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foreingersgod · 2 months

Note

what about like a paige x reader like they met on vacation somewhere during a break and then they hooked up or something thinking they would never see eachother again but turns out reader is the new uconnwbb team manager

Naked in Manhattan . PB

pairing: paige bueckers x reader

synopsis: you were devastated to face the reality that you’d never get to see your one night stand while on vacation, but maybe the universe has other plans for you

new crush

high school love again

it was finally spring break. no more midterms or study sessions to worry about, just your feet in the sand and a drink in your hand. you and your roommates had planned a small trip to california to celebrate the hard work you’d all put in for the semester. nothing too extravagant, just a quaint beach house right off the coast to let all of your worries wash away.

it was beautiful, just big enough for the 4 of you. when you had arrived you were practically planning out everything you would be doing. a week of doing nothing but sitting on a soft towel, bathing in the sun, listening to the waves crash while you read your book sounded like heaven.

but your roommates had other plans for you. they had heard about a ‘beach bro party’, whatever the hell that was, that a local fraternity was throwing. anyone and every was was apparently invited. the second the raggedy flyer hit the cool marble counter tops of your air b&b, you knew any plans of relaxation were gone.

so there you were on your second night of vacation, crammed into the single bathroom with your roommates, doing your makeup and hair for this dumb party. if it weren’t for the girls begging you to come, you truly would have stayed behind. but they were too convincing and now you were here, shoving your boobs into the most uncomfortable bra known to man and dousing yourself in perfume.

after about 30 minutes at the frat party you were about ready to call it quits. the drinks were absolutely foul (you were sure it was straight acid) and the lights and heavy music were giving you a blaring headache. spring break was starting to feel less and less fun as you pretended to enjoy whatever the hell was going on in that house. you didn’t know anyone, your roommates had ditched you for some random frat guys, and you didn’t have the keys to get back home. in hopes that you could wait it out, you snuck off into a corner of the house, taking a seat on the cigarette smoke infused sofa.

you tried to distract yourself until at least one of your roommates was finished fucking around with a guy so you could leave. closing your eyes, fiddling with the frayed threads of your shorts, scrolling on your phone, nothing helped to kill the boredom. you were about ready to stand up and drag your friends out the door yourself until someone approached the couch, taking a seat next to you.

she had a drink in hand, half empty, still laughing about something someone shouted across the room. she was tall, blonde, and if you were being honest, smoking hot. you glanced at her briefly to try and study her face, trying not to make it too obvious. her hair was pulled back into a flattering ponytail, body clad in a black tshirt and jeans, teeth a sparkling white as you watched her smile and laugh. she was definitely your type.

but eventually, your stares began to linger a little bit too long and she caught you. her eyes meeting with yours just before you could turn away.

“you good?” she asked, setting her drink down the on coffee table.

“hm?” you asked, trying to sound oblivious “yea i’m fine”

“are you sure, cause you keep looking over here”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about” you felt her gaze linger on you, too nervous to make eye contact with her.

“yea,” she laughed, scoffing under her breath “sure you don’t”

“i’m serious, i think you’re a bit drunk cause i genuinely don’t”

“well i’m sober enough to know that you keep staring at me when im not looking soooo”

“why would i being staring at you, huh?” you retorted “a bit full of yourself?”

“maybe it’s because, i don’t know, you see something you like?” now she was just fucking with you. she had this stupid, lopsided grin on her face as she watched your jaw drop in offense.

“oh please”

“i don’t know,” she said “you hesitated there, think i’m right”

you resisted rolling your eyes “and so what? god forbid i look at an attractive woman? my bad”

“so you admit then?” she questioned “that’s why you were staring?”

“if that makes you feel better? then sure, yes that’s why i was staring” you bit your lip and watched as her tongue darted between her teeth, swiping her bottom lip. she eyed you up and down, eyes darkening.

“it actually does” she scooted closer to you, arm extending past you to lay across the back of the couch “what’s your name?”

“…YN” your breathe caught in your throat as her thigh came in contact with yours. “you?”

“paige”

The rush of slumber party kissing

somewhere in between the banter and the alcohol, paige’s tongue found its way down your throat. she had so politely invited you upstairs while her hands were already making their way up you shirt. you obliged and followed her upstairs to some abandoned bedroom while you tried to ignore the aching feeling between your legs.

the door gently clicked behind you as you shut it. when you turned around, paige was already pressing you against the wall. her lips finding their way to your neck and sucking lightly at the smooth skin. you audibly moaned, fingers automatically diving into her scalp and tugging lightly at her blonde locks.

you shuddered when you felt her fingers against the skin of your abdomen again, creeping their way up your shirt like they had previously. she stopped at the bottom of your bra as she pulled away from your neck.

“this ok?” she asked.

you hummed in response, nodding your head violently, taking her face in your hands to plant a passionate kiss on her lips. with little hesitation, she was already pulling your top over your head and unclasping your bra, hands desperately squeezing at your breasts as she backed you up towards the bed.

with lips still attached, the back of your knees hit the foot of the bed causing you to fall onto your back gently. paige followed and climbed atop your body, not letting her hands off of you.

out of breathe and wanting more, you pulled away, tugging at the bottom of her shirt. “can i?”

she didn’t need to hear anymore. the black piece of fabric was already being thrown to the floor, revealing her sports bra which you also tore off her. what a lovely sight to see, you thought.

not long after, both of your pants were discarded, then your panties, and then her boxers. she planted wet kisses down your abdomen, throwing your legs over her shoulders as she made herself comfortable between your thighs.

“is this crazy?” you panted. you managed to bite back a moan of pleasure to look down at her, seeing her look up at you with eyes blown with lust.

“maybe a little” she said “but i can’t help myself”

Don't touch, I'll never cross the line

So I pushed you down a million times

waves crashed against the shore outside, chatter of people walking by slithered past the window of this foreign room you were in. your head was throbbing as you rose from your slumber, you definitely had too much to drink.

shuffling sounded from the other side of the room, causing you to fully wake. you looked over, pulling up the sheets above your bare body, to see paige was already awake. she was almost completely dressed, buttoning up her pants and lacing up her sneakers.

“was i that bad?”

her head snapped in your direction, startled to hear your voice. part of her wanted you to say it again, liking the way the it groveled from the early hours of the morning.

“no” she laughed, offering a smile “you were amazing actually”

“you weren’t too bad yourself”

she was beginning to look around for her keys and wallet, seemingly ignoring you as you remained in bed, still naked and vulnerable.

your brain was screaming at you, begging you to call out to her. part of you wanted to ask for her number, ask for her to stay with you. but the other part of you knew what this was, this wasn’t a date or anything serious. sure, you had developed a liking to paige over the course of the night you spent together. how could you not? she absolutely worshipped you, made you erupt with pleasure, was so sweet to you. this wasn’t something you wanted to let go. but it was unrealistic, you lived miles away from here in another state and paige most definitely had her own things to worry about. pursuing her was not in your cards.

so you kept your mouth shut, watching her shove her keys into her pocket. you assumed she’d just walk out, mutter a goodbye and leave, but she paused and turned to you.

“i-uh, don’t normally do things like that” she said, trying not to look at the outline of your body beneath the duvet “but i wanted to say thanks. i know that that’s cringe, but it’s true. you were…unforgettable”

you could tell she was going through the same thing. mind swamped with conflicting emotions, wanting to stay to see how this played out but also forcing herself to be realistic.

“you too” you gave her a bittersweet smile.

she just nodded at you before heading to the door, fingers wrapping around the cold metal handle.

“bye, YN”

“bye, paige”

and just like that, she was gone. maybe in another lifetime you’d get more time.

I'd love if you knew you were on my mind

Constant like cicadas in the summertime

every since that morning, paige had invaded your thoughts. the remaining time you had on vacation was spent obsessing over what could have been, what might have happened if you just asked for her number. spring break didn’t even seem fun anymore. you didn’t join your friends as they explored the shops in the city or attend anymore parties they managed to scope out. instead you went to the beach, like you originally intended, letting your mind wander as you listened to the ocean. something in you wished that the nagging feeling would eventually go away.

it never did though. even after break was long over, all of you heading home and resuming your schoolwork, she was still on your mind. it made it difficult to do anything. getting homework done, attending lectures, going out on weekends. it was useless because all you could think about was paige. your heart ached as daydreams of her consumed you.

back at UCONN you were doing your best to keep motivated. trying to rid your mind of a foolish dream that you knew was never going to come true. you tried joining clubs and making new friends just to distract yourself. you had even gone so far as to get a new job for the university, taking on the position as the assist team manager for their women’s basketball team. it was a perfect match: you, someone with a general liking and background for basketball who needed to get her life back in order, and a team who was thriving and needed all the help they could get.

Boys suck and girls I've never tried

And we both know we're getting drunk tonight

you woke up at 6:00 am on the dot. it was going to be your first day on the job and you wouldn’t be caught looking unpresentable, so you made sure to give yourself time to get ready.

it was a lovely day as you stepped outside of your apartment building. birds were chirping, the sun was shining, and the traffic was light enough that it didn’t give you a migraine. you made the decision to walk to work, let your thoughts dissipate as you tried to enjoy a relaxing morning.

the walk, like you had hoped, was freeing. you didn’t feel as anxious anymore as you walked into the building, ready to tackle the trials of the day. being the new girl, you had to go through all the new orientation material. get your ID picture taken, fill out some paperwork, the whole process. then it was time to meet with geno and the rest of the management crew.

“you must be YN” he shook your hand firmly “it’s nice to meet you”

“the pleasure is all my mine” you grinned. you made your way around the room, introducing yourself to any unfamiliar faces and learning more about what the job would entail. after some light mingling, geno found you again.

“the girls are out there warming up right now, are you ready to get acquainted with team?”

“definitely”

shoes squeaked against the glossy gym floor, heavy breathing filled the room as you followed geno into the gym. you watched as the girls made shots, passed the ball, and ran drills with ease. it was quite impressive. geno had hollered for them to gather upon your entrance, signaling for them to form a circle so he could introduce you.

you stood timidly next to him, watching the girls round up. trying to inspect each girl carefully as they approached the huddle. they all looked extremely kind. a few offered you a smile or a wave and you smiled in return.

then, as geno began talking, the final few girls joined the group. the last girl in particular had grabbed your attention. you couldn’t see her face very well, only able to catch glimpses of her as she pushed her way through to the front. but when she emerged past the front row, your heart skipped a beat and your breathe caught in your throat. you wouldn’t miss that familiar blonde in a thousand years.

“this is going to be the newest member of the team,” geno stepped aside, putting you on the spotlight “YN, she’s our new assistant team manager. i expect you all to get to know each other and play nice. i’m looking at you paige”

it hadn’t felt real until you heard her name. like it was ingrained in your mind, you finally found the courage to lock eyes with her. there she was in all her glory, staring back at you in disbelief. while everyone else laughed at geno’s innocent joke, greeting you briefly before heading back to their warmups, you and paige remained frozen. she stood across from you, confused expression on her face. you felt like you couldn’t move, like you couldn’t breathe.

“YN” her voice was barely above a whisper.

“paige”

she looked over her shoulder, assessing to see if anyone was paying attention before walking over to you. paige lightly grabbed your forearm, leading you off the gym floor and into a more secluded corner of the building. you had to admit, it only took that one touch to make your heart start racing again.

“what are you doing here?” she asked, now that you were in a private area.

“what am i doing here?” you asked in return “what are you doing here?”

“well obviously i play basketball here”

“ok smart ass,” you rolled your eyes, she hadn’t changed much “i just meant that i had no idea you were going to be here”

“i thought you knew” she breathed “when we met, i thought you knew who i was. i thought that’s why you were staring at me that night”

“of course i didn’t know!” you were unsure what to say.

“have you really been at UCONN this whole time?” she continued “oh my god this is insane”

“what are the odds, right?”

“i thought i’d never see you again”

“me neither” you said before an uncomfortable silence fell between you. nor you or paige had ever expected to see each other again, accepting your fate that you would evidently go your separate ways.

“so what now?” she asked.

“would you…i don’t know what to get a drink or something?” a poor attempt at asking her out “that sounded really fucking dumb, but i’d like to catch up”

“yea,” she scratched the back of neck, trying to hide the goofy smile that formed on her lips “i’d like that”

Touch me, baby, put your lips on mine

Could go to hell but we'll probably be fine

the dress you were wearing was practically suffocating you. neckline scratching your chest, straps digging into your shoulders, hemline riding up your thighs every time you moved. the bar stool you sat at was of no comfort, either. you shifted uncomfortably as you looked around the bar, waiting for any sign of paige. you had made plans for the weekend to meet up so you could make up for lost time.

the night was beginning to drag on and it was getting awfully close to 8:00 pm. you hoped she wasn’t going to stand you up. but, as if on cue, the door to the bar opened revealing a very exasperated paige. she spotted you there, alone with a drink already in front of you.

“hey i’m so sorry” she apologized for her near tardiness “traffic was a bitch”

“it’s ok, was just worried you’d stand me up” you joked.

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world”

you blushed, looking down at your drink. paige ordered one of her own before finally settling in the seat next to yours. you didn’t think she could look anymore beautiful, seeing her there with her hair cascading around her face and dressed in neat clothing. she eyed you carefully, it was starting to seem like a habit the way she kept sneaking glances at you.

“you look beautiful” she chewed on the inside of her cheek.

“stop” you laughed.

“no really” she shook her head, swallowing deeply “i mean it, you’re breath taking”

“well thank you, and thanks for agreeing to go out tonight. i’ll be honest…i’ve been thinking about you…like a lot”

“i’ve been thinking about you too” her demeanor started to shift “i really regretted just walking out that night. i was in my head and i just assumed that we’d be going our separate ways”

“i don’t blame you, i was too” you tired to offer consolation “i mean who would have assumed that we both went to the same school and just happened to vacation in the same place?”

she laughed at that, finally giving you a relaxed and genuine smile.

“a crazy coincidence…i’m really really happy you’re here, YN. this just doesn’t feel real”

“i glad i’m here too” you felt like a weight was lifted off your chest, no more wondering about who paige was or what she did. you knew now, she was here with you.

hours went by as you and paige reveled in conversation, spilling every detail, every story, every memory of your lives. it felt like this was meant to be, that the universe had purposely aligned yours and paige’s path. it felt so natural to talk to her. she was easy going and funny, she was an attentive listener and laughed at all your jokes. it was unbelievable that you found her again and you were more than grateful.

“would you-i don’t know, maybe this is too forward” paige began, gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips as you were finishing up your drinks “would you want to come back to my apartment?…i don’t want this night to end”

“i would love that” you blurted with urgency, butterflies forming in your stomach.

she nodded, not even bothering to respond. her hand came in contact with yours as she paid your tab and dragged you out of the bar.

cold air nipped at your bare skin as you walked with paige to her car. she politely opened the door for you, helping you in. the drive to her place wasn’t long at all, but you had noticed she was right, traffic was a bitch. but her music taste was impeccable and you had plenty to talk about so the drive didn’t feel excessive at all.

when you arrived at her apartment, she pulled out her keys to unlock the door, hinges creaking as she led you inside. it was a perfect little apartment from what you could see. it was warm and cozy, definitely well loved, and you thought it fit her perfectly. she turned on the lights and told you to take a seat on the couch and make yourself comfortable.

paige sat next you, leaving a few inches between you two. the distance and the dimly lit room took you back to spring break. it felt like you never left.

“i like your place,” you commented “it suits yo-”

“can i kiss you?”

“what?”

“please” she closed the gap between you, scooting closer to you just like before “i don’t think i can sit here, replaying that night in my head over and over and not know what it feels like to have your lips on mine again”

you let out a breathe, not realizing you had been holding it in the first place. she looked desperate, leaning into you, hands making their way up to cradle your jaw. her fingers caressed the curve of your chin, fingers hooking underneath to pull you in. but she stopped, painfully waiting for your response.

“yes” you said “please, please kiss me already”

so she did, teeth clashing with yours in haste, pulling you into her without a second thought.

I know you want it, baby, you can have it

your discarded clothes made a messy trail down the hallway to paige’s bedroom. your shirt crumpled on the couch, belt slung over the stair railings, bra tossed onto the end of her bed. her clothes followed, making a pile on the floor. your hands were buried in her hair as she nibbled at your ear, then kissing down to your collarbone. the room was silent all except for your breathy moans and the disgustingly erotic, wet sounds from paige’s lips.

it was needy, it was passionate, and it was absolutely perfect. the way her body fit with yours like a puzzle, it was written in the stars.

Oh, I've never done it, let's make it cinematic

Like that one sex scene that's in Mulholland Drive

it could’ve been a scene from a movie. something you’d watch as teenage girl, when you’re at a slumber party with your friends and someone snuck in an R rated movie. and you’d all watch it, gasping and giggling when the actors would start to take of their clothes. you would stare at the screen while everyone was pretending to gag and freaking out, shutting it off before it got too intense, but all you could think about what how beautiful it was. that those two people loved each other so much that it was like fireworks going off, every touch and every word muttered served as a declaration of love.

that’s what it was like with paige. it was like that movie had come to life. everything about it was like something from a fantasy.

the satin sheets bunched around paige’s hips as she worshipped you. the gentle whimpering in your ear as she rutted into you. your not so gentle moans as you came undone around her fingers. how the room was hot and humid from your pure passion.

all of it was pure magnificence.

I wanna know, baby, what is it like?

I know you want it, baby, you can have it

you awoke the next morning, sunshine filtering in through smoggy clouds. paige began to stir next to you, arms finding their way from under the blanket to the bareness of your torso where she traced meaningless shapes into your skin.

“good morning” she muttered into the pillow, still fighting off sleep.

“morning” you beamed, watching her eyes flutter open “how’d you sleep?”

“better than i ever have”

you yawned with a lopsided grin, soaking in her elegance as she sat up to stretch. the world might as well have just stopped from the way she looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered.

“hey paige?”

“hm?”

Oh, I've never done it,

“please don’t let me go this time”

naked in Manhattan

“i won’t” she replied “never again”

#wcbb #wcbb x reader #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #foreingersgod #chappell roan

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red-riding-wood · 4 months

Text

I Want You to Want Me

Pairing: Neil Lewis x F!Reader

Fandom: Watching the Detectives

Summary: Neil receives a frantic call and finds you outside of Gumshoe after a date night gone wrong. Secretly habouring feelings for you ever since the two of you met, he finds you oddly irresistable in your tears and torn fishnets.

Warnings: SMUT, mutual pining, dub-con touching, dryhumping, riding, foreplay, teasing, begging (m), masturbation (m), clothed sex (semi), Neil being a wet paper towel, so just Neil being Neil, pervy Neil, switch!Neil, slight dom but mostly sub!Neil because c'mon guys it's NEIL, slight dom!reader, body worship, public sex (technically?), premature ejaculation (sort of?), angst, some fluff? by my standards anyway lol so take that with a grain of salt -- this ended up being more wholesome than I thought it would be

Inspired by this cover of I Want You To Want Me (the reader's song) and Creep (Neil's song) by Radiohead.

Huge thanks to @your-nanas-house for getting me started with a prompt for this and cheering me on!

Totally nicked the "jock boyfriend" inspo from @cillianmesoftlyyy's fic here; go check that out if you want more spicy Neil content, because it was fantastic!

And thank you and also fuck you to @rysko for dramatically beta reading this in my ear WHILE I WAS TRYING TO MAKE THE HEADER

And now that I'm done thanking every fic writer on tumblr, my parents, the Royal Society for the Prevention of Birds, and Saturn and all of its rings, enjoy your filth!

WC: 4239

He found you outside the back door of Gumshoe, huddled against the concrete step, the cool air of the spring night nipping at the wet tears that streaked your cheeks, the slight breeze stirring a shiver from one fretful limb to the next. The whites of your eyes burned red beneath the faint glow of the lanterns atop the neighbour’s picket fence. It wasn’t exactly the most incognito place to cry your eyes out, but you didn’t have a key to Neil’s store, and it was nearly three in the morning.

“Hey, I got your call. What’s going on?” A familiar voice broke the pitiful sounds of your sobbing, and the tension of your shoulders eased if only slightly at the mere sound.

You tried to answer past your sobs, but found that your words came only in hiccups, in broken fragments of your splintered heart, and it didn’t take long for him to sweep an arm around your shoulders, lowering himself to sit beside you on the cold step. Instinctively, you found yourself leaning into his touch, trembling against the warmth of his body.

Neil was never really great at these sorts of things to begin with, but it certainly didn’t help that his attention was drawn to the low-cut top where a tear streaked down the groove of your breasts, to the fishnets that you’d torn on your way out the door of your boyfriend’s, to the short skirt that rode up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the lace hem of your panties.

He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, and he tried to keep his eyes on the face you so desperately tried to hide with your trembling fingers, for you were ashamed of your unkempt appearance. You must’ve looked like a cheap whore – a mess of one, no less. You couldn’t tell what was more embarrassing: the way you were dressed, like you were begging for attention, or the way your emotions seized you so cruelly that you could scarcely breathe.

“Hey.” His warm, careful touch landed on your wrist, and as you pulled your fingers from your lashes, they came away black with smudged mascara. “I’m here,” your friend said. “Tell me what happened.”

You could still only speak in hiccups and broken vowels.

“Shhh,” Neil soothed you, fingers running up and down your spine, sending tiny shivers through each nerve as the fabric of your shirt bunched and his skin brushed yours. “Shhh. I’m here.”

Resting your head on his shoulder, your hair spilled in sticky threads over the jacket that, judging by the slight musty scent that lingered in the weave of the corduroy, had probably missed one too many washes. But you didn’t care. You’d come to appreciate the little imperfections about him, the details of his scent that made Neil Neil. Like the waxy tinge that seemed to always cling to his fingers after a long shift of rolling back tapes. Like the silk cream and smoke of the vanilla candle you’d gifted him last week. Like the artificial scent of cheap shaving cream and the slightest hint of blood where he’d nicked himself with the razor. The musk of his sweat and skin, buried beneath all these little things that you’d come to know almost as intimately as your own.

But there was something else, something you couldn’t quite pinpoint. And its unfamiliarity unnerved you.

His other hand came to rest on your knee, hot as fire in the cold of night. He thumbed at the tear in your fishnets and looked at you with bright, concerned eyes, but he used this as an excuse to touch you.

“Did he hurt you?” Neil asked. His hand stayed on your knee. In a way, it felt comforting; it grounded you enough so that, finally, after lulled by the rise and fall of his shoulder and the unique blend of his scent, you could speak.

“Is that cologne?” You wrinkled your nose and drew back to look him in the eye, your tangled hair peeling reluctantly from his corduroy jacket.

A rose blush came upon Neil’s cheeks, and he smiled nervously. He’d been sure to spritz himself with a good helping of it before he left, despite his hurried state. He needed to impress you; ever since you’d started dating that jock from across the street, he’d been trying to find more ways to steal your attention back.

“Yeah, it’s new,” he said, a little flustered, in a way that made your stomach flutter. “I wanted to ask for your opinion on what I should get, but you – well…” His voice cracked a bit as a hint of sadness crept into his tone. “… you’ve been pretty busy lately.”

“It’s awful,” you told him, laughing slightly, and your words seemed to cheer him up; his lips tugged into that playful grin of his again, and a deep chuckle rumbled from his throat.

And then you both fell into silence, and he looked back to your knee, still thumbing the skin where the fabric had torn.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Neil said.

You swallowed, another lump forming in your throat, and when you looked at him, bottom lip in your teeth, reddened eyes pouting, rimmed by your messed mascara, his heart sped in his chest in both fear and arousal. The thought of James even touching you boiled his blood, made his skin crawl and tightened a noose round his neck, but seeing you like this, baring your soul to him with those tear-brimmed eyes and mournfully upturned brows, it made him want you even more.

If he’d been the one to take you out tonight, he would’ve brought you home to his bed, worshipped each inch of your hallowed skin and made love to you like you were the only woman in the world, splayed his fingers across your thighs and parted them like a sea, dropped to his knees and prayed with the hungered strokes of his tongue and lapped at your holy waters.

He’d started reading poetry lately. It had felt right; it was the only thing that seemed to express just how he felt about you. Echoed the words in private like they were gospel; chanted your name from desperate lips as he palmed himself each night – and morning – to your photographs, to the vanilla of the candle that reminded him so much of you, to the fantasy of your sweat-slicked thighs wrapped around his waist, your walls clenched around him as he bucked his hips against your weight and finally let himself go, spilling himself inside you and hearing you moan so sweetly for him from those heavenly lips, feeling his own cum dampen his stomach as you collapsed over him. He always knew you’d be so tight, that you’d fit so perfect around him.

But sitting here, staring at your shivering, impotent form in your torn fishnets and your skimpy attire, he could barely contain the urge to tear open your knees and fuck you against the concrete. It had been so long since he’d even been this close to you; James took up all of your time nowadays, and gone were the late movie nights and stolen games of basketball on the breaks he took so liberally.

He missed you. So much.

And you knew it. You knew it, deep in your chest where the remnants of your heart twisted, still hearing the words, “You’ve been pretty busy lately.”

You shook your head, choking out another sob as shame crept along your skin, and you shivered at its grotesque touch. “No, he didn’t hurt me… not – not in that way.”

You couldn’t look at him; his pearlescent blue eyes and his sun-kissed freckles and his boyish brown locks all fading into memory as you buried your face in his chest, inhaling once more the faint scent of his laundry detergent and the musk of him beneath the shirt that was flipped inside-out but still outlined the blatant logo of Back to the Future. Whether he hadn’t realised he’d put it on backwards or he’d been shy about it, you couldn’t be sure, but it lightened your heart all the same, your sobs turning to giggles.

Neil pulled you closer, his chin resting along the nape of your neck and his hand running up your thigh; you barely noticed how near his hand was to your panties as you tugged at his shirt, nails sinking past the fabric as if to keep him and never let him go.

You regretted all that time you’d spent with James, when you should have been spending it with him instead. Everything felt so much easier with him; your smiles were broader, your laughter more carefree.

But you wanted more – selfish and lovesick, you wanted more than what he already gave you. You needed more than his attention and his friendship.

You needed him to want you.

“I thought that…” You sniffled. “… I thought that James wanted me. I dressed up all… nice… fucking whorish… and I thought tonight was finally the night and that he would’ve… that he would’ve…”

The words twisted in your throat, and you squeezed your eyes shut. Two hours ago, when you did up your makeup and clothes for your date with James, you’d felt sexy. Powerful, even.

Now, you just felt worthless.

Neil nestled his nose in the crook of your neck, brushed the silk strands of your hair aside, breathed your scent in so deeply that for a moment, the butterflies came back to the pit of your stomach.

“I just want to be wanted,” you admitted, losing it, sobbing uncontrollably into the now-damp shirt that clung to his thin frame. “I just want to be desired. That was the only reason I was with him, Neil. The way he looked at me that day when he came into the store, I…”

With a bitter pang in his chest, Neil remembered that day. The way James had looked at you like you were a piece of meat. The way he’d asked you if had any recommendations on which sports film he should rent and Neil had practically wedged himself between the two of you and started chattering to James about every little piece of trivia he knew about Chariots of Fire and Rocky. How, despite his efforts, James had still gone home with your number as well as the tapes. How you’d come in the next morning with a hickey on your neck and Neil had just known that where James had paused one of the tapes was when your movie night was likely cut short by… things he’d rather not think about ever again.

It should’ve been his couch you’d been curled up on, should’ve been him watching the movie with you. His mark on your neck.

And he would’ve picked something a little more fitting for the mood, too. Something more like Casablanca or Sin City. It was as if James didn’t even have to try to get you drooling over him. What was so special about him, anyway?

I wish I was special, Neil thought.

Neil’s grip on you tightened at the memory, nails digging in to the flesh of your thigh in a way that stirred a little gasp from your lungs, huffing against his collarbone as you tilted your head up to look at him.

“Y/N.” His breath caught in his throat, and he reluctantly pulled from your neck to look you in the eye, locks of messy hair falling across his forehead and his eyes half-lidded. His fingers ghosted up your thigh, and you blinked past the sharp mint of his mouthwash – it burned your eyes slightly, but you didn’t care. You were so close to him, your breaths became one, a few threads of his hair tickling your cheeks and his nose brushing yours.

“Neil,” you breathed, the slightest of smiles tugging at your lip as your heart thudded between your legs, dangerously close to his fingers. Warmth spread across each fevered limb, taking you somewhere past the cold concrete and bitter chill of the wind, somewhere away from the graffiti-painted alley and the reek of broken booze bottles. Somewhere safe, and warm, and thrilling all at once.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Neil’s voice cracked around the words, a nervous laugh huffing against your fluttering lashes as his freckled cheeks darkened another shade of red. The hand that wasn’t between your legs played with a lock of your hair, twirling it in his finger but still supporting you beneath a quivering arm.

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t believe this was real.

He had to have been playing some sick joke, right?

But the whimper that fell from his lips was very real, as his nails dug into your flesh again and he tugged you closer, his hips arching upward against your outer thigh.

“You look more than nice. You’re so fucking hot in this skirt, in anything you wear. That asshole is fucking blind,” he breathed, fingers grazing your panties and landing over your hipbone, testing the waters more and more as he tried not to rock his growing arousal too obviously against you.

But you noticed. You noticed the way his cock hardened and twitched beneath your weight; you noticed how even despite his body trembling from his attempts to resist his primal urges, his hips still gave little bucks upward, seeking friction. Seeking the heat that flared between your thighs, that ached for him so desperately that it was all you could do not to return the favour.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Staring into those gorgeous, bright eyes. Looking up at him with anything but innocence. So he scooped both hands around your ass, squeezing the flesh and lace and tugging you properly onto his lap with an alluring squeal tearing from your full lips.

“I want you, Y/N.” His hot breath pooled at your collarbone as he trailed wet, sloppy kisses along your jaw, your neck, and your lips parted in another gasp, back arching and thighs clenching around his waist as you ground wet panties against the bulge in his trousers.

“I fucking need you,” he whined, nipping like a needy puppy at the delicate skin of your neck. “Always have.” Another kiss. “Ever since I first saw you. Long before James.” A possessive growl stirred from his throat at that, the flare of dominance sending a jolt through your core.

“Neil, I – oh my God.” A moan broke your words as his fingers moved up your spine and his teeth grazed your collarbone, hovering over your pulse point.

“Fuck, baby. Say that again. Just like that.” His fingers began rolling your shirt up over the lip of your breasts, the sight enough to make him whine again in need. He couldn’t help himself from groping you, squeezing your breasts and rolling one nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Bending his neck to trail more sloppy kisses down your torso, they were his next destination.

“Oh my – Neil. Neil, I – “ You had so much to tell him, so much you needed off your chest, but his hips bucked sharply against you at the sound of his name moaned so beautifully, a low groan in his throat and his cock digging slightly inside your heat, the fabric of your panties scraping almost painfully against your walls.

“Please, Y/N, please don’t make me stop. Please let me keep touching you like this. I wanna worship you.” His hot breath shattered against a pert nipple. “Wanna fucking prove to you how much I want you.”

For a few moments, you were rendered speechless, mind whirring like the wheels on a VHS. Everything was happening so fast, and the warmth of his touch was seeping into you like honey, inundating you in a sort of comforting flame.

He could almost smell the vanilla of the candle wick burning.

You left nail marks down his chest where you clawed at the collar of his shirt, but he didn’t care. He sucked a nipple past his teeth and moaned around the taste of you, the sound so filthy that your eyes nearly rolled back in your skull as your parted lips tipped to the heavens. His name outlined by their perfect shape.

Reality came crashing down around you as you jumped, another squeal leaving your tongue as his teeth bit at your nipple and pain shot along your nerve endings.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, chest heaving, looking up at you with reverent eyes. “I didn’t mean to, I – “

You cupped his chin in your palm and shook your head. “No, Neil. I’m sorry.” A tear streaked down your cheek, beaded on your jawline. “I’m so, so sorry.” You were beginning to sob again, and his brow furrowed in concern, thumb beginning to trace small circles along your spine. “I’m sorry I abandoned you for James, I didn’t… I shouldn’t have. I didn’t know you felt this way, I – I’m so sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he told you, his words sinking into your skin like a warm tide. With one hand, he brushed the tear from your jaw and wove his fingers into your hair, pulling you closer. “Just let me keep touching you. Please.”

When you didn’t respond for a moment, caught up in the way his blue eyes seemed to hollow with a certain hunger, the way his chest rose and fell beneath the bare flesh of your stomach, he uttered that word again:

“Please.”

You smiled, elated and giddy with joy, blood pounding with arousal, and kissed him, threading your own fingers into the fluffy locks of his hair.

Another tear streaked across your lips as they met his, and you tasted like salt and vanilla, slightly waxy from your chap-stick but the sweetest thing he’d tasted nonetheless. At first, he was embarrassed by the noises he made, the way he’d accidentally called you “baby” because he’d always wanted to do so, but he melted beneath you like butter. Nothing mattered anymore except the fact that you were finally his, that you were in his arms and grinding against his cock.

Neil broke the kiss to pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside somewhere on the concrete – he would buy you a new one. His hands flattened against your back and pulled you flush to his chest, taking any excuse he could to hear that little squeal you made each time.

“Please, baby, please let me be inside you,” he whined, biting his lip as he stared up at you with those powder-blue eyes. Nails dug into your skin. Hips bucked against yours.

Your heart soared with his words, his worship, his want; you’d never been this ecstatic in your whole life. Part of you wanted to keep teasing him, make him beg, while another part of you ached to feel him buried to the hilt inside you.

“Patience, Neil,” you giggled, as you undid his trousers. You worked them down to his knees and your eyes widened as your hand brushed his cock, bare and springing flush against his stomach. You hadn’t expected him to not wear boxers.

Neil smiled sheepishly up at you, eyes still lidded, mouth still panting out a fevered breath. “I was in a rush getting dressed. I…” His cheeks reddened, and there was something so cute about how pathetic he looked in that moment. “You wanna know how much I want you, Y/N? I was touching myself thinking of you when you called.”

Creep, some voice in the back of his head hissed.

You bit your lip to suppress a moan, trying to ward off thoughts of Neil stroking himself to you, finishing to the thought of you. Oh, how you wished you could have witnessed the sight.

“Did you come?” you asked, a devious grin pulling at your lips as you took him in your hand, massaging a bead of pre-cum into his sensitive flesh.

His eyes fluttered, and he shook his head, his words coming out as a breathy whine,

“No, I promise. I didn’t come. Not yet.”

“Will you?” You dipped your head to let your words tickle his neck, your grip on him tightening.

“Yes,” he moaned. “Yes, yes, oh God, I will. Fuck, baby. Fuck, gonna come if you don’t stop that, need to come inside you, please, please…”

His mutterings trailed off into a low hiss of a whine, and your movements stilled, dragging him to his peak and letting him teeter at the edge as you both caught your breaths, chest heaving and a cold chill racing down your sweat-slicked back, thighs trembling around him.

“You sure you can handle this?” you purred against his ear before pulling back once more to witness the shivering mess you’d made him, priding yourself in your accomplishment. Lining his cock up with your entrance, the fabric of your panties scraped his tip teasingly as you slotted them to the side.

Neil looked up at you like you were some kind of goddess, his breathing coming laboured, his throat stripped of words. The dazed, blissful look he gave you was all the answer you needed. But you wanted to reap him of every last praise he had.

“Use your words, Neil,” you giggled, smirking.

“Ah…” His lips parted, near soundless. You watched intently as they formed the word “Please”.

You almost felt bad for him.

But it wasn’t pity that brought your hips down around him, slowly, teasingly, savouring the stretch of him against your walls and the fullness in your belly, but rather, your own need.

Neil’s head rolled back against the brick wall, blood welling at his lip where he bit it to keep himself from toppling over his peak; he nearly did it to himself when he bucked his hips upward, burying himself inside you, making you whimper at the pain that blended so sordidly with the pleasure. Your fingers tugged at his hair, and your nails grazed his scalp, and every little sensation sent him into overdrive. He used these little things to ground himself, as you had his tangled scents; he focused on how smooth your stomach felt against his own, his shirt hiking up so that you were skin to skin; he focused on the noises you made, huffing and whimpering, as you began to ride him; he focused on the softness of the breast that he cupped in his hand. Tried not to think about how you felt better than he’d imagined, how you clenched so tightly around his cock that he was almost pushed out each time you elevated your hips, but were so wet for him that he slid back inside so seamlessly each time.

“Neil,” you moaned as you fucked yourself on his cock, breast bouncing beneath his thumb, skirt fluttering around the bareness of his thighs. “Neil, fuck. Fuck.”

“Baby, I’m s—sorry. I’m gonna…”

You yelped again as pain shot deep inside your core, his hips bucking against yours with a violence you hadn’t known sweet Neil from the VHS store to possess, bottoming out inside you as his nails dug into the now-abused skin of your back and pulling you close, so close you were panting over his shoulder and his breath shattered against your ear. The hand that had been cupping your breast shot up to cradle your head, petting your hair.

He held you to him so tight, you didn’t think he’d ever let go. And you couldn’t have been happier.

Warmth spilled around his cock, sticky against your thighs, painting your insides white. You shuddered around him, balling his hair into a fist and digging your own, sharper nails, against his back.

“I didn’t mean it to be over so fast,” he mumbled into your neck. “I just… you’re so… fuck, I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

“So have I,” you breathed. You practically hugged each other, shivering in the night air but content in each other’s warmth. “Don’t worry.” Pulling away slightly, you smiled down at him, cheeks flushing bright red. “If anything, it… it’s endearing.”

“Really?” he chuffed out a laugh.

“It…” you looked down, unable to meet that crystalline gaze. “It makes me feel wanted.” You pecked a quick kiss to his jaw, and could’ve sworn you saw love in his eyes when you pulled away.

“God, you’re perfect.” His voice broke again as his lips sought yours, and his breath hitched in his chest when the action caused you to rock your hips forward, a new sensation he’d never felt before buzzing along his skin. His mouth hung open and you laid kisses to his lips, his jaw, the Adam’s apple that bobbed along his throat. He felt his cock stiffen again inside you, already eager for Round Two.

“I should take you home,” he murmured, hands running up and down your sides. “You must be so cold.” As if just realising that he still had his jacket on, Neil shrugged it off in haste and wrapped the heavy material around your shoulders. A chill ran down your spine, as the material was damp with sweat – you smiled at how predictably forgettable he was when he had a woman on his lap, just as you’d imagined –, but his scent soothed you.

Though you were cold, it was a small sacrifice to make to stay here, with him buried so deep inside you that you felt dizzy in the head. Depleted of your energy and sinking into his warmth, you smirked, and rested your chin on his shoulder.

“I was thinking of just staying like this a while,” you admitted.

“Whatever makes you happy,” he breathed, hugging you even tighter. “Whatever you want.”

A.N. Sorry if this was a bit rough, guys. I smashed this one out the other day because I was tired of my writer's block.

I actually laid into some themes that I was planning on using for a Dark!Neil fic based on the song "Creep" which I don't know when I'll get around to writing, but let me know if you guys would like to hear more about the idea for the series or are interested.

MASTERLIST • REQUEST

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Taglist: @emotionalcadaver @zablife @shelbydelrey @look-at-the-soul @brummiereader @mrkdvidal1989 @fiercelittlemouse @ohwellthatslifesstuff @purplesnorlaxplush @henrywintersdearestgirl @goblinjnr @mizzbel @s0urmarvel @onasmoko @elenavampire21 @rysko @chris-seb-marvel @muhahaha303 @novemberschy @thatonesinglefriend @forgottenpeakywriter @youbyradiohead @your-nanas-house @onehornedbeast @kiss-me-cill-me @ilovefictionalpsychopaths @birminghamshelbyboys @sometimes-i-sing

#neil lewis #neil lewis x reader #neil lewis x you #neil lewis smut #neil lewis imagines #neil lewis fanfic #neil lewis fic #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian murphy #neil lewis watching the detectives #watching the detectives 2007 #watching the detectives #fuck james #all my homies hate james #s: i want you to want me

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em-dash-press · 11 months

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Everything Creative Writers Should Know About Symbolism

Literary devices make stories more enjoyable. They take a simple concept and make it compelling. Symbolism is one of those devices, but sometimes new writers don’t know how to use it purposefully. It’s easy to take credit when readers assume something had more meaning when we didn’t really write it that way for any specific reason.

This is everything you should know about symbolism so you can plan your literary devices with confidence.

What Is Symbolism?

Symbolism is the act of using one thing to represent another thing. It often sets or reaffirms the tone of a scene. Symbols can also act as foreshadowing.

Most often, writers use symbolism to thread their theme through a plot. It makes it easier to tell how a theme is influencing or being shown in a scene.

Types of Symbolism

Colors

Writers use colors to apply meaning to scenes or characters because they’re easy to associate with emotions. It’s also a historical real-world use of symbolism. If you see a white flag, that symbolizes surrender. A movie featuring a woman in a red dress often symbolizes her sexuality.

Examples: yellow means caution, brown means grounded earthiness, and black means mourning.

Objects

Sometimes object symbolism is blunt or obvious. Other times, it’s subtle because the writer reveals the meaning of it later in the story.

In the Divergent series, Tris can’t look in a mirror because it’s of cultural significance in her faction. As a storytelling tool, it symbolizes her inability to recognize her own identity because she hasn’t had her coming-of-age experiences yet.

Examples: water means rebirth or creating life, an apple represents sin or someone up to no good, and a clock can mean change is coming (which is also foreshadowing).

Tips for Writing Symbolism

1. Understand Your Plot

You need to know where your story is going and what theme you’re writing about to effectively create symbols. If your protagonist sees a dove in the first chapter, it’s just a bird unless obtaining peace is a key component of your protagonist’s character arc later on.

2. Pick One Symbol

Stories filled with symbolism can come across as pretentious or too dense. It’s better to start with one symbol that connects at least two parts of your story or relates to your theme. Readers will get that intriguing chill down their spine if they recognize a hidden symbol rather than get reminded about it over and over again.

3. Remember to Use Foreshadowing

Symbols often foreshadow future plot events. These are also called omens. Your protagonist might break a mirror in the first chapter, which people often relate to the start of bad luck. Maybe a crow sits by them on a park bench because you want to symbolize a future death in your plot.

Foreshadowing can give your symbols meaning if you’re unsure how to connect them with your theme. It’s an easy way to practice creating symbols so you’re more comfortable with them in long-form stories and other uses.

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You don’t need some mystical storytelling skill to effectively write symbolism. Practice these tips and you’ll layer just enough symbolism into your stories to impress your readers.

#writeblr #writing advice #writing tips #writers of tumblr #creative writing #writing inspiration #writing community #writing #writing help #writing resources #symbolism #writing symbols #writing symbolism #general symbolism #symbols

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littlelioncub43 · 2 years

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Come On, Come On, Darling

Summary: A late night out with friends, and an uncomfortably deep talk has Eddie thinking about you. He just hopes you're thinking about him the same way.

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie Munson x Female!Reader

Warning: fluff, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love, best friends to lovers, drinking, Eddie being an absolute angel and a gentleman, reader does Eddie's make up (you're welcome), pet names ( I overuse "princess," sue me), the rest of the ST gang all being happy, season 4 never happened here, Wayne being oddly insightful and a good uncle, more plot than anything, but smut will happen in part 3, and a partridge in a pear tree.

Word Count: 4,039

A/N: I started this a while ago, hated it, took a break from it, came back and finished it — bon appetit. Bahaha! No, the break from it was much needed. I think I was tired when I said it was awful, because upon review it wasn't that bad. I love this one, you guys. I'm jealous of them. I'm jealous of the fictional couple that I created. I hope you guys like this one! Part 3 will have ze smut, so you have to be patient and polite as you wait for it hehe. Let me know what you think! Reblog, comment, send an ask, a carrier pigeon, a singing telegram— really anything. Ok! I love you!

Kisses 💋

—K

Part I. Series Masterlist Part III

The sound of random tinkering and a distant radio at the end of Mack’s Auto Garage welcomed you with a familiar warmth. Cars and trucks littered the parking lot and garage, random parts and pieces that made absolutely no sense to you sprawled out over the work benches. Eddie had a morning shift today, much to his dismay, but when money calls— he answers. Parking next to his decrepit van, you fiddle with the strap of your bag as you meander through the concrete workspace looking for him. You hear him long before you see him.

“Where did I put it? Son of a—“

“Missing something, Munson?” You interrupted Eddie’s nearly frantic search of his locker, his head snapping up in surprise. His normally untamed hair was pulled back into a low bun (with a scrunchie that looks suspiciously like the one you misplaced two weeks ago) with his favorite bandana tied around his brow to keep the sweat off. The dark blue coveralls with his name etched in red thread on his left chest were unzipped at his waist, a plain white t-shirt adorning his chest, oil and dirt smeared into the fabric were he wiped his hands clean on his thighs.

“Yeah, my freaking lighter. That thing must have finally grown legs and ran off or some shit,” he rambles and resumes to pat down the pockets of his leather jacket. “What are you doing here?”

“You left this in my car,” you slip the silver flip lighter from the back pocket of your black jeans and wiggle it between your thumb and index finger, “figured you’d need it sooner than later.”

“Oh, you’re a beautiful, gracious, and kind woman,” he groans dramatically with relief, happily taking the lighter from you. You chuckle and lean against the hood of the car at his bench, Eddie following suit. He pops a cigarette into his mouth and lights it swiftly, taking a long drag, his eyes shut as he holds it in at the top, and slowly blowing out a wispy cloud of smoke.

“Jesus Christ, you have no idea how badly I needed that,” he grumbles before bringing it back to his lips, “you’re a lifesaver.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oh. Yeah, you, too, Sweets, thanks,” he teases with a coy smile. You playfully shove his shoulder, making him laugh around the cigarette. “We still on for drinks later with Steve and them?”

“7, right?” He hums an affirmative, “yeah, that sounds good,” you glance at the clock on the wall, “Shit, I gotta go, my shift starts soon.”

“Okay,” he nods, crushing out the partially spent cigarette in the ashtray on his bench as you fish your keys out of your jacket pocket. “Wear that cute top, the black one that hangs off your shoulders,” he calls out after you as you walk away.

“Why?” You chuckle and turn to look at him while you walk backwards, the move alone made Eddie think you were the coolest fucking chick that ever graced this floating space rock.

“It’s pretty,” he shrugged casually as he slung the arms of his coveralls back on, but you noticed the soft dusting of color along his cheeks.

“Fine, but only if you tuck your shirt into your pants,” you bargain and point at him from your spot at the mouth of the garage. He groans, making you laugh.

“I’m going to look like a loser!” He whines, failing to hide his smile at your giggling.

“That’s the point! I’ll see you then, Gomer,” you tease and finally get to your car, if you stayed any longer you’d definitely be late for your shift at the record shop.

You heard his van pull into your driveway just as you were finishing the last bit of your eye makeup. You always went light with the mascara and eyeliner for the sake of being comfortable, and it made washing your face a lot easier at the end of the night. The sound of Eddie’s keys jingling was followed by his bright voice calling your name. When you came out of your room, you found him sitting on your counter, munching on a bag of chips.

“Oo, look at you all prettied up,” he coos around a mouthful of Doritos. You feel your face heat up ever so slightly at his words, you did feel pretty. The knit, long sleeve black top that Eddie had requested clung to your shape deliciously, precisely the reason he loved it so much. The neckline was low enough to show off your collarbones and bits of your shoulder, and gave you the perfect opportunity to show off the pendant necklace that Eddie got for your graduation present years ago. Tight ripped black jeans matched Eddie’s own pair down to the black studded belt, except you swapped out your comfortable pair of converses for a chunky black boot. Eddie was positive: you were the coolest chick to ever live.

“I was going to say the same thing about you, Munson,” you chuckle and take him in, he does a little twirl. He wore his classic black jeans and handcuff belt, a staple in Eddie’s uniform. A black AC/DC t shirt hugged his sturdy torso and was neatly tucked into his jeans, just like you asked. You gotta admit: he did not look like a loser. He never did.

“Ya think so? I was worried that my jacket didn’t match my purse,” he jokes.

“No, no, they do, don’t worry,” you soothe and try to hide your smile. Suddenly, you speak before your mind can catch up with what you’re saying. “Do you want some eyeliner?”

“What?” Eddie chuckles, licking the Dorito dust from his fingers. You swallow and decide, fuck it, you already asked.

“Do you want some eyeliner? I think it would… look nice,” you stutter out as smoothly as you can. He thinks it over for a brief second before he nods casually.

“Yeah, sure, why not,” Eddie manages to sound calm, much to his surprise. His heart may have skipped a few beats at your small compliment.

The next thing he knows you have him sat at your vanity, facing you as you stand in between his legs. One hand gently cups his jaw while the other wields a stick of your favorite black eyeliner. You try your best not to get lost in the feeling of his stubble scratching at your palm or the warmth of his hands on your outer thighs, and focus on drawing in the darkness around his eyes. Eddie sits as still as he can, the last thing he wants is to lose an eye. He trusts you completely, it’s his fidgeting that he doesn’t trust.

“Ok, close your eyes for me,” you say softly, the closeness brought your voice to a hushed whisper. Eddie shut his eyes without a second thought, he listened to the steady inhale and exhale as you stood in front of him. Eddie was unfairly gorgeous, his sweeping eyelashes, the placid expression that soothed his face coupled with the calm trust that surrounded you both made your heart flutter and your knees buckle. Steeling your nerves, you carefully applied the makeup along his upper lashes. “Alright, open. Look up, please.”

Eddie stared up at the ceiling, trying his best not to flinch as you brought the product under his lashes. He wished so badly to be able to watch you, you were so cute when you concentrated on things. Your eyebrows furrowed, drawn together in concentration, and your face set in an oddly serious expression. With one last smudge of eyeliner, you pulled back with a smile.

“All done. What d’ya think?” You ask and put your makeup away as he turns to look in the mirror.

“Not bad, not bad. What do you think?” He quirks an eyebrow. If you were honest, he was the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and that was without the makeup on. With the dark circles rimming his gorgeous brown eyes, he was deadly. But you couldn’t exactly say that.

“I think you look super cool,” you say honestly and grab your purse.

“Metal?” He stood up, following you out of your room.

“Very metal, but if we don’t get going soon, we’re going to be very late,” you chuckle and hand him his leather jacket and keys. Eddie nods and slips one his jacket with ease, the full ensemble complete, and, fuck, did he look hot. He locked the front door after you, skipping quickly ahead to open the passenger seat door for you.

“M’lady,” he bows, grinning like an idiot when you curtsey back and hop in.

It was going to be a fun night.

And it was.

Steve, Robin, Jonathan, and Nancy were sat comfortably at the table when you and Eddie arrived. Jokes were told, laughs were shared, and drinks were poured. Lots and lots of drinks. By midnight, the whole table was on the heavier side of tipsy, if not drunk. Steve and Robin were neck deep in a debate on whether or not Michael Myers was human or not, with Jonathan acting as moderator while Nancy fought through the spins. At some point, you ended up in Eddie’s lap, your arm slung around his shoulders with his own circled around your waist while you both listened and weighed in on what you have dubbed “The Great Halloween Dispute of 1987.”

Eddie had slipped his jacket off after his second beer, revealing his toned arms (all those shifts at the garage were paying off in more ways than one), the short sleeves of his t shirt rolled up ever so slightly. You toyed with a strand of Eddie’s hair like always and sipped on a glass of water, one that Eddie was quick to swipe from your hand. He took a good gulp without much thought and set it on the table.

“Well, Princess, what do you think? Should we call it a night?” He slurs his words as he rubs the length of your outer thigh absentmindedly.

“Yeeaah,” you drawl, your head was starting to spin even from the safety of Eddie’s lap. Looking down at him, you were struck again with the overwhelming feeling flooding your heart. Even in the low light of the seedy bar, he looks like the perfect man that God, or whoever is up there, made just for you. You bring one hand to rest on his forearm, your thumb stroking the bat tattoos you love gently. Eddie tightens his grip on you before giving you that million dollar smile, one that you can’t help but return with drunken ease. He pats your leg, signaling for you to stand, and you do, much to your objection (you were quite comfortable in his lap).

“Alright, gang, as fun as it’s been, the missus and I gotta head out,” Eddie announces as you slip away to pay for your drinks before he can. A chorus of slurred but friendly goodbyes send Eddie on his way to the bar just as you finish forking over the money for both his and your drinks. “Noooo, you don’ pay for drinks,” he scolds as you put your wallet away, his face scrunched in a pout.

“Yeah? Who said?” You playfully tease as he slides his leather coat over your shoulders, one glance outside and he knew that you’d be chilly on the way to the van. You subtly breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne, the same one you got for his birthday 2 years ago.

“Pretty girls don’ pay for drinks, everyone knows that,” he casually answers, he was much bolder with about 4 glasses of liquid courage warming his blood. You laugh, not bothering to hide the bashfulness in your voice and he smiles at the sound, leading you out to the van at the far end of the parking lot. He saw the way you shivered and pulled the oversized jacket around you tighter. Fishing his keys from his pocket, he opens the back doors and quickly starts setting up the blankets he had stored in the back. You must have made a face because Eddie’s soon laughing and shaking his head. “M’not drivin’ you home drunk, Princess. Could get ya hurt, s’too dangerous. Now, com’on.”

Your heart does a summersault at his words, but that’s just who he was. Caring, sweet, understanding, reliable, trustworthy. That’s Eddie Munson. He sees the fondness in your smile again, his stomach erupting in butterflies. If he wasn’t such a chicken shit, this is where he would tell you how gorgeous you are and kiss you, if you’d let him. But he doesn’t. Instead, he hops out of the van and holds out his hand to help you inside.

The old mattress he keeps tucked away in the back is draped in blankets, folded as neatly as a drunk Eddie could get them. You sit at the end of the makeshift bed, your legs hanging out the doors to take off your boots. Without a word, Eddie starts untying your laces, carefully undoing the knots, slipping the shoes off your feet and setting them neatly next to the mattress.

“Thank you,” you meekly reply, the sweet gesture having stolen your voice.

“You’re welcome, Sweets,” he pats your leg, “scoot over.”

He hops in, shutting the doors behind him before double checking that all the doors are locked. You hide a yawn behind your hand as he settles down on the other side of the bed, kicking off his shoes unceremoniously. You slip off your belt and other jewelry, opting to stay in your jeans for the night. Eddie does the same, slinging his belt into the pile with his shoes before crawling under the questionably clean blanket. He sighs and settles in with a groan, his eyes shutting for only a moment before he’s watching you tuck your earrings into the pocket of his leather jacket. You turn around to find Eddie making grabby hands at you, smiling, you crawl in next to him, letting him pull you into his chest and tuck the blanket around you both snugly. The chill of the van made cuddling a necessity, even under the blanket you could feel the stagnant bite of cold of the coming winter. Letting out a content sigh, you relaxed into the comfortable silence, the world around you only slightly spinning now as sleep began to descend on you. Eddie stares up at the metal roof, his eyes slowly getting heavier and heavier as the moments tick by.

“I like when you tuck your shirts in,” you sleepily confess, your voice was hushed as you whispered your little secret to your best friend. He can’t help but chuckle tiredly at your words, the sound more akin to a deep rumble as opposed to his normally bright laughter.

“Yeah?” Is all he can think to say, his face burning even in the chilly van.

“Yeah,” you shyly confirm, tracing the bats on his forearm once more, the action sends Eddie into a tizzy.

“Y’like when I look like a dweeb?” He jokes with a yawn, sleep fast approaching.

“You never look like a dweeb,” you mumble just before you drift off, your fingers slowing to a stop on his skin, If he wasn’t tired, he would have teased you to hell and back about it, but all he can do it chuckle lowly in his chest and hold you a little tighter. Why do you have to be so cute?

“I like when we sleep like this,” he rested his cheek on the top of your head, letting one hand stroke your arm tenderly, the action only pushing you quicker towards sleep. He hears you hum in acknowledgement and agreement.

“Me too, Eds.”

There’s a few moments of silence before Eddie realizes you’re asleep.

“Goodnight, Princess,” Eddie whispers with a smile and kisses the crown of your head, the sound of your even breaths fill the van and lull him into his own peaceful slumber.

Eddie wakes up to the sound of your soft snores and the growl of a stray truck chugging down the street. Your back is pressed to his front as you both lay on your sides, his arm under your head like a pillow and out stretched, his other arm was strung across your waist. The warmth of your body pressed against his had fought off the cold of the night exceptionally well, it drew him in for more, so he buried his face into the crook of your neck. The smell of your perfume mixing with the scent of his own cologne had Eddie groaning softly, this was the life. Nothing could bring him down, not even the soft thudding in his head or the dryness of his mouth.

You stirred next to him, your eyes still shut as you reached out for Eddie’s hand on instinct. When your smaller hand found his, you immediately laced your fingers together. Eddie looked at where your hands were joined and gave a small incredulous scoff and smile, his arm around your midsection squeezed you into him hard enough to force the air out of you.

“Why are you so damn cute? Huh? Who said you could be this fucking adorable?” He rambled on in a groggy whisper, his morning voice was just as glorious as you remember it being. You giggle as consciousness fills you.

“It’s a curse, really. Doctors have been studying me for years, it’s a medical mystery,” you joke and carefully rub your eyes with your free hand. You were surprised to find that you felt well rested for having slept in the back of your best friend’s van after a night of drinking with no pillow, in a pair of tight jeans, and no fan. You peek over your shoulder to find Eddie’s puppy eyes already staring back at you. The smudges of eyeliner looked even better in the morning sunshine. You could only imagine how you look right now. “Wanna get breakfast?”

“God, yes,” he mumbles with a smile. He was starving, plus he wanted to pay you back for covering his drinks last night. Reluctantly, he peels his hand from yours to reach for his shoes and keys. You hum and stretch out a little, cracking your back before getting your shoes back on as well. You’re both quick to fold the blankets and get into your seats, the pits in your stomach rumbled and demanded to be satisfied. The drive to the nearest diner was thankfully short.

Before long, you and Eddie find yourselves tucked into a booth with plates of hot food and even hotter coffee in front of you. The looks you receive from the other patrons did nothing but amuse you both. And what a sight you both were: strolling in at 9am reeking of the drink that Nancy accidentally spilled, last night’s makeup smeared across your eyes, bed hair, both dressed to the nines in black. Compared to the lovely elderly couple on their weekly Sunday morning date, you both looked like bats out of Hell. When you offered the old woman a polite smile, she was quick to return it, her husband was busy staring Eddie down, clearly not a fan of his tattoos or makeup. Soon, the plates were cleared and the cups were emptied, and you both meandered your way back to the van.

“Alright, Sweetheart, back home, it is?” He asks as he backs out of the parking lot, you scroll through the radio stations, hoping to find something good on.

“Yes, please, I need to shower,” you groan, the longer you stayed in your makeup the more grimy you felt. A hot shower would solve all your problems.

“Oo, no chance you’ll let me join, would you?” Eddie half jokes, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You roll your eyes with a smile and shake your head. “Damn, next time, then.”

Quicker than he’d like, he parks in front of your trailer. You gather your things, double checking that you have everything before hopping out of the passenger side. With a quick goodbye, you’re bounding indoors, making a beeline for the shower. Eddie watches until you’re inside then makes his own way home. He’s surprised to find Wayne’s car parked in its spot in the yard.

“You just getting in?” Wayne asks as soon as the door opens, Wayne sat at the kitchen table, eating whatever leftovers were in the fridge before heading to bed. Eddie sets his keys aside on the table and nods. “Out with that girl, again?” Eddie gives him a look as he sought out a glass of water, Wayne knew your name but he just liked giving Eddie a hard time, especially when he stays out all night.

“Yeah, we had some drinks with some friends, it ran a little later than planned.”

“Did you and her…” Wayne trails off, tilting his head to finish his sentence.

“Oh God,” Eddie sighs and hangs his head. Wayne would ask from time to time, and it never ceased to be awkward as balls.

“I’m just askin’. If you are, I’d rather you be safe about i—“ he defends calmly.

“I know how to be safe about—“ Eddie cuts himself off with another sigh, rubbing his face with both his hands. “I know how to be safe, but no. We did not… do things.”

“Ok,” Wayne nods, throwing his hands up in surrender to show that he dropped it. Eddie relaxes and finishes his water, happy to escape the awkward conversation. Or so he thought. “It’s obvious you like her, so I thought it would have happened by now.”

Eddie sputters a few words, each sentence of denial dying on his tongue. Wayne gives him a look and Eddie just knows that denying it isn’t any good. He flops into the chair on the other side of the table, looking up to his uncle through his lashes.

“How obvious is it?” Eddie asks softly. In that moment, Wayne sees the years fall away from Eddie and what’s left behind is what Wayne saw all those years ago: his kid nephew, lost and needing guidance. He smiles warmly, a rare sight, and scratches his head.

“Well, it’s not super obvious,” Wayne grumbles gently, resting his forearms on the table, “but I’m sure some of your friends notice it too.”

Eddie curses under his breath, his face hot with embarrassment. If other people could see how bad he has it for you, then that means you might see it too.

“Do… Do you think she knows?” He asks shyly, fiddling with the rings on his fingers for comfort. Wayne leans back in his chair, giving a small shrug.

“She might,” that answer weighs heavily on Eddie but Wayne is quick to try fix it, “but, would that be a bad thing?”

“Yes! No! I-I don’t know,” Eddie rambles, bouncing his leg as he does the mental gymnastics of trying to figure out if you knew.

“Personally, kid, I don’t think it would be. Knowin’ that you love her, how could that be bad?” His words knock around in Eddie’s head for a few moments before he speaks in a small voice.

“It could ruin everything,” Wayne couldn’t help but laugh at those words.

“Kid, lovin’ someone doesn’t ruin a damn thing,” he smiles and crosses his arms. “If it’s right, then it’s right. If not, then it’s not. But that doesn’t mean that it’s wrong.”

Eddie took in his words again, chewing his lip nervously. He hated when Wayne was like this, all insightful and wise. It was unnerving, but at the same time, he always knew exactly what Eddie needed to hear.

“You do what you think is best, Eddie. I’m gonna go to bed now, I’ll see ya tonight,” he stands and pats Eddie’s back as he makes his way towards the pull out sofa. Eddie mumbles his goodnights and makes his way to his own room, Wayne’s alarmingly wise words knocking around his head as he gets ready for a shower.

Would it be so bad if you knew? He was going to find out.

Part I. Part III

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cmncisspnandmore · 6 months

Text

One Night Stand: part 4

Pairings: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Pregnant!Reader

Warnings: None? slight angst? Maybe if you squint

Summary: Simon is away on a mission, but things are speeding up back at home.

A/N:....... Hi, sorry. I'm back, i'm sos sorry for the long break between parts. I'm also sorry this is a short part, i started writing it before i went on a break, and i finished it today and its kinda a flop. But i promise to do better on the next part. asdfghjkl, please stick with me, I promise i'll do better.

Word Count: 2.909

New to the series? Catch up here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

It had been almost a week since you heard from Simon. He has sent you a brief text the morning he left. It was vague, didn't give you any details about where he was going, or how long he would be gone. He had promised to contact you as soon as he could. You find yourself staring down at your phone, hoping that maybe if you stared at it long enough he would text you. But it never came.

Your knee shakes as you sit in the doctor’s office, the nurses coming out periodically to get someone from the waiting room. Your appointment was in 5 minutes, but you had been sitting there for the last 20 minutes. Nervous was an understatement, if you could describe how you felt out loud people would think you were insane. You felt like your lungs were vibrating in your chest, every organ moving at the fast pace of your heartbeat.

The nurse calls out your name as you stand on shaky legs. The world is out of focus as you walk towards her. She smiles, and leads you back to her ultrasound room, her voice muffled by the pounding in your ears. A hand touches your shoulder and it takes you a moment to realize that she was talking to you.

“This is your first?” She asks, sitting in the chair next to the bed, pulling her stool up to the computer.

“Oh.. yeah..” You lay back on the bed, and look over at her. She was wearing a pair of cartoon character scrubs. Her hair pulled up into a french twist, as she typed on the keyboard.

“Okay, well lay back, and roll down the top of your jeans, and pull up your shirt as we’ll see if we can get a good look at that baby of yours. Do we need to wait for dad?” She asks, as you lay back against the paper. It crinkles as you roll down the tops of your jeans, your body shifting as you adjust.

“Oh, no… he’s away,” heat rushes to your cheeks, red hot embarrassment coursing through your veins.

“Oh no problem lovely, we’ll make sure to get extra pictures and you can even record the heartbeat for him. How does that sound?” She asks as she picks up the wand and rolls closer to you.

“That would be lovely,”

“This will be a little cold,” she says as she squirts some of the ultrasound gel onto your stomach. The contact makes goosebumps break out along your skin, you watch the screen across from the bed. The grainy black and white picture moving around as she adjusts the wand. After a few moments a small white, baby-like blob takes over the screen.

“There they are! Look at them,” she smiles as she spends time taking measurements, and telling you what you were seeing on the screen. She takes some pictures while shes doing it, before she smiles at you.

“Okay, ready to record the heartbeat?” she asks, and presses a few keys on the keyboard.

You take your phone out and record the screen, the baby’s heart fluttering on the screen. After a moment the sound of fast paced wooshing fills the room, your eyes fill with tears. It was real, you knew about the baby obviously, but hearing the heartbeat made it real. There was a tiny person growing inside you. A part of you and Simon. You stop the recording as you wipe your eyes with one hand. The Ultrasound tech smiles and hands you a tissue, before she hands you another. “Here Love,” she smiles, “wipe that off and then I’ll be right back with your pictures to take home.”

You wipe the gel off your stomach, swinging your legs over the side as you wait. You open up the text thread between you and Simon. Your fingers tap the screen as you forward him the recording of the heartbeat.

Y/n: I know you couldn’t be here because of work, but I heard the heartbeat today. It was beautiful, they’re developing right on track. *heartbeat*

The nurse comes in and hands you two long strips of ultrasound pictures, you smile down at them. In one picture the baby’s hand is up in the air and it looks as if they’re waving. She added a little caption that says “hi Daddy!” On it and you can’t help the pang of guilt that settles in your gut.

This was Simon’s first child too. He should be able to experience everything with you. But you knew he couldn’t just abandon his post. He was needed, that much was clear, you couldn't ask him to give it up. You wouldn’t.

As you walk out of the doctors office towards the bus station, you can’t stop looking down at the roll of pictures in your hands. As the bus pulls up to the sidewalk you climb on and take an empty seat. You study the white baby-like outline as the bus pulls away from the curb, you wonder who they would look like.

Would they have Simon's light blonde hair?

Maybe his dark brown eyes?

Or would they look like you?

Maybe they would be a perfect blend of you both, with your eyes and Simon’s nose. Whoever they looked like, they would be loved. Your heart swells as you look down at the pictures, your fingered tracing outlines. They were only the size of a lemon, which was crazy to you. 13 weeks ago they didn't even exist, they were nothing. Just two cells that had yet to meet, and now they were the size of a lemon. They could move around although you couldn’t feel it yet, some babies even suck their thumb.

Your thoughts drift back to Simon… Did he know that the baby was the size of a lemon? That it could now suck its thumb and move around?

Sighing you pull out your phone and text the video of the baby's heartbeat to him, along with a picture of the sonograms. You watch as the blue text bubble sends and the word delivered appears under it. You stare at the screen, wishing that it would change to read, but it doesn’t. Your eyes burn from not blinking, as the bus pulls up to the stop by your neighborhood. You quickly tuck your phone away and step off. The brakes of the bus squeal as it pulls away, leaving you standing on the side of the road alone.

The walk back to your apartment isn’t long, it only takes 5 minutes at most. But today it felt like the longest walk of your life. You couldn't shake the feeling that pooled in your stomach when the tech looked at you, the pity in her eyes when she found out Simon wasn't there. It had done nothing but remind you that you would probably be doing most of this alone. That there was a chance Simon would miss the birth of his child due to having to be on a mission.

You haven't given it too much thought, because that seemed so far away from the present. But in reality you were already in your second trimester, and time was going to go by a lot faster than you thought it would. Your relationship with Simon was still in its infancy, you barely knew anything about one another. Sure there was the undeniable attraction between you two, the magnetic pull that caused this whole situation in the first place.

You climb the 3 flights of stairs to your apartment, your boots thudding on each step. The neighbors below you argue loudly, the crash of things being thrown jars you from your thoughts. You really hated them sometimes. It was like their entire relationship revolved around making each other mad. If they werent fighting they were stoned out of their minds, their eyes glazed over from drugs as they leant against the hoof of their beat up car. They had neer done anything to you personally but you had heard them fighting with some of the other residents. Mostly your direct neighbor to your left. She was a small old lady who would get fed up with them fighting and would call the cops on them regularly.

As you unlock the door to your apartment, the door to the left opens. The old woman steps out of her apartment with a scowl on her face as she looks at you. You pause, and clear your throat. “Can i help you Mrs. Hines?” You ask, stuffing the sonogram into your pocket.

“Those blasted drug addicts, at it again i tell ya! Throwing things, arguing all hours of the day. Outta teach them a lesson,” she mumbles as he heads towards the stairs. Her cane tapped on the floor as she headed down to the floor below. You wait until her white hair is out of sight on the staircase before you push open your apartment door. The apartment is exactly how you left it, your eyes flickering to the couch. Air rushes past your lips as you find it empty, your laptop sitting in the middle just as you left it.

You settle into your apartment, and hang the sonogram pictures on the fridge, a small smile on your lips. Settling back onto the couch you pick up your laptop and continue where you left off this morning with your article, the words flowing easily. Hours pass as you near the end of the article, your phone pinging on the couch next to you startles you. For a moment a flash of fear races through your body. Like a bucket of cold water was dumped on you, your heart hammers loudly in your chest. With shaking hands you reach over and grab it, tapping the screen with your thumb.

The small picture of an adorable ghost next to the name eases your anxiety that settled in your chest. You can't help the small smile that spreads over your lips as you read the messages from Simon.

Simon: Wow, I wasn't expecting them to look like an actual baby just yet. That's kind of insane.

You: I know.. Did you get a chance to listen to the heartbeat?

Simon: Yeah… Don't tell anyone but I may have teared up…

You: Your secret is safe with me.

There's no reply after that, which is expected. Honestly you were even surprised to have heard from him at all. He was out there doing god knows what, god knows where. Given that he had a few moments to reply to your text must mean that he wasn't fighting for his life at that very moment.

That thought gave you some comfort… Well kind of. Lately not a lot of things could make you feel at ease anymore. You never truly felt relaxed, not even after moving a few hundred miles away from your hometown. You still felt like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop. For it to be your turn to meet the same fate as your family. But it hasn't come yet, and that alone was enough to make every noise, every bump in the night send prickles of fear skittering across your body. Like thousands of ants running wild along the smooth plains, making you shift uncomfortably.

The apartment complex was surprisingly quiet for 8pm, normally around this time most of the residents were arguing. Mainly the couple from downstairs, but you haven't heard anything in a little while. You furrow your brows as you look out the window. Their car wasn't there, maybe they had gone out?. The parking lot was mainly empty save for a few cars that you were sure didn't run anymore. TUrning in your seat you glance down at your phone, the screen still dark.

Exhaustion pulled at you, over the last few weeks you had been having a hard time sleeping.The constant fighting from the people below you coupled with the raging hormones made sleep hard to come by. This past week is especially hard now that the small voice in the back of your head reminding you that Simon wasn't here. He wasn't just a phone call away right now. For all you know he could be on the other side of the world, and there was no established time he would be back. He very well could be gone for months.

Taking a deep breath you grab your phone and climb into your bed, pulling the blankets up over your head as you try to block out the small pang in your chest. The small part of you that missed Simon's presence. When he was around it was like someone had closed the doors to the roaring fears inside your head. They were still there, but they were muffled and you could be easily distracted from them. Allowing your body to relax for once, after being wound tight for months.

A blush creeps up your cheeks as you remember how blissfully blank Simon was able to make your mind that night. The night that led to the unplanned but not unwelcome baby that was currently growing in your uterus. Your eyes grow heavy as your mind drifts back to that night. You missed how his hands felt, skating across your skin. The warmth of his lips on yours, the way his heart pounded in his chest under your hands.

Your hand drifts down to your lower stomach, your fingers brushing the now taught skin. A small smile on your lips as you drift off to sleep with images of Simon's dark brown eyes and blonde hair dance in your mind.

~~~~

Smoke.

The first thing to cross your mind when you stir from your sleep is smoke.

The smell was suffocating as you sit up, and blink rapidly into the darkened room. Thick grey clouds billow under the door of your apartment. The loud creaking of the building settling startling you fully awake. Outside you can hear commotion in the parking lot. Quickly throwing the blankets to the side you pad over to the window. People from the lower floors of your building are filing out, waving their hands in front of their faces as they attempt to run from the building. Thick clouds of smoke follow them, as yellow and orange light flickers across their faces.

You drop to your knees as your throat starts to burn, the air in the room becoming harder and harder to breathe in. Your knees scrape along the uneven floor boards, scratching the soft skin. Pulling your shirt up over your mouth and nose you attempt to take slow even breaths, as the smoke rises to the top of the room. As you reach the door you lift your hand and place the back of it against the door. Its warm but not hot. Taking one last deep breath you reach up hand grasping the warm door knob as you turn it.

Smoke rushes into the room, stinging your eyes as you crawl forward. The hallways is hazy but you can see the stairs at the end of the hall. They look clear of any fire, and you start to crawl there. As you reach the top of the stairs a sound behind you causes you to stop. The floor by your door creaks and groans before it splinters and falls through. Flames lick up through the hole, heat dancing across your skin. It was hot. So incredibly hot. Your eyes water, as you struggle to pull air into your lungs.

Your throat burns as tears slide down your cheeks, your lungs ache as you start coughing. Your mind becomes fuzzy from lack of oxygen, as you grasp the railing of the stairs you start to feel your way down them quickly. Your feet blindly hitting steps, a few times you almost slip on the stairs. As you get down to the second floor the smoke is thicker. You can't see your own hand in front of your face. The staircase to the first floor is engulfed in flames, they lick up the stairs as they threaten to singe your clothes.

The window in the stairwell before it shatters above you front he heat, tiny shards of glass rain down on you where you crouch on the staircase. Your body is sluggish from the carbon monoxide. This was it…

The way out was blocked and you didn't have the energy to climb back up the stairs to try the back staircase. It had only been a few minutes since you left the apartment, but it felt like a lifetime. Your body ached, your skin hurt from the heat, like the worst sunburn you’ve ever gotten. Your lungs screamed like you were being held under water, each cough that forced its way from your throat felt like razor blades.

Tears streamed down your cheeks, leaving trails through the soot and ash that covered your face. The world is slightly muffled as you put your head on the warm concrete of the stairs. The last of your energy fading as sirens scream in the distance. At least they would find your body, maybe there would be enough to identify, so someone would be able to get back to Simon about what happened.

Simon.

Your heart aches in your chest.

What if no one ever told him what happened?

Your mind starts to go fuzzy and your eyes slide closed, sweet oblivion pulling you under.

As the world fades out you feel someone's arms wrap around you, lifting you from the stairs, their deep voice vibrating in their chest. “Bloody hell, Love. Trouble just knows how to find you, yeah?”

Next Part: Part 5

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pseudowho · 10 hours

Text

Professor Higuruma: Part One, Star-Crossed

Leaving your job behind to study Law, you fall into the gravity of Professor Higuruma Hiromi. Soon, you find yourselves entwined in an affair so deep and alluring, you cannot see where Hiromi ends and you begin.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut from Part One, age-gap relationship (20s to 40s), 'thread of fate', tw- leaving an emotionally neglectful relationship, tw- alcohol use, wet dreams and daydreams

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The bottle would not draft his timetable, and as such, it remained corked. Hiromi's thirst extended past wine and warm bodies, to something altogether more elusive; an alleviation of his crippling loneliness-- that which ground him down to dirt.

Hiromi sat on his sofa, picking up the claret, rolling it in his hands, putting it down, running his fingers through his hair, clenching white knuckles against jittering thighs.

The week had been long. His Department was undergoing fresh demands for classes and time and curriculums and more, that Hiromi had not the staff to facilitate. With the new term about to start, and fewer professors than ever, Hiromi felt like the wick in the middle of a candle burning at both ends.

From the heated sneers that set to flame in the room around him, Hiromi wasn't the only one already balancing on a knife edge. He felt the frost crisp the earth around Nanami Kento, his Literature department already at the end of their tether.

If the rampant deep-seated loathing for the world in which he lived didn't kill him first, the stress would. The loneliness would. The drink would. The pressure would. The late nights would. The loneliness the loneliness the loneliness the loneliness--

Hiromi threw his bottle and responsibilities to the sofa. Too touch-starved for solitude, but too burned out for company, Hiromi grabbed his jacket and keys, and headed for his favourite bar.

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See you later? At the bar across the street.

Let me know when you'll be here.

Are you still coming?

Not dressed up, sorry. On your way?

Got you a drink. See you soon?

???

The Spring evening was too crisp for such chilly rejection. The sun had seemed hopeful, earlier in the day, and you hadn't brought a jacket. You felt the bite upon your exposed arms, a nipping punishment for your optimism. Whether he was here, or not, made no great difference; he had not given you his jacket in a long time.

He would come, you reassured yourself. You'd buy him his favourite drink, and he'd arrive late, all I'm so sorry baby, you know how it is, c'mere, I'll warm you up, with twinkles in his eyes like you'd hung his stars and his hand in yours and the life you had lived and shit don't cry you stupid bitch pull yourself together.

You scurried into the bar, embraced by your own arms, before ordering his favourite drink and yours, as if a summoning ritual. The bar had a happy thrum, warm with love and life, and you saw cherry blossoms drift across the torch lit balcony. It beckoned you. You remained, waiting for your spell to work, with your eyes on the door.

The torches dwindled. A barman went to refill them with oil. Your fiancé had not arrived. The ice in his drink had almost melted, and you sank into a sigh that shredded down to the very core of you. The first time you saw the man in the black suit, arriving on a thundercloud, and sitting a few barstools down from you, you registered him only briefly, past the knife in your gut.

Then, a pair of coal-dark eyes met yours. The torches on the balcony reignited with a whoomph, setting drifting blossoms to pink-spark ember on the Tokyo backdrop. Your breath caught halfway, the scent of smoky petals and spiced cologne on the sides of your tongue. The barest clink of ice cubes settling in the glass, cracked through the moment that time had paused.

The man in the suit opened his mouth, offering only the other half of the breath he had stolen. His hangdog eyes were so curiously expressive. A smile wrinkled his nose. You stumbled across yourself, pressing your fiancé's undrunk drink across the bar to the black-suit man.

"Would you like this? It's in need of appreciation." The black-suit man laughed, a breathy rumble.

"Is it indeed?" He took the glass with long fingers, and you followed the trail of a trickle of the glass's condensation, dripping down his finger's inner length, to pool at the junction between. "Will it taste bitter in the mouth of someone for whom it was not intended?"

You smiled, your eyes narrowing in tease. "It is a gift."

"Oh!" He uttered, laced with small joy. "Then it will be sweet." He took a sip, a vermouth-honeyed tongue darting across his lips with an appreciative hum. "Yes, quite. Welcome, little drink. There is joy to be found amongst the unwanted." You laughed, and Hiromi felt a curious yank upon his finger. He had fallen into your company, and could not get back up.

"I must be old," he laughed again, swiping commas of grey-streaked Inky hair from his temples, "because I've forgotten my manners. I'm sorry for pressing conversation upon you. Thank you for the drink."

You shook your head, without the appropriate words to express how a stranger had warmed you more in moments than you had been in years. Your black-suit man bowed his head, standing, and turning away before pausing. Fate rolled a dice.

"The balcony looks lovely. And, empty." Hovering on one footstep, his gait then steadied, and brogued black shoes clipped across the polished floor. You felt something fine and golden tug within your chest, as torchlight rolled across the black-suit man's disappearing shoulders. Another diceroll raised Fate's eyebrows.

You stood, hesitating between the balcony and the bar. The barman buried a scoop into some ice, watching two strangers interact with an oddly burgeoning certainty. He never interfered. Fate flipped a coin; how readily the stars did align.

"He likes red wine." The barman offered, nodding between your stuttering gape, and the void the black-suit man left in the doorway. You frowned, biting your bottom lip, unaware that your path had been decided before the words left your mouth.

"Then I like red wine, too." The barman smiled. He reached to a row of dusty wine racks above his head, pulling out a bottle with a glassy clink.

"Do you trust me?" The barman asked, placing the bottle before you with a muted thud. You felt a bubble of joy up your nose.

"I do, actually." You replied, awash with certainty as you paid, took two glasses, and headed towards the balcony. As you walked through the doorway, and firelight uncovered the gems hidden within your hair and eyes, your black-suit man smiled, and gestured to the rattan sofa opposite him.

As you sat, strangely comfortable under his gaze, in your state of plain dress, your black-suit man smiled over at you. He looked awkward for a moment, not trusting himself in his own shoes.

"...all this and I wasn't actually prepared for company." You both laughed. Your black-suit man watched you with a glimmer in his eyes, fingers plaited and clasped under his nose, leaning forwards on propped elbows. You struggled to open the wine. He huffed through his nose, your fingers brushing as you handed the bottle over with a scoff.

The man's eyes narrowed as the bottle opened with a brittle schtick; "Loosened it for me--" you laughed again, pinching your nose bridge, "--no no I mean it, I'm really very weak--" You rolled in your laughter together, with him babbling smiling reassurance, while he poured your wine.

"I have one condition to this rendezvous-- please can we not talk about work?" He groaned, clinking your two glasses together in his own hands before passing one to you, still warmed by fading laughter.

"Absolutely. I promise. No work talk."

He was older than you, by an uncertain amount, though you were no girl. You leaned on one palm, in easy silence as you smelled the petal-burst flames. He watched the aurora cast upon your cheeks, feeling his chest fill in a way he couldn't describe.

"...Hiromi." He offered. "My name's Hiromi."

"And it suits you. Should I remain a great mystery?" You gasped, melodramatic with one hand over your mouth.

"Appalling manners!" Hiromi shot. "You owe me a name."

"I gave you a drink! And a bottle of wine."

"Bullshit."

"I don't owe you a thing, in fact--"

The evening trailed away, all warm banter, easy laughter and lingering looks. The conversation grew sloppier, uninhibited, lubricated by wine, of which the bottles nestled, one, two, two and a half. Hiromi had laughed, as deep and rich and mature as the grapes, positively Dionysian, his laughter dying on his lips to catch you mid-shiver. He huffed into his glass, the scent of fermentation rolling back over his own face.

"Here." He dropped, lackadaisical as he sloped past on the way to the bathroom. You blushed to feel his jacket nestle, warm and homely, around your shoulders. He did not appreciate the enormity of the gesture, to you, as he walked away. On his return, you appeared muted, holding onto his jacket around with with two chilly hands. Hiromi felt a stutter in his chest, and sat down beside you.

"...are you alright?" He whispered, soft under the torchlight. Your head drooped onto his shoulder, your neck softened by wine, and he puffed his surprise, short and sharp across your cheek.

"I've had such a lovely time." You sniffed, feeling the clock tick far too late, and you had a busy day ahead, with the start of your new course, and you had to get home and prepare your mind for the beginning of a new life and--

"It...doesn't have to be over." Hiromi intoned, and your belly clenched as his voice rumbled through your core. Your head turned on his shoulder, your nose brushing his. Hiromi spoke again, stroking your nose with his until your eyes fluttered closed, having never felt more certain of anything in his life. "I...I've never done this, but...come home with me, just tonight, and--"

Your phone rang, shrill and piercing and you cried out, jolting away from Hiromi's touch. He chased your lips, his face twisting in a pain you didn't see, as you looked down at your phone screen, slurring.

"Shit...my fiancé..."

Hiromi's belly tumbled, sick with disappointment-- with something altogether more possessive-- and feeling that yank upon his finger, more insistent as he spoke, low and slow.

"Your...fiancé?" The words tasted rotten. Hiromi felt sick, bitter with the sudden loss, hobbled by the brutality of having gained the stars and lost them all at once. He watched you swallow, watched the flash of a wound reopening, piecing the puzzle together so fast now.

"The one who stood you up?" Hiromi toned, venomous with the injustice of the theft. You mistook the direction of his anger, and looked up, your face tight with apology. Hiromi shook his head, raising a hand. Your phone stopped ringing. A few moments passed before your phone buzzed. You read a message as Hiromi stood, turning on the spot, his hands cupped over his nose and mouth.

"You...shouldn't worry. I assume he's coming to pick you up, and I...thank you for such a lovely evening, it's been--"

You laughed without humour, eyes brimming with tears. You shook your head, and nodded, and shook your head again. Hiromi watched you, uncertain.

"I'll walk myself home. He's gone to bed." Hiromi paused, then scoffed.

"You're not walking home alone. Not a chance. Not like this."

He extended a hand to you. You took it, as if tied by the fingers. He held you, like this, all the way home to your cold bed.

You took each others' breath with you as you parted at the door. Hiromi was sure that his loneliness would not kill him first; the drink would not kill him first; the stress would not kill him first; the late nights would not kill him first; the pressure would not kill him first. Being taken to great heights, and then dropped in a dizzying fall, would.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Thank you for inviting me in." You whispered, smiling against the shell of his ear. In his bed, soft and open against his body, Hiromi sighed into your touch, your fingernails trailing across his scalp as he groaned. His cock throbbed, thick with promise.

"Couldn't leave you out there, naked." He mumbled against your lips, reaching under the covers to feel you and meeting only the cloth resistance of the mattress, but you were there because he could taste the wine on you, and you were opening yourself to him, he knew somehow.

"You're the one who undressed me." You said, your voice above him, but he was climbing above you, bracketing you to the bed while your voice whispered all around him. Hiromi felt his cock grasped, bucking forwards into the warmth and softness of it, chasing warmer and softer, and he begged you.

"Please you...never told me your name...let me in please, please--" He couldn't see your face with his eyes closed in this odd black moonlight, somehow within you and outside of you all at once. One more rock of his hips seated him within you, plush walls pillowy and smooth and all for him.

He groaned, low and desperate, rocking his cock inside you and he longed for you to welcome him with your arms, but any time he tried to draw them round him they flopped, useless, absent, so he urged you with his hips rutting faster, to pleasure you into holding him. Was it you crying out, or him? He couldn't tell, his pleasure mounting, pulsing through him in waves and why wasn't he trying to stop himself, he hadn't done anything for you--

Hiromi woke with a gasp, his pillow clutched between taut arms as he fucked involuntarily into the mattress, groaning into the mess of cum spurting between his sheets and belly. Hiromi's voice cracked, still lost in his dream, still spilling himself inside you in his mind. The blissful contractions of his cock dizzied him, surely the wettest dream he'd ever had.

Coming back to earth, Hiromi panted, face down in his pillow and a pool of his own sticky seed. His phone alarm rang. He groaned, feeling the catastrophic disappointment of the night before wash over him anew. Seeing the date on his phone in fumbling hands, sent another groan through him, and he buried his hooked nose in the pillow.

The new academic year began today.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

"Higuruma." More statement than question, Hiromi accepted Nanami Kento's proffered coffee as if being reminded of his own name. Hiromi took it, weary and silent, slouched at his desk beneath the crushing weight of having been scooped out in the middle.

Kento sat in Hiromi's visitor chair, regarding Hiromi with cool impassivity. He read the usefulness of any comments he could make, and set them aside for business.

"How do you plan on handling your evening classes? The high-school ones." Hiromi scoffed.

"Nanami, it is 8am on the first day of term, you cannot surely have a plan--"

"We'll offer assistant wages to one or two new First Years." Nanami said, before continuing, sniping and bitter. "If we must lose our Graduate Professors, and if we must host the accessibility courses ourselves, then at least the First Years can gain some income and some experience through teaching."

Hiromi rested his cheek on one palm. He stared Kento down.

"That...that's not a bad idea, actually, Nanami. I shall use that, I think." Kento and Hiromi inclined coffees and heads to each other, an easy camaraderie. Kento let the silence hang as Hiromi scribbled in his diary.

"I don't actually know how we'll do it, Nanami." Hiromi groaned, his face in his hands. "They make staffing cuts as if I can knit a new professor to take some of these classes. How much more 'self-directed learning' can I give these students? It's barbaric. They're being bled dry for this degree, and for what? So they can teach themselves? Shit."

Kento did not disagree, frosty again as the University Chancellors' departmental meeting montaged before his eyes.

"They're paying for a library, and the pleasure of our limited company." Kento sneered, as bitter as his coffee dregs. Hiromi sighed, trying to rub the alcohol away with his fingertips on his temples. Kento's eyes narrowed in cool regard, again.

"Home, or bar?" Hiromi grumbled, steepling his fingertips across his nose.

"Am I so fucking transparent?"

The faintest quirk lifted the corner of Kento's lips. He awaited an answer. Hiromi's head swam with the memory of you, interspersed with the false memories from the dream of being nestled between your thighs, and he felt his cock twitch. Hiromi shook himself out of it, sitting up and shaking his hands out with a huff.

"Bar, if you must know. It was...a late one." Kento hummed again. Hiromi did not elaborate.

"You should try harder to rest, before a work day. It is...irresponsible of you." Hiromi glowered over at Kento, Hiromi's junior by a good few years, quacking after him.

"Yes mother." Kento scowled.

"I could report you." Stony silence. Two chuckles in the office.

"No. You won't do that. You're my best friend."

"I don't have friends--"

"Shush."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You recalled taking a day off work, on your fiancé's first day at University. You ironed his shirt the night before. You made him lunch, with notes and flourishes. You enjoyed a hot breakfast together, brimming over like the coffee pot about his future, while you worked to support him, and then your future, while he worked to support you. You had opened your arms to release him, and closed them around him on his return.

And god, you had worked, gruelling long hours for three gruelling long years, but despite the great chasm he had dug between you, you had brimmed over again when he landed his new job. A lucrative career. More than enough to pave your way, while he worked to secure your future--

He stayed in bed as your alarm went off. He accepted your affectionate nuzzles, before rolling away into the embrace of bed. Your fingers closed around nothing. You ate cereal. You packed your bag. You bubbled, low and alone. You wondered if he'd mind you slipping a banknote out of his wallet for your lunch. Your belly clenched with anxiety, and you packed a microwave meal instead.

You rocked, rhythmic with the clatter-back-and-forth of the train. Your eyes closed. Your music was soft. Though, not as soft as those coal-soft eyes, the gentle, brushing aquiline nose against yours, of the night before. Not as soft as the bittersweet ache of loss, of failing to know him better. The ghost of his touch soothed the stinging guilt, of wishing you had spent the night in his arms, instead.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Hiromi was early to his first class, his nerves too frayed and electric to be anything other than hypervigilant. The lecture hall stretched up around him, an amphitheatre where he would slowly watch the soul and enthusiasm be sucked out of those wishing to learn Law.

He had held some optimism, years prior, that his own fractured soul (from years of systemic self-abuse in the Criminal Defense system) could be soothed by teaching the next generation of lawyers, solicitors, and barristers.

Alas, second to idealism, feckless optimism had oft been Hiromi's failing. Alas, the decaying state of education and academia could provide no such balm to his soul while it crumbled itself, and expected its professors to use their bodies and bones to prop up the teetering institution. The grind was different, but just as potent. Hiromi felt the crushing responsibility of leading his department through this storm, and wondered how many would remain on the ship once the rain cleared from his vision.

He resigned himself to filling his chalice with the immeasurable optimism of the fresh and uninitiated. Though under-subscribed compared to prior years, he was still excited to receive his first batch of students for the term. He hoped their passion could bounce off of him, and multiply, exponential.

While preparing his slides for the day, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows, Hiromi heard the steady fill of the lecture theatre behind him.

He could not shake the ghost of your head upon his shoulder. He could not shake the taste of your skin from his dreams. He could not shake his regret, for not shaking you by the shoulders and insisting you deserved better, instead of delivering you back to the bed of a man who didn't appreciate the treasure within his grasp.

"I'll be with you in a moment!" Hiromi called behind him, waving one white-sleeved arm in a vague gesture. "Please be seated! I shan't be long."

The chatter crescendoed behind Hiromi, and he turned, clapping his hands together and affecting a smile and speech, gazing into the sea of new faces.

"Good morning everyone! Welcome to your first class. I'm delighted you have all chosen to study the Law-- it means the flow of the insane into our noble professions remains, as ever, consistent." A few smattered laughs from the audience. Hiromi grabbed his clicker, a slide slow flicking onto the great screen behind him.

"My name is Professor Higuruma, and while I will only be teaching you Case Law this year, today we shall talk about what to expect from your course, and--and..."

Oh, god. Those eyes, that haunted him. The body he had made love to while he slept. The shock, mirrored in your own eyes back at him, a participant in his new audience.

Hiromi's arm and mouth drooped, with the tug of the fine gold thread that you, too, felt. The night you had almost shared together passed across two pairs of distant, breathless lips. You felt every pulse, every nerve, every fibre of yourself skip a beat.

How readily had the stars aligned.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Part Two, Interpretation, coming soon!

70 notes · View notes

rippersz · 8 months

Text

𝘐𝘵 𝘳𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘠𝘖𝘜.

«——..✞..——»

(DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT) (TW: Mentions of cannibalism, murder, slight glorification of both; gore, toxic love, smutty/suggestive themes, etc.) (Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader)

«——..✞..——»

"I’ll be your slaughterhouse, your killing floor, your morgue and final resting," ~ Richard Siken

«——..✞..——»

It was an accident.

It was all an accident.

Wrong time, wrong place, wrong moment.

Why were you awake?

What were you looking for?

Was it her?

Was it something else?

Were you out of bed because you had a feeling?

Was the bell tolling for you even in your sleep? Could you hear the echo?

Was her silence too loud?

You turned the corner.

Why did you turn the corner?

She was so close to safety.

Too slow, in the end.

Too slow too slow too slow.

And you were too fast too fast too fast. Too inquisitive. Too smart for your own good.

Draped in the darkest grey of a hooded designer coat. Gloved hands holding bags. Red plastic and squishing softness. The handle of a pocketknife tucked between white teeth. No heels, but black boots. Careful not to track mud.

There was no mistaking it.

There was no mistaking her.

Tall, intimidating, curved and sleek. Disappearing into the night without a peep, only to come back past the devil’s hour and get caught.

Years of secrecy.

And to think it was all ruined by you.

You. Her limbo. Her undoing or her reaffirming supporter. Her end or her beginning. The in-between of her life. The connecting thread, so thin, so weak, that ties the two aspects of her existence together. The hungry and the satiated. The mask and the actor. The figure in the dark and the hero in the light. Trusted and feared. Loved and bewared. You, who had captured her eye the very moment she saw you all that time ago. You, who stood in her presence and commanded all of her attention and looked her in the face with no fear at all.

You, who only felt the fear after you turned the corner.

‘No, not you’, was her first thought. ‘No, please, let it be someone else. Let it be someone palatable.’

But no.

No no, little bell.

There you stood, hands limp at your sides, watching Larissa open the door to her quarters with a small golden key. Not trembling from the rush of the kill. Not breathing heavily from the long walk back. Not even bothering to slow her steps as she comes to a stop before her door.

Calm, instead; and swimming in a sea of only thought and anticipation for how the future meal would taste.

One does, after all, burn quite a few calories after chasing a rabbit through the woods.

She was hungry.

And you couldn’t sleep.

And in a fucked turn of events, her desire to romance you into love had melted into a necessary evil. Of course she could just kill you, but what a regret that would be. Not seeing your pretty little face each day… not hearing the sweet tones of your voice… not knowing the way you laugh… oh what a mistake it would be to taste your liver. And she probably wouldn’t enjoy it anyway. She never enjoyed the ones she cared about. Strangers were preferred. Strangers that would never be tied back to her because - my oh my why would anyone like Principal Weems ever kill somebody? How could anyone ever dare think that? When would she even have the time? And no woman could shoulder the emotional weight of murder! And cannibalism?! Oh perish the thought! No, Larissa Weems wouldn’t hurt a fly. She’s an amazing woman; she’s helped my kids so much. Oh, Principal Weems? No, that woman is an angel. She’s really good with the teens, younger and older; gets along with everyone too. And she’s a great colleague! There’s no reason to suspect her. Because she can’t kill anyone. She doesn’t have the heart. Doesn’t have the guts. She’d cry and cry and cry her way home, bending beneath the horror of her actions.

She doesn’t have it in her.

Whatever ‘it’ was.

Whatever ‘it’ is.

No. She didn’t have it in her.

She had something else in her.

A bell. An alarm. An innate sense of disguise, of self, of shadow. A mind 20 steps ahead at all times. A heart that never stopped beating. Breath that never skipped. Hands that never shook.

Unless you were around.

Then the human sank forward and suddenly she found herself falling behind, skipping beats, skipping breaths, and shaking.

And what, above all else, was so special about you?

Hm? What was so special about sweet darling beautiful you? Was it your own intelligence? Was it your own knowledge? Your own creativity? Was it your ability to be effortlessly funny? Was it the way you looked at her, sarcastic and cold and frightened and lustful? Was that it?

Or was it because you knew?

You knew.

You know.

You saw.

She waited for so long- days, weeks- sitting around, walking around, breathing and going about her life, waiting for everything to come crashing down. Waiting for the police to walk up to her door, demanding an inspection. They wouldn’t find anything, no, but that didn’t matter. They’d keep it all on record. So if anything did happen in the future, and she slipped up, her head would be on the chopping block - instead of one of her victims.

But the police never showed. And nothing ever changed. And the only shift in her life was you - but even that was slight and even that was small and even that was enough to make her feel reinvigorated. Because you knew… and yet you didn’t tell anyone. Why didn’t you tell anyone? She asks herself that constantly. Why haven’t you said anything? She’s teased you, frightened you, lured you in, put people on your plate, and you have yet to bolt up from the seat in her office and fly out into Jericho, screaming bloody murder. She’s most likely killed a person you saw once in passing; watched the light fade from their eyes, their breath dissipate in one last exhale, their heart slow to a complete stop. She’s ripped out insides, rearranged them, memorized their places, tasted them and enjoyed them. She’s done the most horrific things a human or non-human can do to its own kind, and you know this, and you haven’t called for help.

Perhaps you should just be honest with yourself, lamb.

Perhaps you should just say it. It will make things easier. You can cut through the tension and get over all the bullshit.

You want her.

Don’t you?

You want her just as much as she wants you.

You saw her that night after turning the corner and you knew. You felt it.

Something changed.

You want her protection. You want her passion. You want her love.

One could even say you are hungry for it.

–

By the time Larissa reaches the top of the stone steps, feet cold and heart thumping in anticipation, the minutes she has left have dwindled. It was a long trek through the halls to her quarters and once the secret wall on the other end slides into place behind her, she flicks up a beautiful slim wrist again and nearly chokes on her own breath.

“What on Earth?”

2 minutes?!

She has 2 minutes?!

Not a chance she spent that long cloaked in the dark of the Nevermore passages. There’s no way…

But her eyes don’t deceive her. Even after the few times she blinks, caught by utter surprise.

No. The clock reads 2 minutes. 2 minutes decreasing.

“Right,” she nods and huffs, suddenly and so thoroughly pissed off.

2 minutes. Fine. If she had 2 minutes, she’d do something with it. No predator waits for their lamb. You’re hers anyway.

You’re hers and that’s that. 2 minutes or not. That’s how it is.

And she’s gone too long without seeing your face this evening. Time to find you, her sweet darling. Time to win.

–

Her legs slide into a strut as she makes her way down the hall. Chafing, she finds, is a complete bitch. But she’ll bear it of course. For you.

You, who are so keen on pushing lines and breaking rules. Thinking you’ve outsmarted her. Hiding yourself away somewhere in her quarters.

Or so she hopes.

Really, there’s no way of knowing. You could be anywhere else actually. In a bathroom somewhere maybe - or a closet, shoving yourself into the shadows with a hand clasped tight over your pretty little mouth. Even in the main hall… celebrating your victory as she takes herself to her own bedroom, hoping to the gods that you’re there.

She wishes, of course, that you could walk into her bedroom under better circumstances. Circumstances in which you’re less frightened, and not so full of anxiety. Circumstances in which you’re smiley and giggly and happy to be in her company and not worried about if she’ll eat you or not - which she won’t. Ever. As she’s already told herself.

But you don’t know that. And you’re in her room, maybe, shaking with the fear of when she finds you. Even though, at the heart of things, she’s not sure if she has it in herself to stick to the rules of the game.

Can they be changed?

It’s the one thing she wonders about as she gets closer and closer - speed eventually picking up into a jog as she looks down at her watch and sees that it’s ticked over to 1 minute. 1 minute. 1 minute.

Can the rules be changed?

The outcome maybe?

50 seconds.

Her feet begin to pound against the stone. They’re cold - they nip at her bare heels - but none of it registers.

40 seconds.

She needs to take a left then a right.

A left then a right.

A left…

45 seconds.

Then a right…

30 seconds.

–

BANG.

Silence.

Footsteps.

You barely have time to hold in your gasp- barely have time to breathe through your panic- no time at all to duck into shadow and hide- because she’s already there.

In the doorway. Outlined by a muted light.

Out of breath, but victorious.

“I found you,” Larissa huffs, shoulders falling up and down in the most mesmerizing rhythm.

Up… down… chest moving with the weight of her lungs as she catches her breath.

So she was running.

Since when does the bell run instead of toll?

“I know.”

It’s all you can think to say.

Double checking the time doesn’t even fade across your thoughts. Making an effort to dash past her somehow never even touches the corners of your mind. The bell has run and the game has ended and you have lost - just as you somehow knew you always would. Because what else would the universe have you do? Win? No. No, the lambs never win. That’s just not how it goes. And when a phone begins to beep somewhere- a small silent beep beep beep beep beep in the next few seconds- you know that doubting your loss will lead to nothing. She has won. And you have failed. And now you will have no choice but to consume one of your own. Another lamb that could never beat the wolf. Never smart enough. Never fast enough. Never good enough.

“10 seconds to spare,” comes her dulcet murmur.

You nod, numb to the truth of it all.

10 seconds to spare.

If only the bell walked.

If only you were smarter.

If only you were better.

If only you were good enough.

Silence blankets the two of you. The only thing that speaks are the breaths from each of your throats, pouring into the still perfumed air of Larissa’s closet.

From an outside perspective, one would think that a chase like that, a game so neck and neck, would end on the most explosive of notes. The biggest catch, so to speak. The climax of it all. One would think that with everything on the line, with a livelihood wagered and morals placed on the table, the finale would be something memorable and great and probably terrifying and macabre.

The be all end all for games of wolves and lambs and bells and prey.

But great climaxes don’t happen in real life. And the feeling of your heart in your throat is uncomfortably genuine. And though you’d like to have the balls to tell Larissa to go fuck herself and shove her cannibalism where the sun don’t shine and flee off down the hall past Nevermore’s doors to the Jericho police station, you just don’t. You don’t have the balls, the courage, the energy.

In the face of Larissa’s success, your body’s given up.

Months of trying to keep in stride with her, but it never works. You never feel like the control you have is actually yours. She is just too good. Too good at making you feel special. Too good at capturing your attention. Too good at being a woman of her word and making you feel comfortable even when you feel uncomfortable - and too good at making you love her.

But.

But really.

How can you love a woman who will feed you the thigh of a man?

How can you love someone like that?

How can you want someone like that?

Truly. Honestly.

What is wrong with you?

Why do you want, even now, to grasp her shoulders and pull her close and kiss her senseless? Why do you want her to lead you to her bed? Why do you want to drown in her passion?

Why do you love her so much?

WHY DO YOU LOVE HER SO MUCH?

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

A person can’t be heard screaming in space.

All calls for help don’t matter there.

And we ask ourselves: what is the human psyche if not a universe?

What is the mind if not a vast unfathomable thing?

One in which we cannot hear each other’s screams? One in which we do not care enough to hear?

The cries for aid are internal for a reason. They reverberate through time and bones and blood and viscera and space and everything.

So Larissa cannot hear you.

All she can do is watch. And see you unravel. And hear your muted sniffles in the dark as tears well up in the hot of your eyes. Eager to fall. To release. To plead a case to a woman who has been the source of judgment for so long. To beg in the face of danger.

“I don’t want- I-” you choke on your words.

“…I don’t want to eat human.” Your voice is far away. Soft. Defeated.

“Please,” and only now do you return to the moment - blinking at her through the haze of your tears and the midnight of dark, “please don’t make me.”

Your heart, a tad late on the delay, seems to realize now the extent of everything. You have lost. And now you must face the consequences. And give into her wishes. And ruin everything for yourself.

For the rest of your life.

To eat… that… would be to say ‘this has gone too far.’ It would be to say ‘You are making me do this because of a silly stupid game and for that, I can no longer love you.’ Because eating one’s own kind is only seen in some animals - and you are no some animal. You are no hungry beast. You are no curious soul that is unable to admit the truth to themself.

You are just a woman. A woman who does not want to stop loving, even though the love feels more like rot.

Even though the love feels more like pain.

“Please. Please don’t make me.”

And the tears only fall faster, racing down your cheeks in the same rhythm as your heart’s beat. On and on and on and on. Even as Larissa mumbles your name and flicks on the closet light, rushing forward at the smallest sight of your wet face. Flushed from tears, crumpled with sadness and self-loathing and the undeniable feeling of being lost. So lost. So out of place.

And you don’t even question the whole power situation - how Larissa’s room has power while the rest of Nevermore doesn’t. Or seemingly doesn’t. It would be like Larissa Weems to ‘fake’ a power outage for the sake of raising the stakes and winning the game. Just another reason why she’s fucked up and you shouldn’t love her and yet-

“Shhh shhh, you’re okay. You’re okay.” Her soft accented voice in your ear and warm breath against your temple, speaking the sweetest reassurances as you tuck your face into your open palms and weep into the clammy skin of your hands. Her body presses against yours and her arms go winding around your waist as soon as she realizes that your legs are slowly buckling - simply unable to hold up the heavy weight of your heart.

“It’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.”

But you don’t know how you can believe her. Even as she sits down next to you, both of you on your knees, pressed to the cream carpet in the middle of the walk-in closet with your head slowly falling to the side. Resting against her chest. Seeking solace in the very thing that frightens you and seduces you and restrains you and frees you and knows you and loves you and needs you and is somehow comforting you while you cry about her cannibalism.

It’s sickening.

But it’s what you need.

And when warm tears fall into your hair and are smushed along your temple, you realize that Larissa needs it too.

Not the comfort or the vulnerability or the release, but the shared feeling of otherness. The realization that neither of you are alone in your secret. A secret you never asked to know and a secret Larissa never wished to tell. And yet here you are. Knowing and telling and sharing and keeping. Keeping it between just the two of you. Like Romeo and Juliet against the world. Twisted souls with a depraved lust and desire for each other- in the heart and in the flesh.

But Romeo and Juliet is romantic.

And you two are just sad.

And damned.

And leaning on each other still, silently weeping while mindless words spill out of Larissa’s lips.

“I won’t,” she rasps, “I won’t make you. You don’t have to. I promise. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t- this wasn’t- I’m sorry. Please. Believe me. You have to believe me. I’m so sorry.”

But she’s not sorry about eating people.

She’s just sorry you found out.

She’s just sorry you saw who she really was. Is.

She’s just sorry you love a version of herself that isn’t the woman she wants to be.

Still Larissa Weems, but someone different.

Still Larissa Weems, but a murderer.

Blood on her hands. As red as her lipstick.

“I’m sorry. You don’t have to. I’d never make you. I swear it.”

And she cries as she speaks, the length of her throat clogged with guilt and tears and sorrow. A million apologies for a million offenses. One right after the other that somehow fills the void in your heart and stitches up the horrendous wounds in your mind. Keeping you bloated on apologies.

The only difference being that she means them.

You can tell.

And when she says she’d never make you, pushing it out of her lungs in the way she does, sobbing it into the softness of your neck, you believe her. She wouldn’t let a single piece of long pork touch your tongue and she wouldn’t serve you something you don’t want to eat. No woman in love would do such a thing. And so she clutches you closer and whispers it over and over again.

“I won’t I won’t I won’t I won’t you don’t have to I’m so sorry I’m so sorry-”

Until you’re both exhausted and you find enough breath needed to take your hands away from your eyes and wipe your snot and tears on the skin of your forearm.

“I know,” you finally speak, crackly and pathetic. “I know.”

Larissa sniffles and nods but doesn’t stop her weeping - and her hands only bring you closer. As close as you can get. Molded to her body, tangled up with her on the floor, finding your arms returning the desperate hug and sliding around her midsection to hold her close too. Like a lifeline.

Like a lifeline.

«——..✞..——»

Smiles nervously. - Rip x

«——..✞..——»

Tags (Plz keep in mind Tumblr doesn't let me tag some accounts): @kaymariesworld @bloommushroom @readingtheentrails @thegoddamnfeels @theonefairygodmother @theflashesoflove @sweetderacine @gwensfreak @shyladyfan @sunnyanon @emilynissangtr @sugipla @deongocrazy @nocteangelus15 @azu-zu @hopelessly-sapphic @enchantressb @syrenacrainn @im-a-carnivorous-plant @willowshadenox @aemilia19 @scarlettssub @ladysdraga @willisnotmental @gela123 @zillahofviolets-bayolet @the-bearr @amateurwritescm @alex-nyx @h-doodles @weemssapphic

#rippersz #fanfictionwriter #fanfic #fanfiction #larissa weems #larissa weems x reader #wlw fanfic #dark fic #cannibal larissa weems #dead dove #dead dove: do not eat #dddne #cannibalism #principal larissa weems #wednesday larissa weems

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 7 months

Text

Addiction

Part Two: Will Power

(Read Part One here first)

Warnings: smut (oral, male receiving; masturbation), language, references to cheating

At first you were just pissed off.

You hadn't known Jack for more than a couple of hours, and he already thought that you were willing to sleep with him. The guy you thought was cute and charismatic suddenly seemed like an entitled asshole. You were familiar with the way the music industry worked; you gave some mediocre guy a music deal and suddenly they thought they were God's gift to the earth, and they could have whatever they wanted.

So why were you in the back of an Uber at midnight, on your way to the Waldorf Astoria?

To tell him to fuck off. That's what you kept repeating to yourself as you approached Park Avenue. To tell him to fuck off, and give him his key card back. You were going to tell him that you were in a committed relationship, and you couldn't be propositioned for the sake of Jack Harlow's entertainment.

****

With every step you took down the hallway of the fourteenth floor, you started to lose your confidence. Like it or not, Jack had pull in the industry, an industry where you were a lowly assistant, and if he didn't like your answer, it might ruin your career. You rapped your knuckles on the door of 1423, feeling your throat go dry.

The sight on the other side of the door damn near took your breath away. You understood why Jack was popular with almost every woman he cam across. There was just something about the combination of the messy chestnut curls, baby blue eyes, and pouty lips that had you rethinking your entire strategy. He exchanged his black suit for a white tee and gray sweatpants that he wore low on his hips. His hair was damp from what you assumed was a shower, his freckles more evident now that you could see him in better lighting.

What were you supposed to be angry about, again?

"You gonna just stand there, or are you gonna come in?" By the time you had come back to reality, Jack was already standing out of the way of the thresholding, waiting for your to step inside the room. The entitlement of his question quickly jogged your memory. "No, here. I just came to give you back your key." You extended your arm out toward him. A grin slipped on his face that let you know the he knew he had you exactly where he wanted. He grabbed the key card, but not before making sure your hands brushed against each other, ever so slightly.

"Listen, I know how this looks, but I promise I'm not some sleezy guy. Just come in, let me explain."

Against your better judgement, you stepped into the room. You were going to listen to his explanation and then leave. No harm, no foul.

"Sit wherever you're comfortable. Can I get you something to drink?" Jack asked you as he leant down to the mini fridge.

"Uh-yeah, please." Your voice cracked as you walked into the room. You took a spot on the couch at the far end of the expansive hotel room, a perfect view of the king size bed from where you sat. You crossed your legs as you thought about Jack fucking you, your hands white knuckling the 800 thread count sheets. It had been months since you'd had sex that didn't leave you feeling more frustrated than satisfied. It wasn't you weren't attracted to Darien, but his idea of sex was a couple of pumps before he collapsing on top of you and you were forced to finish with one of your vibrators.

"Here." Jack handed you a glass bottle of sparkling water. He sat in the armchair across from you, leaning back, his legs spread wide. You dropped your gaze as you realized that he was leaving very little to the imagination under those gray sweatpants of his. A couple of pumps from him might have you walking sideways for a couple of days afterward.

"Did you enjoy the party?" His eyes roamed your body, noticing that you had changed out of the dress he liked so much, into a pair of jeans.

"Yeah, I was having a great time until some asshole decided to slip me their hotel key after knowing them for only a couple minutes." You scoffed, shifting uncomfortably in your spot.

Jack was silent for a second as he studied you. He couldn't tell you if you were interested in him or not. Usually he could tell pretty easily, if the girl wasn't throwing themselves at him, their face gave it away right away. Like they were hungry for something that was sorely lacking in their life. Sex, definitely, but something more important and hard to come by. Attention. Some many of the girls he got involved with felt like they lived life in the shadows, and they were desperate to step into the spotlight. Desperate for someone to notice them.

You, he couldn't read. The only thing that was obvious to him was that you were confident, and had no problem holding your own.

What was going to make you crack? What was your weakness?

"Why did you come?" He took a swig of his own water, resting the bottle against his knee. He stroked his beard, patches of red visible.

The question caught you off guard. You were supposed to be asking the questions, questioning his motives and where he got the balls to be so forward with you. Instead this quickly became an interrogation of your character. How fuckin' dare he.

"You know what? This was a mistake." You rose to your feet and made your way to the door, stopping in your tracks when you felt his hand around your wrist. You thought you'd feel disgust, anger even, but instead, you just wanted to feel his hands on other parts of your body.

"Sit." The gruff in his voice sent a chill down your spine.

He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs as you sat back down. "If we're gonna do this, you have to drop the self righteous act."

"I'm sorry? What act? And do what exactly?" You were back to fully pissed off again, but for some reason, you couldn't get up and walk away.

"If you didn't want to be here, you could have thrown the keycard away, gone back to your apartment, and forgot the night ever happened." You opened your mouth to object, but he held up a single finger to stop you. "Don't interrupt me. That's not cute either." A big part of you was upset with him, but the other side was unbelievably turned on. Jack could see that you're pupils were blown, your bottom lip pulled in between your teeth at his commands.

There she was. There was your weakness. You liked being controlled, submissive to a master.

"So, lets not pretend like you don't want to be here." Jack continued, letting out a huff as if he was growing bored. He was just closing the deal at this point. "What was his name? Dull Darien I think your friend called him." He let out a humorless chuckle.

"Its just Darien." You gripped the strap of your handbag tightly in your hands, feeling your palms start to burn against the leather. You knew your resolve was weakening, and god you just wanted him to fuck you then and there. Make you forget all of the bad sex you'd had in your past, make Darien just a boring memory.

"Darien, right", Jack nodded. "Does he make you happy?" Such an easy question, you wouldn't be with someone for three years if you weren't happy, right? For some reason, no was dancing on the tip of your tongue.

"What do you want?" You decided to counter, flip the script on Jack. He didn't even flinch. "You."

You shook your head in disbelief. "What? You just met me this evening? You don't know anything about me." Your conversation had been flirty but brief, and you were far from an open book, so he really didn't know much about you.

"I think that's better when two strangers have sex, don't you?" You saw a peek of his ego. This wasn't the first time he had this conversation. You weren't the first, and you sure weren't going to be the last. You were going to be just another tick on his counter. Another sexual conquest he could fantasize about as he laid his head on his pillow at night.

"Yeah, that's not going to happen." This time you stood up with what little conviction you had left in you. Your hand lingered on the door handle before turning the brass, and Jack took that as his invitation to make his move. Before you could breathe he had you turned around, pinned against the door, his pelvis pressed into your hip bones. His thumb grazed against your bottom lip as his gaze fell to your mouth. "You're not allowed to leave until I tell you that you can."

You were first to kiss him, your teeth clinking against his as you kissed him roughly, the thought of breathing the last thing on your mind. Jack's hands found the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him as he deepened the kiss. He was just as eager, as hungry as you were for this to finally happen. Warmth pooled in the bottom of your stomach as his tongue roamed your mouth.

Your fingers toyed with the waistband of his sweatpants, instinctively moving to ghost against his dick. You could feel that he was growing hard, so his hips bucked when you cupped his crotch. "Hmm", he hummed against your lips, twitching at his sensitivity. "This is your last chance to leave." He grunted out, groaning as you gently dug your nails into his skin. "Do you want me to leave?" You grinned as you watched him come apart in your grip. His answer was another deep kiss, his large hand clamping down around your throat.

"Drop to your knees." Jack backed away from the door, just enough so you could lower to the ground. There was no going back now, and at this point you didn't want to.

You wasted no time pulling his sweatpants down to his knees, his cock springing free easily as he wasn't wearing any boxers. His length was impressive, definitely larger than any guy you'd been with before. You could barely wrap your hand around it as you swirled your tongue around the head, tasting the precum that leaked from the tip on your taste buds.

"Open your mouth", he commanded, his voice shaky as he felt his orgasm already start to build in his core. You looked up at him through your lashes as you let your tongue hang out, desperate to taste him again. He gripped the base of his cock and slowly slid himself against your tongue and down your throat. He groaned as he felt the soft walls of your mouth tighten around him. You began to bob your head slowly, back and forth at a rhythm that Jack could match, his hips swinging in tandem.

"Fuck. I knew you'd be good." He gritted out between clenched teeth as you increased your pace, slobber dripping from the sides of your mouth as you messily sucked him off. He pulled out of your mouth, the head popping against your lips. He tipped your head up to look at him with a single finger on your chin. He took a minute to admire your face. Your lips were red and swollen, a perfect flushed tint to your cheeks.

"Can you take more?" He asked, and you nodded yes immediately. "Take your jeans off, I wanna see you play with yourself while you take me all the way." If anyone else talked to you the way he did, throwing out orders, you would have slapped them, but with Jack, you just wanted to obey his every command, satisfy his every desire. You fumbled with the button of your jeans, undid the zipper and slipped your hand down the front of your panties, feeling just how wet you were. You writhed your hips as you rolled your fingers around your clit, the bundle of nerves already super sensitive.

You opened your mouth once again as Jack cupped the back of your head, this time barely giving you time to adjust to his length before he was hitting the back of your throat. You dragged your fingers through your folds, moaning with a full mouth.

"Shit, I'm gonna come." Jack slapped a hand against the door as his legs began to tremble. You didn't let up, determined to have him cum down your throat. "Fuck, not so rough, baby." His pet name for you was enough to bring you over the edge. You went back to circling your clit, close to your release. Within seconds you were coming around your fingers, your body jolting forward as waves of pleasure moved through your body.

Your pussy continued to pulse as you focused on Jack. You could feel him try to pull away, so you tightened your lips around his shaft, careful not to use your teeth.

"Oh fuck", you could feel Jack's cock twitch in your mouth as he came, and you took all of his release down your throat, swallowing and then opening your mouth so he could see. He grinned, his eyelids heavy as he looked down at you. "Good girl." He lightly tapped against your cheek before cleaning himself off and putting his pants back on. You stood and buttoned up your jeans.

"I'm in town till tomorrow. I wanna see you again before I leave." When you didn't answer, he grabbed at your face, planting a kiss on your lips. He tasted of spearmint, something you hadn't noticed the first time you kissed. "Do you understand?" He spoke to you like you were a child, and you nodded, wanting him to kiss you again.

You left before he could say anything else. The hallway was eerily quiet again, and you wondered if anyone could hear what had just happened in Jack's hotel room. You weren't ashamed, but exhilarated at the thought that someone had heard the two of you.

You tried to make yourself presentable again as you walked toward the elevator, wiping underneath your eyes to collect any ruined mascara, and dapping at your lips with your sleeve. A woman was already standing in the alcove, waiting as well. You could have sworn you recognized her from the party or your office, you couldn't be sure.

"Hi", you returned her greeting with a small grin as the doors opened and you walked into the elevator, pressing your back against the cool metal walls. You didn't realize how hot you were until you left the room. You closed your eyes, resting your head against the wall as well.

"I was trying to surprise my boyfriend, but I seem to have lost my key card somewhere." She was blonde, tall and cute, a bit mousy, like someone you'd see modeling for a catalogue, but not edgy enough for the runway. You watched as she dug through her designer purse. You simply hummed, not wanting to get into a conversation with her.

"He travels all the time, we barely get to see each other, so I thought I'd surprise him", she continued against your silent wishes. "Its so early in the relationship. Trying to make a relationship work with someone in the music industry is not easy. Jack tries to make it work, but I really can't blame him." Your ears perked up at her words, but you tried not to panic. There were a number of people staying in this hotel, a lot of them famous, at least a few with the name Jack. she couldn't possibly be talking about who you thought she was talking about.

"I'm really not supposed to say anything, because we're trying to keep our relationship secret, but you seem like a nice person." You could add dumb to the list of her features. She leaned over like she was going to tell you a secret you did not want to hear.

"Have you ever heard of Jack Harlow?"

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#jack harlow #jackman thomas harlow #jackharlow #jackman harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfic

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knitmeapony · 2 years

Text

I want to reiterate something that I saw on Twitter. I'd love to share the actual Twitter thread but of course I already can't find it in the massive swamp of stuff going on right now.

The urge to create new organizations is probably pretty strong in most Center to left Americans right now. To work as an individual, finding ways to help that you can do individually , perhaps even visibly. Somehow doing all the ground-up organizational work feels like doing more than joining the organizations that already exist. I'm here to tell you to resist that urge. This is one of those you are not immune to propaganda moments.

There is a fairly pervasive disease, particularly among folks who have protested and donated but not gotten into the nitty-gritty work yet. It's a very well intentioned instinct that you, personally, can do more to fix things as a leader than as a participant. The more privileged you are, the more you are going to believe this. (White Americans, we are very very susceptible to this, and it is a flavor of white supremacy it can be damn hard to unpack.)

You're going to want to join untested Auntie Networks and say individually that you are willing to help your friends/people you know without engaging in the already massive, already well-established, often led by BIPOC reproductive health organizations that already exist.

Your local abortion access organization, whether it is a mutual aid organization run on Instagram or a registered Foundation/charity with a significant web presence is already doing the work that you think needs to be done. There are already networks of people willing to open their homes, cars, and lives to people who need abortion care, organizations that provide money for travel, organizations that lobby heavily in Washington and even in corporate halls for Reproductive Rights.

The best thing you can do to help right now is to join an organization that already exists. To join up with your community, as locally as you possibly can, and let them tell you what work needs to be done. If you are brand new to this, if you are just now raging and you have energy to burn, it may feel like these organizations don't understand and they are not doing enough. But I assure you, they're working their asses off and they have for years.

There are huge groups of people that even before the overturn of Roe struggled to access reproductive health care of all kinds. Poor folks, indigenous communities, rural communities, black and brown folks, people living in abusive situations, disabled folks, they have all been denied appropriate Healthcare over and over and over again and the organizations they have already created and set up know how to do their best to access all the resources that are available, know how to build on their own scaffolding to extend resources, and are your best bet to do real good.

This is a lot like those can drives every year at Thanksgiving and christmas. It feels good to give these big tangible tins and boxes of food, but just writing a check does so much more than you could imagine. 10, 50, sometimes even a hundred times as much food, and of the types and varieties that people are actually looking for, accounting for communities and cultural values and health conditions. But still every year people love to give 50 packs of ramen noodles, rather than $50, because we have this belief that our individual decisions are somehow more valuable than the community decisions made by those actually working and living directly in the community. We are wrong. Please understand that while this Instinct to be a hero and leader on an individual basis is very well intentioned and understandable, it's a bad instinct put in our heads by years and years and years of stories about just one Renegade somehow being the key to saving the world rather than the diligent work of an entire community.

Here are the best things that you can do right now, even though they will not feel as satisfying as running as fast as you can to try to be a hero:

Stop

You're having a lot of feelings right now. Those feelings are utterly, completely valid. But when you are running entirely on adrenaline, on grief or anger or spite, you're going to run out of fuel pretty fast. The best thing you can do is take a beat to live in your feelings and then turn to do what you can thoughtfully and deliberately. It took the right about 40 to 50 years of slowly, pointedly, doggedly working local elections, working individual candidates, building communities and organizations, to overturn Roe. There is a non-zero chance that it is going to take just as long to turn it back again. Prepare yourself for that. Prepare for a long road. Be ready to put your shoulder in it, over and over. Be ready to take breaks while other people push, but without losing your own hope and determination. Then when others are running out of steam, put your shoulder to the work again.

Look

Search for organizations as local as possible. You're going to want to donate national. You're going to want to feel like you're doing the most good in the widest area. Your local community is what needs you most. Big organizations whose names end up on the news will have tons of donations right now. Search for organizations in your neighborhood, city, township, county, and state.

Listen

When you find those organizations, you're going to have a lot of ideas. Spend at least a month or a few meetings listening to what they are already doing. Check out their websites or social media presences and respond to their direct appeals as best as you can. You will often find that your mind changes once you are actually in the community, doing the work. You will often find that your well-intentioned ideas have often already been tried and may even be already in place in a slightly different manner than you expected.

You will also often find that you are going to need to confront your own privilege, over and over. To listen to the people doing the work often means you need to stop talking. There is nothing wrong with having good ideas, but when you are walking in from the outside you need to have the humbling moment of realizing you may not be as much of an expert as you think you are.

Stay

As I previously mentioned, this is not going to be a few weeks work. It's unlikely it's going to be a few months work. This is going to take years. It's going to take election cycles.

Don't burn yourself out. Don't work furiously for a few weeks, give up, and never return. Work this kind of stuff into your regular schedule. Make this a daily or weekly or monthly commitment. As someone with ADHD, I know damn well it can be hard to set a new routine, but it's better for you to work one day a month for 2 years then it would be to work everyday for one month and then never return.

If you need a break, decide when you're going to come back when you take the break and commit to returning to the work. You can always change your mind. But consistency will be a powerful tool in both building communities and doing the work of making real change.

This is the hardest piece of it. It's easy to settle back into a life of privilege where you can choose to no longer think about such things. This happened with an awful lot of white activists after the summer of BLM. I admit I am as guilty as the next person of getting overwhelmed and never returning to some of the organizations I used to help. We are all human and some people will fall away, but those who have prepared to be out there in the long term will fall away less, encourage others to return more often, and keep the fires burning on our long slow walk back.

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hermionewrites · 9 months

Text

Impatient

summary: after his confession you and aaron come back to his hotel room. UNIMPORTANT PART 3

warnings: MDNI, piv sex, eating out, sexual situations

a/n: i hope you like!! it was what the people wanted! please like and reblog.

word count: 1484

The two of you sprinted up the back stairs of the hotel up to the fifth floor. Stopping between each floor to connect in a heated kiss. The corridor to his room seemed to go on forever as he grabs your hand and leads you to it.

Pulling out his key card the scanner lights up green and he pushes the door open. The click of the door is loud and suddenly you are pressed up against it, his lips on your neck. “You’re sure?” He pulls away for a second to whisper.

“As long as you are.” You whisper back and yank him up by the lapels of his blazer, smashing his lips onto yours. You couldn’t believe this was happening, your boss, the man you’d been mooning over for years was pressing you against his hotel door. It didn’t feel real.

His clothes were expensive, you could tell by the way your hands slid across them so easily, no snags or threads getting caught on rough patches of your fingers. His face was smooth against yours and the deep wooden scent of his aftershave overwhelmed your senses as your hands gripped onto his shoulders. Your nails dug into the shoulder pads as you made a small noise as your back arched up, pushing yourself into his chest.

“Oh God.” You moan out as his lips disconnected from yours and make their way along your neck, sucking in dark marks. He stands up to his full height, picking you up with him. His mouth still on your neck, you wrap your legs around his torso and grab at his jacket pushing it off onto the floor. The navy silk lining catching the light on the ground.

He walks you to the bed, sitting down on it. You now straddling his lap and you start to kiss again. Now jacket-less, you reach up to his tie. It’s also navy and designer, it feels expensive. Your next project was working that off from around his neck and throwing it back with his blazer, discarded on the floor. The two of you pull away in panted breaths and stare at each other for a second. Basking in the company.

The nerves got to you then, his eyes were just so intense. But hands still wander, yours to his shirt buttons, slowly undressing him. His hands travel down your back, his fingers teasing with the zip then splaying down your back and one lands on your hip, the other on your ass. His shirt was open and you couldn't help but marvel at him. His chest was muscular and hairy, covering the entire of his pecks and travelling all the way down into his trousers. He didn't have a full-on six-pack but the muscles were still hugely defined. You couldn't help but dart your tongue out and wet your lips.

"Like what you see?" He smirks and snapping out of your daze you look back up at his face. He was so smug and he was right to be, just looking at him clothed did unimaginable things to you.

"Of course I do, Sir." You can't stop touching him, it's addicting, he's hard and soft, pawing at his skin you are careful to avoid the nine scars littered across the skin.

"Aaron." He corrects, growling into your neck and quickly pulls the zip of your dress down, falling to your waist. "We're not in the office. You're not my assistant here." One finger drags up your ribcage softly, causing you to arch and shiver, essentially grinding against him, feeling how hard he is underneath you.

"But what if." You start and move your hands down to his slack buttons and begin to undo them. "I want to assist you." You lean in and whisper into his ear.

“You serve me enough.” He says and lifts you off of his lap and places you down onto your back on the near hotel bed. Hair splayed across the white sheets. He pulls down the dress and it joins the pile of clothes on the floor, leaving you in your black lace thong and bra. “It’s my turn.” He says and kisses down your stomach and to the navel. He pulls down the thong and continues to kiss you, this time up your legs.

There wasn’t a feeling that you could equate to the feeling you felt when his tongue hit your clit. His hands held your thighs apart as your knuckles turned the same colour as the sheets you were gripping into so hard, you thought you might rip a hole in them. “Aaron!” You sang his name out like a prayer as he ate like a starving man. Gasping and writhing you feel a finger nudge inside of you.

You look down and see him with his eyes shut, your legs cramped around his head. Your toes curl and you think you’ve said his name more in the past couple minutes, than in the years you had worked under him. He was the player and you were the pawn on the board that was moved and placed wherever he wanted.

Getting closer to the edge, you craved to finish but with your better judgment you reached down and pushed his head away from you. “Need you.” He nods with a smile and pulls away slowly. You get up on your knees and meet him half way. “Now.” You rasp and rip the shirt off of his shoulder and pull out the condom you had stashed in your bra the entire time.

His slacks come off and sit at the end of the bed, you pull the band of his boxers down and open the condom. At the same you slide the condom over him, he reaches behind you and takes off your bra, it joins the pile.

You don’t think you’ve ever been this horny in your life as you pull him down on top of you. He lines himself up with you and pushes inside of you, finally. He slowly thrusts and bottoms out, waiting for you to adjust to him, gripping onto your hips as he waits for your nod of approval.

“Fuck me, now.” You felt strange being the one to make the demands at him. But that melted away as he started to move. “Oh my god.” You chanted and added more scratches to his shoulders and back. He was also moaning and sighing into your ear and one. of his hands plays with a boob.

That feeling was back again, the one you couldn’t quite place. Now you could. At first you thought it was pleasure but now you knew what it was. It was euphoria. Your hands crawl up to the nape of his neck and fall into his hair. Pulling his head up, you put his lips on yours and you moan into his mouth desperately, bucking up to meet his thrusts.

The two of you moulded together perfectly as your legs began to tremble slightly when he reached down to rub gently at your clit. Years of longing and staring came to a head as his thrusts get more uneven frantic.

Getting closer to the edge the chanting of his name and his huffing of yours sped up and you brought your legs up around his hips. The euphoria was right there and all you needed was a groan from Aaron and you were sent hurtling over the edge and so was he.

“Invaluable, truly.” He whispers as he cums in the condom and you shake underneath him, head thrown back and eyes screwed shut and you call out his name again.

Panting, you and him lay next to each-other in the bed. You get up first and try to locate your thong and bra to put back on. He follows with his boxers and then you’re back on the bed.

Something catches the corner of his eye as the gold of it catches the light, it’s under the pile of clothes the two of you had ripped off. He goes to grab it as you are distracted from putting your bra back on.

“Is this yours?” He asked and holds out your lighter in his hand and the blush rushes to your face immediately. Knowing you’d been caught.

“Yess.” You say hesitantly and take it from him, placing it on the bedside table to your right. “Like you didn’t know.” You look at him accusingly.

“Know what?” He feigns innocently.

“Like Pen didn’t spill and tell everyone.” You smile and lay down, getting under the covers.

“Maybe she did.” He shrugs and continues, “I meant everything I said. You are invaluable to me.” He faces you in the bed.

“Do you maybe want to have dinner?” You ask and can’t contain your smile as he answers.

“I’d love to.”

#criminal minds #fanfic #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #ficlet #oneshot #aaron hotchner smut #smut #he’s so sexy i need him

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mommieswithmuscles · 5 months

Text

Sub!Abby x Dom!Reader

Free Palestine, don't support Neil

No Minors and No Men

CW: Slight!intox but both reader and Abby are coherent and consenting, loser!Abby, soft!reader, bar scene with mentions of violence, strap use, fingering, oral, not quite edging but it could be read that way, aftercare

Title: May I Take You For A Second Date?

You show up late to the bar your Bumble date suggested after getting lost in the new city. You look over and around the obnoxious crowd before spotting her sat at the counter. You're starstruck. She's even more beautiful in person.

"Two margaritas please." You startle Abby. "Sorry to keep you waiting, pretty girl. Big city." Her cheeks flush before she turns her attention back to the football game on the big screen. "Which team is yours?"

"Neither really. It grabbed my attention because of those guys." She nods to the obnoxious crowd you had to barge through on the way in.

"Why don't I take your attention now, lovely?" She turns to face you as your drinks are placed on the counter. You slide one over to her. "I don't drink much. I'm only going to have this," you take a long sip of your drink.

"Me neither. A bar seemed good in theory, but I've honestly only been on a few dates." You watch her throat swallow her drink nervously. Seems she needs the liquid courage.

"Why don't I take you out for a meal?" It's past 11 pm, no restaurants will be open.

"I could be down for that if tonight goes well." That sweet blush hasn't left her face. You smile as your hand slides down her forearm and settles on her bicep.

"Your muscles are bigger in person." You admire the black button up hugging her. The buttons are stretched to their last threads.

"You're more flirty in person. I'm not really used to this amount of attention."

"Expect a lot more." You both look over to the crowd of people once the game ends. You both only know because a few of the guys who have clearly had too much to drink start at it. You pat Abby's thigh, signalling her to stand and leave with you before you're both caught in the sloshed cross fire.

"I walked. Do you want to come back to mine?" You look at her fidgeting hands, closing your fingers around them.

"It's chilly tonight, and I don't live that far. I'll take you to mine. We can go to yours next time." You kiss her knuckles before leading her over to your truck. "How much did you drink before I got here?" You open the door for her, holding your hand out so she can hoist herself in.

"I didn't. I actually showed up late myself." You hand her the lap piece of the belt before asking her if her legs were clear of the door. Once safe, you close it.

You hop in your side, start up the engine, then put the heater on a low stream of air. Your hand rests on the stick. "Normally I would offer to hold your thigh, but as you can see, that wouldn't really be possible tonight. Can I pick you up in my Mercedes next time?" Her eyes widen.

"I- Yeah, you- Mhm- I don't mind, really." She shifts in her seat as you back out of the parking space and drive home.

She takes note of your Ring doorbell, and the clack of something on the assuming hard wood floors as your key struggles in the lock. Once you enter, you're greeted by your pitbull. She has white fur with some tan spots, and a bright pink nose. "Abby, this is Candy. Candy, introduce yourself." A single bark is heard, followed by her big teethy, drooly smile. Abby follows you in after Candy stays sat.

"She's very well trained." Candy leaves her spot once the door is locked.

"She can see me on this," you pointed at the camera feed screen on her inside of the door. "If I'm not coming to the door, she will attack."

"You saying this is my only chance to impress you?" Abby's feet shuffle out of her boots after you kick off your shoes on the mat against the wall.

"No. You commented on her training, I gave you more details about it." You take her hand in yours as you bring her towards your kitchen. "When was the last time you ate? And would you like anything to drink? I've got orange juice, Sprite, Baja Blast, water, and pomegranate cherry juice."

Her nerves start to settle a bit. You watch her physically relax a bit, shoulders not so tense and relieving some of her buttons. Her jeans also look more comfortable. "Are you pregaming my sex energy?" She laughs nervously, some of the tension coming back.

"I'm being a host, sweetheart. We've only been talking for a couple months. I won't press or rush anything you don't want. I may guide, but you're always allowed to decline. If at any point you decide you want to go home, I will pay for your ride so you don't feel stranded here or with me." You watch Candy come up to Abby and sit on the pillow next to her stool.

You pull a bag of sausage you cooked this morning from the fridge and put it in her bowl. Candy waits for you to stand straight again before eating. "Is it too early to say you're the best date I've ever had?"

"Is it reassuring to say you're the first date I've had the chance to host?" A smile creeps up Abby's lips.

"It is, yes." You take Candy's bowl once she taps it twice to signal she's finished eating. You tuck it back in the space on your side of the island counter you got it from.

"Now, can I get you anything before I invite you to my bed?"

Nothing's rushed as you both take the time to learn each other on your blood red sheets. The black comforter hides your bodies in the dim lamp light. Lips lightly smacking as each breath is shared.

Each touch is curated with gentle care, and light exploration. You take the time to memorize what caresses and where make her react. Her hands are just as soft, squeezing and holding you as you drive her insane. You haven't touched her breasts nor vagina yet, and she's twitching and quivering like she's on the brink. Her breaths are gasps and short, legs shaking slightly, and fingers tickling you from their sporadic movements.

"May I?" You lift the comforter a bit, hand resting on her chest above her breasts. Abby nods, saying she doesn't mind. You learn her breasts as you did the rest of her. Her own hands travel up your ribs before you guide one higher. Hers knead at yours as you slowly move to hover over her, making sure she has ample time to stop you.

She doesn't. Abby lets go of your breasts to play with your hair as you dip lower down her body. You look up at her before asking for permission to touch her intimately again. "I like being eaten out," she whispers. You leave a kiss on her navel before kissing each of her thighs.

"If you need to stop, say so. You're in control." You watch her as your face dips into her heat. She smells as good as she tastes. You lap slowly, exploring her with your tongue before diving in. You want her to feel like a girl. Not a fuck, not a one time fling, a woman. You tease Abby's clit with your teeth and she giggles, her hand flying over her mouth. You reach up and take that hand in yours, squeezing over her mid section. "Don't hide your pretty face Abs, let me see you." Her eyes are doey as she looks down at you.

"Can you come up for a moment?" Her thighs are buzzing around your head. You crawl back up her body, hand still clasped with hers.

"What do you need?" Abby kisses you. You kiss her back tenderly.

"Finger me?" Her cheeks are that adorable black cherry red you adore.

"Do you want me to look, or feel?" Your hand slides down her hip, drawing circles in the firm muscle.

"Just feel? I really want to kiss you," she pleads.

"Anything you need baby." You explore her like she's a treasure. Again, you listen for every noise, feel for every twitch. You swallow every gasp and pant. You know you find her spot when her hips buck, and her teeth sink into your lip. You keep the stimulation there, drawing figure eights on her clit.

When Abby cums, your wrist is locked between her thighs and her voice is strained. Gasps fan your lips and chin she comes down. Your lips pepper her neck, leaving kind words against the sweat shined skin. Her hand comes down to bring you out of her so you know you're not being too sudden. "May I?" You bring your fingers to your lips. She nods, rubs her face against the pillow before watching you clean up.

"Are we done?" You leave the choice for Abby.

"Do you want to be?" Her voice is quiet.

"I have one more thing. I don't mind how it goes." You retrieve your strapon from the bathroom. You cleaned it before you left so it would be ready for use. You offer it to her.

"You've taken the lead all night, why not keep it?" Her eyes are wide and her lips pouted.

"Because this is about you tonight, Abby." Her breath shakes as she presses the harness back into your hands.

"Be gentle?"

"I promise." You reassure her. Once buckled and secure, you generously lube the dildo and her hole. She's still open and fluttery when you use two fingers to check her out.

Abby's hand comes down to guide you in. You're slow, only moving when she moves you. You feel her adjust and how she uses her palms to keep your hips where she needs them. Her nails dig into your ass as she gets accustomed to the new full feeling.

When you bottom out her legs come to wrap around you. Her ankles lock on your upper thighs as you stay still. Your lips travel along her face. Each freckle is met with a sweet kiss. The feeling of your lips makes her nose scrunch. You smile against her salty skin.

She starts by rolling her hips. Abby takes her time to get you moving before letting you have control again. You stay the way she set. You don't want to overwhelm or overstimulate her. You want her to feel good.

Her moans are for your ears only as your head tucks into her cheek. Her arms grasp your shoulders as your nose embraces hers. When you look into her cerulean eyes, the energy changes. That feeling when you find a missing disk to an empty case, or remembering an old song you would play in every car ride. Her lips against yours feel like lighting a sparkler.

She cums on the strap. You slow down to help her ride it out. "Did you feel good princess?" You push the fly aways away from her face.

"I did," she nods. You wait for her to guide you out before dashing to the bathroom.

You ditch the toy in the bathtub, running warm water in the sink to dampen a washcloth. You return to Abby timely, cleaning her with care. You make sure all the slick is removed from her curls before moving onto her thighs. "You're welcome to shower if you want one," you offer.

"Can we in the morning? Want to sleep with you." Her voice is edging on the whininess of tired. You toss the rag in the hamper, cuddling into her embrace.

You grab the remote from your bedside table, clicking the power on to the dog door in your bedroom.

Sometime during the night Candy climbed into bed with you. You wake up to her boxy head on your duvet covered hip, and Abby's large hand resting on her side.

#no men allowed #no minors allowed #abby anderson #abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #abby smut #abby the last of us 2 #abby x reader #reader x abby #sub!abby #dom!reader

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im-sew-curious · 5 months

Text

Isn't it glorious?

It’s here! I finally tackled my analysis of Key’s gold Gasoline era costume, worn in his music video for the song, photoshoots, a stage performance at the Inkigayo show, and a live performance at SM Town 2022. I’ll discuss everything from the fabrics used, the gloves, the shoes, complain about the zipper, talk about whatever the heck jumps are, break down all of the tiny little types of ornamentation (including the things I don’t actually know the name for) and more.

It’s scary in the best way. Buckle up. Grab some coffee or tea or vodka and a blanket.

I want to preface this by saying that this is going to be VERY long. I’ve polled my followers and nearly everyone said they want me to get as granular as I want. So I’m doing that. If that’s not your thing, here’s your exit ramp now. I get it. This is absurd.

You can also read it on my Twitter here. It actually has a LOT of bonus photos because they only allow me to have 30 on here, if you’re interested in seeing more. It may help clarify some things, as well.

Now then. Welcome to those who are left. Let’s begin!

Costumes by Dénicheur by Seo Seung Yeon

For his Gasoline era, Key has had four costumes designed and made by Dénicheur by Seo Seung Yeon, a Haute Couture Designer House that, among other things, makes elaborate costumes for Kpop performers. They’ve got an amazing Instagram portfolio to check out. They made him a gold and black costume for his G.O.A.T in the Keyland concert, the blue and white one for the Gasoline MV, this gold one, and a cream and gold beaded jacket for the 2023 SM Town Concert.

This fashion house’s trademark is intricately beaded, appliquéd…encrusted…costumes. I was able to get some high quality photos from some of you (thanks so much!) And the more I looked, the more I discovered.

If this were a piece of art (well, it is, but not in the same way) “Mixed Media” is what I’d call it. There are literally over twenty different types of beading techniques, appliqués, various types of sequins, trims, braids, rhinestones, chains, and more.

First, I’ll do an overview of the garments themselves, and then I’ll move on to the ornamentation.

The top (it’s not a jacket, it’s not really a shirt, it’s not a tunic. So I’m going with “top”) has a very boxy torso with exaggerated wide, padded shoulders. They’re completely squared. There are straight sleeves—not too slim, not too bulky. There’s a heavily ornamented oversleeve that reaches down to about his elbows and a “nude” colored full length under sleeve. It also has heavily ornamented cuffs at the bottom the sleeve. It has an exposed zipper up the center back that goes up into a short turtleneck collar. The collar and a portion of the lower neck back region are sheer with some beading and appliqués. There are sheer spirals around his arms and in chevrons on his front and scooping around to his back.

Just LOOK AT that masterpiece

The trousers are closely cut through the waist, hips, and thighs but become a bit wider at the knee. It looks like they were made full length but are always worn bunched up over knee high boots. They close at the center front with a very beautifully set fly zipper and flat trouser hook and bar. It’s so low profile that it wasn’t until I got some 4K images that I was even sure of where they closed. It was like he had been sewn in. I wrote a whole thread about it on Twitter that reads like a mystery novel, though I already spoiled the ending for you. Sorry.

The top is made of what is probably a “nude” (aka specially dyed to his skin tone) base fabric to hold the structure, with the ornamentation stitched over top. The external stabilizing fabric is what appears to be some sort of jacquard, possibly silk.

Jacquard is a type of weave, where the fabric is made of long and short “up and down” stitches of sorts, to make a pattern. Because some of the time it uses longer “stitches” on top, it becomes more vulnerable to the fiber breaking and makes it become kind of “fuzzy” looking. This can be especially true if it’s a natural fiber that usually has less structural integrity than a synthetic one. I initially thought this had started to happen on Key’s rear, but after a very close zoom in, I think that’s just a bit of appliqué edge pulling up. I think maybe one of his mic packs is down there too, but I’m really not an expert in that. I did the research so you don’t have to, folks.

Left: A type of jacquard fabric. The shine comes from the longer top threads, contrasting with details of shorter threads. Right: Is it an applique or is it some snagged fibers? Ultimately, I think it's an applique edge.

Perhaps the most interestingly nerdy thing about jacquard is that it was originally made on a loom that led to the creation of computer programming by utilizing a sort of “binary code.” There were punchcards that showed the strands of fibers when to go up and down. Like “holes and not holes” in which to weave.

A Jacquard Machine Loom with punchcards that create the desired design on the fabric

It’s important to note that this fabric needs to have some stretch because it is also used to make his very tight fitting trousers. If it were not a stretch fabric, he wouldn’t be able to do this like THIS or…most things, really.

Even though the jacquard is stretchy, it has some structure to it. It’s used as a stabilizer in between the “flesh mesh” on the outer layer. (aka power net, stretch mesh... There are many names!) It forms the base on which the majority of the ornamentation is stitched.

Flesh mesh is a stretchy mesh fabric dyed to the performer’s skin color and is used to give the illusion that you’re seeing their skin, but it gives much more strength than just a cutout. I wrote a thread about flesh mesh and the importance of taking into consideration the performer’s actual skin tone when building them a costume here

In this case, flesh mesh allows for adornment of these areas, as well. It’s important to note that, even though it’s a separate layer over the base, it is “tacked” through all layers in a regular fashion so it doesn’t droop with the weight of all of the ornamentation.

There are also some parts that have metallic gold applied pieces. This was probably made of a beefy metallic spandex applied on top of the base rather than some solid pleather, due to way it behaves on the body. The latter would have been way too rigid in comparison to the rest of the fabrics.

Heavy gold stretch spandex, forming a chevron on which to affix beads and other trims

Okay. Range of movement time. You know how I love discussing this. That’s because it’s the single most important aspect of costumes for dancers.

Let’s talk armpit gussets. They’re an American football shaped piece of fabric that is stitched in the armpit partially to the sleeve underarm, and partially to the torso underarm. It’s often made of a stretch fabric, but sometimes it’s out of the original “fashion fabric,” which is what we call the main garment fabric.

Gussets out of different fabrics under each underarm. You can see the gold bunch under his arm when it's at his side

It allows the performer to more easily move their arms above their chest and head to help keep the top from riding up. You can see in this photo, though, that it does bunch up a little when his arm is down, because of the extra fabric. It has to go somewhere when it’s not taut.

With this particular top, it’s interesting to note that, due to the asymmetrical decoration of his arms, one gusset is the gold stretch fabric and the other is the jacquard. That means that, either both fabrics have the exact same stretch, or his arms may be SLIGHTLY more limited on one side than the other. That’s fun! I really geeked out about this observation.

Often with jackets for dancers, they’ll have what are called “commodity pleats” around the center back shoulder area. They’re a sort of sneaky hidden accordion-like bit of fabric that stretches out during movement that may otherwise split the back open. Taemin uses them a LOT. But, since this top is so boxy, Key doesn’t need them in this instance. He already had the room he needed without any other accommodations.

They put commodity pleats in the back of most of Taemin's closer fitting jackets. I wish they'd make them the same color as his jackets, though!

With Key’s trousers, we’ve already established that they’re made of a fabric with a decent amount of stretch. But since I can’t find many good photos of his bottom half, I’m unsure about if he also has “crotch gussets.”

By this point, I’m kind of notorious as being the “crotch gusset person.”

The following posts explain them in much more detail, but basically, they’re long triangular wedges that start in the trouser crotch and taper down to nothing in the inseam. These are often put in trousers of dancers when people need a better range of movement.

I wrote about this in detail regarding Taemin’s pleather pants he wore in his Metamorph concert, as well as all of SHINee in the Your Number dance video. You can find my posts on the subject here:(Metamorph) (Your Number)

Jinki rocking a black crotch gusset in SHINee's "Your Number" Performance Video (Black Version)

Gussets allow for extra room and movement when one is trying to do extreme leg movements like squatting. Unfortunately, I don’t have many good photos of his inseam. There’s so much going on with appliqués and piecing of mesh vs jacquard, it’s hard to tell. Part of the front half of his trousers is flesh mesh, swirling around them. The other parts are the jacquard, whereas the back is all jacquard.

I saw one photo which made me begin to wonder if the inseam is a little further forward than it could be, though. That could mean there IS a gusset. I’m really not sure...I don't have official visual confirmation, but now you know more about crotch gussets either way. You’re welcome.

That seam line is up a bit more forward than usual. It really has me wondering, because that would happen if there was a gusset installed. Hmmmm.

Okay. Zipper education time. I apologize in advance. Things get spicy but I tried to tamp it down. The center back (abbreviated as “CB” in the industry) of the top has an exposed zipper. This means exactly what it sounds like: it’s exposed. You look at it, and it looks like there’s a zipper right there. It’s not hidden. Sometimes it’s a perfect match, and sometimes it’s “featured.” Exposed zippers actually become a trend every once in a while in everyday fashion.

I thought it was extremely interesting that, on this elaborate costume, they chose to use a zipper with metallic teeth on white “tape.” (The fabric on the sides of the teeth.) It was a huge disappointment for me, actually. I would have loved to have seen the zipper more carefully hidden like his fly was.

Hello, zipper. I see you loud and clear!

I have to comment a bit on what I view as the one flaw in this otherwise perfect costume. I will preface this by saying that I was not in the fitting room where this was conceived, and I don’t know about any extenuating circumstances and the reasoning behind this decision. But there a few things that I would have done differently regarding the zipper and back collar of this top if were to have made it.

But first: some zipper education. Besides exposed, there are center lapped, as well as regular lapped zippers. With the center lap, it’s like the fabric covers your zipper but you can pull the zipper down through it. Your hoodie probably has one. The regular lap zipper is more like your trouser fly in that there is one flap of fabric that covers the whole zipper, hiding it.

Top: Exposed. (Though it has a matching zipper and zipper tape.) Bottom Left: Center Lapped. Right: Regular Lapped.

Either of those types could have been used to make the zipper more discreet. I personally would have chosen to use a regular lapped zipper, which is less likely to get snagged than a center lapped zipper.

People have defended the exposed zipper by asking if it’s because it’s less likely to get caught. I very much get this argument, and, technically it’s right.

But, in my extensive experience, I don’t think I can recall a case of an exposed zipper in the back of a costume, quick change or no. It’s unattractive. (Not to mention a dead giveaway in a period garment!)

If it’s sewn well and tested, with the correct size lap and no loose fabric, it will work just fine. There should be a hook and eye at the top to make sure that it stays secure while dancing.

Part of being a good dresser is being methodical and purposeful, not frantically zipping something up in a way that is more prone to snagging. They keep their cool, perhaps taking a couple more seconds but ensuring that they pull it up smoothly. They use their fingers to block the overlap as they guide the zipper up.

(Random side note: I met a dresser once who preferred zippers be installed upside down for their quick changes. Hey, whatever works best for them! I wonder how they discovered that…)

I will also note that, as far as I’m aware, the only times he’s worn this costume, he didn’t need to get in or out of it quickly. I know that he wore it in the MV, the Inkigayo performance, and the photoshoot. He also performed at SM Town Tokyo 2022, though he had 11 songs during which to change between Bad Love and this. He never wore this look at his G.O.A.T. in the Keyland concert. Oh, and the collab with the Jinro frog. I’ll talk about that later.

So ultimately, all of the zipper quick change talk is for nothing. There COULD have been a chance that this was going to be worn during his concert, I suppose. But if not, in the end, I can find no reason that there needed to be an exposed zipper other than: they wanted it that way.

Sorry for that rant. I know that it was intense. I just…wish it were pretty. That’s all. I know it wouldn’t have bothered most people, but I personally think that the costume deserved better!

Well then. They arranged the symmetrical beaded appliqué motifs so they didn’t interfere with the center back line, so it wasn’t an issue being all chonky around the zipper.

Unfortunately, since the zipper was built into the neck with just the “stretch mesh,” it moves very differently than the rest of the top. It has a substantially weaker structural makeup and it can’t support itself the same, so it stretched at a different rate than the zipper on the solid fabric on the bottom. It kind of “bubbled” when he moved and it rode up.

Showing the neck bubbling, and, on the bottom left photo, you can see that there is some sheer stabilizer to ensure that the zipper doesn't just tear out of the sheer net.

It couldn’t have been helped unless that whole back neck area had been backed with the solid nude base fabric. That’s what I would have done, personally. But using the stabilizer helped a bit. Without it, it may have not lasted a performance.

I don’t know why they did it that way, but the result was rather disappointing to me, especially considering the care that was taken with the rest of the garment.

Okay. End rant. The rest of the costume is EXQUISITE.

One more thing to note is that the zipper terminates about 4” above the top’s bottom hem. It is right around where his waist is. It was built that way to ensure that he was able to move his legs and hips comfortably without getting hung up anywhere.

His knee high boots were covered with the same peach jacquard as his top, as well as utilizing the gold fabric to serve as ornamental buckled straps.

The stretch element of the jacquard is further showcased by the fact that it pulls over the boot toe smoothly, with little issue. A completely stable fabric wouldn’t be able to do that.

Now for the ornamentation. Oooooh boy. There are around twenty types of various adornments on this costume, and I thought I’d highlight some of them.

I can spy about 15 different types of ornamentation here alone.

Beaded appliques at the neckline

Heavy chains

Rhinestone appliques and/or individual rhinestone pieces

Bugle bead chevrons

Gold round beads

Yellow individual small rhinestones

Grey beads in between bugle beads

Gold and silver flat braid trim

Gold stretch fabric

Round flat decorative chain

Hanging paillettes

Dark seed beads with some of the paillettes

Gold dangling lil dudes

A sequined applique peeking out from behind a chain

Utilizing the main fabric as a chevon stabilizer as a design detail

About paillettes: these might actually be my favorites. They’re like “floppy sequins” that only have one hole at an edge. They’re made of a very lightweight plastic, so they’re virtually silent. If you wear a dress completely covered in paillettes, you’ll just hear a little rustle. In this case, his were mainly attached via dangly wires as fringe around the upper sleeves. There are a few other random instances throughout the garment where they’re stitched on individually. You can read more about paillettes in my post here.

Appliqués: There are at least three different types of appliqués in this costume:

Beaded

Lace

Sequined

Rhinestone

Appliqués are premade decorative pieces. It looks like someone hand beaded everything on the costume, but they were able to take a shortcut by using these. So no, contrary to what you might believe, there wasn't someone laboriously hand beading every single thing on to this costume.

It still takes FOREVER to invisibly stitch each motif on to the costume as well as, in this case, sometimes layer upon layer. A lot of them are attached to a net base, and in closeups, I saw how they trimmed the net away closely around the motifs.

On the top, we have the gold paisley sequined appliques. On his trousers, you can see the low profile lurex embroidered lace appliques. Bottom left, you can see the beaded and rhinestone applique. And on the right, beaded appliques. You can see that they're over flesh mesh so, when it's on Key, it just looks like he has a beaded collar.

The sequined, beaded paisley motifs are the most prominent and plentiful form of appliqués, focusing around the top’s cuffs and lower edge. They’re also heavily featured spiraling around the trousers. There are even some appliqués stitched across the seams of the trousers and top.

There are some huge, gorgeous bead and rhinestone appliqués, like this one on his right bicep that you can see in the photo above.

There’s also the Lurex lace (metallic threaded) embroidered appliqués that concentrate mostly on his trousers' waist and hips. It’s low profile without any bits that might snag the top while moving. They added a few jewels to it further down once it was no longer posing any danger to snags. There are also a few flat appliqués on his rear, so as to not make sitting uncomfortable but still be adorned.

Beads and gemstones: There are also individual beads and jewels both sewn and what appears to be discreetly glued on as accents. A popular adhesive we use for that sort of application is called E6000. It bonds pretty much everything from plastic, leather, metal, rubber, and wood. It’s like a slower acting super glue, but is more flexible.

You definitely need to use this in a ventilated area or, ideally, with a respirator. The fumes are no joke! There are little chevrons made out of long tubular metallic bugle beads that were probably glued instead of stitched on. There are also round bronze beads and gold rhinestones glued to the edges of the metallic fabric.

There are little dangling gold dudes, though I don’t know what they’re officially called. There are individual sew on rhinestones. There are circular decorative flat chains. There is gold beaded fringe at the wrists of the sleeves.

Top left: gold braid, beads and chains are heavily featured. Top right: the dangling gold dudes. I don't know what to call them. Bottom left: Paillettes, hanging on gold wires on the upper sleeve hem. Bottom right: Gemstones highlighting the center of the chest, with a whole organized, beautiful mess of braid, beads, etc.

There’s gold flat “braid” trim that also looks like it has a bit of silver in it to add dimension. It’s basically like a braided ribbon, often in metallic colors. It’s used a lot in military uniforms.

And there are a few other various random beads and trims that show up amongst the circus of adornment.

The layout of the overall design is asymmetrical, with left and right arms and legs that don’t match. However, the front of the top is completely symmetrical (which is extremely impressive) except for a few rampant rhinestones that intentionally deviate a bit. Here’s an abomination I made of the sleeves next to each other to see the asymmetry more clearly.

I THINK (not based on this photo but others that aren't Frankensteined together with different perspectives) that the sleeves are actually different lengths as well.

Something that I should cover is that with garments made out of a stretch fabric, like Key’s trousers in this case, stitching on something non-stretchy (like some appliqués) can be fraught. The appliqué can keep the fabric from stretching as much as it needs to accommodate a body in it, and it might tear off.

Sometimes, we need to stretch the fabric a bit as we sew on the motif so it will look normal when a leg is in it. It may look a bit puckered when it’s not being worn. The good news is that it appears that most of the motifs in this costume are on what is most likely a mesh backing, so they probably didn’t have to deal with that headache here!

Since the motif on the Jacquard fabric is pretty small, as well as the fact that some of the appliqués wrapped across the side seams, “pattern matching” wasn’t a big priority on this. However, it’s always preferable to keep the motifs at the same horizontal height. This is a REALLY small pattern, so it wouldn't matter terribly, plus the fact that it was so covered it can hardly be seen. There WAS a point on the right side seam where the pattern did match, but the fabric slightly torqued on the left so it didn’t. All in all, it wasn’t a big deal whatsoever. If it were a bigger print though, it could have been. I made a thread about pattern matching here. It's a subject I'm pretty passionate about!

This side seam was cut so that, at a fixed point, the motif was all at the same level horizonatally at there was a part where the motif perfectly matched up to create one complete one. Because there are curves in the seam, it can't do that everywhere.

Now for a bit of a departure: SHINee and its members have done a few collabs over the years, dancing with the frog mascot from Jinro soju. SHINee did one for Don’t Call Me, Taemin did one for Move, and Key did one for Gasoline.

They dressed the frog up like Key, complete with jewels and chains! It was precious. SO GOOD. Watch it now. I also bring this up because that video was the resource I used to figure out where the gold chains on Key’s top were “tacked” (AKA stitched to keep it held down strategically.) It was a nice close-up view. Thanks, Jinro frog!

(Side note: I have made mascots before and it's ironic because they freak me out. I also refurbished a hot dog mascot that had gotten too gross after public appearances over a decade. My life is weird.)

I love how scaled-back but accurate the frog's costume was.

Through the magic of the Jinro frog, I found the answer to the question “where were the chains tacked?” Here. Enough that they still have independent swing and look natural, but frequent enough to keep them from smacking him in the face. Based on the way they move, I think that is metallic coated plastic and not actual metal. Also, for safety's/comfortability's sake! You don't want to be thumped in the chest with every move.

Here's where the chains were tacked

Someone asked me how much they thought this costume weighed. My answer?

I really have no idea…but probably not NEARLY as much as it looks? I'm like 99.9% sure the chains aren't actual metal. I’m not sure if the “jewels” are glass or plastic. The tiiiiiny “seed beads” and "bugle beads" are glass, but there aren’t enough that they would weigh a significant amount. There's a lot of gold braid on there that's very lightweight. A lot of what you see are layered appliqués with sequins and seed beads, which weigh nearly nothing. The dangling paillettes are just a light plastic.

For the garments themselves, as we’ve established, the are a few layers of fabric and mesh, which aren’t very heavy. Because of the “encrusted” nature of the ornamentation, of course, it still weighs a bit more than just a regular top, and is probably kind of rigid on the front. However, it’s not like he’s dancing around in chainmail.

Lastly, there are his gloves. His left one is made out of that heavy gold stretch fabric that was incorporated into the rest of his costume, and his right was also made out of a flesh mesh. From the way it behaves in this photo, it appears to be a much heavier mesh than the top and trousers.

The right glove has thicker mesh that almost appears to have a natural fiber content that is getting snagged. It doesn't completely conform to the skin like a tight flesh mesh would.

The gloves are heavily ornamented with appliqués and beads. I’m going to guess that these were actually custom made for him, which is a big deal. I know very little about glove making, except it involves a TON of pieces to be done right. Gussets in between the fingers to make them slim and elegant and such. No Mickey Mouse hands here.

Stitching the ornamentation on to gloves is pretty difficult work. You either need a hand form and a curved needle or a very brave stitcher who uses their own hand as a form (palm up.) I haven’t done that for gloves, specifically, but I have been a “sacrificial hand” for other situations. I’m so calloused in most places, I don’t really feel much anymore!

There’s one more aspect to this costume that was seen in the intro for his Gasoline Inkigayo performance: the cloak. He didn’t wear it for very long, but it appears to button across his chest to the other shoulder with snaps underneath. The snaps keep the underlap from peeking out from…under the lap.

It looks like they might have had a wardrobe emergency here, because you can see that two of the three snaps were hastily stitched on with red thread. The ornamentation is asymmetrical, mostly focused on his right side. On his left shoulder, there is a decorative beaded “epaulette.” Those are the ornamental shoulder pieces you often see on military dress uniforms.

Left: The full cloak. You can see the facing on the inside edges, made of the same fabric as the outside. I'll write about that in a bit, and I'll show you a closer view later. Top right: The red thread holding on the upper snaps. Bottom right: Metallic epaulette.

It’s hooded and made out of the same jacquard fabric as the rest of his costume, and it has a satin lining the same color as the “fashion fabric.” It appears to be about calf length. One of the photos I found actually has a shot that shows the facing, the lining, and how the hem is done. Of course, I nerded out. It’s “self faced,” which means that there’s the same fabric that’s on the outside making up the “facing.” The facing is the first ten inches or so of the inside edge of the cloak. It makes a pretty transition from the outside to the inside, without a harsh switch to lining.

Then, there’s the hem.

While attached at the top, the hem of the lining and the outer fashion fabrics are allowed to “hang out” separately while on a dress form. Because fabrics stretch out at different rates (and it also changes by the direction they’re cut from the fabric, but that’s a whole different lesson…) it’s ideal for something like this to hang on a dress form and do its thing for a day or so.

In an ideal world, you’d have a fitting with your performer and you would mark a “level line” on them while they’re wearing the cloak (and also the shoes they will be wearing. Different shoes can change a lot!)

There are several different ways you can mark a hem. You can safety pin it up the way you want it, using a ruler measuring up from the floor to keep it even. But this can be awkward and clunky.

Or you can safety pin a “level line” and say that it’s, for instance, 18” off the ground, and you’d like the hem to be 16” off the ground. You’d draw a new hemline 2” down from the pins. It's the easiest way to know what's level and then decide exactly what you want to do later.

OR you can use what I call “the poofer” which is a little measuring stick on a tripod with chalk and a rubber squeezy ball that poofs chalk into a line at a set height, instead of dealing with pins. But sometimes the chalk doesn’t like to brush away, so that’s a bit of a risk in exchange for convenience.

First, let’s talk about hemming the outside cloak fabric. Because it may have stretched out unevenly, you may have wildly different hems lengths now that they’ve been “leveled.” Let’s say we’ll leave 6” of “hem allowance” to fold up into the garment so it can be lengthened later if we need to. You’ll trim the rest of it away. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve altered hem lengths on cloaks over the years! I'm always grateful to have extra.

You may want to finish the hem with a “serger” or “overlock” machine, which is the sewing machine that uses 3-4 threads to sew things, often stretch, together and kind of seals off the edges. It’s probably what stitches together the side seams of your t-shirt or hoodie or lounge pants or basically anything stretchy. It’s used to keep hems and the edges of fabrics inside garments from fraying. Sometimes people don’t do it, especially since it's inside, but it’s nice if you’re planning on altering it or if the fabric is really prone to fraying.

The cloak fabric is then thoroughly pinned and hand stitched up. There are many different sneaky stitches which grab a few threads at a time from the front of the fabric and are virtually invisible. Everyone has their favorites. My personal favorite is the “vertical hemming stitch” or “vertical blind hem.” I like it because it holds the inner hem and the outside of the cloak more tightly together than a lot of other styles. The “cross stitch” which is called the “blind catch stitch” here in this diagram is one of the most popular methods. However, I feel it can be a bit too loose some times and is more likely to be caught on something. The one downside of the vertical blind hem is that, if you pull it too tight, it’s more likely to show from the outside. It takes a very sensitive hand to get it right. The lining is usually slip-stitched to the cloak hem.

Once you’ve got your level line of your fashion fabric, it goes back on the dress form. I’m…not entirely sure I’ll do a good job explaining this because I work best with showing things with points and grunts. My apologies.

You mark the lining to match the level where the hem of the fashion fabric ends. You decide how far up from the bottom of the hem you want the lining to end (in this case, 4”.) So normally, you think you'd fold it up 4", right? Ha! You subtract two inches from that number. This means you’ll be folding up only two inches of lining. But, since we will be stitching it 4” up from the hem, that means there’s a floppy extra two inches. (Cue Advice.) What’s that for? Now I have to tell you about “jumps.”

Jumps are a sneaky trick. This method is used in suit coat hems and sleeve linings as well. Basically, they’re a way to give a little bit of wiggle room with the length of the lining to hem interaction.

After the fashion fabric is hemmed, you hand stitch the lining 4” up from the hem. You have two extra inches of lining. One extra inch of lining is pressed down so there’s an extra inch of “underlap". This photo (top right) showed me that they had done this to Key’s cloak. You can see it stretched out with the pressed line on the left, and it is folded over on the right.

Left: The "self fabric facing" at the center front inside of the cloak. Top right: The cloak hem showing the underside of the "jump" (left) and it down in its "resting" position (right). Bottom right: the "poofer." They're marking a level line.

If you want to get even MORE granular, that is considered a “soft press”, which means that the iron steams and very lightly rests on the fabric. A “hard press” is what it sounds like. Squish that lil dude and steam the heck out of it. That line is never gonna come out.

Okay. Enough of that. I can’t believe myself.

I could literally discuss this costume inch by inch, but I think I’ve covered it enough that you can peruse it yourself if you’d like and kind of know what you’re looking at.

I deeply admire and respect the, perhaps, 100+ hours of craftspersonship that it took to make this stunning costume. Don’t even ask me what it cost to make!

Do check out the Instagram of @denicheur.official where you can see other costumes they’ve worked on for groups like IVE, Enhypen, Stray Kids and more. They’ve got an amazing portfolio to drool over.

I hope you’ve gained an even greater appreciation for this gorgeous look, and the knowledge you’ve gained here can go forward with you as you enjoy future costumes! And thanks so much for sticking with me. I hope it was worth it!

#Shinee key #Key shinee #kpop #kpop costume #kpop costumes #Key #shinee #costume design #costume construction #costumes #gold costume #costume analysis #fashion analysis

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autumnalfallingleaves · 1 month

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Hello! This was asked for by @kananarchiste and I've finally gotten around to writing it up-- my pattern for my crochet doll of Commander Cody-- and I'm giving it away for free! (If anyone does make this, please tag me-- I'd love to see it!!)

Commander Cody crochet doll pattern

I've never written up a proper pattern before, so I apologize for any confusing bits or mistakes in advance. If you get stuck on something or if something is unclear, please shoot me an ask or DM and I'll do my best to help out.

Additional Pictures:

Yarn Weight: 4

Hook: 4 mm

Colors:

White

Yarn in Jango’s skin tone (I used Lion Brand Yarn’s Skein Tones yarn in adobe)

Black

Dark brown (for scar; contrasts with skin tone)

212th gold/orange (this can be hard to find. I got mine at a local independent store)

Grey

Extra materials:

Buttons and thread OR safety eyes (I used buttons because I like the look of them better)

Stitch markers

Yarn needle

Abbreviations Key:

Ch – chain

Dec – decrease

FO – fasten off

Inc – increase

Rep from * – repeat from *

Sc – single crochet

Sc2tog – single crochet two stitches together

Ss – slip stitch

St – stitch

Additional Notes:

All parts save for some embellishments are worked in the round. It is recommended that the crocheter mark each round for clarity.

Entire doll is worked in single US crochet.

Magic circle is NOT used.

I’m not sure what the gauge is, but mine is quite tight. Use a smaller hook if you feel as though your gauge is too loose.

BODY AND HAIR

Head– in adobe

1. Chain 2. Into the first st, sc 6 and mark with a stitch marker. (6) 2. Sc2 into each sc around. Mark. (12) 3-6. Increase by 6 each round to 48. (48) 7. Sc around. (48) 8. Inc by 6 (54) 9. Sc around. (54) 10. Inc by 6. (60) 11-12. Sc around. (60) 13. Inc by 6. (66) 14-15. Sc around. (66) 16. Inc by 6. (72) 17-18. Sc around. (72) 19. Dec by 6. (66) 20-21. Sc around. (66) 22-34. Dec by 6 in same pattern as increases. FO after crocheting 12 at row 34. Stuff firmly.

Body– in white, grey, black

1. In white, ch2 and sc6 into second st from the hook. Mark. 2-12. Inc by 6 each round to 72. (72) 13-23. Sc around. (72) 24. Sc29 and FO. Ss in with grey and sc14. FO. Ss in with white and finish round. (72) 25. Sc30 and FO. Ss in with grey and sc12. FO. Ss in with white and finish round. (72) 26. Sc31 and FO. Ss in with grey and sc10. FO. Ss in with white and finish round. (72) 27. Sc32 and FO. Ss in with grey and sc8. FO. Ss in with white and finish round. (72) 28. Sc33 and FO. Ss in with grey and sc6. FO. Ss in with white and finish round. (72) 29. Sc34 and FO. Ss in with grey and sc4. FO. Ss in with white and finish round. (72). 30-41. Sc around in white. (72) 42. Dec by 6. (66) 43. Sc around. (66) 44. Dec by 6. (60) 45. Sc around. (60). 46. Dec by 6. (54) 47. Sc around. (54) 48. Dec by 6. (48) 49. Sc around and FO. (48) 50. In black, ss in and dec by 6. (42) 51. Dec by 6. (36) 52. Dec by 6. (30) 53. Dec by 6. (24) At this point, stuff the body firmly. 54. Dec by 6. (18) 55. Dec by 6. (12) 56. Sc around and FO, leaving a long tail, enough to sew the head on. (12) Using grey yarn and a yarn needle, stitch a trooper’s upper chest plate shape (from beginning of black area to about round 45, 5 rows above the grey shape). Center it above the grey shape. Also stitch a belt shape below the shape, shifting to a row below in the middle of the back. For chest plate pattern, see diagram #4. For how to stitch a pattern in, see diagrams #1-3.

Arms– in white, black (make 2)

1. In black, ch2 and sc6 in second ch from hook. Mark. (6) 2. Sc2 in each st around. (12) 3. Inc by 6. (18) 4. Inc by 6. (24) 5. Inc by 6. (30) 6-9. Sc around. (30) 10. Dec by 2. (28) 11. Sc3 and FO. Ss in white and finish the round. (28) 12-14. Sc around. (28) 15. Dec by 2. (26) 16-19. Sc around. (26) 20. Dec by 2. (24) 21-24. Sc around. (24) 25. Dec by 1 and sc3. FO. Ss in black and dec by 1, finishing the round. (22) 26-27. Sc around. (22) 28. Sc3 and FO. Ss in white and finish the round. (22) 29. Sc around. (22) 30. Dec by 2. (20) 31-34. Sc around. (20) 35. Dec by 2. (18) 36-39. Sc around. (18) 40. Dec by 2. (16) 41-44. Sc around. (16) At this point, stuff the arm. 45. Sc2tog around. FO, leaving a long tail. (8)

Legs– in white, black (make 2)

1. In white, ch2 and sc6 into the second ch from hook. Mark. (6) 2-7. Inc by 6 to 42. (42) 8-13. Sc around. (42) 14. Dec by 2. (40) 15-16. Sc around. (40) 17. Dec by 2. (38) 18-19. Sc around. (38) 20. Dec by 2. (36) 21. Sc around. (36) 22. Sc3 and FO. Ss in black and finish round. (36) 23. Dec by 2. (34) 24-25. Sc around. (34) 26. Dec by 1, sc2 and FO. Ss in white, sc10, and dec by 1. Finish round. (32) 27-28. Sc around. (32) 29. Dec by 2. (30) 30-31. Sc around. (30) 32. Dec by 2. (28) 33-34. Sc around. (28) 35. Dec by 2. (26) 36-37. Sc around. (26) 38. Dec by 2. (24) 39-40. Sc around. (24) 41. Dec by 2. (22) 42-43. Sc around. (22) 44. Dec by 2. (20) 45-46. Sc around and FO, leaving a long tail. (20) Stuff firmly. Using the yarn needle and grey yarn, stitch in a grey line about 10-11 rows above the starting circle. This is meant to delineate feet.

Hair– in black

1. In black, ch2 and sc6 into the second ch from hook. Mark. (6) 2-9. Inc by 6 to 54. (54) 10. Sc around. (54) 11. Inc by 6. (60) 12. Sc around. (60) 13. Inc by 6. (66) 14. Sc around. (66) 15. Inc by 6. FO. (66) Turn the dome inside out, so the backs of the stitches are facing out. Ss into the last st made. 16. Working right back along the last row, (sc48 and ch1)*, turn. (48) 17-23. Rep from *, turning each time. FO. (48) 24. Ss in at 7 sc in from the end of the last row and sc to the same on the other side, turn. (36) 25-26. Sc36, turn. (36) 27. Dec by 2 across row, turn. (34) 28-29. Sc across, turn. (34) 30. Dec by 2 across row, turn. (32) 31-32. Sc across, turn. (32) 33. Dec by 6 across row, turn. (26) 34. Sc across, turn. (26) 35. Dec by 6 across row, turn. (20) 36. Sc across and FO. (20) Turn right-side-out again. At this point, attach all limbs and the head to the body with the tails from the body and limbs. Don’t attach the hair until the ears are done. Attach with the seams from white-black transitions on limbs facing up and out for the legs and to the back for the arms. These will be covered with armor embellishments.

EMBELLISHMENTS

Pauldrons– in 212th gold/orange (make 2)

1. In 212th gold/orange, ch2 and sc6 into the second ch from hook. Mark. (6) 2-5. Inc by 6 to 30 and FO, leaving a long tail. (30) Attach to the tops of the arms in the shoulder area. Tuck in ends.

Leg pads– in 212th gold/orange (make 2)

1. In 212th gold/orange, ch3 + 1 for turning. Turn. (3) 2. Inc by 1, sc1, inc by 1, turn. (5) 3. Sc across, turn. (5) 4. Inc by 1, sc3, inc by 1, turn. (7) 5-7. Sc across and turn. (7) 8. Dec by 1, sc3, dec by 1, turn. (5) 9. Sc across and turn. (5) 10. Dec by 1, sc1, dec by 1, FO, leaving a long tail. (3) Attach to the legs where the black meets white and vice-versa. Tuck in ends.

Handguards– in 212th gold/orange (make 2)

1. In 212th gold/orange, ch5 + 1 for turning. Turn. (5) 2. Sc across, turn. (5) 3. Inc by 1, sc3, inc by 1, turn. (7) 4. Sc across and turn. (7) 5. Sc across and FO, leaving a long tail. (7) Attach over the backs of the hands where black meets white. Tuck in ends.

Back panel– in 212th gold/orange (make 1)

1. In 212th gold/orange, sc10 + 1 to turn. Turn. (10) 2. Inc by 1, sc8, inc by 1, turn. (12) 3. Inc by 1, sc10, inc by 1, turn. (14) 4-8. Sc across and turn. (14) 9. Dec by 1, sc10, dec by 1, turn. (12) 10. Dec by 1, sc8, dec by 1, turn. FO, leaving a long tail. (10) Attach to the back where the belt stitching jumps a row. Tuck in ends.

Elbow pads– in 212th gold/orange (make 2)

1. In 212th gold/orange, sc2 + 1 for turning. Turn. (2) 2. Inc by 1, inc by 1, turn. (4) 3. Sc across and turn. (4) 4. Inc by 1, sc2, inc by 1, turn. (6) 5. Sc across and turn. (6) 6. Dec by 1, sc2, dec by 1, turn. (4) 7. Sc across and turn. (4) 8. Dec by 1, dec by 1 and FO, leaving a long tail. (2) Attach to the backs of the elbows where white meets black and vice-versa. Tuck in ends.

Ears– in adobe (make 2) – You want to make a half-circle

1. In adobe, ch2 and sc6 into the second ch from hook. Mark. (6) 2. Sc2 into the first 3 st of the round to make 6 st and ch1 to turn. Turn. (6) 3. (Inc by 1 + 1 sc) 3 times and FO, leaving a long tail. (9) Using the yarn needle, sew each ear onto either side of the lower half of the head, leaving room for the hair to go on. At this point, attach the hair. Using the yarn needle and grey yarn, stitch in grey stripes on Cody’s arms.

SUNBURST

Central ray– in 212th gold/orange (make 1)

1. Sc4 + 1 for tuning. (4) 2-10. Sc across, turn. FO, leaving a long tail. (4) Attach to the top of the grey shape on the chest, pointing up. Tuck in ends.

Side and bottom rays– in 212th gold/orange (make 3)

1. Sc4 + 1 for tuning. (4) 2-7. Sc across, turn. FO, leaving a long tail. (4) Attach to the sides and bottom of the grey shape. Tuck in ends.

Ray tops, for side rays– in 212th gold/orange (make 2)

1. Sc4 + 1 for tuning. (4) 2-3. Sc across, turn. FO, leaving a long tail. (4) Attach to the tops of the side rays, leaving a small white space between the top of the rays and the ray tops. Tuck in ends.

FACE

Eyes

Buttons: using a sewing needle, attach the buttons to the yarn stitches so that they form eyes.

Safety Eyes: if using safety eyes, attach as normal in the desired position.

Eyebrows

Using the yarn needle with black yarn, form the eyebrows. Cut the yarn and tie the ends together. Pull the yarn so that the knot in on the inside of the crochet and not facing out.

Scar

Using the yarn needle with dark brown yarn, stitch Cody’s scar in.

DIAGRAMS/PICTURES

#star wars #commander cody #marshal commander cody #cc 2224 #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #swtcw #tcw #crochet #amigurumi #crochet doll #crochet pattern #beans art #considering making smaller trooper dolls but im likely to sell those patterns #this one is free though :)

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