“I am real,” I said, laughing. “Unless you’re all hallucinating me.”

Charles gave me another side hug. “You’re brilliant. You’ve kept him grounded, haven’t you?”

Will nodded. “We’ve never seen him like this. Man’s all soft now. Smiles at his phone like he’s sixteen.”

Joe just rolled his eyes, cheeks pink. “Glad you lot are getting it out of your system now.”

I tucked myself under Joe’s arm, half out of affection and half because I could feel another crowd of cameras gathering.

“Right,” Joe said, addressing them all, “we’ve got to sit down soon, but be nice, yeah?”

“Joe,” I said, nudging him.

He looked down at me and gave me a smile that just melted me completely. “I know, darling.”

Another photographer leaned in a bit too close again, camera inches from my face. I instinctively took a step back, bumping into Joe’s side. His arm came up instantly, blocking the lens.

“Back up a bit, yeah?” he said to the guy, voice low but firm. “No need to get in her face.”

“Let them get their photos,” I whispered, tugging gently at his sleeve.

“Not when they’re shoving lenses at you,” he muttered, glaring.

The others watched him with amused expressions.

“Told you,” Will said to Kit. “Soft and protective.”

Joe scowled at them but still held me close.

After a few more minutes, we were ushered inside for the screening. Joe kept a hand on my back the entire time we moved through the crowd, whispering in my ear, “Step here… watch your foot… you okay, love?”

It was honestly adorable. And slightly hilarious given that I’d managed fine on my own for years before him.

Inside the theatre, the lights dimmed and the movie began. Joe held my hand the entire time. At one point, I glanced at him during an especially intense scene, and I could see him watching me, waiting for my reaction. His thumb brushed the back of my hand when the screen faded to black.

When the credits rolled, the audience burst into applause.

I turned to him, eyes wide. “Joe, that was… incredible.”

He looked slightly stunned, like he couldn’t quite believe it was over. “Yeah?”

“You were phenomenal. I’m so proud of you.”

He swallowed hard, squeezing my hand. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You were the one on screen, Joe.”

“Yeah, but you were the one who held me after 14-hour days. And kept my feet on the ground when I was spiralling.”

My heart swelled.

We stood to leave, and as we made our way out, someone called his name again for a post-screening interview. He glanced at me, clearly torn.

“Go,” I said. “I’ll wait by the bar.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

He kissed my forehead and murmured, “Back in a sec, love.”

I watched him walk off, handsome in his dark suit, chatting easily, answering questions with grace. But his eyes kept flicking back to find me.

After the interview, he made a beeline for me, wrapping his arms around my waist from behind.

“Let’s go home,” he murmured into my hair. “I’ve had enough fame for one night.”

“Thought you loved it,” I teased.

He nuzzled closer. “I love you. Everything else is noise.”

We slipped out the side exit with help from security. Joe pulled off his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders.

“Thank you,” I whispered, tucking into his side as the night air chilled my skin.

“For what?” he asked.

“For being you.”

He smiled and opened the car door for me, helping me in like the total gentleman he always was.

As we drove off, I looked over at him, the city lights glowing on his face.

“You know,” I said softly, “you were kind of a hero in that film.”

“Acting,” he said with a wink. “Smoke and mirrors.”

“But out there… when that guy bumped into me? You were real then.”

He paused. Then reached for my hand. “I’ll always be real with you.”

[luvwestwood]

"Off Limits" - Gojo Satoru

4,120 words.

warnings. n*sfw (18+), tongue piercing satoru, substance use, satoru is a plug, fuckboy! satoru, oral sex (he eats your pussy OUT) , both characters 🚬 🍃, resolved sexual tension, porn with a BIT of plot, mildly dubious consent, fucking at a party, he makes you squirt

notes. this was originally posted on my ao3, which is much more longer. i've shortened it down and fixed errors I made on ao3 originally (see if you could notice what it is 😭)for tumblr so its more of an easy read! <3

banner cred. @/yunonoai on twt/ig

You had about an hour and half to get ready, before you had to make your way to the Mappa Frat House down the street. Chloe's brother, Satoru, and his friends were inviting you two to some house party they held every year building up to Halloween.

To be real, it took you A LOT of convincing for Chloe to have you come to the party with her. You were never a party person. The thought of throwing up your guts after your system has consumed all types of shit. Or the annoying guys that slap your ass from behind in hopes of getting time with you in the bedrooms upstairs.

You were the total opposite of Chloe, and honestly, you envied her. She was a social butterfly who could blend in with anyone if she needed to, and she was evidently liked by the other students of any clique out there.

Oh, and by party animal, I mean it. Dresses in every colour, length and pattern. Heels of every inch and style. She just knew what to do. Practically, if you got her to go to your party, that's how you'd know if it was a good fucking party. 

Sitting in front of your desk finishing your makeup, which you were surprisingly good at, you giggle as you watch Chloe attached a lasso to her waist.

She had looked really cute in her Woody costume, and you were in fact, dressed as a sexy Buzz Lightyear. Earlier on at Ann Summers, Chloe was begging for you to match with her. You couldn’t refuse. It was a 2 for 1 sale anyway..

You smiled as she started to record a few tiktoks before hitting the road.

"I'm gonna have so much fun with this rope tonight."

"Mhm.." you let out a hum as you focus on doing your eyeliner. It was hard not to laugh at what she said, but you managed to suppress a giggle.

You lined some lashes with glue before placing them on your lash line. Your makeup was flawless tonight, and you were grateful because it had been quite some time since you've done a full glam. A bit of setting spray, and you spun your chair around to face Chloe.

It was as if she was a proud mother from what she was seeing in front of her. "Gorgeous! You look like a doll. A sexy one. Stand up really quickly, let's take a few pictures before heading out."

You stumbled a bit from the high heeled boots you were wearing, and you had to adjust the fabric your ass was practically eating as you stood up. You and Chloe took a few cute pictures before heading out to the Mappa House.

As you guys got there, it was already packed with all shit ton of people spread out on the front lawn doing all sorts of stuff.

The loud music from the inside could be heard from where you were standing. People were smoking, making out, doing keg stands.

Honestly, Chloe was right. You looked at a group of girls huddled and chatting near the door, and one caught your eye. The girl was wearing nothing but black tape on her boobs and underwear.

You nudge Chloe. “Chlo, what is she meant to be..?”

She giggled a bit before replying, “Who knows.”

You got a bit nervous as you walked on the path leading up to the main door. Spooky Halloween decorations were all over the House, and sometimes you were unable to tell what and what's not a decoration..

A man was standing just inside the door, it seemed like he was waiting for Chloe.

The guy dressed up as Johnny Cage from Mortal Kombat. You'd never seen him before, and he looked a bit intimidating.

You heard Chloe call out to the man. "Kento!" ..So that's his name. You stood behind Chloe like a loser as she gave him a hug. She pulled away and stayed pressed up against him. 

He smiled, "I'm glad you came. And who's this pretty girl?"

Kento turned to you as you looked at Chloe, she held you close to her too and gave you a proper introduction. "This is my best friend and room-mate, I convinced her to come along tonight!"

You returned the smile to him, he seemed like an okay guy. "Hi, nice to meet you."

Chloe winked at you, and you smirked, knowing what it meant. You gave her the look of approval as she took her lasso and tied it around Kento, pulling him to a room somewhere in the house.

You laughed as you made your way to the kitchen, after they disappeared up the stairs. How outrageous.

It was more quiet, which you liked. Making your way to the far end of the kitchen, you opened the fridge and scanned what's inside. You decided to take a small can of Pepsi. You sighed as you turned around, closing the fridge shut with your butt.

The presence of someone behind all along startled you, leaning against the island watching you this whole time. 

"Oh my fuck. Why are you creeping up on people like that?"

It was a person, assumingly a guy, his face covered with a ghostface mask. He was dressed in all black. A simple black fitted tee and jeans. He had a fake knife strapped to his belt.

The mysterious guy took off his mask, and placed it on the counter behind him. Of course, It was Satoru, Chloe's brother.

You let out a labored sigh as you leaned against the fridge, unable to move.

"I'm surprised you showed up tonight, I thought you never will."

You slowly slid to the right trying to escape him, turning your back to face Satoru as you popped the can open on the counter. "...It was a last minute decision."

"Seems like you got a costume too, huh?" Eyes sliding down your body as he finished his sentence.

Your eyes widen, realising your ass was on show to him this whole time. I'll kill this man if he thinks I'm up to no good.

You quickly turn back around to face him with the front of your body, and it didn't do you any justice as he was just met with your almost exposed chest. Party in the front, party in the back.

"I'm not complaining, you look good." he reassured you, trailing his eyes down your body from head to toe.

"..Thanks." Quickly, you took a huge sip from the can as you looked at him. This drink will only un-calm my nerves.

"I'm actually not into parties myself either." he spoke, and you almost choked on your drink.

"You? THE Satoru Gojo? I wasn't expecting that."

"No, I just like more intimate parties. Big ones like these annoy me. I don't know and don't care about 3/4 of the people who are here."

He continued, “You wanna come with? I’m going upstairs. There’s one last free room. And that’s the master room.”

Chloe was already busy, and there wasn’t really anyone else you could talk to around here. You had no choice.

”Hmm, okay. I’ll follow.”

He made sure to grab his mask from the counter, and the two of you left the kitchen.

As you made your way up the stairs, you could feel other girls eyes piercing through your back like daggers. Luckily, they couldn’t recognise you that easily.

By the time you set foot on the upstairs landing, you called out to him. "Satoru," you continued, "Who's room is this even?"

"Suguru’s, but it's cool. He won't give a fuck."

You followed behind him for a bit until you reached the master bedroom.

”Lock the door if you don’t want people coming into this room eating each other’s faces off.”

You blankly stared at him for a bit before turning back around to twist the lock. The music from downstairs turned faint and so did the chatter.

For a frat house, Suguru’s room was actually clean, you expected dirty plates and what-ever-the-fuck to litter the rest of the room, but the only exception was the clothes scattered on the ground. You watched and sat yourself down on the bed as he rummaged through the drawers for something.  Is he… reaching for a.. 

He picked up a lighter from deep inside the drawer, taking a joint out that was untouched from the same drawer, but kept away in a tiny zip bag. Phew.

”You smoke?”

You looked at him. “What do you think?”

”I’m guessing no.” You didn't know if you were to be butthurt by his quick and certain answer, but you don't see a reason why you should be anyways. His words went a bit quiet as he concentrated on sparking the joint between his fingers.

He took a hit from the joint as soon as it was burning perfectly. “Damn, that shits good.”

”Is Suguru not gonna be pissed if he finds out you took that..?” You questioned him.

”..Who do you think sold this stuff to him?” He flashed his famous smile as he saw the priceless look on your face.

You chewed on your lip and looked at the ground. “Oh, right.. yeah.”

You forgot that Satoru was basically the one who sold 🍃 on and off the campus.

He walked over to you, and sat beside you on the edge of the bed. “You don’t wanna try?”

Satoru took another hit before blowing the smoke out on his right side, making sure it doesn’t hit your face.

“I don’t know. I’ve never done it before, plus I’m scared.” You continued, “More scared I’ll start coughing like a bitch that I’d make a fool out of myself.”

Even though the only source of light came from the bedside lamp, you could still see that his eyes were glossy, and at this point a tiny bit bloodshot. “I could teach you, here.”

He held out the joint towards you, the smell was so strong it was probably sticking to your clothes by now.

”Quick, it’s burning away for no reason.”

You held the joint between your fingers like a cigarette, and looked at him for assurance.

”No, not like that.” He took your fingers and placed it properly between your pointer and thumb. “You look like a loser if you hold it like a cigarette.”

”Okay, what now.”

”Do it, take a hit.”

You stared at it before bringing it to your lips. Satoru spoke from beside you.

”Like, almost as if you’re sucking. Make sure it really gets to here.” He points to his chest.

You slightly squint your eyes as you take a mistakingly big hit.

”Now hold it for a bit, then exhale. It’s gonna hit better.”

The joint left your lips as you held it for like two seconds, and you let out a laboured exhale.

“Good girl, see? No coughing.”

You passed it back to him and Satoru takes another hit.

”..How’d I know if it hit me?”

He smirked, “You’ll just know. Don’t worry, I got you.”

All of a sudden, it felt like everything slowed down and your face was being grabbed to the ground.

You felt a bit relaxed knowing that Satoru was beside you, and you managed to take a hit without embarrassing yourself and going all snotty.

Unwillingly, you take the joint back from his hand to take another hit.

”What happened to Ms. I don’t smoke?”

You rolled your eyes before you passed it back to him again. 

Satoru smiled at your reaction before speaking again. “You wanna play a game?” 

Stomach churning, and not really liking where this is going, you answered. “..like what?”

”I ask you a couple questions and you answer, then you do the same to me.”

You snickered. “Isn’t that just called ‘getting to know each other’?”

”Yeah, I just wanted to make it sound more interesting.”

“Okay, why not.”

“How about, if you refuse to answer a question you take off one piece of clothing.”

You looked at him with a , ‘nice try’ face. ”Nuh uh. Not happening. Just ask the questions.”

”Aww, it was worth a shot.”

“Start asking questions or I’ll change my mind,” you changed your position on the bed to lie down on your stomach. It was more comfortable than stiffly sitting on the edge of the bed.

”You ever had a boyfriend?”

”Once. But I was like sixteen.”

Satoru just nods. “Your turn.”

“Did getting your tongue piercing hurt?”

He turned to you and smirked, “I’m surprised you noticed it. But nahh. Not really, it was just the healing process that hurted.”

Your face slightly grew warm, “…Yeah, I noticed it yesterday.”

He just smiles, and asks his second question. “You ever gotten your pussy ate before?”

You swallowed your spit as you propped yourself up slightly. “I’m sorry, what?”

”You heard me.” He takes another hit of the joint even though it’s almost shrunken to the smallest it can be.

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “…No.”

”…Good.” Satoru muttered, but you couldn’t really hear.

It was your turn to ask question again.

”..Why’d you want to get it pierced anyways?”

”Dunno. Why’d you think?”

Silence and tension grew between the two of you. You didn’t know if the naughty answer that crossed your mind was right or wrong. 

You didn’t know if it was the temperature of the room or the shit you smoked. You avoided answering his question.

”…Y-your turn to ask the question.”

His next question came out immediately.

“..Wanna see for yourself?”

Your breath hitched as he spoke. You didn’t know what to say. And you didn’t know what he meant.

”Is that a question you’re using up or are you just saying that… as a joke..”

Satoru stood up and walked over to the dresser, placing his costume props on top. In fact, he took everything out of his pockets and placed it on the dresser. 

You watched him glance at his phone for a bit, reading all the messages from his other homies before placing it down on the dresser and not replying.

A pool was forming between your legs, and you gently clamped them together while still lying down.

You’d be lying if you said you totally didn’t want to strip everything off and be naked by the time he turns back around. But you kept your composure.

Satoru turned back around, walking back to the bed. He sat on the same edge he was on a few minutes ago.

”And what if I do wanna find out,” You spoke, testing the waters.

His voice was laced with honesty. “I don’t want to push you out of your boundaries, we don’t have to do this. We can forget that this happened and my sister won’t ever know I was near you.”

A few thoughts were racing through your mind. I mean, Chloe was busy, you literally had weed in your system and you never thought you would’ve. There’s a first for everything, right?

You gently crawled over across the bed,  closer to him. “…No, I do want you to show me.” Your voice trailed off quietly, you grew shy as you drew back.

He turned his head behind to face you, and was able to see the sincerity in your eyes. Not gonna lie, he was very attractive. And I was literally begging to have his head between my legs.

You came closer to him again, and found yourself placing your lips on his first. The two of you melted into each other, with the lingering sexual tension finally resolved. 

The good girl act no longer existed, and time around you felt like it had stopped. This was something you needed, and you finally got it.

He was extremely gentle with his hands, and softly guided you to move back further onto the bed, placing your head down on the pillow.

You slightly squirmed as he placed his knee between your legs. He pulled away from your neck  before looking at you from above, caressing your cheek with his thumb. 

“Just relax doll, I’ll take care of everything.” He left you with a peck on the lips as he slowly peppered a trail of kisses down your body, going lower and lower.

Your breath hitched as he cupped both of his hands around each of your thighs, kissing your inner thigh as he looked up at you in between.

His hands were cold, and caused your nipples to harden from his touch. But the heat of your body cause him to warm up in no time. He paused for a moment. “Can I?”  Satoru points to your tiny shorts before you responded with a nod. You slid them off and threw them somewhere in the room. You’ll find those later.

You watched as he used his teeth to teasingly slide your thong off your body, down your legs. You grew goosebumps from the feeling of the fabric slowly gliding down your skin.

It was painfully slow, but it made you want him even more. He knew what he was doing, and for your first time getting eaten out, it was like winning the lottery if Satoru was the one doing it.

He took them from his mouth, and placed it in the back pocket of his jeans before kissing past your inner thigh, Satoru placed a wet kiss on your throbbing clit before doing a few small licks with his tongue.

The mixture between the metal of his piercing and tongue made you shudder, causing you to whine and clamp your thighs around his head gently.

You felt Satoru's soft hands grip slightly your skin firmer, spreading your legs more apart and keeping them wide open for him. You were expecting his hands to be cold, but surprisingly your skin was met with his warm touch. He sucked on your clit gently, before lapping at it again hungrily.

Your two hands were occupied themselves, one grabbed onto his hair and the other clutched onto the sheets beside you. He only pushed his tongue deeper into you, basically gently fucking your hole with it.

Practically losing your mind from how good Satoru made you feel, you could tell he was enjoying every single noise and reaction you made. You felt the way he smiled against your dripping cunt as he cycled from sucking to licking.

”…Don’t.. stop..” you continued, in short breaths. “…Please”

He hummed gently with his eyes closed, his lips glossed with his spit and the juices from your pussy, and the sound of someone’s phone ringing echoed in your ears, releasing you from your trance.

You looked down at him annoyed as he hauled his head up from your legs. “Not my phone, mines silent on the dresser.”

You turned to the far end of the bed to your left and saw your phone screen was flashing. Reaching for it, you saw Chloe was the one calling.

Turning the phone screen for Satoru to see, he squinted his eyes a bit to read who the caller was. “You can answer,”

Before answering the call you laughed a bit, as you saw how ridiculous you made him look after grabbing his hair.

”Chloe?” You watched Satoru as he tried to listen in on the conversation.

He whispered, “Put it on speaker.”

You nodded, and Chloe could be heard on the other line speaking.

”Hey girl, just checking on you. You okay?” You heard her and Kento giggle as she tried to speak over the phone. But it was a bit louder around her, so that means they were with a bunch of other people now.

”Yeah, I’m…” Your eyes widen and flutter as felt as Satoru placed his head back down between your thighs, slowly and slightly lapping at your clit again with the cold metal orb on his tongue causing you to throb again.

You felt as he carelessly swirled his tongue around like there’s no tomorrow, but this time he let one of your legs go and thrusted a finger in and out of your hole, emitting a squelching noise as he continuously sucked, stimulating you like crazy.

The pleasure overwhelmed you, and you had to bite down on your bottom lip to suppress a moan.

”Heyyy, you there?”

You were unable to answer as your own words became nothing but breathy as you try to form a sentence.

”…Y-Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m in the…b-bathroom.” You felt his lips curl into a smirk against your inner thigh for a second time as he heard your little lie over the phone.

You furrow your brows, making an “O” shape with your mouth.

Your hand holding the phone fell flat onto the bed, and by now you were no longer listening to whatever Chloe was saying on the other side of the line. Your mind was clouded, and the knot in your stomach tightened as you felt an orgasm approaching.

Lucky for you, Chloe ended the call less than ten seconds ago as it seems like she was busy with something else. Hopefully Kento.

He felt the way you quivered even more than last time, and held one of your legs over his left shoulder as he thrusted another finger in, still lapping and sucking at your dripping cunt as your breathing quickened, becoming irregular.

”Cum all over my face,” He murmured against your warm lips, and that did it for you. You liked the way he was gentle with his hands, slowly using one to rub your thigh on his left shoulder. He was deep in there, and he ate your pussy like it was a five course meal.

You watched as him as you rode out your orgasm, your head falling back against the pillow. Your mind was all over the place as you endlessly squirted all over his fingers that curled inside of you to aid your high, and felt as you slightly pushed your body more towards him.

“S-shit..” Was all you could say. You saw the way the piercing was exposed for a split second as he stuck his tongue out, the juices from your release dripping all over his mouth.

As he gently pulled away from between your legs, a ‘pop’ noise was heard after he gave your clit one last suck. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way his face was soaking wet.  Luckily it didn’t go past his above nose. Or he’d be partially blind for the rest of the night.

The neck of his shirt managed to be slightly soaked with splatters from your juices. But he didn’t care.

“..You got a little something on your face..” You say, pointing to your mouth with your finger to tell him where it was.

He smiled, and you watched as he used his tongue to wipe the corners of his mouth, but took a random towel hanging off the door to wipe the rest off his cheek.

“Damn, Suguru’s gonna be pissed when he sees how soaked his sheets are.” Satoru laughed as he looked at you still with your legs spread out, trying to recover.

No can do, the towel that was previously used by Satoru was passed to you after.

The wet circle underneath you had expanded from soaking into the sheets for too long. Satoru grabs your shorts that landed just in front of the door and tossed them back to you, but as he walked away a knock could be heard.

It was Suguru, of course it was. “Yo, whoever’s in there is cheeky enough to lock my own damn door!”

You quickly slid on your shorts as you turned to the body mirror beside you, combing your hair with your fingers.

Honestly, you were a bit upset that your fun was cut short. But you couldn’t stay for too long or eventually someone would break the door down.

“Man shut the hell up, it’s me, Satoru. I’m in here.” He responded. You watched him in the mirror as he slowly came up behind you, turning you around and gave you a sweet peck on the lips. Making sure you knew he didn’t just want to leave you hanging like that. That you weren’t just a toy to him.

The two of you walked to the door, twisting the lock to it. “Here, you go out first. I’m right behind you.”

You nod as you left the room, and shyly smiled at Suguru on your way out who was dumbfounded, followed by Satoru behind you.

And of course, Suguru couldn’t help but notice your pink thong that was still hanging off Satoru’s back pocket.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ © luvwestwood ‘24. all works are owned by me, and originally come from my own head. please do not re-post on a third party platform without my permission!

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ⤳ as always, thank you for the love on each and every one of my posts. 🎀🩷

[rootedinrevisions]

Off the Red Carpet

SUMMARY: You accompany Glen to a red carpet event, and you get to watch him be in his element- the chaos of flashing cameras and the glitz of the red carpet- firsthand. As Glen navigates the spotlight, you remain behind the scenes, quietly proud of the star he's become, all while cherishing the connection between you that exists when the cameras aren't on.

A/N: This idea was originally from @hunterthecharmer thank you for the idea and for giving me the okay to try my hand at writing this! Hope you enjoy it!

WARNINGS: None. This one is pretty fluffy.

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

The hotel suite hummed with quiet activity, a mix of soft music playing, and the occasional murmur of conversation from the main room.

The golden hues of sunset filtered through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting warm light across the space. You stood in front of the full-length mirror, smoothing the gown over your hips. The fabric felt luxurious under your fingers, flowing softly into a gentle train. The way it hugged your figure made you feel like you belonged on the arm of someone like Glen, even if the thought of stepping into the spotlight still set your nerves on edge.

You took a deep breath, adjusting one of the delicate straps before reaching behind you to zip up the dress. Your fingers fumbled, unable to grasp the tiny pull. Frustration mixed with your growing nervousness, and you let out a soft sigh, glancing toward the closed door.

As if on cue, there was a knock.

“Babe? You almost ready?” Glen’s voice carried through the door, warm and familiar, a grounding force amidst your swirling thoughts.

“Almost,” you called back, your voice a little breathless. “But…I might need some help.”

The door creaked open, and Glen stepped inside, his eyes immediately finding you. The room seemed to still for a moment as his gaze swept over you, his usual easy smile softening into something more profound.

“Wow,” he said quietly, the word barely more than a breath.

You felt your cheeks warm under his stare. “Think you can help me with this?” you asked, turning slightly to show him the unzipped back of your dress.

He stepped closer, his movements unhurried, and gently brushed your hair to one side. “Of course,” he murmured, his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as he took hold of the zipper.

The soft tug of the fabric and the warmth of his touch sent a shiver down your spine. When he finished, his hands lingered for a moment, resting gently at your waist before he turned you to face him. His eyes roamed over you, and the quiet awe in his expression made your heart skip a beat.

“What do you think?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He took a step back, as if needing to take all of you in, and shook his head slightly, almost in disbelief. “I think,” he said, his voice low and sincere, “you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your lips parted, but before you could respond, he reached up, his thumb brushing tenderly along your cheek. “Seriously,” he added, his tone soft but earnest. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

The emotion in his words made your chest tighten, and when he leaned in to kiss you, it wasn’t just an affectionate peck. It was slow and deliberate, his lips lingering on yours like he wanted to make sure you felt every ounce of what he couldn’t put into words.

“Glen,” his manager called from the other side. “We need to get going.”

Glen pulled back, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “Guess that’s our cue.” He smiled down at you, taking your hand in his. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you said, though your voice carried a hint of uncertainty.

The soft click of the hotel room door echoed as you and Glen stepped into the hallway. The plush carpet muffled the sound of your heels, but walking in them while managing the delicate train of your gown was proving to be a challenge. You tried to discreetly gather the fabric in one hand, balancing it while taking careful steps, but the effort was less than graceful.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Glen glance down, his expression shifting to one of quiet amusement. Without a word, he slowed his pace, gently reaching for the trailing fabric of your gown.

“Here,” he said softly, gathering the train in one hand with practiced ease. “Let me take care of that.”

You blinked, surprised by the gesture. “Glen, you don’t have to—”

He cut you off with a small shake of his head, his lips curving into a warm smile. “I know I don’t have to,” he said, his tone light yet sincere. “But I want to. Can’t have you tripping before we even make it to the car.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at that, the sound easing some of the lingering nerves in your chest. As you resumed walking, you felt the gentle pressure of his other hand resting lightly at the small of your back, guiding you with an ease that felt so natural, so him.

When you reached the elevator, Glen shifted slightly, keeping hold of your gown as he pressed the call button with his free hand. The doors slid open with a quiet chime, and he gestured for you to step inside first, his hand never leaving its spot at your waist as you did.

Inside the elevator, you turned to look at him, your eyes meeting his. The golden lighting highlighted the soft yet focused expression on his face. “Thank you,” you said quietly, your voice filled with genuine gratitude.

He tilted his head slightly, his smile deepening. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said simply. “That’s what I’m here for.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart flutter, and you found yourself leaning into his touch ever so slightly as the elevator began its descent.

Glen caught the movement, his thumb brushing lightly against your back in response. “You okay?” he asked, his voice low and just for you.

You nodded, feeling the corners of your lips tug upward. “Yeah,” you replied softly. “I just…I feel lucky.”

His smile widened, and he leaned down, pressing a quick, reassuring kiss to your temple. “Funny,” he murmured, his voice carrying a hint of playful charm. “Because I was just thinking the same thing.”

The elevator chimed again, signaling your arrival at the lobby. Glen stepped aside to let you exit first, but not before giving your waist one last gentle squeeze.

The lobby was alive with a low hum of activity, hotel staff bustling about and the faint chatter of guests mingling in the background. As you and Glen approached the doors, the distant sound of cameras clicking and voices calling out his name grew louder. Paparazzi were stationed just beyond the entrance, their flashes already bouncing off the glass.

Glen’s security team, always a step ahead, intercepted you both before you reached the main doors. One of them leaned in to speak quietly. “The parking garage is clear. We’ll take you through there to avoid the crowd.”

Glen nodded, his hand still resting lightly at the small of your back as the team led you toward a side corridor. The bright, polished floors of the lobby gave way to the dimmer, utilitarian lighting of the garage. The quiet hum of fluorescent lights above and the occasional echo of footsteps replaced the buzz of the crowd outside.

As you stepped into the cool expanse of the garage, your heels clicked softly against the concrete. You walked side by side with Glen, his presence steady and reassuring, until you came upon a patch of water glistening under the overhead lights. It stretched across the pathway, and your gaze dropped to the delicate hem of your gown, worry flickering across your face.

Before you could even voice your concern or attempt to maneuver around it, Glen reacted instinctively. “Hold on,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

Without hesitation, he bent slightly and swept you up into his arms as though you weighed nothing. A surprised laugh escaped your lips, your hands instinctively gripping his shoulders as he carried you effortlessly around the puddle.

“Glen!” you exclaimed, though your tone was more amused than admonishing. “You really didn’t have to do that.”

He glanced down at you, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let your dress get ruined before you even make it to the event?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with warmth.

Your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face. “Still, I could’ve managed.”

“Maybe,” he said with a smirk as he set you gently back on your feet, his hands lingering at your waist to steady you. “But why make you do it when I’m right here?”

You shook your head, still smiling, as you adjusted your gown. Just then, his security team opened the back door of a black SUV with tinted windows. 

“Milady,” Glen said with a playful smile, gesturing for you to step in.

“Thank you,” you replied, matching his tone as you carefully slid into the plush leather seat, mindful of your dress.

Glen followed suit, settling in beside you and closing the door behind him. The faint hum of the engine provided a soothing background noise as the driver pulled out of the garage and onto the city streets.

For a moment, you were quiet, staring out the window at the lights of the bustling city. Glen shifted beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned closer.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft but tinged with concern.

You glanced at him, offering a small nod. “Just…nervous, I guess. It’s a big night for you, and I don’t want to—”

“Be ridiculous,” Glen interrupted gently, flashing his trademark grin. “You’re not going to ruin anything. Trust me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly.

“There she is,” he said, nudging you playfully. “See? You’re going to be fine. You’re not even walking the red carpet, anyway. You get to stay behind the cameras and sip champagne while I do all the work.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call posing for photos and answering questions work,” you teased, arching a brow.

“Oh, it’s brutal,” he said, feigning seriousness. “All those flashing lights, having to keep this face from looking too shiny…”

You shook your head, smiling, but the fluttering in your stomach didn’t entirely subside. Glen seemed to notice.

His hand found yours, his fingers threading through yours with ease. His thumb began to graze over your knuckles in a soothing rhythm.

“Hey,” he said, his tone softer now, his teasing dropped. “You don’t have to be nervous. I’m really happy you’re here with me tonight. It means a lot.”

You looked at him, his expression earnest and filled with something deeper than you could put into words.

“Thanks,” you said quietly, squeezing his hand. “I’m happy to be here with you, too. I’m proud of you, you know.”

Glen’s lips quirked into a small smile, his thumb continuing its comforting motion. “Well, don’t make me cry before we even get there.”

As the car slowed to a stop outside the venue, the energy in the air shifted, electrified by the flash of cameras and the distant sound of fans calling out names. You could feel the thrum of excitement radiating through the air, reverberating in your chest.

Glen adjusted his bow tie, his jawline sharp under the streetlights. He turned to you, a small, reassuring smile tugging at his lips. “Ready for the madness?”

You nodded, even though your nerves had returned. The line of cars ahead crawled forward, one by one releasing a parade of celebrities who were met with the cheers of the crowd and the blinding strobe of camera flashes.

When it was finally your turn, Glen stepped out first, his polished shoes meeting the pavement. The crowd erupted, calling his name as the flashes intensified. He turned to wave, flashing that Hollywood smile that had charmed audiences all over the world.

Then, as if the chaos around him didn’t exist, Glen turned back to you. He leaned down, extending a hand through the open door. “C’mon,” he said softly, his voice cutting through the noise.

You took his hand, the warmth of his palm grounding you as you stepped out. For a brief moment, the two of you stood together, a quiet connection amidst the frenzy. Glen gave your hand one last squeeze, his thumb brushing your skin in a silent promise before he stepped toward the red carpet.

“See you inside,” he said, and then he was gone, the lights and cameras swallowing him whole.

His manager appeared at your side, her touch gentle as she guided you away from the chaos and toward the media’s edge. Here, you were safely tucked behind the lines of reporters, photographers, and onlookers, shielded from the prying lenses but still close enough to see everything.

From your vantage point, you watched Glen stride onto the red carpet like he owned it. His confidence radiated with every step, and the cameras adored him. He paused in front of the wall of flashing bulbs, effortlessly shifting his stance to give them what they wanted—his signature smile. He turned slightly to the left, then to the right, his jawline sharp under the bright lights. The tailored suit he wore fit him perfectly, exuding the kind of polished charm that only he could pull off.

He looked every bit the Hollywood Leading Man, and for a moment, you found yourself caught between awe and adoration. Glen was always himself with you—gentle, playful, sincere—but here, he embodied the star the world had come to know. And yet, there was a thrill in knowing that beneath the flawless exterior was the man you knew better than anyone.

Your attention lingered as he moved seamlessly into an interview. He leaned in slightly, his posture relaxed but engaged, as the interviewer asked their question. You couldn’t hear the words over the buzz of the crowd, but you could tell by the way his brow lifted and a small smile tugged at his lips that it was something lighthearted. And then it came—the laugh. His shoulders shook just slightly, and his expression softened in a way that made your heart swell.

As he finished his response, Glen straightened and glanced around, his eyes scanning the crowd. When they landed on you, a grin spread across his face. He gave you a quick wink, just enough to send your stomach fluttering before he turned back to shake the interviewer’s hand and move on.

Your smile grew as you watched him continue down the carpet, stopping now and then to interact with fans pressed against the barriers. He greeted each one with genuine warmth, signing photos and posters, crouching down for selfies, and even exchanging a few words with those lucky enough to catch his attention.

One young fan, no more than ten years old, handed Glen a scrapbook of drawings they’d made of him. He thumbed through the pages, his expression shifting to one of quiet amazement. You could see his lips move as he said something to the child, who nodded enthusiastically while clutching a pen Glen had just handed back.

“Thank you so much,” you heard him say clearly to another fan as they gushed about his latest role.

This was a side of him that always took your breath away—the way he gave so much of himself to those who supported him. He didn’t just exist in their world; he connected with it, leaving pieces of himself behind for everyone to cherish.

And then, as if drawn by some invisible thread, his gaze found yours once more. This time, it lingered, a soft yet electric connection that sent a wave of warmth through you. His lips curved into a smile, not the polished one for the cameras or the fans, but one meant just for you.

You raised a hand in a small wave, your heart beating a little faster as he gave you a subtle nod before turning back to the next group of fans.

“Crazy, isn’t it?” his manager said, leaning toward you with a knowing smile.

You nodded, your gaze fixed on Glen as he moved gracefully through the crowd. “It’s surreal. But he… he makes it look easy.”

“That’s Glen for you,” she said with a chuckle. “Always knows how to work a room—or a red carpet.”

You laughed softly, but your attention never strayed far from him. He was magnetic, every movement deliberate yet natural, as if he’d been born for this.

This was his moment. After the whirlwind year he’d had—the long days on set, the relentless press tours, and the skyrocketing success—he deserved every bit of the recognition coming his way.

And while you were more than content to stay in the background, watching from the edges of his world, you couldn’t deny the pride and love that surged through you as you saw him shine.

The buzz of the red carpet faded the moment you stepped into the building. The quieter hum of conversation and the elegant glow of the interior lights replaced the chaos outside, offering a reprieve from the cameras and shouting fans.

Glen’s manager stayed close by, her heels clicking against the polished floor as she led you through the foyer. “He should be coming in right behind us,” she said, glancing back at you with a reassuring smile.

You nodded, your fingers fiddling with the delicate strap of your clutch as your nerves began to settle. But before you could think too much about the evening ahead, you felt it—a warm hand sliding around your waist.

“Miss me already?” he teased, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

Your lips curved into a smile as you looked up at him. “Always.”

There was a brief pause, and then Glen offered you his arm, his tone light. “Shall we?”

You accepted without hesitation, slipping your arm through his as he led you further into the building. The buzz of the outside world felt like a distant memory now, replaced by the quiet elegance of the venue's interior. The soft lighting and low hum of conversation seemed to make everything feel more intimate, even amidst the crowd.

“So, how did I do?” Glen asked with a teasing edge, clearly eager for your opinion.

“You were perfect,” you said honestly, giving his arm a small squeeze. “I’ve never seen you look more confident. Like you belonged there.”

He chuckled, his voice warm as he turned to face you. “Well, it’s a bit easier when I’ve got someone like you cheering me on.”

You couldn’t help the flush that crept up your neck, but you gave him a smile in return, silently grateful for how grounded he made you feel in the midst of the chaos.

“Seriously, though,” he added as you made your way through the foyer. “I’m glad you’re here. I wouldn’t want to do this without you by my side.”

As the two of you continued through the space, the evening ahead felt less intimidating, more like an opportunity to savor the quieter moments together. While the world outside might never fully understand the dynamic between you, it was moments like this—away from the cameras, just the two of you—that made it all worth it.

The night ahead would be full of attention and flash, but the most important thing was that, despite the world around you, you were right where you needed to be—by his side, without needing to make a spectacle of it.

[j-eryewrites]

Hayloft

Chapter Two of Under Pressure: A Thunderbolts Fic

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SERIES MASTER LIST | MAIN MASTER LIST

Word Count: ~6.4k

Spotify Playlist

Warnings: Canon typical violence, gun violence, government testing, mentions of death, language, John Walker needs his own warning, mentions of trauma, THUNDERBOLTS SPOILERS (let me know if I missed any)

Author's Note: Wrote this in a day. Man, I haven't had the writing juices this good in a long time. Anyway, reader finally meets the gang and Bob. I hope you all enjoy! (P.S I didn't really have time to proofread, so if there's typos, I'm sorry :) )

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It was surprisingly easy to get out to Utah within the span of less than a day. You thanked your money, and the tools Tony had left you. He had made you a suit, one that wouldn’t see the wear and tear that normal fabric would. You remember when you stumbled upon it late at night. Tony had been sitting at his desk in his workroom. The walls were lined with his various Iron Man suits, all ones you had seen before, except a small blue and silver one. Tony caught how your eyes were drawn to the suit as a proud smile flicked onto his face. 

“What’s this?” You asked, stepping closer to the suit. Tony approached, his path slowly beside yours.

“Like it?” Tony peered down at you, wiggling his brows before popping some dried blue berries into his mouth. He always had a snack on hand, and ever since you joined their little superhero family, he carried extra. You nodded in response. “Well, it’s yours.” Your jaw fell slack, making Tony chuckle. “Just let me know when you want to take it out for a spin, Jinx.” You smiled at the nickname, Jinx. The one he gave you the first time you made his suit malfunction. 

Landing down, just outside the remote bunker, you double-checked your fuel levels. It was just enough to get you out of here and back to a place where you could hitch a ride. Barely enough.

“FRIDAY, do a scan of the area for any threats, and get me more information on this place.” 

“Of course, Ms. Stark,” she replied before a mini icon loading screen popped up in your helmet. You never understood how Tony could deal with all the icons that required attention in the helmet. It was all too much for you, too cluttered, too distracting. Instead, you stuck to allowing a small icon for FRIDAY, a map, and your music to appear before you. Flicking off your helmet, you adjusted your earpiece, making sure the connection was strong. Satisfied, you pressed the side of your earpiece. Music flowed into your ears. It was a playlist you and Tony had made to help you focus on the energy flows around you. 

A small chime lets you know FRIDAY’s search was complete. Pulling up the holographic screen from your forearm, you scanned the information. The Bunker was one of O.X.E’s. What it was used for or what could be inside was a mystery. You bit your lip, shaking the uneasy feeling you left walking in blind. Despite the unease, you pushed forward; what was inside this place was more important than being too cautious. 

You had promised Bucky you’d get it, even if it was more of a promise to yourself. Growing up in a testing facility to make new super-powered humans was never a life anyone wanted. No matter how much the internet chat rooms wished and begged to get a chance to be a hero, to fight alongside the Avengers, to be Tony Stark’s daughter, they would all cower in fear from the truth. The pain and hollowness that followed everywhere you went from all those years making you, building you into the person you are–the weapon. You swore off the internet and chat rooms ever since that day. The remnant quakes that erupted from your body and the tears that scalded your cheeks still resided deep inside you, like invincible scars immune to the effects of time and love. That hurt is what pushed you on. No one should be forced into that life, and you were going to make sure of it. 

It had been years since Valentina Allegra de Fontain found you. It was a time in your life you’d rather forget. You had all just lost. Thanos had gotten all the stones, and you were there on the last line of defense, watching over Vision. Energy manipulation, that’s the power you possessed. Able to manipulate the energy of anything and everything. However, that meant you did it all the time. Just a touch and the technological victim would jinx out. Its energy was now a part of your arsenal. It took years of training, tears, and numerous pairs of gloves before you could really touch anything without frying it. 

This power was one Vision had begged you to use. His plea was simple: use your power, drain the stone, stop Thanos. You did as he asked. But it wasn’t enough. Thanos still got the stone, Vision died again, and you failed. All of a sudden, your progress had reverted, and your power was stronger and less predictable. The mind stone left a mark on you, one you couldn’t wash away. From then on, you could see the energy flows, not just sense them—whisps of glowing strings like the aurora borealis that danced across the sky. Not only that, you could see the energy flow of living things, something that terrified you. Frying out a machine was one thing, but taking the energy of a living thing? 

Wiping the beads of sweat off your forehead, you sighed. Utah was hot. A dry heat that made your blood boil so hot that your veins would burst. Hurriedly, you approached the building, removing your gloves to redirect the energy in the vault door and open it. The dark concrete surface was cool and smooth despite the flaming heat casting down from the sun. Closing your eyes, you took a deep inhale of air, searching for the energy. In your mind's eye, you saw the wisps of light swirling around. Gently, you grasped it, directing it to where you needed it to go. Slowly it followed, but soon enough there was a deafening click and the door pulled open. With your gloves back on, you enter the building, sighing at the difference in temperature. 

“Remind me to never move out here,” you muttered to yourself. All the nearest wall stood an elevator. You frowned at the tube-like thing. It reminded you of those water park tubes, yet instead of glass, it was concrete and metal. Once you stepped into the elevator, it hummed to life, traveling downwards before coming to a thud. Stepping out of the elevator, you pondered the ease with which you had found and entered the vault. It wasn’t normal. Too easy. Sighing, you bit your lip. 

“FRIDAY?” You called out. There was no response other than some static noise. Your music had also shut off. “Fuck,” you muttered. Well, it was too late to text Bucky and let him know where you went, and it was too late to back out. Every fiber in your being screamed with warnings. If one good thing came from being raised by the Avengers, it was your sense of self-preservation and awareness. Too bad, it always came right when you were in the middle of something. Suddenly, the elevator door closed. Its energy darkened. 

Now you really couldn’t turn back. Turning away from the elevator, you saw an area up ahead. Warm yellow lights directed you deeper into the vault. Passing through large entryways, you noted their energy flow. It was filled with anticipation, as if awaiting some sort of command or trigger. Narrowing your eyes, you memorized the flow of its energy in case you needed to reverse whatever command it was given later. Easier said than done, though. 

Leaving the doors behind, you noted three other entry ways into the room. Well, to say it was a room was an understatement. It was more like a forgotten storage container filled to the brim with papers, files, and odd-looking machines. Your mind flickered to the message from before. The one that had sent you here on what was a wild goose chase, yet here you are in the wings of the goose. Taking a closer look, you realized you had hit the jackpot—the remnants of Project Sentry. Taking out your device, you flicked through the pages and files, taking photos of anything you deemed relevant. With each click of the camera, the smile on your face grew wider. This was it. The evidence that would stop Valentina. 

In the corner of your eye, you noticed a blue blinking light. It was small, and if you hadn’t had a heightened sense of energy, you wouldn’t have noticed it. Placing the file in your hand, you slowly sauntered over to the box. It was long, almost coffin-like, with its strange dimensions. Removing one of your gloves and tucking it into your pocket, you placed your hand onto the box, eyes closing. There were two signs of energy. One similar to the energy that flowed in the rest of the building and another that–

A gunshot rang out. You ducked beside the box as your lungs held the air captive. 

“I know you’re there,” a crude voice rang out. “Make it easier on yourself and come out.” 

You knew damn well that coming out would make you an easier target. Clenching your eyes shut, you tugged your other glove off, but not before activating the security measures of your suit. Staying low, you crawled away from the box, behind some stacked file cabinets. You didn’t really have weapons, not in the traditional sense. You just never got used to them, but cowering behind the cabinets made you regret not taking Bucky up on those lessons. 

Behind you, heavy footsteps thudded against the floor. With each calculated step they took, the sound shortened. They were getting closer. You needed to move somewhere safer, preferably with a strong flow of energy, so you could fight back. But before you could make your escape, another gunshot rang out, followed by a pang and a few grunts. You frowned. Were there more people? Shaking your head, you reached your arms out and jumped, tucking your body into a ball, coming up behind the flipped-over table. 

“What's happening?” A coarse voice rang out. It was different from the one before. There were definitely more people. “You’re not even my target!”

“You’re mine!” The man growled before grunting as he launched another attack. 

The voice was louder now. Peeking out from behind the table, a black figure came soaring over, plopping next to you. You couldn’t help how your mouth hung open at the woman. Her short, choppy blonde hair was tinted with dust and dirt. It took her a moment to notice you beside her. 

“Who are you?” She questioned in a thick russian accent, all while pulling her gun on you. 

“Who are you?” you emphasized, raising your hands to disarm her, but before you could, the table you two were hiding behind flipped over, knocked over by a flying shield. Jumping to your feet, you rolled away from the woman. Both of you were coming to a stand behind more filing cabinets. 

“Look,” she said in a hushed voice as she checked the status of her gun. “I don’t know who you are. But all I know is you’re not my target. So I say we kick this asshole’s butt and I leave you alone.” Glancing over at you, you nodded in agreement. 

As you both popped out of your hiding place, more shots were fired. As the man threw his shield at you, the woman ducked and shot her tasers at him. Twirling out of the way, you swung your legs over a fallen cabinet. The man’s movements appeared to be a mimicry of Steve’s shield, the armour, and his fighting style. Unconsciously, your jaw clenched at the sight, as you swung an arm at the man. Expertly, he dodged your attack, swinging his leg to knock yours out from under you, just as the shield came flying back.  

As you collapsed to the ground, you couldn’t help the gasp of air that fled from your lungs. Your suit, noticing the lack of oxygen, switched the mask open, something you quickly tried to override. Above you, the man clenched his hand in a tight fist, ready to strike. 

“Stark?” You heard him question. 

Your eyes narrowed, and a moment of recognition flooded your system. “Walker?” You had known him before the incident. When he was first named the new Captain. Everyone was seeking validation from you. The girl grew up under the wing of America’s hero. No one wanted that validation more than Walker, something you refused to give him. He was nothing like Steve Rogers. Steve was kind and a shoulder you could lean on when Tony was being too harsh. He always noticed when you were too pent up in the tower and took you on runs, which turned into Steve running laps around you. Walker was something else entirely. He was there to fill a void left by Steve. A void you found yourself not wanting to be filled by just anyone. 

In his stunned silence, the woman from before pounced, knocking Walker off of you. At least you thought it was the woman from before; however, seeing the white mask and orange details, you realized your error. Fumbling to a stand, you clutched your ribs, groaning in pain as you watched the scene in front of you. There were four of them, all fighting each other. Each one had a target, and the rest seemed irrelevant. As the fight continued, you stepped further and further away, seeking shelter from the fallen debris. Without taking a look back, you navigated the battlefield. You had your evidence, now you needed to get out of here before one of them decided you were their target.

Suddenly, a clear shot rang out, and a body fell, and silence fell over the group. All of them were breathing heavily as they watched the third, a woman in a white mask, begin to scavenge the weapons and gear off the dead body. Hurriedly, you backed up, reaching for the vault doors. You could open them and get out. Your hand felt the air behind you, slowing landing on something hard. 

“Woah there,” a voice muttered. You froze. Feeling a warm hand brush against your back and arms, you felt your breath go cold. Instinctively, the other’s raised their guns, cocked and ready to shoot. Whirling around, you stepped back and found a pair of deep blue eyes. The man stood wide-eyed with shock as he raised his hands innocently in the air. You studied his nervous figure dressed in pajamas you’d only seen in hospitals. Slowly, your eyes trailed to his hands, which were trembling. For fear or other reasons, you weren’t sure. He looked dazed and out of place as a room full of strangers had weapons aimed at him. Something itched inside you. You winced at the strange flow of energy nearby. Surely it wasn’t from this guy?

“Hello,” he cleared his throat. “Hi, I’m Bob.” He nervously glanced around at all four of you. His eyes settled on you for a moment as the wisps of dark curls framed his face. You watched as his eyes darted over your figure with an expression you could not quite place. His gaze lingered a little too long on you before flicking to the guns pointed at him. Having assessed the threat, he turned and leaped towards the open doors. Suddenly, they shut. Their thud brought a wave of silence. Weakly, Bob turned around, fixing his garments. You noticed the air of defeat around him as his eyes began to water slightly.

“Who are you?” Walker aggressively asked. 

Bob gulped and backed up a bit as Walker’s grip on his gun tightened. “I’m Bob. I told you, I’m…uh…yeah…Bob” 

“Jesus Christ, stop saying Bob.” Walker hissed, and Bob’s posture sank, like a dog cowering with its tail tucked. “Who sent you, Bob?” I frowned at the sudden interrogation. Clearly, this guy was terrified, yet Walker continued his pursuit.

“Nobody,” Bob replied, his eyes unconsciously searching yours before darting around the room. “Why would they send me? Were all of you sent?”

Rolling her eyes, she put her mask back on, drawing all the attention in the room off of Bob. “I’m not sure what’s all going on here, but you’re all exhausting and my job is done.” 

“Oh, no, you’re not. You see, my job is watching you,” the blonde woman explained. She raised her gun at the retreating woman. “So no, you’re not going anywhere.” 

Walker scoffed. “So you’re watching her, huh?” His eyes narrowed at the blonde woman. “That’s a pretty decent cover for someone stealing from O.X.E’s assets. 

You felt your face go pale. Were they all here to stop someone from stealing information? If so, you were cooked. 

“I’m not stealing,” the blonde corrected. “She’s stealing,” she said, pointing to the other woman. Her eyes narrowed before widening as if she came to a realization. “Okay,” she dropped her gun to her side. “It’s clear we’ve all worked for Valentina in some kind of Shadow-Ops role.” 

“So what?” the other woman asked. 

“So…” The blonde motioned to the rest of the room. “All of this is O.X.E’s mysteries, but so are we. Which makes us the unknown liabilities in this…” 

You cursed under your breath. Bucky was going to kill you when you got back. If you got out. Your connections were compromised. Valentina knew it was you who discovered and leaked Project Sentry, and like the others, you once worked for her. She wanted you gone, but a public or sudden death wouldn’t do. You were Y/N Stark. Your death would bring attention, but if you died in an undisclosed location, you’d be chalked off as missing. Not like anyone would really come looking. Your family was gone. 

“Speak for yourself,” the woman in the white mask muttered. 

Walker scoffed, bringing his hands to his hips. “Your theory is flawed.” 

The blonde smirked and cocked her brow. Her russian accent getting thicker as Walker got cockier. “Oh, please. Go on.” 

“Fine,” Walker stated. “Well, let’s look at the facts. The infamous Ghost,” Walker motioned to the woman with the white mask. “Ava Starr. A SHIELD reject on the run across 15 nations.” Next, he pointed to the dead body on the floor. The one he ransacked without a care, a few moments before. “Dead girl over there, she destroyed half of Budapest.” 

“Don’t talk about that,” the blonde said quietly. You noticed the reverence and pity she held in her voice. 

“You,” Walker continued, “ Yelena Belova. A former Red Room assassin.” You drew in a breath. Natasha was from the Red Room. Pursing your lips, you wondered if they had any connections. “Only God knows the blood on your hands.” 

“Pretty rich coming from a dime-store Captain America,” Ava quipped back. 

Walker’s face tensed. “I want you to know I was actually the official Captain America, so…”

“Yeah, for two seconds before you tainted his legacy,” you hissed, pulling all eyes on you. 

“You don’t have the right–” Walker began, marching towards you. 

You didn’t cower from his menacing aura, standing tall, you met his eye with an unwavering gaze. “Oh yeah?! I’m innocent in all of this. You publicly murdered an innocent man on the streets, do you call that Captain America-esque?” 

Walker’s voice lowered. “Look, I’m a decorated war veteran, with a loving wife and son. And if we’re being honest, what’s a girl like you doing in this vault with the rest of us?” He glared at you, waiting for you to waver. 

“It’s none of your business, Walker.” 

A smile twitched onto Walker’s face. “The little princess isn’t as perfect as she wants us to believe.” You clenched your fist at your side. It was twitching to find a home deep in the side of Walker’s pompous face. Pulling his gaze away from you, Walker turned back towards the others, cocky confidence oozing from his figure. “You guys are just cheap mercenaries, alright? So clearly, I wasn’t supposed to bring you in.” 

Yelena’s eyes narrowed at Walker before glancing over to Ava. The two of them shared a smirk before bursting into laughter. “That was funny,” Yelena noted. “Thanks. We needed that.” You watched as Walker’s ego faltered. The sight brought a small smile to your face as the tension in your fist eased. 

Suddenly, a foreign laugh joined in from the wake of the women’s laughter. You all turned towards Bob, who had slowly made way around the room before peeping out from behind a cabinet. “It was getting pretty tense in here for a second,” he beamed, playing with his hands. Bob’s eyes scanned the remnants of laughter on the women’s faces before freezing on Walker’s, who made his face fall. Creeping back, Bob returned to his place behind the cabinet. 

Shaking his head, Walker placed his helmet back on, tightening the straps. “I’m not leaving here without completing my mission. Valentina gave me a clean slate guarantee, and I’m not going to blow it. But this weirdo–” Walker pointed to Bob, who had made his way back behind you, making you slightly jump out of your skin. Bob gave you an apologetic look before feeling Walker’s eyes on him. You weakly smiled, figuring he felt safer behind you than a metal filing cabinet. You couldn’t blame him. A human shield was more comforting than an inanimate one.

“He wasn’t a part of the job, so I need to know,” Walker stalked towards Bob. Your arm instinctively reached out. Walker barely glanced at you, stopping just short of your arm. “How did you get in?” Walker interrogated. 

A puff of air escaped Bob’s mouth as he shrugged his shoulders. His pajamas crinkled around his neck before falling back down across his shoulders. “I don’t remember,” Bob mumbled. 

“Excellent answer,” Walker cursed. “Alright,” he said after a pause. “Tie him up.” 

“Wow,” Ava chuckled, stepping closer and closer to the doors just as you hissed no.

“Walker, he’s most likely a civilian, caught up in all of this,” You responded. 

Walker rolled his eyes. “Just like you were, Ms. Stark?” You tensed at the name. 

“Well, goodbye,” Ava said, waving her hand as she phased out of sight towards one of the vault doors. Before she could reach the doors, a deafening screech filled the air. Clutching your ears, you cowered in pain. Just as fast as the sound came, it was gone. 

“What the hell was that?” Walker groaned, pushing himself off the floor. 

“Oww,” Bob moaned, his eyes blown so wide all you could see were his dark pupils.“Did you hear that?” Bob muttered to you. You nodded your head, rubbing your temple with the palms of your hands. 

“I think everyone heard that, Bob,” you mumbled. “God, that hurt.”

“We can’t get out,” Ava said, as she flicked it off. 

“No duh, we can’t get out,” You snapped. “Should’ve known when the doors first closed when Bob tried to run.” Behind you, Bob’s eyes flickered down to the ground. 

“Sorry, guys,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for you to hear.

Twirling around, guilt filled your body. “Oh no, it’s not your fault. You just tried to leave first. It would’ve happened to any of us.” You scanned Bob’s eyes, making sure he understood it wasn’t his fault. “I had a feeling it was going to happen. The energy in the doors was waiting for something.” 

“Energy?” Yelena questioned. 

You nodded. “Yeah, energy manipulation.’ The other frowned, unsure of what you were saying. You winced, remembering it wasn’t common knowledge. The Avengers took precautions to make sure hardly anyone knew. Those who did were in the know.  After all, an ability like yours was powerful and dangerous in the wrong hands. “You know, my ability,” you clarified. 

“Can this energy manipulation help get us out?” Yelena asked. You nodded. “Good, you get to work on that then, and the rest of us can–”

“Who put you in charge?” Walker questioned. 

You rolled your eyes. “Jesus Christ.” Taking a step forward, you reached for the doors. Your hands came to rest on the smooth surface of the thick metal. Closing your eyes, you felt the energy around you, noticing Bob had come up behind you. Peeking your eyes open, you watched Bob as he observed you while the rest argued behind you. You softly smiled at the intrigue he held for something as simple as putting your hands on a door. 

“Take a picture, it lasts longer,” you teased. Bob snapped out of his daze and began to profusely apologize. You chuckled, turning back to the door. “You’re good.” 

“So–sorry, you just your hands and hair…they were,” his eyes flickered down in a sheepish manner. You glanced at your hands and the strands of your hair that had fallen in your face. “- They glow.” You nodded. They hadn’t glowed before Mind Stone, but now, well, you guessed it was another side effect of dealing with an infinity stone.

“Yeah, I guess it’s a side effect of the energy manipulation.” 

“It’s pretty,” he muttered before his brain could catch up. A deep red hue tinted his ears. 

“Thanks,” you smiled, turning your focus back on the door. “Keep talking,” you said. Bob froze beside you. “It helps keep me focused. Usually, I have music playing in my ear, but the connection doesn’t work this far down in the ground.” 

“O–okay,” Bob said, biting his lip, unsure of what to say. It was always a strange phenomenon. The moment someone asks you to speak, all thoughts of conversation vacate the mind, leaving you wordless. It was a phenomenon that Bob found himself under, so instead, he began to hum a familiar tune. It was twinkle, twinkle little star, but he was cut off before he could finish. The warm yellow lights flickered red. A loud beep thundered. A screen with a timer appeared as the room grew worryingly hot. 

“Stark,” Yelena called out. “How’s the door looking?” 

“I’m trying, guys!” You tensed. “Manipulating energy is a lot more complicated than it looks. 

“It’s an incinerator,” Yelena noted. “Two minutes, then Valentina’s plate is clean.”

Behind, Walker shook his head. “You don’t know that for sure. It could be for anything.” Then, with a more hopeful, slightly delusional tone, he added, “It could be for when they come to pick me up.” 

Ava hissed. “You feel that? Temperatures are rising dramatically, like heat is involved? Guess what, that's an incinerator.” 

“Well, then, how would you like to get out, Ghost lady?” Walker growled. 

“Shut up!” Yelena yelled, and everyone grew silent. “We need to help get Ava through these walls so she can open the door. No offense, Stark, I don’t think you’re getting that door open anytime soon.” 

“I’m doing my best,” you hissed. 

“I’m not saying you’re not great, just…” Yelena tilted her head side to side before uttering the next words, “...slow.” 

“I’m going slow so we don’t go BOOM prematurely.” 

“Well, I’d much rather get out of here faster and risk going boom than getting burned alive,” Walker blurted. You shot him a glare. 

“Guys, what if we try shutting down the sound barrier. They built it for Ava,” Yelena noted, glancing around the room. “It has to be an independent power source.” Turning to you, she continued. “Stark, can you–” 

Sighing, you pulled your hands from the door, closing your eyes already knowing what she was going to ask of you. Beside you, Bob nervously hummed another tune. You softly smiled, telling yourself to thank him later. Focusing on the song Bob hummed, you tuned out the frantic sounds of your fellow captives…? Friends? Whatever you were. “There!” You pointed to a hidden latch in the room. 

Quickly, you all dashed to the power source, prying it open. “Can you turn this off, Stark?” Yelena asked you, but before you could reach the power source, Walker came barging in. 

“On your left,” and without another word, sparks flew, and the power source flickered out. 

“Well, that works,” Yelena muttered, as Ava wasted no time running through the wall. 

Together, the remaining of you made your way to the door Ava had phased through. All of you stood side by side, some closer than others. With heavy breath, anticipation built up. The room was getting warmer and warmer. By the time you got out, you’d think the Utah heat would be cold. That’s if you did get out. A thought that passed through all of you. However, Bob was the first to speak.

“You think she’s coming back?” 

You clenched your eyes shut. You had to believe she would come back. She would, you kept telling yourself. 

“Should’ve seen this coming,” Walker hissed, wanting to throw his shield against the wall. 

You glanced to the side. The clock had less than fifteen seconds left. With a blink, the clock was nearing ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. You peered over at Yelena. An expression of acceptance found its way onto her face. Six. You looked over at Bob. His blue eyes reflected the reddish lights that were blaring brighter and brighter. He was terrified, but so were you. Five. Four. Three. You reached out to him. Your hand stopped just before grazing his fingers, realizing your gloves were off. Bob glanced at you and your attempt at comfort, but the contact never came. Suddenly, the door lifted open, and all of you ran. Two. One. Your back burned from the heat of the incinerators filling the room, and the force of the fire sent you flying into the hallway. With a crack, your back hit the opposing wall. Before it went dark, you heard the sound of the door shutting. You had made it out. Ava had come back. 

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“Hey, Y/N,” a gentle voice called out to you. It was Nat’s. You whined and rolled over to your side, mumbling to Nat to give you five more minutes. The hand on your shoulder retracted. “Stark,” Yelena’s voice broke out of Nat’s. Frowning, you opened your eyes. An action you immediately regretted as a throbbing headache formed. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” You groaned. Pushing yourself off the ground into a seating position, Yelena sat in front of you with a look of concern and bewilderment on her face. “Are you okay?” You asked.

Yelena chuckled. “I should be asking you that, Stark. You were knocked out cold.” You tried to stand up, and Yelena raised her arms to brace you. “Woah there. Careful.” 

“Thanks,” you muttered while coming to a stand. In the corner of your eye, you caught Bob pacing around. He stood hunched over, a hand grazing his lips as he occasionally eyed you all. When he noticed your gaze, he grew quiet. 

“Hey Bobby, talk less to yourself and more talking to us.” Walker was marching over to Bobby. You saw the panic that formed in his eyes. Instinctively, you moved yourself in front of him. However, Walker was not having it, shoving you to the side. 

“What is your problem, Walker!” You yelled, rubbing your arm from where he pushed you. The Super Soldier serum was no joke. 

“Everyone has a reason to be here except this guy,” Walker accused, reaching out to grab the neck of Bob’s shirt. 

Quickly, Bob backed away, avoiding Walker’s grasp. With each step Walker took towards him, Bob took a step back until his back hit the wall behind him. “I swear, man, I just woke up in this place. One minute I was, you know, getting…my blood drawn for this medical study, and the next I’m here in my pajamas.” Walker cocked his head to the side not believing a word out of Bob’s mouth. “I don’t know what’s going on.” 

That seemed to get to Walker, who paused in his rampage. “Okay, then show me where you woke up.” Bob hesitated, something Walker didn’t appreciate. “Go on,” he urged. 

Bob turned his head, pointing to the door that led to the vault that was currently burning to a crisp. “In there.”

“Where everything’s on fire.” Walker rolled his eyes. “That’s really convenient.” 

“You don’t remember anything?”Ava questioned. “A bag over your head and a needle in your neck.” 

Bob shook his head. “No.” 

“A chokehold, nerve pinch?” Yelena suggested. Bob shook his head again. 

“Guys, as I said before, I think he’s just a civilian,” You noted. 

“If he’s a civilian, he knows too much,” Walker spat with an animosity that you didn’t like. “If he’s an agent, he’s useless. Either way, I say we throw him back into the fire.” 

Like a knife cutting through butter, a chuckle left Bob’s mouth, silencing the tension building in the room. You all expressed some form of confusion at his giggles. “You said you’re Captain America?” Bob snickered. 

The rage once lit in Walker’s eyes returned at Bob’s laughter. “Why are you laughing?” Walker sneered. 

“Because…” Bob was cut off by his own laughter. Taking a sharp inhale, he continued. “Because you’re such an asshole.” 

With those words, Walker pounced on Bob, shoving him up against the wall. A threatening glare twinkled in his eye as Bob struggled against him. Suddenly, Walker’s shoulders fell, and you watched as Yelena pulled Walker off of Bob, yanking him away. 

“You go over there,” Yelena instructed Walker. “Bob, come with me,” she said, pulling Bob to the side. 

Approaching Ava and a fuming Walker, you walked past them towards the elevator. With trembling fingers, you reached out and touched the door of the elevator. Narrowly escaping with your life did little to help calm the nerves that spread throughout your body. Closing your eyes, you searched for some remnant of energy, but you found none. You frowned, opening your eyes to a knowing look from Ava and Walker. Averting your eyes, you peered over at Bob and Yelena. If you listened hard enough, you could make out their whispers, but Walker demanded your attention before you could. 

“So you’re saying it’s dead?” Walker exasperated. 

“I’m saying, Walker, there’s no energy, not unless I take it from something else and put it into the elevator, but I don’t think you want the whole vault to lose power or one of you to go unconscious.” 

Ava furrowed her brows at your comment. “Wait, you can take energy from people? Like us?” 

“Every living thing has energy, so yeah, I can take it, but…” You trailed off, looking at your hands. They were bare. A risky choice. Fumbling for your pocket, you pulled out the gloves and put them on. 

Walker frowned at the action. “What’s with the gloves?” 

“None of your business, Walker,” you hissed. 

“Wow, someone’s pissy,” Walker exclaimed as you ground your teeth together. 

“Wow, someone’s a dick,” you quipped back. “Maybe use your anger to break down the door to the elevator, so we can get out of here faster.” 

“As you wish, princess,” Walker tensed, raising his shield to bash into the door. 

“Jesus, you two really hate each other,” Ava muttered. 

“Shut up,” you and Walker simultaneously fumed. 

Ava’s eyes widened, and she raised her hands in defeat, taking a step away from you two. As Walker dug at the elevator, your attention turned back to Bob. There was something about him, his energy was…different. Which wasn’t a bad thing, but his energy seemed to be overflowing from his body. Even so, you kept finding yourself worrying about him. You guessed it was sympathy and pity. If he really was a civilian, there was no need for him to be dragged into this mess. Shaking your head, you staved off thoughts of the past, your need to be a hero to prove yourself. Looking at Bob, you thought quietly, if you could protect him, get him out of here, maybe you’d have a chance. Maybe you could step into the legacy your family had left behind, and god, there was nothing you wanted more. 

Walker’s voice cut through your thoughts as he called out to Bob and Yelena. “Are you two down with therapy?” The two of them turned to Walker, who motioned to the gap he had made in the door of the elevator. “I think I found a way out.” 

Slowly, the lot of you climbed into the elevator that was most definitely not built for five grown adults. 

“Stark?” Yelena wondered. “Any chance you can get us up?” 

You sighed. “Like I told Walker, unless one of you wants to be carried out of here unconscious, we’ve gotta find another way up.” Yelena’s brows pinched together before spotting the hatch above. 

“Think you can open that up, Walker?” Yelena asked. 

Walker raised his brow, assessing the hatch. “Yeah.” It only took a moment before the hatch opened. One by one, you all climbed up, Walker climbing up last. You all stood too close together for comfort, peering up at the long tunnel above you. It seemed to stretch forever. You pursed your lips, wondering just how far down you all were. For a moment, you thought of your jets. You could possibly fly everyone up one by one, but you don’t know how far down you were and if you’d have enough fuel in the supply to carry two. Shaking your head, you chose not to mention it. 

“We’re pretty far down here,” Ava muttered. 

“We’ll see about that,” Walker chimed, before jumping up. You all eyed his figure as he disappeared in the darkness, before slowly crashing back down. Grumbling, Walker pushed himself to a stand, ignoring how all of you snickered. None of you had the grace to attempt to hide your laughter. “Why don’t you just go through the walls or whatever and then throw us down some rope,” Walker furiously suggested. 

“Yeah, well,” Ava tensed. “First of all, someone else would have to ask me nicely. And second, I have to know where I’m going because I’ve never been able to hold it for longer than a minute. So I’d just get lost in an ocean of earth and then I’d be crushed to death, okay?” 

“Oh, shut up,” Walker chastised. 

“God this sucks,” Yelena muttered to herself, as you groaned, rubbing the headache from all the bickering away. 

Amidst all the arguing and tension boiling hotter and hotter, Bob peered up into the dark. The emergency lights slowly dimmed as he looked higher. Scrunching his nose, he tilted his head to the side before speaking up. “Oh, I have an idea.” You all looked at Bob, awaiting his next words. “Has anyone seen Emperor’s New Groove?” 

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[orellazalonia]

Hii! I absolutely love your fics, and I wanted to send in a request, could be thunderbolts or og avengers, i don't mind, but where reader is like, insecure about her body and she's the only one of the women who isn't wearing fitting clothes, and Bucky showing her how pretty she is - no smut, just him like, kissing the places she's insecure about.

<3

Greetings, dear! Thank you for the kind words and the request. What a lovely idea, it was a joy fulfilling it! Just the type of comfort I love writing actually.

I chose OG Avengers since I have yet to watch Thunderbolts to get a good grasp on those characters. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this! Happy reading!!!

Soft Kisses, Loud Truths

Summary: You, always hiding beneath oversized clothes, finds quiet, affirming comfort in Bucky Barnes. A man who shows you love not just through words but through gentle presence and reverent kisses to every place you hide. Without pressure or expectation, he stays by your side, reminding you that you don’t need to change or be perfect to be worthy of love.

Word Count: 2.1k+

Main Masterlist

You weren’t one for tight clothes. Not because they didn’t fit, though you always insisted they didn’t, but because they fit too well. Too much. They hugged in the wrong places, outlined dips and curves you’d rather keep secret.

And in a room full of confident women, all in sleek dresses or jeans that clung like they were made just for them, you stuck out in your oversized sweater like a kid playing dress-up in her older sister’s closet.

The compound was lively tonight. Some low-stakes celebration Tony had insisted on throwing, complete with music, snacks, and beer someone had spiked with something “better.” Everyone was relaxed, loose, and glowing under the low warm light. Meanwhile, you felt like a smudge on the painting.

You hovered near the edge of it all, picking at your sleeve and tugging it over your hands. The fabric was safe. Baggy. It kept attention off your chest, your arms, your stomach. It helped you feel invisible or, at least it used to.

Because Bucky Barnes had a habit of looking at you like you were the only person in the room.

Your relationship with him was slow. Not fragile, but… careful. Bucky never pushed. He always waited for you to lead, even when he clearly wanted more. Even when your fingers brushed, and he didn’t let go. Even when his eyes flicked to your lips mid-conversation. Even when he held you too long after nightmares you didn’t mean to share.

You weren’t together-together, not officially. But it was obvious there was something between you two. There were many things that didn’t need labels to be real.

Like how he always gravitated toward you, no matter who was talking to him. Or how he’d lean down and murmur some sarcastic comment into your ear that made your lips twitch into a smile, even when you were trying not to be seen.

Tonight was no different.

You felt him before you saw him. His presence, a low hum in the back of your head, like the way you can feel the pressure shift before a storm. Then there he was, easing beside you without a word, his drink in one hand while his other rested lazily at his side like it was waiting for yours.

You glanced up. He wore black, like always, but fitted in a way that made you stare. He looked relaxed and breathtaking. Everything you weren’t.

“Why are you hiding over here?” He asked, voice low and soft.

You shrugged, eyes flicking back to the crowd. “Not really a fan of parties.”

He studied you. “You wore that sweater again.”

“I like it.”

“I know you do.” He paused before carefully adding. “But it’s hot in here.”

You tensed slightly. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t argue. Bucky never argued about your boundaries. But his eyes drifted over your hunched shoulders, the way your arms were crossed protectively, and how you kept adjusting your hemline like it might magically shift your shape.

He leaned closer, a hint of cologne catching in your breath. “You always hide when you don’t think you belong.”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t know how.

Bucky’s fingers brushed your elbow, light and careful. “You do belong,” He murmured, not as words of reassurance but as truth.

You didn’t know how to believe it. Not when you’d seen the others like Natasha, Wanda, or Sharon who were all stunning, confident, and comfortable in the bodies they moved in like second skin. You saw the way people admired them or stared at them for a beat too long, effortlessly magnetic.

But Bucky, he wasn’t looking at them.

He was looking at you. And he wasn’t looking away.

-

Later, after the party had thinned and laughter faded into distant murmurs, Bucky found you again. However, this time you were in the quiet space of your own room, curled on your side with that same sweater still swallowing you whole. You hadn’t meant to leave without saying goodbye, but you also hadn’t known how much longer you could stand to pretend.

The knock was soft. Two simple, familiar beats.

You opened the door halfway.

He didn’t smile like earlier, just looked at you with those gentle, storm-colored eyes. His hair was pulled back and his voice nearly a whisper.

“Can I come in?”

You gave a small nod and stepped aside. The door clicked shut behind him. He didn’t ask questions right away as he looked around your room like he’d never seen it, then back at you. His eyes landed on your sleeves, the way you clutched them.

“You disappeared.”

“I just got tired.”

“You always get tired when you start comparing yourself to everyone else.”

That made your throat tighten.

Bucky stepped closer. “You looked beautiful tonight. I wish you saw what I did.”

You shook your head before you meant to, bitter at how fast the insecurity rose.

“No one looks at me like that,” You said quietly. “Not like they look at them.”

“They don’t,” He agreed. “Because they don’t see what I see.”

You looked away. He didn’t try to force you to meet his gaze. Instead, his metal hand reached out slowly, silently asking.

So, you let him touch the end of your sleeve.

“Can I?” He asked, voice gentler than before.

You nodded, barely. He pushed the sleeve up, past your wrist, and up your arm.

Then he leaned in and kissed it. Right where your arm softened in ways you hated, where you’d always tried to hide the way it curved and dipped.

Your breath caught.

He continued, lips brushing the skin like it deserved tenderness. Reverence. As if this wasn’t a place to be ashamed of, but one to be adored.

“Here,” He murmured between kisses, “is soft and warm. You try to shrink it, but I want to hold it.”

He kissed your shoulder next, after gently tugging the collar of your sweater to the side. The metal fingers of his left hand ghosted over your back, not pushing, just feeling.

You said nothing, but you didn’t stop him either.

“And here,” He said, pressing a slow kiss just below your collarbone, “is where you carry all your tension. I feel it every time you pull away.”

He moved next to your stomach, after you hesitated, then slowly let him lift the hem of your sweater. You almost stopped him, almost apologized for the stretch marks, for the softness, for not being the version of beautiful the world seemed to want.

But Bucky went to his knees in front of you, on his knees for you, and kissed every line.

Every dip. Every place you’d avoided mirrors for.

“Don’t hide from me,” He whispered into your skin. “Not this. Not you.”

Your eyes stung. You couldn’t look down at him without your throat closing.

His hands were steady, one flesh, one metal. His palms warm and patient as they held your hips like they weren’t something to be ashamed of.

“I don’t need you to be thin, small, or perfect,” He said. “I just need you to be here, with me.”

And when he stood, and you finally looked into his eyes again, you saw no pity. No discomfort nor disgust. Just awe. Like you were something rare, worth worshiping, worth loving.

You trembled, and for the first time, not from shame.

“…You really think I’m beautiful?” You whispered.

His thumb brushed your cheek.

“No,” He said, voice low, steady. “I know you are.”

And then he kissed you. Slow and deep, like he was answering every unasked question you’d ever buried in the mirror.

The kiss itself was like a held breath finally released, full of the tenderness you never knew how to ask for. Bucky didn’t kiss like a man chasing lust. He kissed like someone memorizing or like he was making up for every time you’d stared at your reflection and flinched.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. You could feel his breath on your lips, the slight tremble in his chest like your closeness was almost too much and not enough all at once.

“We don’t have to do anything more,” He murmured, his hands still resting gently on your waist, not pushing or pulling, just holding. “You set the pace. Always.”

You swallowed hard. Your sweater hung halfway off your shoulder, the bottom still pushed up slightly. However, you didn’t feel fully exposed. Not in the way you feared at least. Because somehow with Bucky, it felt more like being seen than being looked at.

You nodded, just a little. “Stay?”

That one word, barely above a whisper, broke something in him. Not in a painful way but in the way something softens when it’s finally allowed to feel. He kissed your forehead, then the tip of your nose, then both your cheeks like he was stitching something invisible back together.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to,” He said.

And true to his word, he did. Later that night, you ended up curled in your bed, sweater discarded, and wrapped in an old soft T-shirt of his he’d left in your room weeks ago. He said it looked better on you, and this time, you almost believed him.

The lights were off, save for the low glow of your lamp. Bucky was laying beside you on his side, propped up slightly and tracing the back of your hand with his thumb. Your legs tangled loosely beneath the blanket. Nothing rushed. Nothing heavy. Just the comfort of bare skin and deep breathing.

His voice was low, like he didn’t want to startle the peace.

“You know what I noticed about you?”

You looked at him, curious.

“You always say ‘sorry’ when you mean ‘I’m afraid I’m too much.’ Or ‘not enough.’”

Your throat tightened.

“I never want you to be sorry for existing exactly how you are,” He said, brushing his thumb along your cheek. “You don’t have to earn space or softness. Or love.”

A tear slipped down before you could stop it. He kissed it away like it was sacred.

Then, slowly, his hand settled on your stomach again, warm and grounding. “This is yours,” He said softly. “You don’t have to suck it in or apologize for it. It’s beautiful.”

His hand moved to the side of your thigh where the stretch marks you hated resided. “This too.”

Then his thumb brushed the inside of your wrist. “And this. So strong.”

His hand shifted once more and now hovered over your chest, over your heart. “And this,” He said, voice slightly rough, “is what I want to protect.”

By the time he finally settled back beside you, your hands had found his. Your body had stopped resisting his touch. For the first time in a long time, your skin didn’t feel like something that needed to be hidden.

You leaned closer into him, voice small but steady. “You make me feel… safe.”

Bucky exhaled slowly, pressing a kiss into your hair. “That’s all I ever wanted to do.”

You didn’t mean to cry, but the tears came anyway. Quiet and slow, as if your body had finally decided it was allowed to feel. Bucky didn’t flinch. He just reached up, cupped your face, and brushed each tear away with the back of his hand like he had all the time in the world.

He didn’t try to hush you. He didn’t ask you to smile. He just let you be.

You both lied there together, not tangled in passion, but wrapped in stillness. He didn’t undress you. He didn’t ask for more. He simply rested beside you, his hand cradling yours between them like something precious.

He looked at you like he saw you. Not a version of you. Not a comparison. Just… you.

And maybe that was enough.

He shifted closer, his voice just a whisper against the dark.

“You don’t have to fight your reflection anymore.”

You didn’t respond with words, just the smallest squeeze of his hand.

Bucky pulled your joined hands to his chest, let you feel the slow, steady beat beneath your palm. “This is yours. With every beat, I’ve always got you.”

His thumb brushed your knuckles until your breathing slowed, until the last tear had dried, until your eyes finally slipped closed.

And long after you fell asleep, he stayed awake, watching the quiet way your chest rose and fell, holding your hand like a vow whispered into the night.

He didn’t need you to love yourself all at once.

He just needed you to know: You were already loved.

And even if you couldn’t see it yet, he would keep showing you until the day you finally did.

[vincentbriggs]

Hello! Transfem person here. I haven't started HRT yet, but want to procure a 1730s menswear suit (actually decided based on your video). I would prefer not to wait for it if possible, since I don't know when HRT is going to be possible. I am, however, a little concerned about my bust size changing and affecting the fit of the waistcoat. Is that decade usually pretty forgiving in it's tailoring? I am also considering having the upper back tie like some later waistcoats to accommodate if necessary (even if it's not entirely historical), but I figured I would ask you.

Thank you!

Hello! Ooh yay! Not enough people do early 18th century, so I'm delighted to hear that! (Link to the 1730's suit mentioned.)

I think the fit would be affected, yeah. The sides of the waistcoat are easy enough to let out (and we have extant examples of waistcoats with an extra strip of fabric added into the side seam) but the curve of the front is pretty important to how it sits on you. But then, it is fashionable in that era to leave quite a lot of the top portion unbuttoned, so maaaybe you could get away with it not fitting as well, depending on what changed and how much?

Regarding the adjustability of waistcoats, some of the earlier ones actually do have lacing in the back! This red one is an especially nice example, and it's separate all the way to the top.

(c. 1740's, V&A) (Though you also do see ones with the back hacked up and a bunch of ties that were likely added by Victorians for their fancy dress parties.)

The breeches also have adjustable waistbands, of course, so I think the hardest part to alter would be the coat. The back vent is edge to edge, so there's no overlap to sneak a bit more width out of, and letting out the side seams would require re-doing those massive pleats, which were the part I found the most difficult when making my coat. But fortunately those coats were worn open a lot of the time, so even if they're not quite right when buttoned, they should still look ok unbuttoned.

It's very difficult to predict how the fit will be affected, since HRT is different for everyone and things keep changing years down the line. (One comment on this post talks about suddenly getting more breast and hip growth after 7, 12, and 14 years.)

I only have experience from the transmasc side of things, and alas, I very much did outgrow all my old waistcoats and coats. My 1730's suit needs alterations, because the waistcoat is a bit too small, and the coat seams could use a bit of letting out too. (I made those the year after top surgery, but my ribcage kept expanding and my posture improving for quite a while.)

I've been putting it off because alterations are boring :/ My pre-top surgery waistcoats are all way too small across the chest even though material was removed, because my posture was kinda bad and I didn't even notice it, and I expect that the opposite could also lead to the same sort of better posture from more confidence & comfort.

But bodies keep changing forever anyways, even without transitioning. Plenty of cis people can't fit into the things they sewed when they were younger, so we may as well make things to fit us now. Perhaps you could make the suit now, but use a not-too-expensive fabric, and then maybe alter it later, or make a newer and better one with the experience you gained from the first one!

Also I know you specifically said menswear suit, but I want to add the fun fact that women's riding habits in this era looked extremely similar to men's suits!

(Left: Maria Amalia von Habsburg by Franz Joseph Winter, right: Member of the Van der Mersch Family by Cornelis Troost.)

As far as I can tell, the main differences are that the riding habits have a petticoat instead of breeches, and are made to fit over stays.

(Empress Elisabeth Christine in riding costume, unknown artist.)

So similar, in fact, that this portrait of a young lady in a riding habit was misidentified as a young man!

Most of the petticoat is out of frame, but you can still see that it's not beeches, and the stays shape is pretty obvious. Very silly of Sotheby's not to notice!

I have no idea if you're interested in wearing a riding habit, and I'm not sure how difficult it would be to alter the somewhat looser men's coat to fit over stays, but thought I ought to mention it.

[onlyforsebastianstan]

A Love Worth Celebrating

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (married)

Summary:

You and Bucky are celebrating your 16th wedding anniversary.

Genre: all fluff

You stand before the mirror, adjusting the delicate straps of your sapphire dress, the fabric shimmering softly in the bedroom light. Your fingers trace the skirt, a smile playing on your lips as you reflect on sixteen years of love, laughter, and chaos with Bucky. Tonight, you’re celebrating it all.

The door bursts open, and Jamie, your six-year-old with Bucky’s blue eyes and your wild curls, barrels in, wrapping her tiny arms around your legs. “Happy ‘versary, Mama!” she squeals, her voice muffled against your dress.

Behind her, your fifteen-year-old twins, Ethan and Liam, saunter in, already towering over you. “Happy anniversary, Mom,” Ethan says, nudging Liam, who grins. “You look fancy. Dad’s gonna lose it.”

You laugh, ruffling Jamie’s hair and giving the boys a playful glare. “Thank you, my loves. Now, don’t you three have some monster-chasing to do?”

Jamie’s eyes, sparkle with excitement. “I’m the monster this time!” she roars, baring her teeth. The boys exchange a look, then bolt out the door, Jamie chasing them, her giggles echoing down the hall.

The room quiets, save for the distant sound of their playful screams. You turn back to the mirror, reaching for your earrings, when you sense him behind you, his presence warm and steady.

“Doll,” Bucky’s voice is low, almost reverent. You turn to find him leaning against the doorframe, his suit jacket slung over one shoulder, the white shirt hugging his broad chest. His blue eyes sweep over you, slow and appreciative. “Wow. Do you wanna have another child?”

You roll your eyes, grinning. “Bucky, we’ve got three already. Kid’s need more than your charm.”

He steps closer, his vibranium hand cool against your waist as he pulls you to him. “With you? I’d have a whole army of ‘em.” His lips brush yours, teasing, and you swat his chest, laughing.

“Flirt,” you accuse, but you’re already melting, your hands smoothing his lapels. “You clean up pretty nice yourself, handsome.”

He smirks, his eyes soft with the freedom he’s found—no more nightmares, no more regrets. Just you and the life you’ve built.

“C’mon,” you say, lacing your fingers with his. “We’ve got a party.”

The main hall is cozy yet elegant, fairy lights casting a golden glow over the space. Tony’s catered, of course, insisting on “classing up” your anniversary. A long table holds a food spread, and a small pavilion with sheer white curtains and more lights, waits as a dance floor. The Avengers and friends mingle, their laughter blending with soft music.

Bucky leads you to the pavilion, and as a slow song starts, he pulls you close, one hand at your waist, the other holding yours against his chest. You sway, his eyes locking onto yours, a faint sheen of tears glistening.

“You’ve got something in your eyes, handsome,” you tease, brushing a thumb along his cheek.

He chuckles, voice thick. “I’m not ashamed of these tears. These… I just still can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Really? After three kids?”

“Yeah,” he says, tightening his grip. “Crazy, I know. But seeing us now, together for more than sixteen years, it makes me happy. And every day, I feel like I could lose you any moment.”

You press your forehead to his, your voice a whisper. “I won’t leave you, my love. No one will take me away from me Only you. death Only will.”

His breath hitches, and he brushes your temple with his lips. “It’s horrifying to think that one day, that’ll happen.”

“I think so too,” you admit, fingers curling into his jacket. “I can’t imagine my life without you.”

He stops swaying, just holding you, eyes searching yours. “You saved me, you know. Not just from the world, but from myself. Every day with you, with our kids… it’s more than I ever thought I’d get. More than I deserve.”

You cup his face, shaking your head. “You deserve every second of this, Bucky. Every laugh, every hug, every messy morning with Jamie crawling into our bed. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore. You’re James Buchanan Barnes, my husband, my love, the best father our kids could have.”

His tears fall, and he kisses you, slow and deep. When he pulls back, he’s smiling, that boyish grin that weakens your knees. “Sixteen years, and you still make me feel like that punk kid from Brooklyn who couldn’t believe his luck.”

You laugh, resting your head against his chest, his heartbeat steady. “And you still make me feel like the luckiest person alive.”

As you sway, he murmurs, “You know, sometimes I wake up and watch you sleep, just to make sure this is real. That you’re here, that this life is ours.”

You tilt your head up, eyes soft. “It’s real, Bucky. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

His thumb traces circles on your waist, his voice low and raw. “I don’t know what I did to earn you, but I thank every star in the sky for it. For you choosing me, every day.”

Your heart swells, and you squeeze his hand. “I choose you because you’re you, Bucky. The man who sneaks extra pancakes for the kids, who holds me when I cry, who dances with me in our kitchen at midnight. I’d choose you a million times over.”

He swallows hard, his eyes glistening again. “God, doll, you make it so easy to love you. So easy to want forever with you.”

“Then let’s have forever,” you whisper, smiling through your own misty eyes. “You and me, our kids, this crazy, beautiful life.”

He nods, pulling you closer, his cheek resting against your hair. “Forever sounds too short, but I’ll take it. As long as I’ve got you in my arms.”

The song fades, but you keep swaying, lost in each other. Around you, Jamie’s roped Tony into her monster game, and the twins are laughing hysterically. Steve raises a glass your way, and you return a smile, grateful for this family.

Bucky’s lips brush your ear. “Here’s to sixteen more, doll. And a lifetime after that.”

You kiss him softly. “A lifetime sounds perfect.”

No ghosts, no shadows. Just love, carrying you both forward, always.

[milkb0nny]

Dancing For You

... Sam loves watching you move

Pairing: Sam x fem!reader

Summary: You are an artistic pole dancer but because of your shy nature only a few people know. Sam and you were college friends but lost contact during the months he had left. After a year you two meet again, where you give a performance on a party for the rich. Little did Sam realize how ethereal you truly looked.

Note: I wanted to give Sammy some love too. Enjoy <3

Content: no use of y/n, fluff, comfort, reader being a pole dancer, shy reader

Word count: 900

The grand hall of the mansion sparkled with elegance, and chandeliers were casting golden light over the polished marble floors. Waitstaff in tidy uniforms moved through the sea of finely dressed noblemen. It was an event designed to dazzle, a charity gala for the rich and powerful.

Sam Winchester adjusted the lapels of his borrowed tuxedo, feeling slightly out of place amidst the ambiance. But he wasn’t here to mingle; he was here to investigate. Whispers of strange disappearances among the city's elite had caught the Winchester‘s attention, and this gala was aN opportunity to dig deeper.

As Sam walked the room, he heard the soft hum of music shifting. A piano playing soft and delicate muses, little melodies of comfort. The crowd began to gravitate toward the center of the room, where a stage bathed in soft, ethereal light awaited. Golden feathers on the ground, and the center of the stage held a golden pole.

The host stepped on the stairs, gazing down the people.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome tonight’s enchanting performer, known for her artistry and grace.”

Sam watched with mild curiosity as the room quieted, the lights dimming to create an intimate atmosphere. Then you appeared, stepping onto the stage in a gown that shimmered like moonlight.

White crystals covered the needed skin of your body, laced with a thin, shimmery fabric. The rest of your skin was bare, so you could actually use the pole properly. The delicate fabric caught the light as you moved.

Pole dancing wasn’t something Sam expected to see at a gala, but this was different. As the music began, your movements told a story… fluid, expressive, and beautiful. You spun and climbed with effortless grace, the strength in your movements shown by their elegance. The dress flowed with you, transforming each move into something almost otherworldly.

Pole dancing was something you have always loved doing. Since you were a little kid you climbed on everything and did tricks on the playground. Your father pursued your passion, so you grew up with a lot of support and love.

Though, people would sexualize your hobby to the fullest, making you feel uncomfortable and sad. What you did was not, in any case, an sexual act. Whenever you mentioned your passion on a date, the men would ask you to strip for them and after an agonizing dating life, you gave up.

It turned to a beautiful hobby, and the upper class loved you. Your elegant dresses, your featherlight movements, your delicate emotions were the perfect match for a rich, elegant ambiance.

Performing at restaurants, at weddings, at business meetings and at private parties were now your main source of income - and it paid well. But your usual college life didn’t know. It was a sharp contrast to the societal elite, but you didn’t mind.

Money was money, and what is more beautiful than earning it through your money?

Sam's breath caught in his throat.

“Wow,” he mumbled under his breath, unable to tear his eyes away.

You silenced the room with divine grace, leaving only the soft music and the sound of your movements. But to Sam, there was something familiar about you…your face, the way you carried yourself. Then it hit him.

He knew you form college - a shy, introverted student which sometimes followed along his study groups.

“Wait a second,” he thought to himself. “Is that...?”

The performance ended with a delicate pose, the music fading into silence. The applause was vibrant, but Sam could only stand bedazzled in place, his mind racing.

After the performance, you disappeared behind the curtains, and Sam decided to follow. He finally found you standing by a vanity, draped in a silk robe, sipping water to recover from your performance.

“Uhm… hey,” Sam’s voice was soft.

You turned, startled, but your expression softened when you saw him.

“Sam?” you replied, equally surprised. “What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“I could ask you the same thing!” he said with a chuckle, stepping closer. “Since when do you - wait, that was you out there, wasn’t it?”

You smiled sheepishly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Uhm.. I… It’s… a long story.”

Sam shook his head, still processing. “You were incredible. I mean, really. That wasn’t just a performance… it was art.”

The honesty in his voice made your cheeks warm. “Thanks, Sam. It’s not always seen that way, but it means a lot coming from you.”

As you chitchatted, Sam realized how much he’d missed during college, how little he’d known about this side of you. He listened intently as you spoke about your passion. There was a light in your eyes that made the chaos of the world seem distant.

A quiet moment stretched between you, the buzz of the gala fading into a distant hum. Sam broke the silence with a smile. “So… think there’s any chance I could convince you to teach me a move or two?”

You laughed. “Sam Winchester, pole dancing? That’s a sight I’d pay to see.”

He chuckled, shrugging. “Hey, a guy can dream.”

But as you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t help but wonder if some dreams were worth chasing after all.

[20dollarlolita]

The differences between EGL and Loliable (with fewer cats).

For the version with fewer facts and more cat, please click here.

One of the biggest problems with doing handmade or offbrand lolita fashion is that it's very difficult to understand exactly how detailed a piece needs to be to pass as a lolita fashion piece. As we'll get into here, you generally need to have a detailed piece, and then put details on the details, and then maybe add a couple more details onto those details.

Not every single piece of a coordinate needs to be 1000% standalone lolita. There's lots of offbrand pieces that you can use in a coordinate, which we generally call "loliable". The really important component to remember is that, if every piece of your look is loliable and not lolita, at the end of the day, you're not wearing lolita fashion.

And, if your goal is to wear lolita fashion, building a look that isn't lolita is not accomplishing what you want.

When I was thrifting a while ago, I found this blouse, which has nearly the same construction as one of my lolita blouses. This felt like a really good chance to show the difference. Both of these blouses could be worn in a lolita coordinate, but only one can stand alone as lolita fashion.

So both of these are blouses with short, puffed sleeves with button cuffs. They're both fitted at the waist. They both have a front bib detail with a ruffle around the edge. They both close in the center front with buttons.

The Innocent World blouse (the lolita blouse) has a peter pan collar, and the offbrand blouse has a stand collar with a ruffle. That's their major construction difference. The other difference is that one has a cat on it.

Let's start our comparison with the cuffs. The Innocent World blouse is gathered into the cuff. The cuff has a lace applied flat onto the cuff. It also has a ruffled tulle hanging off the edge, making a frill. The offbrand blouse has a plain cuff.

We're going to compare the bib detailing by tucking the blouse into a high-waisted skirt. This lets us focus on this detail instead of getting distracted by fit.

We're going to start with the ruffle around the edge of the bib. This is really the only main detail that the offbrand blouse has. It's a cute little ruffle, and it draws attention to the bib. The ruffle is the same fabric as the blouse. It's totally fine.

The IW blouse uses a gathered lace as the ruffle around the edge of the bib. This is more detailed both because there's a pattern in the lace, but the lace itself is a different fabric from what the blouse is made of. Incorporating coordinating textures that are not identical is incorporating additional levels of detail.

The IW bib also has three lines of ruffles on each side of the bib itself. Two of those are the same lace that was used on the bib, and one is a small ruffle of the same fabric the blouse is made of. Again, incorporating different textures into an area increases the amount of details. It also allows you to put more detail into a piece without it seeming crowded.

Finally, the IW blouse has some large, elegant buttons that have a lovely texture on them. They're not just functional; they're also nice to look at. The offbrand blouse has those standard faux-pearl white shirt buttons that you get in every mending kit every stocked in a hotel room. They are about as generic as buttons can get.

If we're going to add another note, it's that the Innocent World blouse has details on the bottom edge. There's a button at the bottom to keep the blouse closed, and it has a little ruffle. Not pictured, but there is a tie on the back of this blouse, so that fit can be adjusted a little bit. That tie also adds a nice detail to the back of the blouse.

Let's talk about fit for a second. Full disclosure, the offbrand blouse does not fit me very well, and that's not doing it any favors in this regard. The IW blouse is also a tighter fit for me, but the button spacing and the interfacing on the front placket really help with the fit. The offbrand blouse doesn't have any buttons past a certain point, so the bottom flares open in a inverted V.

In addition to the button spacing, the Innocent World blouse is fitted with front and back princess seams, and then also with a dart on each side. It's specifically cut so that the bottom of the blouse can cover the waistband of a lolita skirt, and then flare a little for the skirt. While you can find nice princess seams and darts on offbrand blouses, it's really only on lolita blouses that you'll see them cut to fit a lolita skirt.

The offbrand blouse is fitted with dart tucks. A dart tuck is like a normal dart, but the ends are left open. This is intended to provide fit at the waist, but then leave the rest of the piece open. The downside of dart tucks is that, if the piece isn't loose and open and billowy, they will never sit flat. There will always be that pleat area in there. It will just be stretched flat, the way it is on the picture of me up there.

This is not to say that pieces with dart tucks can't be used for lolita fashion, but it's a really good example of how something that loliable can be different from something that's lolita. As you can see in the top pictures, with a high waist skirt covering the dart tucks, the blouse works pretty okay. However, when it's in the open, it starts to look really disheveled. You can't wear this blouse at the tightness that you usually wear a lolita blouse and still have it look lolita. Clothing that fits well enough to look professional and extravagant is a bit part of the lolita concept, and you don't want a garment that looks messy.

So, in conclusion, 1) you can probably put more details on that garment, and as long as it doesn't look messy, it probably makes it look more lolita, 2) you can probably put more details on those details, and as long as it look not messy, you're probably fine, 3) blouses are only like $35 on Amazon and if you're making your own garments, adding a truly lolita blouse can really elevate the look and help you from having your coord overcome with loliable pieces and trending away from actual lolita and 4) if the blouse doesn't fit you and isn't really lolita then there's no crime in giving it to the cat.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Enemy

Summary-> he was supposed to be your enemy after everything that he had done, but neither of you could stay away. You needed an escape (1k)

Warnings-> 18+ minors dni, smut, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, no foreplay, little bit of biting, fuck buddies, swearing, degradation

rafe cameron works other obx works main masterlist

He was a bad influence and you knew that, your friends hated kooks, resented them for the violence that surged through their expensive veins, and you were supposed to as well. If they knew what you were doing with the worst kook of them all, you’d no doubt be disregarded as a pogue, it would be a crime in their eyes, but you were addicted, Rafe was like a drug that you couldn’t quite relinquish.

Your body was atop of his, a purity that he was tainting as he his murderous hands squeezed your ass, your tongues entangled in a hungry mess. He had stepped foot on the Cut just so that he could see you in your shabby home, and find his own escape from the mental torment that riddled his puzzled brain. A part of you had pity for the boy, his father had dragged him in every direction of the map to greed, he was confused and lost, but you cared more about the things he could do to you in the second hand sheets of your bed.

“I need you, now.” Rafe huffed, and you were always one to obey his orders, if you didn’t, you knew that he was more than capable with frightening you, there was a power within him that caused your heart to stutter and a heat to grow between the apex of your thighs. He was a monster, in the flesh of a man, and he had coiled your actions to perform to his every command, as a kook he always got what he wanted.

Without hesitation you lifted your shirt over your head, exposing your halter neck bikini, his eyes dancing over the exposed flesh before he flipped you to be laying on your back atop of the mattress in your home, his shadow towering over you, reminding you that everything that you did with him was a lustrous sin.

His hands fought with his branded belt, flinging the strip of overpriced leather to the ground, as he unbuttoned his jeans and rutted his aroused length beneath your small skirt. If you had any sanity you would run from him, but all had been lost for your hunt for gold, and if one good thing could come from your promising loss of fleeting metal, it would be a good fuck, even if it was from your opposed enemy.

“Thought you needed me Cameron, so hurry up.” You retorted at the frustrated male, causing his eyes to stab you, repeatedly, all over your body. He leant down, swimming his tongue around your neck before his teeth took charge and sunk into your flesh, sucking a bruise that you would have to conceal in the morning. His action caused a squeal to run from your mouth, he was a bad man, but his talents and punishments reserved for you made you see some clouded good in him.

“Shut the fuck up pogue.” He spat at you, raising your legs as he tore your panties from around your waist, discarding the ruined fabric god knows where. Your pulse was rushing, the danger that his exterior evoked excited you to some degree, perhaps you were stupid to allow him to fall between your legs or maybe it was a smart choice, but it didn’t really matter, you always got what you wanted from him and vice versa.

Rafe waited no longer before he grasped his cock, running it against your soaked cunt, before pushing it in, giving you no time to adjust. It hurt a little, but it always did with him, he wasn’t a gentle soul, he was eternally damaged and you’d accepted that nobody, not even you could change him. “You’re such a fucking whore, letting me fuck you whenever I want. Maybe one day you’d make a good wife, leaving this all this poor shit behind just because you want my dick.”

The idea had your head spinning, although realistically it would never happen, it was a toxic daydream that defied all of your morals of who you were and your loyalties, however the thought of being all dolled up for him, and committing to be his personal fuck toy had some appeal deep down. Rafe thrusted harshly into you, you were inclined to wince, a few tears splattering your cheeks as you allowed him to do whatever he wanted.

He increased his pace, his hand that wasn’t supporting his weight reaching up and tugging at your bikini top, exposing your breasts to his view, and he ducked his head down, marking you for everyone to see. It revolted you that he could make you his without having to utter a word of emotion, he made you weak, and it was easy for him to make you crumble. “Rafe.” A grunt vibrated from his chest as you moaned his name, your hands applying pressure on his shoulders as your eyes squeezed shut, indulging in a fatal pleasure that you could never surrender.

“Look at me, and keep your eyes open.” He commanded as expected, you complied, no matter how difficult the deed was. Your lashes fluttered as you struggled with keeping your lids open, watching him above you, sweat glistening upon his skin in an ungodly manner. You were getting close and Rafe could tell, and so he kept his strokes going, until he felt you clenching around him, gripping his cock as though you were his personal vice. “Gonna cum in you, you want that?”

There was nothing that you desired more, and so you nodded exasperatedly, consenting to him spilling his warmth within you. It didn’t take long until he did, coating your walls with his seed, that crept out of your pussy when he pulled out, staining the sheets beneath you. Rafe flopped beside you, laying on his back as he stared at the dingy ceiling. He said nothing as he breathed heavily, recovering from the sparks of his orgasm. He never said anything afterwards, and you were fine with that, because he would always come back.

[jadewolf22]

The Protector She Raised pt. 1

Larissa Weems x Daughter OC (Helena Weems)

Series Warnings: Mentions of attempted murder, PTSD, Hurt/comfort, mentions of absent parents, angst, fighting (verbal), detailed account of assault & torture, possessive/protective family members (both Larissa and Helena), etc.

Chapter Warnings: Yelling, Verbal Fighting, brief mention of near-character death, etc.

Summary: After Larissa’s brush with death that year her daughter, Helena, joins the Nevermore staff in an attempt to keep tabs on her mother. But Helena, plagued by visions of both the past and the future, soon realizes that what Laurel started isn’t over and must choose between her mother and her morals.

A/n: I’m trying to get back into the swing of things. This has been sitting in my drafts for forever so I thought I might as well get chapter 1 out.

Word Count: 1,460

The wind howled across the open gates of Nevermore, its chill cutting through the fabric of Helena’s coat as she stepped out of the car. The sprawling grounds, draped in centuries-old ivy and encased by the imposing stone walls, had an aura that both comforted and unnerved her. It was the same as she remembered it—familiar, yet vastly different. The towering Gothic building seemed to rise higher in the misty morning light, their silhouette almost haunting against the dim sky. It was the place she had once called home, and yet it had become a cage. A cage she could never quite leave behind.

She glanced into the rearview mirror as she adjusted her hair, her fingers brushing through the platinum strands that matched her mother’s. It had been years since they had last seen each other, but their resemblance would always be undeniable. Except for her eyes. Helena’s eyes, dark as onyx gemstones, glimmered with a hint of secrets, and a deep, quiet understanding of the world that no one else seemed to see.

Helena wasn’t her mother. She wasn’t the image of elegance and authority that Larissa Weems embodied. She never could be. Larissa wore her power like a crown, whereas Helena wore hers like a shadow. They were two sides of the same coin, different, yet strikingly similar.

Her boots clicked against the gravel as she walked toward the main building. The students had long since scattered to their respective classes, leaving only the eerie quiet that always settled around the academy when it was alone. This place, so full of secrets, had a way of getting under your skin.

As Helena passed by groups of students on the walk, she could hear the low whispers, the glances cast in her direction. They recognized her, as they should. Helena Weems, the daughter of the ever-stern Principal Larissa Weems. The whispers followed her, muted under their breath.

“I heard she’s back… what’s she doing here?”

“I overheard some of the teachers saying she and Principal Weems had a huge fight last year…”

“Is she teaching or something…? Well, why else would she be here?”

Helena didn’t bother to listen any longer. She knew what they were saying. It didn’t matter. No one really understood who she was, and she didn’t need them to.

Heading towards the main staircase, the familiar scents of old wood and faint perfume still lingered in the air, mixed with the crisp scent of the autumn morning. The chandeliers above glimmered like distant stars, bathing the room in a pale golden light. The vast, open space, lined with polished marble, felt like a ghost of the past. She’d walked these halls countless times before—always at a distance from her mother, always just on the periphery of Larissa’s world.

She passed by the glass cases holding various trophies and awards, a brief glance at the framed photographs of past principals. All of them had been powerful. But none of them had been Larissa.

Standing outside the door to Larissa’s office, Helena hesitated for a moment, her fingers trailing over the cool brass handle. Her heart beat steadily, the weight of the moment pressing in on her chest. This was it. No turning back.  

She opened the door and walked in.

There was Larissa, standing by her desk, the queen of the castle. Her platinum blonde hair was pulled up in its usual immaculate updo, putting her sharp, elegant face on display. Her posture was impeccable, every inch of her a symbol of authority. She looked every bit the part of the woman who ran this school with an iron fist, and yet, there was something about her today—something more tense in the lines of her face.

“Helena,” Larissa’s voice was calm, but it had that sharp edge Helena knew all too well. “What are you doing here?”

Helena closed the door behind her, the soft click of it sounding louder than it should. She couldn’t help the faint smirk that tugged at her lips. She’d been dreading this moment for weeks, and yet, now that it was here, she felt a strange sense of satisfaction. 

“I’m here about the Botany teacher position,” Helena replied casually, leaning against the doorframe, her arms crossing over her chest. Her tone was nonchalant, but her heart was pounding a little harder than she would have liked.

Larissa’s eyebrows furrowed, her piercing eyes narrowing in suspicion. “It’s already been filled.”

Helena’s smile grew, a flicker of defiance in her gaze. “It has,” she said coolly. “By me…The board agreed to hire me.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Helena could see the exact moment when Larissa’s brain processed the words, the flash of recognition, the understanding that hit her with the force of a slap. She stood still, as if trying to find her words, as if trying to make sense of what her daughter had just said.

“Excuse me?” Larissa’s voice was low, dangerous, and Helena could see the flicker of anger in her mother’s eyes. “You went over my head?” 

Helena didn’t back down. “I did. I knew you wouldn’t hire me, so I went to the board instead. They liked my credentials,” she replied smoothly, trying to suppress the thrill of winning.

The words were out, and the damage had been done. Larissa’s face reddened, her eyes flashing with disbelief and frustration. “You did what?!”

Helena didn’t flinch, even as her mother’s anger grew more palpable. Larissa’s presence had always been imposing, but Helena had learned to stand her ground over the years. She knew exactly how to push Larissa’s buttons—and this time, she was enjoying it a little too much.

“You’ve always made it clear that you wouldn’t hire me. What else was I supposed to do?” Helena said with a shrug.

“I cannot believe you!” Larissa’s voice was growing louder now. “You don’t just…you don’t just come in and make decisions without consulting me! I am the principal here, Helena!”

Helena met her mother’s glare, unblinking. “The board made the decision. Not you. Not me. They’re the ones who agreed to hire me. You can’t do anything about it.”

Larissa’s jaw clenched, her body taut with frustration. “You think I can’t do anything about it? I am the principal, Helena. I will not let you undermine my authority like this.”

“I’m not undermining you,” Helena shot back. “I’m simply taking the position I’ve earned.”

“You didn’t earn it!” Larissa’s voice was almost a shout now. “You bypassed every single procedure, you—”

“I did what was necessary.” Helena’s voice was cool and controlled. “You would never have hired me for the job, and we both know it. You’d never consider me qualified, no matter how much I’ve proved myself.”

The silence between them was suffocating, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. Larissa looked as if she might explode, her chest rising and falling rapidly, but Helena refused to let her mother’s anger intimidate her. She knew exactly what her mother was capable of, but she was no longer a child afraid of the inevitable fights. She was a grown woman now, with her own plans, her own decisions.

Helena took a deep breath. “There’s nothing you can do. The board’s decision is final. I’m staying.” Larissa’s eyes glowed with a dangerous intensity, but Helena didn’t flinch. This time, she wasn’t backing down. “You can’t change it. You can’t force them to fire me, and you can’t fire me yourself without solid reasoning.”

For a long moment, Larissa said nothing. The weight of the argument hung between them, thick and suffocating. Then, in a quiet voice, Larissa spoke again, her words laced with venom.

“You’ll regret this,” she said, her eyes narrowing.

Helena only smiled. “Perhaps… Perhaps not.”

With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the room, leaving her mother standing there, seething. She knew she’d just ignited something that would linger for a long time, but she didn’t care. She had what she wanted.

As she made her way down the hall, her mind turned to the real reason she was here. It wasn’t just to take the position at Nevermore. It wasn’t just to prove something to her mother.

It was to protect her. From Laurel. From the death that Helena had seen coming in her visions.

That was her real reason for coming. Not to prove her mother wrong, or simply inflate her own ego, but to keep her safe. 

She couldn’t tell Larissa yet. Psychic visions weren’t always reliable. But Helena had ignored them the last time and it had nearly cost her mother her life. She would rather take the precaution and have it be nothing, rather than ignore it and risk losing her mother permanently. 

[bonny-kookoo]

….does unstable MC make a nest for Jungkook to indirectly tell him she’s ok with it? 👀

A/N: Wait that's actually such a cute idea what-

-> Masterlist

This could backfire horribly.

After all, you know that Jungkook seems to have a problem with his instincts and all that. But you want him to stop feeling like he needs to control himself so much or hide away all the time-

So maybe this could work, even if it's gonna make him laugh at you.

You're not sure what you're expecting when he comes back into the control center, and spots the.. now way larger pile of things near the main control station, where he'd already made a smaller nest in case you'd like to sleep near the warmer floor, due to the big generators being right underneath the main system he operates at.

He's just.. staring at it, at you, and the message this is clearly trying to display to him.

"I.. don't really know how you make like.. the sides stay up?" You mumble, simply sitting with crossed legs in a corner of the pile of blankets you've found in the storage unit. "And I don't know.. I don't want to like.. cause a fire if the blankets are too close to the metal parts here-" You begin, though you stop when he walks closer, quietly slipping out of his shoes before he joins you, leaning over to adjust some things..

quietly showing you how he usually makes the nest, silently accepting this one.

"The blankets are non-flammable." He tells you. "I.. have like a.. I don't know, I only like certain fabrics." He mumbles, clearly unsure what to really do or say.

"Well, you deserve to be comfortable too." You shrug, before you get up- causing him to look up at you with surprised, round eyes, before he shakes his head, reaching out to hold onto your fingers. "I'll stay here- I just don't wanna make you uncomfortable-"

"Then stay here." He says, pulling you back down. "I can.. I don't mind you here." He tries to explain, before he moves to lay down in the nest you made-

making sure to remind himself later to teach you how to do it properly next time.

[beatcroc]

updates on doombox wahoo

the main box here is scrap bc it's too flimsy to use as a final, but i went ahead and made finals of most of the little fiddly bits. the final main box will still be the same dimensions and i got a bigass watermelon bin for extra sturdy cardboard so this one's really just a prototype to figure out the cuts and fitting and whatnot. hands are gonna have regular like plush stuffing between the foam chunks to smooth the joints out, as well as around elswhere wherever it needs the volume. im using plastic garbage bags to map out the shapes/pattern for the fabric covering but it looks like shit so it's not here. also i am very afraid of trying to figure out the thumb shapes specifically

most of the rest of this just going to be me having to accept that my shoulders aren't like 3 fuckin feet wide to be able to do his build properly, and thus figuring out how to adjust the base design in a way that doesn't completely wreck his vibe, while ALSO retaining some manageable level of mobility. ive already given up on being able to raise my arms straight up :'^) anyway some mockup sketches of what it's probably going to look like in practice

things i am still unsure about. the waist piece. lotta joints there and again i need to be able to Sit so it can't be anything too stiff or Damageable. ideally i would also not like to have my ass out as well.

additionally. attaching things To the waist piece. and also attaching the arm speaker grate things.

thirdly. the jacket is really going to be puzzling. I Could do it the proper canon way where it just hugs the head/body mass of course, but having my arms come mostly from the bottom makes the shape trickier, especially regarding the sleeves. beyond that though I want to see about messing with its shape/fit to help the proportions seem a little better; If you really look at his design, the boombox part is like, deceptively small, and that jacket is pulling s surprising amount of weight for making him look bulky and top-heavy, so I'm hoping to exaggerate it to make him feel properly Huge.

and last i would love to put an actual speaker on there somewhere. i cannot be dressing up as a giant evil stereo and not play schnasty obnoxious jams. it's really just an issue of being able to control it; there's certainly plenty of room in this thing to just strap a bluetooth to it otherwise.