#blouse tutorial

[anielskaaniela]

How to Create and Customize a Raglan Top or Dress Pattern [Beginner-Friendly]

In this post , you will learn how to self draft and hack sewing pattern for raglan dress or top. A raglan top or dress is a garment that has sleeves that extend to the neckline, creating a diagonal seam from the underarm to the collarbone. They are flattering and comfortable styles that suit any body type. In this post, you will learn how to create a raglan top or dress pattern from scratch.…

[moootyya]

Clothes rendering!

[honorary-fool]

love when hyperfixations make you question cosplans 🥴

It's the same media but a different person. Like i was so dead-set on Robin but because I've seen so many Argenti cosplays recently I wanna do him now.

Not even trying to make his armor just like. A pseudo closet cosplay w/ the Nameless Bard shirt, my black boots, an old rose prop I have.. and then figure out the pants, corset belt, and wig styling.

But there's still Robin,, and I literally Just bought a yard of lace fabric to make her blouse (this is my reference) 💔

[orgu-evi-blog]

Tığ işi yazlık-baharlık, hırka, bluz, yelek, şal örgü modeli (detaylı anlatım 🌎)

#ÖRGÜMÜDEDİNİZ #ÖRGÜ #KNITTING #CROCHET #MODEL Merhaba arkadaşlar videom da Tığ işi yazlık-baharlık, hırka, bluz, yelek, şal örgü modeli (detaylı anlatım 🌎) nin yapımını anlatmak istedim. Umarım sever ve beğenirsiniz :) Yeni başlayanlar için tığ işi battaniye, tığ işi battaniye modelleri, kolay bebek battaniyesi tığ işi, bebek battaniyesi tığ işi, battaniye tığ işi, bebek battaniyesi, bebek…

[rabbitmacabre]

I ordered from devilinspired I'm so excited to finally have some lolita fashion in my closet ♡

[clairewritesfanfics]

Villain Creation System Chapter 6

Pairing/s: Invincible x Reader x Invincible Variants

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Attempted sexual assault

CHAPTER 5: This Boy is a Choking Hazard Series Masterlist <<read the synopsis and trigger warnings first>>

Wisteria was fancier than what you expected from a nightclub. Cleaner, too. It was glass and steel and purple to pink neon lights. Artificial wisteria flowers hung from the ceiling and walls. 

The place was freezing and reeked of sweat, booze and a plethora of perfumes.

You were close to throwing up from sensory overload when someone yelled your name amidst the chatter and you found Amber waving at you from the bar. 

You wove past the jittering bodies to join her.

“Mark invited you, huh?” She didn’t seem mad or jealous, but she did sound defeated.

“Is that bad?”

She shook her head, smiling weakly. “Nah. He’s a good guy, I wouldn’t be here if he wasn’t. Just don’t forget what I told you. Mark has a way of wriggling into people’s hearts, especially pretty girls’.”

“I won’t. Thanks, Amber.”

“No problem.” She glanced down at your clothes. “You look great, by the way. I love your jacket.”

You resisted the urge to scoff and thought back to several hours ago.

This body’s taste in clothes was similar to yours, if a little juvenile. The system said that it was because it relayed some of your memories to the World Consciousness. Being a tutorial level mission world certainly helped too.

[Do not expect this to be the same in every mission world, though. As I have said before, the World Consciousness is imperfect. A lot of its programming ability goes to replicating your defining physical features like eye color and complexion, but that leaves everything else subject to variation.]

“I get it already, limited energy or whatever, right?” You waved it off, trying to find the best outfit for the club. 

The system huffed–it did not appreciate getting brushed off like some nagging wife–and pixelated smoke puffed out of the corners of its screen, dispersing in the air as tiny dots of light. Deciding to get back at its Host, the system waited for you to pick up a t-shirt and then played that buzzer sound quiz shows would use when a participant got an answer wrong.

[Too plain.]

You raised an eyebrow but agreed. Your hand went for another top. 

[Too gaudy.]

Fine. You reached for something else–EEEEHH. 

You crossed your arms over your chest and glared at the floating holographic monitor. 

The system made an innocent face.

[Too ugly.]

[Too vibrant.]

[Too frumpy.]

It didn’t take more than two minutes of getting bombarded with that obnoxious EEEEHH for you to put your foot down. You settled for something comfortable but more party-coded than your usual wear. The most noteworthy piece on you was a denim jacket decorated with a few pins.

Amber was admiring the one shaped like a semicolon while you used disinfectant wipes on the barstool next to her.

“So,” you started, taking a seat. “How was your test?”

She let out an exaggerated sigh. “What’s done is done. Tonight, I’m just going to focus on dancing. Hey, you’re still coming to my party tomorrow, right?”

“Uh-huh.” To be honest, your social battery was drained to half capacity just by entering this place. If this was a purely social endeavor you would’ve already prepared a whole story about your not-grandmother being in a hospital and wanting to see you tomorrow, but this was a job. If playing nice and pretending to have fun is what your job needs then so be it.

Besides, it would feel wrong to say no to her now.

“I like your blouse,” you said. 

She wore a gold sequin halter top with a pair of high-waisted jeans. 

“Thanks! A friend of mine picked it out for me, I thought it was too much but she said it’d be a waste not to get it. I think you’ll really like her, she’s an architecture major.” Her eyes flickered over your shoulder and she beamed, waving at someone. “There she is now.”

[Ding.]

“Hey, Amber.” The voice was undoubtedly feminine and clear. The kind of voice befitting an important woman.

Red-orange flickered from the corner of your eye.

Amber stood to give the new arrival a quick hug and then introduced the two of you.

The emerald-eyed stranger offered you a smile and her hand. “Hi, nice to meet you.”

[Samantha Eve Wilkins has arrived.]

Long fiery hair fell delicately over bare freckled-kiss shoulders and her green eyes popped thanks to the lavender silk of her blouse. She was even more striking in person, there was no doubt in your mind that she was an important supporting character. Hell, she could probably pass for the main character. 

You gave her hand two shakes. “Hi.”

The bartender arrived, sliding a cool root beer towards Amber and asking you, “What can I get you?”

“Lemon lime–” “–peach soda”

You and Eve exchanged glances, then you giggled at the same time.

The bartender nodded and left to get your drinks.

“Amber tells me you’re a total genius,” Eve said, sitting next to you instead of Amber and effectively sandwiching you between the two beauties. If you were as old as this body was, you would have thrown up from anxiety. Luckily, you have learned to be more adaptable before you died.

“I’m not a genius,” you replied, accepting the bottle of lemon lime from the bartender with a smile and barely audible ‘thank you.’

Amber waved her hand. “You’re not giving yourself enough credit. You always get the highest score in every test and pop quiz–and you only make what, one or two mistakes? It’s insane.” She leaned closer and said to Eve, “The professor thought she was cheating so he had her retake a different version of a test in essay form.” 

“No way.” Eve’s jaw dropped. “Is that even allowed?”

“We’re not sure, but jokes on him, our girl here–” she gave you a friendly elbow jab “–got perfect marks on that.”

You groaned internally. You weren’t a genius, but you were technically a college graduate, one who already suffered through chemistry, biology, psychology and so many other -ies. 

Daily study sessions, a stringent schedule, different tutors and a sprinkle of all-nighters here and there can go a long way. You also genuinely enjoyed learning, and in this reality, you didn’t have to worry about time or money, so you can focus your energy on studying. The only catch is that you have to go above and beyond for one particular, very specific subject: Mark Grayson. 

Your interest in other people who are too distant to be considered friends is usually limited. Relationships are hard, at least for you. Humans can say one thing but mean something else. For example, if one is invited for a drink with their boss, technically, they can say no, but they don’t because it is a faux pas to reject a social invite from an important person. One has to smile and nod when another speaks, even when the topic is boring or nonsensical or disagreeable.

Etiquette and expectations. Tradition versus reason. 

Confusing, annoying, but necessary, you admit. 

You stared at the cartoon logo on your plastic bottle. 

Speaking of confusing things, where the heck is Mark?

[Ding. The system is offline.]

[The system was called “useless” and “unnecessary” by the Host.]

[Since this system is so “useless” and “unnecessary,” it shall stay away for now.]

[(˶˃⤙˂˶)]

Little punk.

You rolled your eyes and let it be, deciding to survey the area. According to Mark, tonight the whole club was reserved for the college or something; an immediate celebration after the first major exams of the academic year. 

Expectedly, the entire floor was swarmed with young adults, from freshmen to seniors. Some held beer, others went with sodas or juice. 

“Great place, right?” Eve asked, pulling you out of focus mode.

“Yeah, it is.” You turned to face her. Sharp green eyes smiled at you. 

“I gotta say, I haven’t been to a lot of nightclubs but I can already tell that this is relatively high end.”

“Amber tells me you’re an architect.”

“Well, studying to be one.”

“That’s cool.”

“It’s not as glamorous as it sounds. There’s a lot of math involved.”

“Not a big fan?”

“It’s not my favorite subject.”

“Here, here.” You raised your unopened bottle and she toasted with her peach soda. “I despise mathematics.”

Amber laughed. “Really? I thought you’d eat it up for sure.”

“Math is not as fascinating as chemistry. Or biology.” 

“I’ve been meaning to ask, but what kind of things do you do for fun? Eve and I have been itching for a girls’ night.”

You opened your mouth to reply but the lights dimmed and the multi-colored lasers focused on the stage.

A young man with green hair and studded leather pants announced into the mic, “Ladies, gentlemen and dear nonbinaries; friends and enemies, congrats on finishing the first Hell Week of the year!”

The two girls beside you cheered with the crowd. Not one for screaming, you opted to clap your hands.

“We got a lot of great performers lined up today, folks. Starting off strong, we present–Indigo Muse!”

Your peers erupted into applause.

The black velvet curtains behind him parted, revealing Mark and his band. 

The guy behind the drums lifted his sticks and began the count, “Three, two–”

Your ears perked at the familiar guitar riff–and soon, the entire floor was dancing.

I’m on my way, but I don’t know

What to do or where to go

Despite being the bassist, Mark was the lead singer and of course, he had the voice of an angel.

You felt your back being pushed and your arms getting pulled.

Eve yelled behind you, “Come on!”

“Let’s dance.” Amber dragged you off your stool. 

“Wait, I don’t–”

The two were stronger than they looked and you found yourself standing in the middle of the dance floor, getting squished by varied-smelling bodies.

I’m so nervous, I feel sick

I hope I don’t come off like a jerk

You gripped hard on your lemon lime, trying not to vomit.

You lifted your chin and found Mark’s eyes on you. 

I went all out, I washed my hair

I searched and found some clean underwear

There was that gaze again, like you were the only thing worth focusing on in the whole room.

It was too much.

She’s so hot, I can’t resist

I don’t know what I’ll do if she gives me that first kiss

Suddenly feeling extra thirsty, you tried to open your soda, but the condensation made your hand slip. The bottle dropped to the floor and a stray leg kicked it away.

“Crap.” Your two dance partners were too preoccupied to notice you crawling away.

“Excuse me, excuse me! Sorry!” You braved through stiletto heels and heavy boots. The smart thing to do was to get a new soda, but you didn’t want to be responsible for someone slipping on the bottle and causing a domino effect of fallen dancers and a really busy ER.

The bottle hit the legs of a nearby sofa, finally stopping.

You sighed in relief, but just as you approached forward, a girl bumped into you and dropped her bottle.

She rubbed her head. “Ow… Sorry.”

“I’m fine.” 

You picked up both drinks and stared at them. Huh. Both lemon lime. Both unopened.

“Here.” You gave her one randomly.

“Thanks. Sorry again for, uh, falling on top of you.”

“No harm done.”

She grinned and walked away, her long blonde ponytail bouncing with each step as she disappeared into the sea of people.

You reached inside your jacket for a wet wipe and cleaned the soda bottle from top to bottom. 

You twisted the cap open and the system dinged just as you realized–

Shit.

***

Mark didn’t stop looking even when you did. He half-expected you to email with some generic excuse like a relative in the hospital or a dead grandparent, so seeing you here, in the flesh, was a win in his book.

He was happy to see you all dressed up. He couldn’t wait to ask the story behind every pin on your jacket. Would you actually get giddy like you did during philosophy debates? Would your face remain deadpan? Would you lose your patience and get mad?

His well-practiced singing never faltered as he watched you weave through the crowd. 

What were you doing?

They already reached ⅔ of the song when you stopped near a sofa to wipe your soda clean.

He recalled applause and his team patting his back. The emcee approached him while he saw you suddenly burst into a panicked sprint from across the room.

“Mark? Hey, dude?”

“Sorry, I need to use the restroom.” He shrugged off his strap and swiftly put down his bass.

The emcee pointed his thumb behind him. “There’s a staff only wash over–”

Mark leaped off the stage and went the other way.

The emcee glanced at his bandmates, who could only shrug.

Mark did his best to dash towards the restrooms, but with this many people he couldn’t blitz his way recklessly.

By the time he reached the girls’ toilets, he had calmed down enough to try and knock first, but he heard screaming and he burst through the door with a kick.

“Princess!”

He froze, and so did you, and so did the large guy you were hitting with a mop. Beneath that football player-shaped guy was a blonde girl crying on the floor. Her blouse was ripped open and Mark could see red handprints around her throat.

The bastard recovered from shock earlier and swung at you. Your legs faltered and you hit the sink with a loud thud.

Mark didn’t breathe–he didn’t think–

all he saw was red.

“You like hitting girls, huh?”

THUNK

“What about me, tough guy?”

THUNK

“Come on!”

THUNK

“Fight back, asshole!”

“Mark–”

“Fight back–”

“Mark.” Cold, clammy palms covered his cheeks. 

Clear eyes grounded him. “Stop.”

“Princess?”

You gave him a small smile. “We’re okay now.” 

Something cool and wet touched his knuckles. He looked down and saw you wiping away the blood. 

He glanced back at you and saw the early signs of a shiner. He used his free hand to cradle that side of your face. “He hurt you.”

“I’m not the victim here.” You used your mouth to gesture behind him.

The blonde girl was unconscious, but you had draped your jacket over her torso.

Mark swallowed. “Did he–”

You shook your head. “I arrived just when he pushed her down. She’ll be… she’ll remember this night, but she’s one of the luckier ones.”

“Luckier, huh.”

You frowned. “You know what I mean.”

“I do. It just stinks that this is what we consider lucky.”

You silently finished wiping the blood from his knuckles and threw them inside a ziplock bag.

Mark cocked an eyebrow. “You… carry ziplock bags with you?”

“You’ll never know.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “I saw you run here from the stage.”

“You got good eyes.”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, I got better instincts.” He met your gaze. “How did you know what was about to happen?”

You showed him a bottle of lemon lime soda inside a bigger ziplock bag. “She and I accidentally switched bottles. They were both unopened at first glance, but when I twisted the cap, it was loose.”

He examined the container.

“Oh, and it didn’t fizz.”

“What?”

“The soda didn’t fizz. A loose cap is one thing, but then add the fact that it didn’t fizz?”

“You pieced that together fast. I would’ve just thought that it was an old bottle.”

You grinned. “I’ve been told that I’m something of a genius.”

“Are you?”

“No.”

He chuckled. 

“Are you okay?” You asked, surprising him.

“You’re asking me? I’m not the victim here,” he parroted your words back to you.

“That didn’t stop you from worrying about me.” Your eyebrows furrowed. “Are you okay, Mark?”

You put your hand over his clean knuckles. 

His breath hitched. 

You were close enough to–

He heard groaning behind him and you pulled back, standing up.

“Hey,” he heard you speak to the blonde girl. “Do you remember where you are? It’s okay. You’re safe, it’s all right, the police are on their way.”

He heard crying as he looked down at the man whose face was now unrecognizable.

He looked at his freshly wiped fingers.

“You’re okay.” 

He then turned around and saw your shaking hands comfort the weeping girl on the floor.

Mark clenched his fists.

***

[Affection: 44%. Darkening: 15%.]

You stared at the pink and black bars while the paramedic cleaned your wounds.

Amber was in tears, holding your hand and apologizing for not paying more attention, despite your insistence that this was nobody else’s fault except the criminal who was currently on his way to the ER.

Eve said she would go check up on Mark. The system informed you that they were conversing on the roof.

The blonde girl, Ariel, was giving her statement to the cops. When she was finished, she walked over to you and surprised you with a hug. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Unsure what to do, you awkwardly patted her head. “No problem. Anyone would have done the same.”

“I’m sorry about messing up your jacket.”

“Eh, I needed a new one.”

She and Amber laughed.

Ariel stepped back. “Thank you.”

She nodded at Amber and then joined a female officer inside a police car.

Amber’s phone chirped and she squeezed your hand. “You hungry? Eve and Mark want to eat nachos.”

“I didn’t know Eve and Mark were close.”

Amber blinked. She then waved her hand. “No, no, well, yes, they are close, but not like that.”

“Then like what?”

“Well, apparently, they work at the same place. I still don’t know what they actually do, but they see each other occasionally. Eve’s taken though. Some guy named Rex.”

“I see.” For some reason, your heart felt lighter.

***

“Amber said they’re good for nachos,” Eve said, putting away her phone.

Mark stayed quiet as he stared at his hands. You told him to wash them thoroughly but he can still feel the stain on him. 

Eve walked closer. “You did good. You saved them.” She stopped talking, but Mark knew that tone. 

He hated it because it meant she had something else to say, something annoying. “But…?” 

“...but you should’ve held back.”

“He was a rapist.”

“Yes, and I hate him, too, but he’s also human. If you kept going the way you did you would’ve killed him!”

Mark paused. 

He was brought back inside that tiny rest room. Before the police arrived, the staff nurse offered to take Ariel inside the attached clinic for treatment. You reassured them that you would follow, and when it was just you and Mark, you locked the door, walked over to Ariel’s attacker and stomped down on his crotch; hard enough that Mark actually winced, hard enough that he heard squishing noises when you lifted your foot.

Face blank, you said to him, “If they ask, tell them it was self-defense.”

He almost laughed. Hearing that was liberating.

He wondered if Eve would have approved. Eve wasn’t a goody-two shoes, but she drew hard lines when it came to crime-fighting. Excessive force and torture were something she balked at.

“I recognize that guy, y’know,” Mark mumbled. “I saved a different woman a few months ago.” In addition to being a prized player at the university, he was part of a powerful frat, a legacy. “I will never forget that smug face of his when the judge let him free.” 

“That sucks.”

Mark sneered. That’s all Eve ever says. “If only I–”

“If only, what? If only you killed him? You’re better than that.”

Mark could hear his mother’s voice echo from the back of his mind: “You’re better than him.”

He shot to his feet and turned towards the door.

“We aren’t done here.”

“I think we are,” he snapped back and swung open the rooftop door.

“Oh.”

You were standing right in front of him. “Hi,” you squeaked.

“Hi.” He flashed you his signature smile. “Missed me already? I thought we were meeting at the restaurant?”

“I just needed some fresh air, I didn’t think there was anybody here, sorry. I’ll leave.”

Eve interrupted you, “No, it’s fine. We’re done.” 

She gave Mark a look and then smiled at you. “You good?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll see you later.”

Mark held the door, stepped to the side and made a sweeping motion with his arm, like a doorman welcoming guests. 

“You really like roofs,” you noted, strolling towards the railing. “Do you enjoy looking down at the world?”

“You make me sound like a megalomaniac.”

“Your words, not mine.” You rest your elbows on the guardrail. 

Mark joined and you uttered to him, “I have a confession.”

His heart stopped for a moment. “What?”

“When you were punching that guy, I was really tempted to let you beat him to death.”

“Oh.”

You eyed him and he quickly added, “–kay. Okay. I see. So why didn’t you?”

“I was worried about you. You didn’t look like yourself.”

He guiltily lowered his head. “Sorry for scaring you.”

You let out a loud Ha! “You don’t scare me, not even when you had blood all over you.” You glanced down at the city. “What I meant was that you seemed to be in a trance. I didn’t want you to wake up and realize you killed someone in your sleep. That would suck.”

This time, Mark let himself laugh.

***

He was laughing.

Jesus, what a psycho. He almost killed someone and he was laughing?

He really was destined for villainy. 

[Affection: 49%. Darkening: 16%.]

You were supposed to pretend to love someone like this? For how long? And how many times before you were free? How many more horrible things did you have to experience and witness?

Mark’s brown eyes widened. “Princess?”

“Hm?”

“Are you–”

You turned away from him and brought a shaking hand to your face. “I’m all right, I promise.”

He didn’t say anything. Instead, you felt his arms slowly, almost hesitantly, stretch around your shoulders. 

Permitting this moment of weakness, you leaned your head on his chest. 

His arms tightened, folding over you protectively. “It’s okay, princess. You’re safe.”

You shook your head, because he was awful and kind and confusing and he had no idea what he was saying.

[Ding. Affection: 52%. Darkening: 20%.]

taglist: @weponxwrites @ratkidcalledallie @qxuanii @lilacoaks @gluttonousriceflour @phisen @sleepyzzz3

Disclaimer: The images used in this post do not belong to writerclaire. They were lifted from the following sources:

Invincible flying

Alternate Invincibles

CHAPTER 7: My mama done tol' me a man…  Series Masterlist

ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ,<)~✩‧₊

MAIN MASTERLIST

Any questions for the author? Ask here.

[princessescomplex]

Hellooo! I've been receiving a lot of questions regarding my decorated boxcutters so I'll answer a few here. I'll make an in-depth tutorial later, but for now I'll answer the most common questions. I got the boxcutters at my local Daiso, but you can also purchase them on Amazon. For the charms, I used UV cured glue (originally for nail charms) to glue them on. I purchased the charms on Shein, they were originally nail charms! However, if you don't want to use Shein; you can also find materials at your local craft store/section. I used spare ribbons from old setups and blouses, and I hot glued them to the shifting gear.

Update: Tutorial is up 🙇🏻‍♀️

[20dollarlolita]

Review: First Stop Cosplay's Lolita Patterns

So a while back I saw some patterns from a company called First Stop Cosplay. I asked them if I could review their patterns (since the last time I reviewed a small pattern company they did not appreciate it) and they actually sent me some patterns for free.

I had a lot of fun making these. Unlike when I reviewed Cut/Sew, I ended up with actual lolita garments, didn't get confused by any steps, and actually had a lot of fun. And at no point did I have to make this face:

So, here's our reviews.

First Stop Cosplay isn't a EGL fashion company or even a fashion company at all. They're a cosplay pattern company that happened to make five different lolita fashion patterns. Their lolita options consist of a petticoat, some short bloomers, a capelet, and the blouse and skirt that I'm reviewing. I don't have any evidence that anyone in their team wears lolita regularly or outside of comic conventions, although that isn't inherently a negative thing.

First Stop Cosplay's entire goal is to make handmade cosplay inclusive and accessible to everyone. They do this by making patterns that are very simple, and that have instructions that are so detailed and easy that new sewists can follow along without a problem. Their normal women's size catalog includes 14 different size options. We're going to stick a pin in "inclusive for new sewists" and "inclusive for all sizes" because I'm going to come back to those points in a minute. The patterns are sold as a single size, and are a bit on the expensive side relative to their market. Printed versions of both the patterns I received would run $50, though they do have a lolita bundle option. They are currently discontinuing their paper patterns and going fully digital, and there is a slight discount for buying the digitial download instead. Unlike most digital download patterns, there is a sizeable gap time between when you buy the pattern and when you receive it. I bought some digital patterns from them yesterday afternoon, put in the activation codes, and am still waiting to actually receive my patterns. For comparison, I bought some digital patterns off Etsy yesterday and had them within minutes. They have an elaborate and non-automated anti-piracy system to make sure their patterns and instructions are protected from people who didn't buy them. I don't think they have quite the right balance of intellectual property protection vs customer convenience, but that's maybe just my opinion.

I do think that First Stop's prices are justified by how high quality their instructions are. They really do walk through every step, and I think that most people whose sewing knowledge is how to thread their sewing machine and sew a pillow would have enough prerequisite knowledge to make their skirt pattern. I think anyone who successfully made their skirt pattern could follow the blouse pattern and have at least most success. Basically, with a First Stop Cosplay pattern, you're not buying a sewing pattern. You're buying a how-to-sew tutorial that's tailored to make the item you want to make. They are offering genuinely the best indie patterns I've found on the market. I do respect that they want to keep these pattern instructions secure, and I do think I'd have been a little bit annoyed if I spent $50 on some patterns and then found out that all the expensive instructions that I bought the pattern for were just available for free online. However, I don't love that there's several days between when you receive the product and when you're allowed to actually use the product.

When you buy their pattern, you get a single size. This is an absolutely horrible idea that I know for a fact is costing them a lot of business and also is building up a reputation that their garments won't fit and therefore aren't safe to invest in and it's also actively working against their pledge to be size inclusive and inclusive to new sewists, but we'll go into that later. We don't need to lead with me going over the worst decision they've made and why it sucks.

(But, while we're on the subject of bad inclusivity, y'all need to fix the pop ups on your site. I'm over there grabbing screenshots and data and I'm also in hell because I have one pop up go OVER the second pop up every single time that I tab between different pages. There's a whole chunk of disabilities for whom this is an absolute accessibility nightmare. Also if both pop ups happen at the same time, the page can get scroll-locked and you have to refresh the page. I want to give you money so please don't make it hard for me to buy your product. I only need to X out of your newsletter pop up one time, I won't change my mind the 12th time I'm shown it)

Let's review the actual patterns now.

0024 Customizable Lolita Skirt:

This is a fun, basic rectangle skirt. It's got an interfaced, non-shirred waistband, with non-removable waist ties inserted at the side seams. I loved that the instructions included how to do the kind of tasks that most patterns just assume you would automatically do. Instead of, "transfer all markings," it will show you each marking and how to transfer it. Instead of "press seams as you sew," it will stop the instructions and tell you what to press and how to press it. In addition to helping out new people who don't have someone to teach them how to do these things, it's helpful for lazy sewists like me who tend to want to skip these steps.

This pattern comes with three PDF instruction files. The first is for how to cut the pattern, fuse the interfacing, and transfer all the markings. The second is all of the sewing instructions. The third one is the "bonus content," and is where the skirt gets its "customizable" name. Sadly, there's not as much bonus content for these skirts as I would really like. The instructions include different ways to sew on trim, like sewing the trim under the hem, sewing it on top of the hem, applying it to the skirt body, or applying it to the waistband. There's not any actual direction for how to select good lace or trim or how to apply it to make it look the most lolita. Again, they're cosplayers, so I won't fault them for not knowing lolita fashion the way that a lifestyler lolita would, but it did feel like a bit of a let-down. For a product with "customizable" in the name, I wanted some more options.

In terms of actual design, though, it's a pretty solid skirt. if I was to throw you RhodyGunn's lolita skirt tutorial and say, "just interface the waist band!" and you didn't feel confident making that with no help, this would be a really good skirt for you. I have three problems with it, which is actually a pretty small number of problems by my standards.

My skirt did not fit me, but that was my fault. I just ordered totally the wrong size, and didn't realize it until it was too late. I made it work just by using the waist ties to cinch it in tighter. I wanted to make the skirt again, and if I'd had multiple size options with my purchase then that wouldn't have been a problem. Instead, when I remade my skirt, I had to use my sewing patterning skills to fix it. That's not a huge problem for me, but it would be a huge problem for First Stop Cosplay's target audience.

I added a ruffle and a few lines of lace onto my skirt, because I don't want to put a lot of work into a skirt and then have it not be an actual lolita skirt. This is what it looked like before my customizations. Please note that my skirt is extra long due to me ordering like 2 sizes too large, as their longer sizes are longer than their smaller sizes.

My other critiques sum up to, "lolita isn't patterned like that" in a couple of cases. While skirts with suspenders are definitely a thing, I couldn't find any that tie at the shoulders. I know that this is probably a way to make sure that the straps will fit everyone, but I'd love to see a piece manufactured by any brand that would give inspiration about how to wear it. The other thing that's just not patterned like lolita garments is the waist ties.. It would be possible to replace the pattern piece with one that's actually lolita-shaped without modifying the instructions at all. If no one at First Stop wants to do a re-drawn waist tie, I'll do it and post it here, since I think the info would benefit the handmade community at large.

Lolita waist ties are very flared, which is how we get the cute waist bow, so pattern them like this next time and it'll be correct. I'm not saying this as a preference or a style choice, lolita waist ties are just shaped like this 85+% of the time.

As previously mentioned, I made each garment twice. On the second one, I re-patterned the waist tie, and then I just slapped a bunch of lace on the hem. It made a perfectly acceptable lolita skirt, in my opinion. Please note that, if I was a new sewist, I wouldn't have been able to make this skirt a second time, since I wouldn't have the skills to resize the waistband to fit me. In order to make this pattern for myself a second time, I would have needed to receive multiple sizes when I bought my pattern.

Blouse time.

FSCO Whimsical Lolita Blouse:

Button front, puff sleeve, peter pan collar blouse, two sleeve variations. I did not make the long sleeves because I live in Sacramento, which is one windy day apart from being in an air fryer.

I want to start by saying that I've officially made this blouse my favorite handmade lolita blouse pattern, and I'm going to make it in more colors and fabrics. I love how fast it comes together, and I love that a lot of really time-consuming techniques have a more simple technique instead. I like sewing fast and this feels good to sew fast.

However, this blouse suffers pretty badly from "close, but not quite," in the same way the waist ties are. Yes, lolita blouses can have flat roll peter pan collars, but they're usually not this size, or this shape, or sit this close to the neck. Yes, lolita blouses usually have puff sleeves, but they're shorter and puffier. These were super easy modifications for me to make, but again, it's not an easy modification for a new sewist to make. But these are adjustments that First Stop COULD make. They could adjust 2 pieces and one line of text in their instructions and have what would actually be the only good lolita blouse pattern aimed at the absolute beginner. These patterns are so close to being so good. Two pattern pieces and one line of text away from having THE lolita blouse pattern that we recommend to all the new kids.

To anyone making this blouse: if you don't want to make adjustments to the pattern, the collar more or less isn't going to read as lolita at the size it is at. I got around it by using some 3.5" gathered lace. That ended up being a pretty big lace, but you will need to put a ruffle or some wide gathered lace on the collar if you want to wear this as a lolita blouse. It would be nice for there to be instructions for that.

Just if anyone is curious, here's the changes the pattern needs to really read as lolita. Sleeve shorter and more volume at the hem, collar wider especially at the shoulders, neckline farther away from the actual neck. Change that and you're golden. The picture on the right is the collar in the pattern laid over the collar that I redrew.

My original blue blouse up there didn't fit me, and that was actually not my fault this time. I bought the right blouse for my bust size, as I was recommended to do. However, relative to their sizing, I have a smaller bust and a larger waist. This meant that a fitted blouse like this was too small in my waist. When I made my purple blouse, I just added 3/4 of an inch to each side seam and re-patterned the bust dart, but again, First Stop Cosplay's target audience does not know how to do that.

When you're selling a product, not posting a tutorial online or giving comments on a forum, but are actually selling a product for real money, it's your responsibility to give your customers the things that they need to succeed. That includes making sure that they have the info needed to make their pattern fit.

First Stop Cosplay is a really promising company, and I really enjoyed most of the process of their patterns. This is why I'm going to spend some time talking about the thing that's stopping people from buying and successfully completing their products, which is the thing that I think is going to kill this company and make them go out of business. First Stop, I really don't want. you to die, so I need you to listen:

The single size pattern thing is a problem. it stops new customers from choosing your product. it stops existing customers from being successful with your product. It stops you from completing your mission to be both ability-inclusive and size-inclusive. It's working against you to such an extreme that I'm stunned that no one in the company with the power to change this can see it.

In the 2.5 months that I've been working on this project, I've talked to a lot of people about your company. "I would buy from them, but I'm afraid I'm going to get the wrong size," was a common sentiment I got. "I won't buy from that company, because they're charging a lot of money for just one size," was another. It stopped ME from trying your company; if I had to buy these patterns out of pocket then I would not have reviewed them. This is because I, a very experienced sewist, didn't want to get the wrong pattern size--and i STILL GOT THE WRONG PATTERN SIZE, twice, even after being PERSONALLY GUIDED by an FSCO employee. How are other companies dealing with the problem of customers buying the wrong size of pattern? They're giving people multiple pattern sizes when they sell the pattern.

I will admit that it's beginner-friendly to not confuse your customer with nested pattern sizes. However, y'all are going digital, and it will cost you no more money or and more paper to just give separate PDFs for each size. You already have the PDFs. You're selling them separately. Just put them in a group. Then, you're still fulfilling your goal of not confusing your customer with multiple sizes, but you're also not trapping a beginner into a single size with no chance of correcting that mistake. When you're asking a beginner to pick their size before they're allowed to look at the pattern, you're potentially dooming their project before it starts. In my market research, I encountered two people who bought First Stop Cosplay patterns, followed them all the way to the end, used their limited time and their expensive fabric. They made cosplays that they were happy with and proud of...until they put them on, and then they didn't fit. That's a story that should not happen. And I get it, it's not super easy to help a beginner pick a size when you're not present to help and they don't totally know what they're doing. But you know what is a thing you can expect a beginner to do, that will make their finished product better and make their garment reflect positively on your company? Telling them to make a mockup before they use their expensive fabric. You don't need to know how to resize a pattern. You just need to know how to follow the basic mockup instructions and then try it on. Just like shopping at Walmart, if your mockup garment is too small, you make the size larger. If it's too big, you make the size smaller. This is also very newbie-inclusive because it introduces them to the steps they're going to follow so that they're more familiar with them. The fact that even one person did everything right and still wasn't able to get their working garment is a fact that you should be trying to figure out how to fix. When you're a small pattern company, your reputation of, "I made their stuff and it doesn't fit," is a very dangerous reputation.

Your product, as it is, is inclusive to all body sizes, but it's not at all inclusive to all body shapes. You offer one shape in all sizes, and then don't provide the information necessary to help people who are not that shape choose between sizes. The information provided for body measurement and for finished garment sizes are not complete enough to confidently choose what size will fit my shape. I understand that more information is confusing to newer people with less experience, but less information is denying people the opportunity to make things that fits. I can see two options for solutions for this, both of which will cost y'all no money. One is to have a supplementary page that has ALL the body measurements for each size. If you're making patterns 14 different sizes, someone in the company has a chart that shows inseam length and shoulder width for those sizes. Your main audience probably doesn't know what to do with that, but if that information isn't posted then no one can ask a more experiences sewist for how to use that info. The other solution is, wait for it, just give people more sizes when they buy the pattern. This means that, if I bought my blouse pattern based on my bust measurement like I thought I should, and then I see that waist measurement is more important for my specific shape, I am not stuck trying to modify a blouse pattern that won't fit me. Y'all already have all the sizes. Just put three of them in each download. Give people the tools they need to make your company look good. Because, right now, "we're inclusive of all sizes as long as you don't have an apron belly or narrow shoulders," is not a look that lines up with the values and mission that you posted on your site.

First Stop Cosplay recently had to downsize. You got rid of some of their staff. You closed their Discord. You're going to sell through their current stack of paper patterns and then go digital only. You're not currently producing new patterns. Who in your company is so tied up in the single size thing that they're willing to throw away new customers when you're already struggling? When you're selling a digital pattern, it doesn't cost you any more money or labor to include multiple patterns. You can sell multiple sizes of digital patterns without selling nested patterns. I don't know if it'd somehow have an additional cost associated with selling multiple patterns at once, but if it is, I recommend that you do whatever every successful pattern company selling multiple sizes of digital patterns is doing to stop that from costing money, because First Stop Cosplay is the only company I know of that seems to have that problem.

I don't know. It's not my company. I'm just one girl who made their patterns four times and did a couple of months of casual market research. Take my stuff with a grain of salt.

Anyway, here's how my full lolita set turned out. Took a total of three days and a $8 bedsheet set from Goodwill, lace was all from Cheeptrims so it was less than $1 per yard. Even with $50 worth of patterns, this is still cheaper than buying it anywhere, and I got the fun of making it. I had a really good time and I want to have a good time with this company in the future.

So please use the resources you have to solve your problems.

Good night.long post

[growth-opportunities]

My boss is an absolute bimbo. She's never actually done the job or managed anyone. She just giggles and shakes her tits or bends over a lot. She started as a temp and bounced her fattening tits to the top. And I do mean fattening. Every promotion they've gotten bigger. Not just her tits, but them especially. She is always looking for the next boss to shake her tits at in her tight "office" attire. Now the whole department is tanking in productivity after her recent promotion and holding together as well as the buttons on her blouse. And now she just walked in with the CEO who can't take his eyes off her newest "qualifications".

You kept bracing yourself for the day that you came into the office and everything would be painted neon pink. You kept wondering when they'd announce that the company would be rebranding to become the "Big Serious Business-Place, LLC" with a kiss mark as the new logo. You kept thinking about how all of your Christmas bonuses for the last six years had been paid to you in stock and every day you thought about calling your broker and telling them to dump the stock the minute it began to drop.

But as days turned to weeks turned to months, none of those things ever came to pass.

The moment the CEO handed over the keys to the castle, "Cassie", the ditzy bimbo who pouted and bounced and sucked and slept her way to the top, became Cassandra, stone cold business bitch. She still bounced, but with the air and confidence of a woman who knew exactly what she was doing, her heels clicking as she marched through the hallways. The sneers and derision that used to follow her around quickly dried up, her perfectly manicured iron fist rooting out anyone who disrespected her.

You wouldn't have known it with the way she giggled and let her coworkers fawn over her, but Cassandra had gone to business school and graduated top of her class. She had her sights set on the highest corner office she could find, but when she entered the business world and saw first-hand just how cruel and unfair it could be to women, she hatched her plan. She dyed her hair blonde. She spent hours watching makeup tutorials on the internet, replacing her wardrobe one piece at a time to make sure she could hold the attention of her more weak-willed colleagues. With every promotion, she funneled a bit of her new paycheck towards her curves, making them bigger and rounder and more obvious. Key milestones were rewarded by getting bigger lips and a butt lift to make sure that no man could resist her. Sure, she had to suck a few dicks along the way, but that was a lot better than grinding out 70-hour work weeks for years on end. Cassandra did feel the tiniest hint of remorse over firing everyone in the organization that had given her a promotion, but the hard reality is that anyone who makes business decisions based on their dick has no place in Cassandra's new company.

And things worked out alright for you, too. As she sucked and grew her way to the top, she got a taste for every level of the company. She actually had more thorough knowledge of the day-to-day than anyone who has ever sat in the board room. By the end of her first year as CEO, shares were up more than 30% and several of the complaints you muttered quietly about had been addressed. You got promoted, too, when Cassandra's position was vacated, and the results were hard to argue with.

She kept the curves. People learned quickly that they had to take her seriously after all, and if they used her overinflated, borderline spherical tits as an excuse to not do so, well, her pink lipstick matched the color of the slips they found in their inbox a week later. Besides, Cassandra had come to enjoy them. Watching the grow made her impatient for the next fill up, honed by her hunger for success. And the company was doing so well... She began to wonder just how many CCs her end-of-year bonus could get her.

[shysuccubusstuff]

zayne's 'special' tutorial:

Content: Brat taming, consesual, overstimulation, public spaces & eating out.

Note: This is just after the new card that has been released "Exclusive Tutorial" cause I got it and I got a lil feral for it. It's not proofreader.

Just after you playfully untied his tie, Zayne's eyes glistened, focusing on your pretty lips. He had been trying so hard to focus on helping you learn since you asked so prettily but you were starting to rile him up far too much, god, his old classmates were just a few meters away, didn't you have some shame?

But he played cool, allowing you to pass your hands through his body, even through his crotch, naughty hands caressing his whole body while he tried to contain himself, but when you kept on touching him for a little too long his last nerve broke. Taking your hands and getting way too close to your face "Naughty student... are you trying to get me mad so I can put you in your place?" Your face started to heat up, his hands felt cold against your skin and his breath was hitting your ear as he whispered to your ear. His breath having a slight smell of the whisky that he had shared with his friends during the meeting. You looked at him sheepishly, giving him puppy eyes as an attempt to get him to let you go despite you had been trying the whole meeting to make him feel hot and bothered.

Despite your silent pleas, Zayn didn't let you go, his hands switched to your waist, putting a little pressure on them as you tried to squirm your way out. His cold hands slowly made their way through your soft blouse, sending shivers all through your body. "Cat got your tongue? It seems to me that you're no longer acting like a brat, but since you've been acting like one the whole meeting let me teach you how a brat should be tamed." Without saying anything else he used his Evol, locking the door of the room and taking you to the table that was close to the pool one. Allowing you to sit on it, he slowly took off your blouse, the cold air hitting your chest and causing you to let a soft unsatisfied noise, he let a small smile out, putting his hands on top of your breasts and caressing them softly, pinching and flicking them with no force, just causing you to flinch due to the cold and the pleasure that was starting to build up. At the same time, his leg was resting in between your legs, moving his leg against your crotch with caution, avoiding you to feel any pain from it, but also causing you to flinch even more. He suddenly stopped, moving away from you and looking at your whole body as if he was seeing a full-course meal. "You're much prettier when you start to behave, dear." Just as you were about to complain he got closer to you, taking one of your nipples with his mouth and slowly moving his hand towards the one that was free, playing with both as he slowly moved his leg, soft moans leaving your mouth as he kept doing this for a few minutes, not allowing yourself to move even an inch. Just as you were about to hit him, as he kept sucking on your nipple without doing anything else, he once again moved, slowly getting rid of your skirt and tossing it on top of the pool table.

He started to make a path of kisses, starting in your chest and ending a little too close to your lower half. He kissed several times there, your underwear starting to feel a bit too wet for your taste. He chuckled, causing you to feel even more embarrased cause why would he laugh in a moment like this? He stopped your thoughts as he gently lowered your underwear, leaving it on the table. He left one of his hands on your thigh, while he took his glove with his mouth, once again tossing it to God knows where. "Fun is about to begin, are you ready?" You were about to complain when he suddenly lowered, his mouth way too close to your lower lips, his breath hitting your entrance and causing you to feel even more ashamed. He started by kissing it, peppering soft kisses through your intimate part but focusing particularly into that sensitive bulb of yours, even sucking on it and licking it despite your attempts to get him away from it. Your hands were on his hair, pulling from it and trying to move him even a little away from it, the feeling being too overwhelming for you to handle it. "Please Zayne, I won't do it! I'll stop acting like a brat! please, please..." Your pleas fell into deaf ears, as he kept going, eating you out as if he had been starving for years, his hands keeping your legs open and sometimes caressing your clit, causing you to let out cries of pleasure despite the great fear of someone hearing what was going on inside the room.

Just as your stomach was starting to build up pressure, feeling how you were about to cum into his pretty face he moved away, his tongue leaving your pretty cunt all shiny and reddened from all the stimulation it had been enduring. You almost cried, your lower half pulsating around nothing and your head a little too empty for you to make a coherent sentence, "Why... why did you stop? Zayne..." You took his shirt, pulling softly from it while he chuckled, getting up from the floor and acommodating his clothes while fetching yours.

"Oh, we were making too much noise, so I thought that we could keep this great 'tutorial' somewhere more... private, shall we?" While saying that he meticulously cleaned you up with some wet towels he had found in the nearby bathroom, he threw them out and took you, carefully helping you get dressed, your lower half still itching for release. As he let you go, your legs quivered a little, head still a bit foggy from that, he smiled, kissing your forehead and getting rid of the ice that was still blocking the door.

"I hope you have learnt something from today, darling."

[anielskaaniela]

Tie Front Blouse - Sewing Tutorial with Free Pattern

In this post, you will learn how to sew DIY long sleeve tie front peplum blouse with free sewing pattern. Welcome to the world of DIY fashion, where creating a stunning tie front blouse is made simple! Inspired by the chic Ganni tie front blouse, this tutorial is perfect for sewing enthusiasts looking to add a touch of elegance to their wardrobe. Whether you’re a seasoned seamstress or picking…

[dollomite]

EGL 2025 year resolution:

ACTUALLY wear EGL after 5 years of quietly being a fan and admiring from a distance BAHAHAHA.

I've been SO obsessed with EGL fashion since I was in elementary school, mind u I'm almost in uni and I've never ever actually worn a coord 😶‍🌫️, I just see all the magazines and follow so many beautiful lolitas and admire from a distance LOL but well, now I know how to sew and I can just make my own coords so, if I don't start doing so now that I still have time to, I'll probably never will.

Just two days in 2025 I made an attempt at a Lolita blouse w a regular shirt and this bonett that gave me an unnecessarily hard time but it's cute so let's fucking go I guess??? I followed this tutorial for the bonett btw.

I've made up my mind to start with headpieces and wrist cuffs, then I'll make an actual JSK :3! Lately I've been really into the old school gothic lolita so I'm probably gonna make my first coord smth like that, we'll see how it goes ⊙⁠﹏⁠⊙

[menhera-info-archieve]

Found a tutorial and pattern for those detachable collars you’ll see in coords sometimes. Its a good way to add a cute detail without needing to buy and wear a whole undershirt

Examples:

[damn-these-vampyrs]

Guide to Goth Clothing

Here is a general guide for those who are interested in dressing goth. Obviously none of these things are required to be goth since it’s a music based subculture, however I hope this can be helpful to anyone trying to put together a goth wardrobe.

The Basics

♰ Patterned tights/fishnets

♰ Black slip dress

↳ Layer w/ fishnet top (can be made from tights)

♰ Costume jewelry

♰ Plaid pants or skirt

♰ Leather jacket

♰ Vests & corsets

♰ Belt chains

♰ Flowy blouses, skirts, & dresses

Iconic Brands

♰ Hot Topic

♰ Vivienne Westwood

♰ Betsy Johnson

♰ Disturbia

♰ Tripp NYC

♰ Scarlet Darkness

Thrift Tips

♰ Make a list of specific pieces you’re looking for (ex: vest, flannel, ect)

↳ Use Pinterest as a reference

♰ Some stores sell bags of costume jewelry

♰ Look for patterns and textures like lace and velvet

♰ Don’t judge a piece at face value — clothes can be altered!!

↳ Consider the DIY potential

Misc. Advice

♰ Black Dye is your best friend!!!

♰ Sewing is a lot easier than it looks

↳ Take advantage of free online tutorials

♰ Accessories can take an outfit from basic to gothic

♰ Go to antique stores for vintage pieces

Don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions!

[strawbcherriies]

hihi, I saw your post about struggling with hijabi lolita and thought I'd give my advice (since I'm not in the comm you posted it on)

if you don't already, learn how to sew! this could just be for alterations, but making your own pieces is also probably a good idea when you have trouble finding things modest enough. even if you're not interested in making your own pieces, being able to make basic alterations and add lace and ribbons to things is very useful. my second point is that you by no means have to look exclusively at lolita brands - pretty much any a-line skirt can be lolitaified with a big enough petticoat, so searching for longer skirts that you like normally and altering them to make them more lolita is definitely an option, and you end up with super unique pieces nobody else has!

if you're looking to wear brand pieces, you'll obviously be able to find plenty of suitable blouses, and for dresses and skirts, try victorian maiden! they have the most modest pieces of any brand I know.

that's kinda a lot of text, wow, but I hope it helps <3

thank you so much for all this info, it really means a lot to me :D

how could i learn how to sew exactly? i know that there's tutorials on youtube and stuff but most of them require like 20 different threads and a sewing machine (i do not have either) and are there like any tutorials for like lolita clothing specifically?

also the idea of having completely unique pieces sounds AMAZING YAYYY :DD thank you for the advice on sewing and i might try it out if i ever get the tools needed

and on top of that thank you for the recommendation for brands :3

you are so sweet, this means a lot :,D

[oftenwantedafton]

wither | steve raglan x f!reader

You first meet him in the abandoned cemetery in the woods outside of your school.

Steve Raglan, the part time guidance counselor who moonlights as a security guard at a department store at the local shopping mall on the weekends.

The man with the easy smile that never seems to reach his eyes; who appears to be a little too eager to break the rules; to ask you to keep secrets.

The man who is not a man at all, but something ancient, powerful…and deadly.

Explicit content, 5.8k words, new chapter 2/25/25

chapter four ao3 link, previous chapters available on ao3

You have a gift for Steve Raglan.

Just a little something that had caught your eye at the register when you’d been browsing your favorite store during your lunch break last night, the one with the concert tshirts and jewelry and those boots you couldn’t refuse that are now buried in the back of your closet, probably never to be worn again. Another impulse purchase, this time a keychain with a cartoon styled grim reaper, a black feline companion curled up near the hem of its robe. You’ve no idea if the guidance counselor even likes cats, but it had been too charming to pass up. Maybe he’ll tack it to that cork board in his office. Glance at it on occasion and think of you.

Only fair, since you can’t stop thinking about him.

Your biology professor is currently lecturing on Mendelian inheritance, and although you enjoy working out the neat divisions of probabilities for passing on dominant and recessive traits, you can’t help but find your mind wandering. Pea plants become apple trees in the abandoned orchard. Wild horses. A secret place he’d shared with you.

The ringing of the final bell doesn’t register immediately. You’re still daydreaming, the sights and sounds of your fellow classmates’ chairs scraping across the floor as students begin standing and gathering their things only vaguely noticed. You’re staring now at the seat normally occupied by Heather, the cheerleader that had nabbed your notebook in an attempt to embarrass you by showing your doodles of the guidance counselor. You could have sworn you'd seen her in your Spanish class earlier. Was she cutting and leaving early?

You shake your head, finally gathering your things together. Notebook and text and mechanical pencil secured in your backpack, Steve’s keychain tucked in the left hand pocket of the cardigan now knotted around your waist. Unacceptable during regular school hours, but now you’re free to wear the uniform however you like. You stop by your locker to make the final exchange of texts for the day, then begin heading upstairs to the faculty offices, digging around to retrieve Steve’s present. It’s really too warm to be bringing the sweater anymore even for use during the cooler morning hours, let alone actually wearing it. At least you’d had the foresight to wear a short sleeved blouse.

You reach the top landing, the small figurine dangling from your fingers. The temperature is noticeably warmer here. You’re suddenly craving an ice cream. Maybe he’ll bring you to the local stand. You really could go for a maple walnut cone right about now.

Voices emerging from the corridor ahead make your steps slow. Familiar. Steve’s. And…Heather? So she was here after all. Huh.

You round the corner and stop dead in your tracks.

The older man is leaning close to the blonde senior, one arm braced against the wall, his face hovering near her ear. She’s pressed between his body and the small sliver of free space not covered by the bulletin board with its job postings and tutorial offers and college advertisements, looking somewhat dazed, eyes glassy and unfocused and her lips slightly parted. The keychain slips from your fingers and strikes the wooden floor with a sharp crack of sound. Steve’s eyes shift to find yours.

“Wait.”

That is the exact last thing you intend on doing. You immediately turn and run.

Nausea turns your stomach as you race back down the stairs, your bookbag bouncing painfully against your shoulder blade. You try to blot out the image you’d just seen, but it stubbornly haunts you as you descend another flight, ignoring the guidance counselor’s voice calling your name. The intimacy of that scene. How close they’d been. Jealousy flares, followed by a sense of betrayal. For all his claims of having no interest in the “vapid” teenager, it seems he’d lied all along. How many other young women was he seducing? Stupid, to think you were the only one. That you were special.

You burst through the side entrance, emerging onto the parking lot. Your name is called again but you don’t respond, angling towards the trees bordering the property. Why was he even bothering chasing you?

Right at school. Right where anyone could see. He’s never done that with me. You refuse to let yourself cry. You’ll be damned if you give him the satisfaction. You should report him. He’d be fired. Gone. Out of your life.

Steve is fast.

Faster than you’d imagined possible, somehow closing the distance between you even though you’d gotten a head start on him. You know the path through the woods like the back of your hand, but so does he. Your lungs are beginning to burn. You can’t keep up this pace much longer. The bag slips from your shoulder and you allow it to drop to the ground, hoping it will aid your speed. You keep going, not daring to look back at your pursuer.

He’s on you in seconds, his arms wrapping around you from behind, trapping you against his body. You squirm and wriggle and writhe but you can’t seem to free yourself.

“Stop fighting me,” he says beside your ear. He does not sound winded like you do, gasping for air; instead, his tone is remarkably calm. “You can’t escape.”

“Let me go.” You grit your teeth, still struggling, but it’s like being embraced by bands of iron. He’s simply too strong.

“No.”

“Whatever bullshit lie you’re about to come up with this time, save it. I don’t need to hear it.”

A pause. “What other lies do you think I’ve told you?”

“Oh, please. Should we start with, oh, I don’t know, that plot in the cemetery over there?” You glare at the stone wall encircling the graveyard ahead of you. Funny how the two of you keep ending up here.

“I already explained that situation to you.”

“Yeah. And I’m still not buying it.” You jerk against his arms, surprised when he abruptly releases you. You whirl around to face him, taking a couple of steps backward.

“Do you want to see what’s buried there? Should we go see?”

The placid neutrality in his tone is infuriating. You didn’t expect this response. He looks so guileless. Were you misjudging him? Was there a reasonable explanation for what you’d just witnessed outside the faculty offices? Of course there isn’t. Any more than there’s a deer enjoying eternal rest a few feet away, you silently reprimand yourself.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“How else am I to convince you?”

You shake your head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” He takes a step closer but you refuse to budge, standing your ground. “You didn’t see what you thought you saw.”

“Bullshit.”

“She’s on drugs. That’s why she’s been absent from school so often. She nearly collapsed outside my office. If I hadn’t intervened—”

“—There’s no way. She’s always been so careful about her health. She has to, to keep her position on the cheerleading squad. There’s no way she’s suddenly decided to throw it all away,” you argue.

“Unfortunately, she has.”

“No.” You shake your head. “You’re making this up. I saw you together. Heard you. The way you were leaning, murmuring in her ear…I’m not stupid, Steve. I know what I saw. I’m going home now.” You begin walking past him, intent on retrieving your book bag, when his fingers curl over your forearm, those cold digits halting you.

“Don’t touch me.” You try to jerk your arm away but his grip only tightens. You pull even harder, panicking like an animal caught in a trap, suddenly stumbling over a concealed tree root and losing your balance. You tumble backward and the bearded man moves with you. He snakes a hand around to the back of your head to keep it from striking the ground in the nick of time, bracing himself with the other to prevent his body from collapsing on top of you. You try to sit back up but he abandons the cradle of your head to clamp over your shoulder, pressing you firmly back down once more.

“Damn it, Steve, I said let me go!” Once again your attempts to free yourself prove futile. His hand won’t budge.

“Only if you promise to listen to what I have to say.”

“I already did.”

“You have no reason to be jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” you protest, well aware that you’re not convincing anyone. From above you hear crows circling and squawking, perhaps complaining about this disturbance in their territory.

“I don’t want her.”

You remain silent, glaring defiantly at him.

“Don’t you know by now? I only want you.”

Your breath hitches at this declaration. “I don’t believe that, either,” you say softly, feeling your body already betraying you, going limp against him. “Convince me,” you challenge.

“How do you suggest I do that?” His face lowers, moving closer to yours. He’s no longer trapping your shoulder, instead bringing a hand to your cheek, stroking along your jaw, coming to rest beneath the edge of your lower lip.

“I don’t know.”

You can smell the soil beneath your body, slightly metallic and musty, the forest scents stirring from the press of your body, from the clutch of his fingers. The older man’s eyes are muddy, dark with desire. His chest heaves as if he’s finally succumbing to the exertion he’d endured during his sprint after you, his glasses slipping down his nose.

“Yes, you do. Say it,” he breathes, the words hot against your face. “One word is all that separates you from what you want. What we want,” he adds, his face dipping closer.

Your heart pounds fiercely in your chest. You can’t look away from the man above you, his gaze radiating want, reflecting your own back at you.

“Yes,” you whisper.

A sigh echoes between you. The forest has gone silent. Now you feel cold, pressing along your back through your school blouse, licking along the backs of your thighs where your skirt has ridden up.

Steve’s lips touch yours.

You whimper, arching your spine. Closer. You want him closer. Deeper. More. You clutch handfuls of his shirt, grab at his tie. His tongue darts across yours. Rapid. Teasing. Then a more gradual slide. Trickling. Saliva building. Unsure where to put it. You offer it and he drinks it in. His beard tickles your skin. His body lies along yours now, his weight dropping down. You feel him, hard and eager between your thighs, your legs already parting to make room for him.

Like animals, rutting around in the dirt, you should feel shame but you don’t, too lost in the moment you’d been waiting for. Last year’s leaves become tangled in your hair and the sun filtering through this spring’s new ones kisses Steve’s back, lighting his hair and beard aflame with glints of silver. He moans, a broken little bit of sound pressed against your neck as his hips roll forward, grinding his body against yours.

“Come home with me.” Command or invitation, you accept it either way, gasping your agreement.

***

The reaper looks over at you and thinks you have never been more appealing.

Sitting there in the passenger seat of the vintage sedan with your mussed hair and rumpled blouse, the smear of dirt on your pale skin like a streak of charcoal where he’d touched you, marked you as his before claiming your mouth for the first time.

He’d known you’d been drawing near to his office earlier, ever aware of your heartbeat, distinct among all the other prey, but the spell he’d been incanting could not be interrupted, lest he jeapordize your own safety. If he was being perfectly honest, though, he’s beginning to tire of the other girl’s gradual destruction, the revenge becoming less satisfactory as time wears on. He wants other things.

He wants you.

And he has you, now hesitating on the threshold of the door leading from the garage into his home.

“Go on in. You know the way,” he coaxes from behind your shoulder. His voice sounds raw, dry. His mouth aches with the memory of the taste of yours.

You turn to face him once you’ve reached the living room. “I’m dirty. I need to wash up.”

“Of course.” He follows you to the bathroom, where you briefly rinse then begin lathering your hands, your eyes darting frequently to check your appearance in the mirror, to steal glances at him. He stands just behind you, his own hands, far more stained than yours, covering your fingers, spreading the soap before guiding your joined hands back under the water streaming from the faucet. Your fingers tangle and separate, caress and hold. You trace over his knuckles and nail beds, stroking away the dirt that has lodged in the creases, shaking your head slightly.

“What?”

“I’m not used to seeing them like this. They’re usually so tidy. And they’re almost warm for a change,” you add with a hint of wonder in your voice.

You’ve no idea, of course, of how every point of contact brings you so dangerously close to perishing; how much effort he must exert to keep you safe. It adds another layer to this dangerous attraction between you, thrilling and challenging.

You scrub at the smear of dirt on your cheek and shut the faucet off and your head lifts, your eyes meeting his in the mirror. He brings his hand, still dripping wet, to tuck around your waist, bending his mouth to your ear. “I’ll need to put your clothes in the wash,” he murmurs. “Can’t send you home filthy later, can I?”

“No,” you agree. Your heart rate is elevated again, a pleasant sound only he can hear as you begin slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons your blouse. His breath hitches as he watches you undress in the mirror, finally grabbing a handful of the material and tugging it free from its tuck beneath the waistband of your skirt to assist you.

He chuckles softly at his own impatience, forcing himself to wait for you to finish unfastening the rest of the buttons. A sensible white cotton brassiere encases your breasts, a perfect match for the panties revealed once you unbutton your skirt. This joins the other garment on the counter. It would be so easy to have you right then and there, but he’s waited this long; a little more patience and you’ll be in his bed. “Go wait for me upstairs while I go toss this in the wash.”

Steve doesn’t bother with his own soiled clothing; he can take care of that later. Only yours fills the metal drum of the washing machine. He hastily pours a capful of liquid detergent into the dispenser and selects the proper settings before moving to the stairs.

You’re waiting at the top of them, hovering outside of his bedroom door. His steps slow as he approaches. “You were meant to go in.”

“I was waiting for you.”

“Stalling?” He teases gently.

“No.” You don’t seem to know what to do with your arms, alternating between folding them across your chest or letting them dangle at your sides.

“Nervous?”

You hesitate, then nod.

“What happened to that brave young woman that tried to seduce me when she spent the night here, hmmm?” He moves forward, trapping you against the closed door.

You swallow, trying to gather your courage, your chin lifting slightly. “She’s still here.”

“Is she?”

“I thought you’d be undressed by now, to be honest. What about washing your clothes?” You gasp when he suddenly cups the side of your neck, tilting your jaw further back with his thumb.

“I’m not going to hurt you. As much as I can help it,” he promises. “Do you believe me?”

You're trembling like a leaf, but still you answer bravely. “Yes.”

He can’t wait any longer, capturing your mouth once again. You moan, your hands twining around his neck while his begin stroking over your body, massaging breasts and hips and buttocks. He fumbles for the doorknob at your back and guides you into the room, steering you by your hips as you walk backwards, finally reaching the mattress and sitting down heavily onto it.

The guidance counselor begins removing his clothes, starting with the glasses, then his tie, then his shirt and undershirt. Your eyes follow every motion closely, especially when he unfastens his belt, but this is where he pauses, instead gesturing for you to push back further onto the bed.

There are still bits of forest floor debris threaded in your hair, discovered when he sinks his fingers into it, ravishing your lips and cheeks and ears and throat. Your skin tastes of the lightly perfumed cosmetics you’d applied earlier that day, your mouth so impossibly honey sweet, elements of youth and vigor and desire mingling on his tongue. He feels some of the tension ease from your frame before he begins working his way further down your body, trailing kisses, finally arriving at your abdomen. He pulls your underwear down over your hips and thighs, past your knees and ankles while you keep your legs close together, still clinging to a last bit of modesty and shyness before his hands part your knees and he has his first glimpse of your sex. He approaches that place slowly, first doting on your inner thighs, mound, the outermost edges, caressing with his fingers, then shifting his body, sliding down until his face rests between your thighs.

If he’d thought your kisses were intoxicating, that first taste of your pussy is pure ambrosia, made all the more sweeter by the sounds that escape you with each new discovery of what you like. He laps between your folds and nudges your clit and you arch towards him, threading your fingers through his hair. He introduces his fingers gradually inside of you, meeting a tight, resistive heat, the soft, smiling pleasure washing over your features switching to frowns and winces. He coaxes you past it, licking and sucking to soothe your body, gradually moving you back over the line towards pleasure.

Crawling back up to meet your mouth, he shares your intimate taste while unfastening his fly and pulling his cock free.

“Steve, I’m not on birth control,” you gasp, a note of clear panic in your tone.

“I can’t get you pregnant,” he murmurs, nipping your earlobe. “You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Oh,” you huff as he he drags the head of his cock against your clit, then slides it down between your lips, then back up again. “Oh!” A loud sound as he unexpectedly ceases teasing his flesh against yours, this time pressing inside of you, stretching your opening.

“Fuck,” he curses. Even though he’d attempted to prepare you, it seems your body is still resistive. “Try to relax. It’ll go easier.”

“Yeah.” Your breaths come in short, tight pants. Painful for you still, though you’re enduring this so well. He kisses you gently to distract you, slowly thrusting in and out.

“Good girl. You’re such a good girl…Wanted you for so long…”

A whimper. You’re moving your hips now to meet his, encouraging him. “How long?”

He pulls back to study your features. “Since the first moment I laid eyes on you, that day in the cemetery.” Your lashes lift with surprise at this statement. “Always wanted to make you mine.” His pelvis moves a little faster, earning a new sound from you. “And now you are mine,” he whispers before crushing your mouth, his fingers digging into your waist as he fucks you deeper.

“Steve.”

He makes a hasty grab for your legs, readjusting you and pressing you flatter, his body slapping insistently into your wet pussy, the mattress creaking with each movement. He wants to be inside you forever; he wants to share the release of your little death. His face hovers above yours, watching you, his jaw clenched with the effort of not snapping those fragile, flailing limbs beneath him, teeth and nails not shredding you to pieces; of not reducing you to ash and cinders with his terrrible powers. You shake in pleasure and he trembles with restraint barely held in check, his irises lit with a supernatural glow. The moment you begin convulsing, wracked with bliss, your muscles clenching around him, he finally releases, flooding your body with seed that will never find purchase, the gift of creating new life forever denied the master of death.

***

Your body aches.

The memory of the feel of Steve inside of you still lingers, long after you’ve been dropped off near your house, now clad in a clean school uniform.

So. No longer a virgin.

You suppose, in many ways, it had gone as you’d expected. Physically, perhaps. But on other levels…

Since the moment I laid eyes on you…

That had come as a bit of a surprise. Heat of the moment, maybe. Not to be taken too literally. But the way he’d sounded. The way he’d looked at you. You swear sometimes his eyes look like they’re on fire.

And after. After, when he’d cradled you in his arms until it had been time to get your clothes into the dryer. Then right back to embracing you again. Cuddling. Even better than the sex, maybe. That raw affection. God, you crave more of it already. That little secret smile of his when he’d pulled up to the curb. His fingers tightening around yours before releasing you. Handing you your school bag. Promising to see you after school the next day. You'd wanted to kiss him goodbye, but you know you need to be cautious.

You still have to keep this a secret.

The rest of your evening passes by surprisingly normal. Dinner, homework, bed. You yawn and turn over on your side. You think you’re going to sleep well tonight. It had been such an exciting, exhausting afternoon. You wonder if Steve is in bed now, too. If his bedding smells like you. The sex you’d had. Maybe he’s changed it. Is he thinking about you?

You can’t stop thinking about him.

***

“What if someone comes by?”

You’re in the backseat of Steve’s car the next afternoon, straddling his thighs. As much as you like the idea of fooling around again, you’re more than a little wary of being discovered. True, you rarely see anyone use the old dirt road, but it does happen on occasion. He wasn’t pulled that far off into the trees.

“We’ll stop if they do. Don’t worry about it.” He’s bypassed unhooking your bra, instead shoving it up over your breasts so he can suck each nipple in turn, stealing your breath for a few moments before you manage to recover at the feeling of that hot, wet mouth suckling the sensitive tissue.

“Fuck, Steve. You won’t even kiss me anywhere near my house, but you want to fuck me in the woods next to the school? Why can’t we just go back to your house?”

“Because that will take too long. I want you now,” he counters, patting your buttocks. “I promise you no one is going to find us here. Now pull your panties down.”

“It’s not easy, you know. There’s not that much room to maneuver in here.”

“Shall we have a repeat performance of yesterday afternoon? Rolling around on the ground…?”

“No.” Your cheeks turn scarlet. “Give me a second.” You raise your hips and tuck your hands beneath your skirt, tugging your underwear downward while trying to keep your head lowered so you don’t hit the roof of the car.

“You could step outside if that would be easier.”

“Now you tell me.” You begin to bring your knee back across his lap but he halts you, his hand pressing firmly against it.

“Never mind. I’ll help you.” There’s an awkward moment where one legband almost gets caught on your foot as he assists you to struggle out of one side of your panties, but you eventually manage the task together. “Much better,” he sighs, tucking his hand beneath your skirt and lightly dragging his knuckles across your bare pussy.

You hiss at the sensation, nuzzling against his shirt collar. He isn’t wearing a belt today, saving you a step in getting his khaki pants opened. Yesterday he’d done this for you; it’s a little unnerving being the one doing it. You can feel the heat radiating from his cock before you even pull it free of his briefs.

“That feels good,” he hums before sucking on your bottom lip. “I like your hands on me.”

“Yeah? You could have had them there a lot sooner.”

“Regaining some of our confidence, I see.” He slides down a bit, then pulls on your thighs to guide you into place. “You weren’t ready before. You’re still afraid,” he remarks, waiting for you to lower yourself onto his erection.

“No, I’m not.” You are, in truth, but your desire outweighs the fear, making you bold enough to try to position yourself correctly so his cock lines up with your entrance.

“Prove it.”

Your eyes dart to the sloped rear window. The dirt road is empty.

“Hey. It’s just us. The way it should be.” Steve draws you attention back to him. “Take me inside of you,” the older man urges, and your pussy throbs at this suggestion. You shift again, then tentatively begin to lower yourself down.

“Oh, fuck.”

It’s familiar, and yet brand new; from this position, being in control, at this angle, invites all new sensations. You rock up and down slowly, working him inside little by little while your tongue wrestles his.

“You like it?” His voice rasps near your cheek. “Not too sore from yesterday?”

You’re beginning to realize Steve enjoys talking during sex, just as you’d predicted he would before this had ever begun, and you’re discovering that you like it, too. “A little, but it’s okay. It feels amazing.”

“Good girl.” The praise rolls pleasantly down your spine in a rush of heat.

Even as awkward as this is, being curled over and cramped in the back of the vehicle, still mostly dressed and somewhat out in the open, you find this second session just as enticing as the first had been. There’s a certain way you slide down that puts pressure on your clit, the added stimulation making your ride even more enjoyable.

You keep his face framed between your hands, dipping to steal a kiss here and there.

“Hngh…oh. Mmmm…you’re working tomorrow night, right?”

“Yes. Swapped shifts to free up Friday night for us.”

“Good, me too. Meet me for break?”

“A quickie at the mall? With all those people around? How bold of you.”

“I didn’t mean…”

He laughs against your mouth. “Yes, I’ll meet you for…break.” The last word comes out as a half moan when you grind down further, your shallow movements becoming more pronounced. His hands settle on your waist and his pelvis rises, pushing him in even further. You watch his eyes shift from pale blue to dark sapphire to violet tinged.

“You know your eyes change color?”

“Everyone’s do. Pupils dilate because—”

“—No. That’s not what I mean. They’re…they’re illuminated. Like they’re electric. On fire. How do you do that?”

“A man can’t have his secrets?” He thrusts up hard, momentarily knocking your next words clear away until you can recover them.

“Not from me,” you reprimand gently, letting yourself drop down sharply to return the favor, eliciting a satisfying grunt. “Tell me.”

“One day,” he promises, sliding a hand up the back of your neck.

You hum with disappointment but decide to let the matter drop for now.

It’s hot inside the car. The windows are rolled down but it’s not helping the air circulate. You can taste the perspiration on his skin, feel it seeping through his shirt where you clutch onto him for support.

“You should take me for ice cream after this.” You kiss his temple.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yeah.”

“What else do you want?” His voice rumbles low, sending another throbbing pulse through your core.

“I want…” You bury your face against the side of his neck. “I want you to…Steve…”

“Tell me.”

“Oh…”

Your orgasm catches you unawares, bursting through your limbs. You shake and feel his cum shooting inside of you again, this time immediately spilling back down outside of you. His hands support your back as you lean away, swiping at the sweaty strands of hair clinging to your face.

“Good?”

“Yes.” You plant a soft, lazy kiss on the corner of his mouth, smoothing down his beard afterwards. He spends more time holding you before you finally separate, restoring clothing to its proper placement, each of you back in the front seats of the car.

***

The reaper takes another drag on his cigarette.

You’re late for the time you’d agreed upon previously to meet with him. He thumbs to the third track on the Deftones’ White Pony album, then flicks ashes out of the driver’s side window.

You move, like I want to To see, like your eyes do We are downstairs Where no one can see

Beneath the singer’s raspy vocals he recognizes a natural percussion distinct from any drum: your heartbeat. He watches as you walk down the line of parked cars, your steps quickening when you recognize the pale green Mustang.

You duck your head to view him through the open passenger window. “Hey. Sorry I’m late,” you apologize. “Got stuck doing this awful return. The lady had a ridiculous amount of stuff.” You open the door and settle beside him, frowning at the hazy cloud of smoke in the car. “You really want to get me addicted, huh?” You reach for the pack on the dashboard but he swiftly slides it out of your reach.

“They’re not good for you.”

“No shit. Second hand smoking is even worse, you know. We don’t get the benefit of the filter.”

He sighs, diverting the remainder of smoke out his window and drops the butt to the cement flooring of the parking garage.

You make the water warm You taste foreign And I know you can see The cord break away

“What are we listening to?”

“Deftones.”

Tonight I feel like more Feel like more Tonight...

You nod, considering the guitar chords that repeat during the chorus, reminiscent of a pulse. “Love song.”

He smirks. “Not entirely. More like…an obsession. A killer stalking his prey, finally making his move.”

“He kills her?”

Steve nods, pointing to the cd player.

You breathed, then you stopped I breathed, and dried you off

“Electrocuted in the bathtub.”

“Well, shit. That’s grim. Anyway, how has your night been going? What else have you been doing besides indulging in cancer sticks and listening to music about serial killers and—”

“—I never said he was a serial killer. Just the one,” he interrupts. “And nothing exciting. The usual shoplifters. Someone got locked out of their car. Someone else couldn’t remember where they parked. How that is my responsibility, I’ll never understand.”

“So we’re both having kind of lame shifts. Got it.” Your gaze lingers on the keychain you’d gifted him swinging from the ignition, your lips curving in a soft smile before you reach for his glasses to pull them free, then set them on the dashboard. He watches you, bemused as you trail your fingers over his epaulets and the embroidered patch on his uniform sleeve. The song ends and a new artist begins their vocals after a brief musical introduction.

In your room Where time stands still Or moves at your will Will you let the morning come soon Or will you leave me lying here?

“I know this band. They were on the CD you gave me.”

“Depeche Mode.”

“Yes, that’s it.” You fidget, not quite making eye contact.

“Something on your mind?”

You begin to shake your head, then stop, finally meeting his gaze as the chorus begins. “You.”

I'm hanging on your words Living on your breath Feeling with your skin Will I always be here?

Another song with a throbbing background, so reminiscent of a heartbeat. You don’t know it yet, but he’s compiled this collection especially for you. “What about me?”

“I want to kiss you.”

His lips twitch in a smile. “I think you could risk a quick one. No one’s around. So why don’t you?”

“Because I don’t know if I’m going to like the way you taste after that cigarette.”

“Quite the dilemma. There’s only one way to know for certain.”

He leans over with a soft creaking of leather to kiss your mouth. Your lips move readily beneath his and he licks them apart, sliding his tongue between them. He imagines the flavor must be ashy, strong, but you’re too overwhelmed with want, drinking him in greedily until he gently pushes you away.

“Easy, there,” he cautions, his breathing a little coarser, the crotch of his pants a lot tighter than it was moments ago. “There are people around.” As if on cue a pair of shoppers’ voices echo in the parking garage as they emerge from the elevator. He waits for the women to depart before he samples your mouth again. “So, what do you think? How terrible is the taste?”

“It’s okay,” you manage, squirming when he rests a hand on one of your thighs. “You just said it’s too public here.”

“It is. And we’re on a time constraint, which I don’t appreciate. But you’re mine,” he growls, now licking a stripe against your throat. “And I will touch you whenever and wherever I damn well please.”

“Steve.” You laugh a little, the shuddering sound of mirth evaporating when you see his features, solemn and ravenous.

“What time am I picking you up for our movie date tomorrow?”

“Um…four?”

“Fine.” He leans back, sighing regretfully as another mall patron appears, threading his way between the parked vehicles. You shift closer once you appear to be alone again, now daring to stroke your fingers up his leg but he grabs your wrist tightly. “If you start that, I will take you into that stairwell and fuck you, audience, time constraint, or not,” he cautions.

He hears you gasp, sees your lashes flutter above eyes going dark with desire as your teeth catch your bottom lip. Your skin is almost luminescent in the blue glow of the sports car’s instrument panel.

“What about after work tonight?”

“What about your curfew?”

You shrug. “I’ll make something up.”

“My intention was not to endorse delinquency.”

“What was your intention, then?” You challenge, smirking.

“You’re far too adept at this already. Little minx,” he hisses, capturing your lips roughly, then heaves a mournful sigh. “As much as I’d like to indulge you this evening, I do have things to attend to. And you have school tomorrow.”

“What do you have to do that late at night? And fuck school.”

The emissary of death frowns. “You’re not letting your schoolwork slide. You’ve worked too hard to give up now. You’re going to go home and get a good night’s rest. No arguing.” You pout but he kisses it away, then turns off the ignition. “Alright. We have to get back to work.”

“Don’t forget your glasses,” you murmur as you emerge from the vehicle.

He grabs them from the dash, refusing to admit that he had, in fact, been about to do that very thing. You were proving to be far more distracting than he’d care to admit. The temptation to grab you and pull you close gnaws at him as he walks you back to the mall entrance. Your arms brush more than once and that seemingly innocent contact is electric.

Then you’re both back inside the building, parting ways to your respective job positions, and he shudders, relaxing. For now, he doesn’t have to worry about restraining the force of his lethal touches, keeping you from harm.

Tomorrow will be quite a different story.

***

9:25PM.

You check your appearance in the mirror above the employee bathroom sink one final time before you readjust your backpack over your shoulder and depart the restroom. Your stomach is full of butterflies. You know Steve had said no to meeting up after work, but you’re fairly certain you can convince him to change his mind. He should be getting out any minute now.

Your mind lingers on thoughts of the older man’s kisses and touches and the feel of him filling the intimate hollow of your body. It’s an addiction you can’t deny yourself. Your steps grow faster and faster until you’re full on sprinting, shoving at the door of the mall entrance and bursting out into the warm late spring air. You wait for a car to pass, silently cursing them out for not stopping for you at the crosswalk, then make your way to the parking garage. You think you can see Steve in the distance, almost even with his car. Shit, you’d taken too long trying to make yourself look decent in the bathroom. You’d have to hurry to catch him.

Your vision focuses on that goal, the details of your surroundings fading into the background. They no longer matter. You don’t feel the weight of the bag you’re carrying or the dampness leftover when you’d attempted to tame some of the frizz in your hair with water from the faucet just now. The security guard turns before you have a chance to call his name, his tall, lean figure in a section where the overhead lighting appears to be failing, the bulbs flickering as you approach the strobe lit man before they finally surrender, fully extinguished.

The screech of tires doesn’t register, nor does the warning shout your lover calls. You have no time to react, to prepare for the force of steel, harsh and fast and punishing against your body, some distracted driver lazily pulling across the lanes instead of properly driving between them, eager to depart the shopping mall, unaware of your presence until it is much, much too late.

A panicked shout sounds from the driver’s open window and you see the glow of tail lights as the brakes are briefly tapped, then the car exits the garage with another squeal of tires, leaving your crumpled body in its wake just as Steve reaches you.

One hand cradles the back of your head, his other quickly probing your injuries, assessing the damage. You feel warm, wet fluid leaking from you. Bleeding. It hurts. Breathing. Existing. You can barely keep your eyes open, struggling to focus on his face.

“No!”

His eyes are glowing again. You’ll have to remind him that he owes you an explanation for that. If you make it. Are you dying? The thought comes to you, oddly detached from emotion.

Cold suddenly seizes your chest. It feels like Steve’s hand is pushing right through it, squeezing—

“Not yet. I forbid it.”

Why, though? The place you’d been going had been so warm, numbing, comfortable. Coming back means cold. Pain. You’re crying. Yelling. Maybe you can bring him with you. Show him that it’s better there.

You feel yourself wrenched from the other place’s border. Steve’s keeping you here instead. Your chest aches, somehow worse than whatever else has been broken and damaged. You hear a harsh whining sound. Ambulance. Coming for you? Will they let him go with you? Someone needs to call your parents.

Someone—something hovering above you that you don’t recognize. Gaunt. Corpselike. Where was Steve? You try to pull away but it won’t let you go. Voices shouting. EMT’s. Steve’s features before your eyes again. Delirious. Nothing makes sense. Maybe you’ll just rest for a bit. Sort this out when you wake up. If you wake up.

Your eyes close.