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frzngrapes · 2 years

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whoever the fuck these are, pt.1:

Keycie

Recently, I have invented these... I would say OCs, but they're not part of any story. I think it would be more accurate to call them personas, or avatars idk. (i vent and introspect a lot in this, i low-key wrote this for my therapist, she keeps asking me about my characters and imaginary friends)

Physical appearance: we have the same face (picture a pretty black girl... yea that's me. maybe a bit paler) All of these little characters do. Except Cherry. Cherry doesn't have a face. But Keycie has a bigger afro. Really really long hair, she gets asked if they're real often. And they're purple! she has braces with rainbow elastics, and oversized round glasses. You can picture her with sparkling purple fairy wings, or not.

Fashion style: maximalist and inventive. lots of colours and sparkles. Sparkles and rhinestones are a VERY big part of her fashion. she loves anything frilly, her favourite fashion item is tutu skirts. heavy decora and scene influences.

colors: purple, rainbows, neon colours, anything sparkly, animal patterns

TV show: Monster High, Project Runaway

tunes: Keycie's playlist

gender: none (any pronouns, prefers she/they/it/doll)

age: 15

zodiac: Leo sun, Aries rising, Gemini Mars

art, mediums and techniques : aquarelles, collages, crayons, clothes and furnitures, amateur music

Anyways, meet the coolest person ever: Keycie! Keycie the person I thought I was going to be, when I was a child. If a few things went differently, I'm sure I would've became her. What should I explain firsts... maybe her name?

I never identified with my dead name. When I was a kid, I wanted people to call me Keycie. Because pronounced in English, that's what my initials were: KC. Also because it sounded like the name an American cheerleader in a Disney Channel show could have, and I wanted to be a cheerleader (and a Disney Channel character). So that became my alias on literally every online game for young girls (moviestarplanet, amour sucré, shopaholic and the list goes on), and on my 3DS

okay, so Keycie lives in an alternate reality, she obviously doesn't exist here. We communicate by sending each other letters, she's wise, and honestly smarter [when I was a kid, people told me i was smart all the time. i got good grades easily and my mom would tell me i was better than the others, and should be n°1. tbh, 8yo me though she was a genius, and more mature than others (i would literally ask my mom to make me run an iq test, i was persuaded it would turn out higher than average lmao (i never took the test)... but now i feel so dumb, behind, and incapable, how ironic.] than me, so she gives great advice, but she's a bit clueless. She doesn't know much about our reality, I have to explain everything to her, in great details.

Now let's move on to her life! The key part is that Keycie does a lot of things. She does rhythmic gymnastics, and theater. She sews her own clothing and when she doesn't, she customs things from the thrift store. She runs a fashion blog and post her outfits on Instagram, because she doesn't care what her classmates would think about it. She loves learning kpop dances and posts her covers on Instagram, she doesn't do things to be good, she does them to have fun! She knows how to sing and posts her covers on YouTube, because she isn't scared of being made fun of. Actually she makes her own music too. She makes silly little tunes on garage band, and she is in a band. She plays the drums there, but she also knows how to play the bass, the guitar, the piano and how to sing [nothing related to my childhood, i just think it's cool. Oh! but there's an instrument i wanted to know how to play as a child!]. She plays the violin too. I don't actually think it's that possible for a human being to do that many stuff with their lives, but if 10 years old Vi saw me doing absolutely nothing he would be heartbroken. Oh, she loves reading, she spends hours and hours reading, whole afternoons, she reads until 4am. She writes fantasy and dystopian novels. they're not that good but she's getting better and better. Also, she's weirdly knowledgeable on science, she does well in physics, chemistry and biology class, actually she loves them!

Keycie is 15 years old. She doesn't know what she wants to do in the future (profession wise) yet but she has so many options because she loves so many things. She loves going to school, she absolutely loves finally being in highschool! She has top tier grade because as a kid I would've never imagined the effortless As i used to get would lead me to not knowing how to work, how to learn and how to study yk. Growing up, she learnt how to put in the extra work, that separated being naturally good and "avoir des facilités" (being "gifted") from being the best. Her mom and dad are proud of her. because She is finally fixed, time fixed her: she can focus on a task, she doesn't forget to do things, she doesn't procrastinate, she can manage herself properly, be organized, have a clean and clear bedroom. When she has a project she takes it to the finish line. She got into that selective design section in high-school, she did.

she has no actual irl friends and she thinks she's ugly. she never fell in love. She doesn't go a day without asking herself why she is in the world. What does she have to bring? she wants to change the world, or maybe to disappear, because she thinks if she can't leave an impact, there's no point in existing at all. She tends to lack empathy. I don't know how to explain it but she is so very disconnected from others,, she's literally not part of our world, she's in her own and She doesn't care about the real one. the fantasy of a kid that manifested into some reality, She might as well be a fairy or have psychic powers. if you get to talk to her, she will be clueless about what you're saying and probably answer something completely unrelated. She can be... idk, insensitive? when I first started sending her letters, she would reply things like "well, It could be worse". but overtime she learnt how to be a good listener :)

I feel like she used to be me in some way, up until some point, but without knowing I lost her. You know how she's very talkative? these days I'm very quiet. I kind of lost the sparkles. If primary school me saw me last year, she would think (aside from some details): "Yup, that's me makes perfect sense. Not too surprised I turned out like that". I was still partially Keycie. And I guess she would recognise me when i'm with my best friends. But if she saw me any other time (aside from when i'm making art, playing bass, or taking walks in nature), she would be so confused. Because I lost Keycie. do i make sense? before, I used to know who I was, and I miss that. This character, and the letters I write for it are a way for me to honour the person i used to be, and the dreams i had

I know it's normal that I'm not her. It's normal to fail, it's normal to change, it's normal to deviate from the path, to be deceived by the world, to struggle and to grow up. But i don't want to. I guess I have to suck it up, to evolve even if it's to be someone else. And I'm sure as I heal, I will find bits of her back. Keycie isn't perfect, and I can't be a kid forever

I forgot to mention: she has a cat and a well decorated bedroom with many plants and a Monster High dolls collection.

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sugar-petals · 3 years

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hey angel (m)

♡ sub!felix + reader

↳ The JYP Halloween party is ditched on short notice. That means: You have a down-to-celebrate boyfriend in full angel costume on your hands.

words. 5k

tags. domestic au, finger sucking, hickeys, latex, corruption kink, fingering, vaginal sex, footjob, harnesses, cunnilingus, kitten antics, edging, aftercare

★⎡CARO’S NOTE⎦› here goes the cutie on duty 👼

genre. domestic + smut/crack

„So sorry mate,“ Bang Chan’s voice resounds through the speaker. „I thought it could work but… We can’t celebrate tonight. Really sorry, Felix. Changbin and I already got dressed up too, but, you know things got shut down. JYP won’t let us with the Corona rules and stuff.“

„Oh no…“

„Yeah, man. Looks like we’ll have to do it next year.“

„You even prepared the food already, right?“

„We’re handing it out to staff and eat it at home. I know, it sucks. I spent half the morning in the kitchen. I can like keep the pumpkin cookies so you can eat them tomorrow after practice or so.“

„I feel so sorry Chan… and thank you.“

„I’ll be calling Hyunjin and Han now as well. Really sorry we’re cancelling short notice. I hope you’re still having a nice evening bro. Maybe we can make it happen for Christmas.“

„Okay. Cheers mate.“

„Yeah, cheers.“

Felix puts his phone down looking more than deflated in his angel costume, puffs out a big sigh. You can tell he really looked forward to this. Just an hour before, you bothered to sew the wings in place rather than rely on the wobbly back-pack like construction that came with it.

They’re firmly attached to his white top now, and all for nothing. He glued them together by himself with a pack of synthetic feathers ordered on Etsy for a ridiculous shipping cost, along with a little halo that he clipped into his hair. Which, because maybe it really does sense his mood, dangles low and even a bit lopsided over his head.

„It’s the party of the year,“ Felix flops down on the living room couch. “I can’t believe this.“

You sit down opposite to him, starting to clean off the table where masses of cosmetic products and leftover feathers have piles up.

„Next time, Lixie. We can keep the costume. Poor Chan, he organized the living shit out of everything.“

„I’ll just go and shower, get this off, and stuff,“ he points at his face. Felix applied his own makeup with a little help from you here and there, including some golden sparkles. Just yesterday, he bleached his hair. It’s sculpted down to every strand with hair spray now. Felix unties his sneakers with the little gold stars on. Just before he starts plucking off his halo, you get an idea, pick up your phone from the table.

„Wait— Let’s at least make some pictures with your phone, you put so much effort in this. You look so cute. The fans might want to see it as well.“

„Oh! You’re right,“ Felix stops right in his tracks. „For Instagram.“

After tightening his sneakers again and you making sure the halo sights right, Felix walks around your flat in search for a nice backdrop. You follow, quickly flipping through some filters to try, and adjusting the flash on the camera.

After posing at the fridge — strange idea — and in the bathroom turns out a little awkward as well, you decide that such an elaborate costume needs a themed background, and only the bedroom offers just that. You recently changed the duvet to sky blue sheets with clouds on them. The overall interior is mostly clean white as well, with some thrifted vintage furniture. Fairy lights, heavy curtains, a wooden ceiling. Perfect.

„We’ll caption it as… post your own stay-at-home costume, something like that,“ Felix plops down on the bed, acting as if he just took a seat on the cloud in the very middle.

„Sounds pretty good,“ you press release, and the first picture pops up on your screen. „Can you turn a little towards the light? That the sparkles are showing.“

„Yay, I love the sparkles!“

„Just like this, just like this. Don’t move. The sparkles!“

A five-picture series of more snapshots ensues, with you adjusting Felix’s face a few times by hand, even, turning his chin by sheer millimeters to find the perfect angle. He’s stunning.

„I have another idea.“

„Oh?“

„I remember what I wore for Halloween three years ago. The costume must be somewhere. I think it fits together with yours.“

„What, oh wow?“

„What was it again, wait…“

You already begin to sort through your wardrobe, checking each hanger, each drawer, end up where you store your socks, and finally pull out a larger plastic zip bag from the very depths of all that chaos. There it is. Nice.

„Lix, if you’d turn around for me, please.“

He immediately does. Blushing.

„Thank you, angel.“

You pull off your sweat pants, your grey shirt, socks, your bra. Time to dress up. Only your simple black panties stay on. On goes a pair of scarlet stockings, snug and high. Then, a dark red latex skirt that goes in big circles and flounces, down to the mid-thigh.

Added: A tight sleeveless peplum top that admittedly… and deliberately squeezes your boobs a little. Not too much. More important is that your nipples are showing right through, and the cleavage is sweeping, every demon would be salivating at your feet. If an angel does: Remains to be tested.

Around your waist and chest and over your shoulder goes a black harness, pulling everything together. Some very pointed, glossy pumps with thin heels complete the costume. They’re not crafted to be walked on in the very least, their balance is terrible. You’re planning something else with them. Cherry on top: Devil horn headband. Really curved and pointy, too. Can’t go wrong. You click your tongue and take a spin. The skirt flares out perfectly. Ready to go.

„Felix, time to turn around.“

He does. You can tell he didn’t cheat.

„You’re, you’re so hot in this,“ Felix buries his face right in the comfort of his sweater paws, hoping they would not give away his embarrassed little face. But — his voice does, effortlessly so.

„Come on, have a look at me. Real closely, angel, come. You’re allowed to.“

Felix gazes through his fingers with what sounds like a little meep! in a much more high-pitched tone than his usual speaking range. He’s cute.

„Hey pum’kin. Miss Lucifer speaking. Where’s the barbecue?“

Felix and you recently agreed that hell must be one big and extremely hot cave where everyone’s grilling and having a good time. Australia, essentially.

„Welp!“

„Damn right. Infiltrating God’s realm one cloud at a time. Any last words?“

„It’s so intimidating!“

Felix digs himself into a mountain of pillows on the bed, with only his eyes and nose peeking out. You shrug, adjust your horns.

„Hm. Time for my first satanic act I guess.“

„Oh no!“

„Wait just one minute, be a sweet and patient boy.“

You leave Yongbok confused given that you’re quick to hurry to the kitchen. However, what you return with puts a giggle on his lips right away.

„Boom. It is served.“

„Yes, yes, please!“

Poufy black cocoa cupcakes. The ones with the cute little ghost frosting on it, and the melted chocolate inside. Felix finds them irresistable since the last Halloween party, to the point where you bake them mid-July. The current set of cupcakes was meant to be a contribution to Bang Chan’s eerie and delectable buffet. As for now, they’re in deep need of someone hungry since you made a lot of them, assuming a post-workout Changbin would devour at least five or more.

„Good move,“ he admits, a little shaky, and you proceed to tray the cupcakes on the bed — stuffing Felix for a solid ten minutes until there’s chocolate all over his face. What you’ll be quick to confess is that you’ve been deliberately messy feeding him, with all the crumbs in particular.

„Spoiled honey bun,“ you plant a kiss on top of his head.

„These taste so good, I swear.“

Next up is Felix who has to carefully maneuver the sweet treats into your mouth without spoiling your outfit.

„If you get crumbs into my cleavage, I can’t put your face in there later you know.“

Fierce nodding.

„That’s the spirit.“

Under your eagle eyes, he proves to be an obedient little cherub doing his job pretty well. The cakes are delicious in how spongy they are, and the liquid chocolate warms up so well on the tongue, it melts even more. You’re more than pleased and have Felix store away the remaining four pieces only after quite a while.

„I’ll have them for Brekkie, woo!“ is what he’s fast to proclaim, and you agree he’ll need them the next morning. Once you’re done with him, that’s gonna count as a hangover even Chan’s wildest party couldn’t give him.

„We’re talking dinner first, Felix.“

At this point, all the sugar is kicking in. Or it’s the chocolate being some kind of aphrodisiac. Whatever, could be either, you’re feeling like you’re up there at the ceiling, and you’re not the only one. Felix coming back to the bedroom so bouncy and cutieful just gets you even more in the mood.

You sit at the edge of the bed, slanting backward just a little. „You look like you need some more corruption, I won’t lie,“ you pat your lap, beckoning. He can ditch wifi because this is his favorite hot spot waiting for him. Felix sits down looking tiny as ever, eyes full of anticipation and his pants full of… big fat late night erection.

„I don’t mind at all, Miss. I don’t, oh my god…“ he mumbles into his nonexistent Aussie trucker beard, and you’re clear that whatever the skirt did to him, his brain must be doing kangaroo somersaults right now. In the meantime, something very eager is poking right at your lower belly. Captain Boomerang already came fully armed tonight and the Suicide Squad isn’t even anywhere near to be seen.

„Oh hey hey, cupcake. Getting really big there,“ you wipe at the curled little corners of his mouth. Some crumbs come off. His lips already twitch the way you know they want to do naughty things on you. He doesn’t seem to notice. Autopilot Felix has already taken over.

„Don’t hurry with it,“ he stares, mouth half-open, but his little grinds prove him a dirty — in an entirely direct sense — fucking liar. Like he’s literally rubbing himself against your stomach.

„Boy oh boy. You’re not even trying.“

„I’m fucked!“ is what Felix soon realizes with the daggers you’re shooting at him through your hopefully very satanic-looking eyes right now. Alongside catching up with his darn hips doing their own thing.

„You are.“

„I’m sorry for grinding, God help me!“

„He won’t. Cuz I’m here on your cloud. Cue stage number two of my demonic plan. Safeword?“

„It’s chocolate!“

„Mh. Good pick.“

The rest as usual. Tapping the thigh, yellow for pause, towels plus water ready, and always double-checking the lube in case of Jisung putting a glass of vegemite under your bed as his latest practical joke. Yes, it happened. It’s a whole new level of demonic. On the other hand: perhaps Felix’ ass could’ve actually handled it, Made in Australia it is.

„Let’s go honey angel,“ you curl at his hair with a little finger just to tease him a little more. The answer is a little meow, at this point Felix’ communication skills have simplified to kitten vocabulary which always happens when he is nervous and looking forward to something.

Next thing poor Felix knows, his face has entered the scorching satanic abyss that is your cleavage. Literally, you’re burning up. It’s fucking October and Felix has you breaking a sweat from all your horniness (literally, your horns are just that chic) already. Twice the reason to punish the shit out of him. If that can be considered anything near a punishment.

A shower of various „Mh— nh!“ and mewling noises comes to rain down on you while Felix face takes a trip down mammary lane, and that, too, is literal. He’s salivating. So much about rain. Actually, great lubrication. Felix always does things best by instinct.

„Yes, good boy. Great job.“

Now that his mouth is wet already, you’re unceremonious about shoving your fingers right down his throat after he resurfaces. Blushed, hard, and ready to choke himself since he’s already running short on breath. It doesn’t take long until he’s gagging himself stupid and the sparkles under his eyes start running.

„Pretty, pretty,“ you lean down a little, kissing his nose. „Give me all you got.“

„Gh—gch—“

The answer is as slobbery and unintelligible as can be. To a normal human, at least. You’re a demonic top. That automatically means having an Ivy League major in gag noise translation.

„Oh yes, I know,“ you stroke his hair, using your free hand that usually rests at the back of his neck. „Talk to me about it. Exactly what I was thinking. Do go on.“

And he does, louder than ever. If there’s one satisfying sound, it’s this, that heavenly deep voice doing all kinds of nasty acrobatics is making you go crazy. That Felix is absolutely close to cumming in his angel pants is very much clear to you given how the veins and muscles on his neck are having a chaotic Halloween party on their own.

Which includes his tongue taking turns on your two fingers as well. And a wide-eyed Felix struggling, swallowing, holding on to your shoulders with his little feet twitching in their sneakers. Like mad… and you love it. But also — hopelessly sucking and moaning and slurping and squealing until his neck has way too much saliva on it for you not to make it your next target. Felix is so good at this. Way too good.

„Looks delicious,“ you lean in, your hair tickles his ears. And now, you’re busy nibbling, biting a little… and most importantly, giving Felix a wet hickey that will send his makeup artist — my God, you really torture the unsuspecting man almost weekly — into a meltdown. Rowdy and unholy is the look you’re going for.

In the meantime, Felix is still wrapped up trying to hit your fingers at the back of his throat. If his cute bouncy run and rude boner moment didn’t turn you on already, now you would be. The way he’s just sucking in his own spit makes you realize that you won’t ever need a fire brigade for your flat.

You emerge from his neck and raise your brows. Felix is just hard-wired to impress. „Just how much saliva can you produce!“

„Ch… Mnh— Nh…“

Hitting some more complex syntax and consonants there, is he.

„Oh, I get it now. You stayed hydrated during the day. Thanks for explaining, mate. That’s the secret.“

Whether that’s perfectly scientifically correct down to the enzyme theory and shit neither of you can google right now. At least you know that you’re both drenched on either end so that’s that.

Once Felix is so horny from deepthroating your damn hand that he has pull off and yellow-word, you’re already prepared for introducing a new position which you can prepare while he’s gathering himself and wiping off his chin. You hand him a second towel for his neck, and present him a little hand mirror to see how the hickey turned out.

„It’s shaped like, hm,“ he pants, words still slurring a little. „I dunno! It’s really cute!“

„Let me see… No doubt that’s a rice cake hickey. That’s the shape.“

„You’re right!“

And off he goes snapping a selfie with it while you get comfortable on your back, cleaning your own fingers.

„Just don’t upload that one to Insta instead of the cloud shots, we’re not gonna survive another Manager call at 1:15 AM.“

„Can I use your phone for it? That’s where it’s supposed to be on, anyway.“

Felix giggles a little. That cute brat. Always knowing how it’s done.

„Sure babe!“

And voilà, Felix is already occupied setting a good view of his new rice cake-shaped friend as your phone background. Good thing, helps his erection cool down a little, he was about to blow up his poor white pants. The acceptable unfair feat being that he’s just riling you up even more like that on the other hand.

„If you come to mommy now,“ you wriggle one foot in the air, the other splayed on the duvet, knee slightly bent. „Rubbing her pussy and doing your thing, you know how it goes.“

„Angel duties calling! What am I doing!“

At the speed of sound, Felix stores your phone back on the bedside table and crawls over in an instant. He props his chin on your abdomen and blinks.

„Sorry Ma’am. At your service. Never wanna keep you waiting.“

A big smile rouses his cheeks, and you boop them from either side. His peach fuzz is so soft and his eyes are so beautifully dark. You don’t waste any time keeping your skirt down for any longer. Another blink and Felix is already pawing — well, kneading and caressing technically — between your legs. He’s visibly understanding just how wet the whole finger sucking circus has left you now.

„What if I used my heels on your cock, boo. Still no cumming. Just my heels and my lil’ prince.“

Satanic plan stage number three. Felix has gotten to savor it last Christmas and for his birthday, and some time around the holidays in summer.

„I love it yay!“ Felix claps his hands. Baby, baby.

„C’mere then. Just keep on rubbing.“

His arms are fairly long enough. While you’re dragging the slender heels of either shoe right across the outlines on his crotch, Felix, eyes loosely closed, maintains a steady rhythm on your clit with three fingers lined up on the fabric of your panties.

„Oh fucking hell, Felix, shit—“

Whenever you masturbate, that alone would never do. You’d get frustrated after a while. Need more stimulation. But when Felix is on angel duty to keep your pussy soaked, it doesn’t need much to make your clit throb, even with your underwear still on. Guess that God’s little helpers know how to work their magic to make your head spin.

He’s hitting the right spot, with the right moves, and his other hand doesn’t miss out on a single opportunity to stroke at both the in- and outside of your thighs. The touch is so subtle, you twitch. Felix strokes on, delirious himself. His eyelids flutter.

„Fuck…“

Despite the little pause from earlier taking out most of his tension, your heels leave Felix with pants that are even more bulged out. That’s making it easy to direct your feet to jerk up and down at either side. You’d never know either of you would be so into this. Foot fetish and all.

Once he’s edged you to the point of moans, last thing you properly remember is calling it quits with the panties and telling him to line himself up. The heels kicked off, the skirt still on, you decide that unpacking your Halloween treat has been long overdue. You slide his pants down, roll down a pink condom, and grab his cock at the base to glide it all over your wet lips.

„Lix, come fuck me. You got me all horny. Satan is recruiting.“

„With me it’s not sinning,“ he smiles, brighter than the sun and you do right along. It’d be hard not to. Felix truly has the innocence of a virgin, the subtle confidence of an intermediate, the caution of a pro, and the kindness of a real veteran.

„You’re right about that Felix,“ you say, prop your entrance at the very tip, let the wetness do its job. „Come kiss your honey girl.“

And he does. Entering you with care for the right angle, letting your hip do the rest. What’s been circling and sucking your fingers so deliciously is now doing a hot job teasing and pleasing your tongue all over. His lips are amazingly soft and plump, they open so gently and feel electric on yours. A gentle squeeze around your left breast sparks a moan into the kiss from you. It’s Felix massaging your breasts while deepening his penetration, and you can tell the vegemite can stay under the bed today. You can tell Felix is getting more than flustered knowing it was all him who made you this dripping wet.

Even his dick seems to blush in sync. It’s fucking pink and red. Oh wait, that’s the condom. But knowing him and from your viewpoint, it’s still more flushed than before, no kidding. Faithfully pumping in and out of you at its full length now. You wrap your legs around his waist, the thrusts become deeper, shorter, parting you open much more, and filling you out so properly.

„So good. Right there, angel. Just right there. I’m loving that.“

Felix has a great dick. Best handy size, the girth’s comfortable, all nice and bendy, virtually no curve, you can always gyrate on it in any way and even take a complete 180 if you go from cowgirl to reverse (which you’d be doing right now but he’d crush his wings if he were on his back like that so no). Cherry on top, compact but soft balls that don’t steal the show but still do the trick during doggy. They’re whipping up the best cum in the world, so.

The slow kissing goes on and on and Felix tries to walk the tightrope of neither letting your pussy lips suck the orgasm out of him, nor making you cream his cock with shaky legs from all that gorgeous sloppy friction, and the kissing, and his sweet cherry shampoo scent that has your brain in absolute limbo.

With everything hanging by a thread like that, every kiss becomes special and full of a suspense that makes your lips tremble — either set, and Felix can hardly bear it himself.

His little halo is dangling back and forth, and you can tell by his face that all that thrusting has him in serious trouble. And you? Are fucking leaking and groaning, and that little shallow series of first contractions before your orgasm is already preparing you.

The sugar high from the cupcakes is fading, but your adrenaline is sure to replace it. You just want Felix to fuck you more and rock against him, and hold his head, and kiss him. God, his mouth is so warm and inviting, tastes so good like cocoa.

The pace joins yours without any effort, it adapts when your rhythm changes, and it stabilizes everything when you’re currently riding the high of his cock really filling you out so you can clench your muscles around him, feel him and tell him just you wait, I’ll milk you. He’s such a good kisser. You can feel all of your wetness running down your ass like it’s Christmas.

„Felix, I’m overflowing.“

„I’m so sorry,“ he whines into the kiss. „I’ll be washing the sheets.“

„Listen, baby,“ you break the tongue-on-tongue, „you doing laundry is really sexy. But the overflow is the best part. Just look what you’re doing to my body.“

You could ravage him on the spot. He’d probably lose it and cum in two seconds. Holding yourself before the edge is so tough right now.

„Shit… yellow again. Need a moment.“

Felix has to resort to a bit of cockwarming, and you use the little break to rid yourself off the harness. It’s not perfectly comfortable when you’re lying down. You’re about to fling it off the bed that Felix asks to wear it. Oh. Very well. It actually goes as a nice contrast on his white top, and the straps make it easy to adjust to him. And he wants it to sit on him really tightly. Oh again.

You realize—

On you, it’s only a fashion piece. Something random that came with the costume.

On him: It’s kinky.

„Hey hey. You look sexy, pum’kin,“ you pat at his chest. „Look at your waist, wow.“

Your sweet boy. It’s like it’s made for him. So cinched and the exact opposite of his costume. He’s a corrupted, dirty angel now, it’s perfect. With his pink neck and all sweaty face, and his little puppy gaze that will haunt you in your sex dreams because it literally just gets into your pants so much. Oh god, you just wanna cum. You have to distract yourself with chaste images of Felix washing the dishes or writing grocery lists with little hearts and emojis on them but that just makes it five times worse.

The way he puts the harness on with his dick inside you is so mouthwatering and cumworthy, you can’t wait to resume and switch your own brains off on that angel cock. Once Felix is ready to exit phase yellow and resume the session, your hands magically gravitate towards the straps of the harness at this waist.

„Can I?“

„M—hm!“

You have the time of your life grabbing and guiding him by the harness, controlling every thrust. Felix clenches up his teeth from how lavishly his cock is squeezing into your pussy.

„Oh babe,“ you groan out. „Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Come on, angel.“

He’s not going to take it much longer. Felix is tensing all over, neck to the knees, it’s a huge shock wave in the making. That climax is going to be like a fucking punch into outer space.

„I’m really at my limit, I’m, I’m…!“

„Cum for me, angel,“ you reach to his neck to bring his lips down again. Your mouths going into shaky contact brings a big soaring moan with it.

„Ahn—!“

You lock lips, his face scrunches up, and you can tell that cum worth of three orgasms is currently pooling into the condom. You don’t belong to the mile high club, but going by how far up this feels, you might as well be. Those sweet shivers. And the little whines. It’s all too much for him, this one got him bad. Felix cumming is like the angels really are singing. With bells and harps and all that shit at once.

After pulling out, the ruined condom goes off lightning fast. Felix’ cock gets some much-needed cooling, but his face is on heavy duty. How he does it after almost getting his lights turned off, it’s a mystery, it must have been six whole loads he shot into you. You’d already be collapsing in his shoes. Felix still being able to put his mouth to work is an act of divine intervention. Honestly though, it doesn’t even take half a minute. Sloppy head from Felix is cryptonite, your stamina comes tumbling down. His tongue just knocks you out with an overwhelming rush of pleasure.

“Oh— yes...”

What is gravity? You don’t know what north and south mean anymore. He laps and sucks you through your high and your legs give up their soldier service. All you see it fluffy blonde strands of hair peeking from below your skirt, a glimpse of the harness, the rest is heavy growling and swearing from all of the contractions and Felix getting raw and dirty Down Under with no fears, literally none, to bury his face and move it around and let his tongue loose. Time and again Felix shows you he’s a swallower. Satanic agenda: success.

For tonight, your pussy will be nothing but glitter, cum, and spit. Swollen like crazy, properly fucked, and tipped to the absolute limit. Felix keeps on slicking up his face completely, and then brings you into the afterglow with his fingers. One at a time, barely adding stimulation. Just fetching you where you are and climbing down. Looks like you’ll share the cupcakes, this is a couple hangover in the making. In Felix’ case in particular. It’s like he signed up for testing a mad scientist’s latest designer drug.

„Wow wow… So you served me choco cupcakes and God’s menu,“ is the last thing he can say in his delirium before falling over. He’s so fucked out and went so wild on eating you, a part of the harness came off. Thank god his nose is so small, all that swiping could’ve broken the bridge and whatnot. And his lips, they’re twice as plump. You really have to compliment in on what his mouth has done today because that was some champ shit.

You’re both buffering on the sheets for a solid five minutes until you roll to the side. Towel… water… forehead kisses. Yes, forehead kisses most importantly. After gathering yourself a little, you pamper Felix into a heart rate around 90 rather than 120. And with the onset of exhaustion for the two of you, that’s not too hard after some minutes passing. Whispering sweet nothings and praise is all you do up until 2 AM and after. Felix is somewhere between worlds, one foot in the door of the dreamland, the other soaking up the care and the intoxicating, thick scent of the room that has a lot of cherry shampoo in it.

At some point. You loosen the harness, pull off his shirt with the wings attached. The halo you unsuccessfully try to spot in his hair. Turns out: It flew off. Felix really must’ve made Satan proud if it fell down just like that. Good job. Felix has earned a title of being a dirty angel now, and by the way he’s chugging water now, a wet one on top of that.

Five tons of spit, six, seven, who knows how many he’s afforded for today. A head pat is not enough, it has to be several, and Felix passes out onto the pillows. As good as you can, you wipe him down, bin the condom, get off his shoes and his half-pulled down trousers. After staggering to the bathroom, your skirt and peplum shirt follows, the stockings stay on, they’re cozy as hell. Last but not least, you remove your devil horns. It feels like they granted you the most unknown demonic powers.

Next time Felix is on his way to making you cum again, you’ll be wearing them, and you’ll last the way you did tonight. Meanwhile, Bang Chan is blowing up your phone because Felix pressed send by accident earlier, but you don’t notice. It just keeps on vibrating on the bedstand and Chris will have to riddle over the rice cake selfie for the rest of November.

Felix dozes with an angelic little smile on his lips and puffs his cheeks in his sleep, his makeup wiped and his hair truly messy. Instagram can wait. Maybe you’ll get to brush your teeth a little later, it usually takes some time until you wake up again and topple to the sink. You huddle together, tuck your sweet baby pum’kin into his second favorite spot at your chest. Ah, the glory of Felix little spooning.

As the last signature, you nibble at his ear, call him your cutie pie, and switch the lights off. You have to listen closely but if you do, it’s like Felix is purring in his sleep. Whatever your own dreamland is planning to launch on you tonight, you’re looking forward to it.

PS — oh, my good ole fellas, a last cursed disclaimer. i must insist on the following for obvious reasons. vegemite makes for some terrible strap lube okay 😂🇦🇺

like my writing? donate: ko-fi

#felix x reader #sub!felix #felix smut #skz #stray kids #felix x dom!reader #skz smut #lee felix #lee felix smut #lee felix fanfic #skz fanfic #female reader #sub!skz #sub!stray kids #sub felix #sub skz #felix fic #original content #hey angel

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gukyi · 4 years

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tattoos together | kth

summary: you aren’t necessarily terribly particular when it comes to tattoos, and when you arrive at your favorite tattoo parlor one day in search of a new addition, one in particular catches your eye, but more importantly, so does the artist behind its creation. and slowly, you come to realize that art does not need sentimental value to be meaningful—it just needs to be loved.

{tattoo artist!au}

pairing: kim taehyung x female reader genre: fluff word count: 5k warnings: mention of tattoo needles a/n: a huge huge huge thank you to @guksflavor for commissioning me for this piece, and thank you for contributing to the blm movement !!!! for anyone wondering--this was commissioned prior to my drabble commissions post, which is why it’s longer. hope that you enjoy!!!!

When you go to a new city, your favorite thing to do is explore.

Unpacking has never really been your forte, because it takes forever and it’s not as if any of the packages contain a surprise. You already know what’s in every single cardboard box strewn around your apartment, from the old clothes you never wear to the single set of nice dinnerware that you never use because you don’t ever have guests fancy enough to require usage of them.

The beauty of the world is that it has so many hidden corners. So many hole-in-the-wall stores and secret alleyways shielded from street lights. Secrets unknown to even some of the locals.

So yes, the boxes against the barren walls of your apartment can wait.

They have been for the past couple of years, at least. What’s one more day?

Besides, if you hadn’t prioritized exploring over unpacking, you never would have found that little tattoo shop on the corner of South and Brooks, the one that looks more like a cottage-turned-overgrown-flower shop than a place where you go to get permanently inked. The walls are a pastel neutral shade, accented by exposed brick near the back and lined with drawings after drawings, new designs tacked over old ones, pages curling in on themselves after years of being hung up.

From the inside or the outside, it doesn’t at all read like a stereotypical tattoo parlor. No black walls, no leather, no gothic lettering on the door.

And that’s really the beauty of it all. That you would never know of this place if you hadn’t gone wandering, hadn’t decided that your unpacking of boxes could wait another couple of days (and maybe months, too). That there are secrets blanketing the city, and that you can learn them all, if only you keep your eyes peeled.

Also, the tattoo parlor is right next to what you happily designate as the best bakery in the entire town, but that’s just a bonus.

Still, Jungkook doesn’t ever seem to mind when you show up to a session with two coffees and a bag with two muffins inside of it.

The bell above the door rings when you open it, stepping onto the beige welcome mat onto the tile. It’s been raining the past couple of days, and you can make out damp spots on the fabric where people have wiped their shoes. It’s busier than normal, today, several of the artists fielding requests and questions from eager clients, pointing at the designs on the wall or handing them their own sketches.

But as always, Jungkook is free, loitering in the back corner with his hands tucked into the pockets of the dark jeans he’s wearing, as if he’d been expecting you all afternoon.

Considering you are pretty much confidants after so many years of seeing him, you suppose that he’s picked up on your predictability—if only just a little.

“What, don’t you have a job to be doing?” You ask instead of a hello, catching Jungkook’s attention immediately as you walk in, a bag of two scones in your hand.

“Don’t have a job if you’re not here,” he quips back, strolling over casually and happily taking the napkin-wrapped baked good from your hand. He eats approximately half of it in a single bite as you settle down by his station, a vintage vanity that Jungkook says that the owner found at a thrift store. It’s awfully beat up as is, but looks more at home inside here, little succulents sitting, pressed up against the wall, and ink stains covering the countertop.

“Touché,” you concede with a nod.

“What are you here for today?” Jungkook asks over a mouthful of scone. “You got an actual design in mind or just want me to wing it?”

“Am I not allowed to just say hello to one of my favorite people in the city?” You tease.

Jungkook frowns. “‘One of’? Who else is there?”

“Me, of course,” you tell him happily. “You got any new designs I can take a peek at?”

“See for yourself,” Jungkook says, motioning to the wall beside him as you giddily skirt over to take a look. You’re in here so often that Jungkook’s long foregone showing you which ones were recently added—deigning to sit at his table while you pick out the new ones from the old, which sketches weren’t tacked to the wall the last time you were in.

There’s a couple of ones that you don’t recognize taped along the wall, or peeking out of the open binders that they have spread out on spare shelves and countertops, new designs of birds and flowers and snakes. But the one that really catches your eye is a small one, drawn on a piece of paper the size of a Post-it note. You almost miss it, half-hidden behind a much bigger sketch of an old grandfather clock, lines dark and heavy. It’s a simple line drawing, really, of the sun rising or setting along the horizon, its reflection shakily echoed in the water it stands above. It could almost be straight out of a scrapbook, a Polaroid of a real moment in time, a real sight someone saw.

“This one’s new,” you say, fingers reaching up to page at the edges.

Jungkook gets up to see what all of the fuss is about. “Oh, yeah, just added yesterday. You like it?”

“It’s pretty,” you say, unable to tear your eyes away from it. It’s so simple, so modest. Like a doodle that someone would draw in the margins of a textbook, like the start of a flipbook design in an old library book. “Looks almost like it was printed from offline.”

“You know everything in here is usually hand-drawn,” Jungkook chides.

“Reminds me of a photograph,” you say as Jungkook reaches out with his hands to take the design down. “You know, like some really picturesque scene on a beach. With the sun reflected against the water.”

“Can’t tell if it’s rising or setting,” Jungkook comments, holding it out in front of him.

“I think that’s the point.”

“So, where do you want it?” Jungkook asks. “And don’t say the bottom of your foot. I know you’re joking.”

You laugh, reminded of the time you had teasingly told him that you wanted a flock of birds tattooed beneath your feet, and he almost believed you before you burst into a fit of giggles. Pausing, you think. Where would you want something like that? Not your back, surely. To you, the whole point of a tattoo is to be able to see it. And not on your torso, either. You’ve grown rather accustomed to the feeling of a needle on skin, so the pain isn’t the issue, but a drawing like that isn’t meant to be kept secret. Not supposed to be hidden by your clothes.

You can’t say that you’ve ever kept tattoos particularly serious, plotting out exactly what you’ll get inked and which part of your body will make it the most meaningful. Tattoos are but another art form, one that uses the skin as its canvas, and not all art is supposed to be perfect and purposeful and mean something. Art is in the eye of the beholder. It is, above all, supposed to make you happy.

You love every single thing that Jungkook has drawn on your skin, and every single thing that was drawn before you met him. But this one is special.

“Here,” you say, pulling up the sleeve of your shirt so it rests on your shoulders, tapping the empty space on your upper left arm. It’s surrounded with tattoos, with flowers and words and pictures, but there has always been an open space. One that you were saving for something extraordinary.

“You sure? You know I can’t undo this as fast as I can do it,” Jungkook says, not to mock you but to make sure you aren’t making a mistake.

Perhaps it’s your impulsive nature, the part of you that doesn’t really care about making mistakes so long as you can recognize that they happened, that makes you shrug. That isn’t terribly particular over where Jungkook places the needle. Tattoos are for fun. Taking everything serious is boring, anyway.

“I’m sure,” you tell him, and Jungkook nods. He goes to transfer the design to a tattoo stencil as you wait, finishing up your scone. It’s a little harder now that you’ve waited a bit to eat it, not as soft as it was when Jungkook tore through his, but it’s delicious nonetheless.

As you’re waiting, you hear the bell above the door ring. You turn around to look at the latest patron out of habit, that instinctual people-watching urge that bubbles up inside of you.

You don’t recognize him.

Which isn’t a first, per se, but you are in here rather often and have come to know most of the regulars, at least on a first-name basis. You wonder if he had just wandered in after strolling down the street, noticed the flowerpots hanging from the ceiling or the walls littered with designs or the cracking white paint that makes this place look like an old-timey ice cream store. His eyes, dark and brown and mysterious, go straight to the designs on the wall beside you, as if he knows exactly what he’s looking for.

He looks down at you and the two of you meet eyes, his partially hidden by his caramel brown hair, yours looking up at him because it feels like you can’t turn away. There is something about him that makes you want to ask him to come here more often. Just so you can see him again.

“Oh, Taehyung!”

You turn back to see Jungkook returning with the design on a stencil, toothy smile widening when he sees the boy in question, a wave of familiarity rushing over his features.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung says, and the two of them greet each other the way that all men do, with that unspoken hand grab-turned-back pat. “Was in this part of the city and thought I’d stop by. See how my favorite skin artist is doing.”

“Ugh,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes, “I hate when you call me that. It’s weird and makes me sound like I make art with skin.”

“Don’t you?” Taehyung poses teasingly, making Jungkook shove him playfully.

“Shut up,” Jungkook responds, heading over to where you’re seated and placing the stencil down on the table. “Y/N here is getting one of your designs on her arm.”

That has you engaged.

“You drew this?” You ask, picking the stencil back up and holding it out to him.

Taehyung takes a couple of steps forward and reaches a hand out to look at the drawing in closer detail, before nodding. “Sketched it a couple of days ago. Jungkook said that it might make a nice tattoo.”

“Jungkook has terribly good judgement,” you agree. “I didn’t know you drew for Jungkook.”

“Eh, it’s not a job or anything,” Taehyung says with a shrug. “I like doodling things on the side. Jungkook being a tattoo artist is just a bonus.”

“I’ll say,” Jungkook says with a forced cough. “Y/N’s got a couple of your drawings actually, Tae. That one of the cherry blossoms, and the one with the teddy bear.”

“You did those, too?” You ask, getting more and more pleasantly surprised with every minute that passes.

“You kidding?” Jungkook scoffs. “Taehyung’s art is all over this place. My boss is actually getting kind of annoyed with how much real estate his drawings take up, but clients seem to really like them, so they stay.”

“So you’re saying it’s not my infectious personality?” Taehyung quips, making you laugh. He and Jungkook seem to go well together.

Jungkook sighs, a smile tugging loosely at his lips. “Get out of here, I’ve got a client,” he says fondly, motioning to you.

“Kicking me out after five minutes? I think that’s a new record,” Taehyung says, peering at the old clock on the wall.

“Don’t get used to it,” Jungkook says, even though it’s obvious that the both of them already are. Jungkook’s too kind, too sweet, too wonderful to ever turn away a friend. Even if he does have a client.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Taehyung says with a tip of an imaginary hat. His smile makes the blood rush to your cheeks, charming and for some reason, irresistible. “Hope that we see each other again soon. I’d love to see your tattoos.”

“I hope so too,” you say, positively enchanted, as he exits, the bell ringing on his way out.

You wonder why you hadn’t met him before. You suppose that you just always missed each other.

You sort of hope that, after this, you never do.

You run into Taehyung a couple of days afterwards in the bakery next door to the tattoo parlor. You’re standing by the coffee counter, chatting to one of the baristas who always teases you for buying two of everything whenever you’re there, when you spot him wandering in, the same curious look on his face. He doesn’t notice you at first but you see him straight away, recognize him instantly. It looks like he just accidentally stumbled upon this place, like he had been walking and walking and walking and when he looked up, he was inside.

You wonder if Taehyung comes here as often as you do. Wonder if he makes an effort to always stop in since he drops by the parlor on a regular basis. Wonder how long you’ve gone, cruelly so, just missing each other.

“Y/N?”

You look up to see him gazing at you, a lopsided smile tugging at his features. Next to you, the barista hands you your bag of baked goods, two as always, and winks before getting back to work.

“Hey, I didn’t see you come in,” you lie, hoping that he didn’t catch you ogling him as he walked inside. “You stop by often?”

“Whenever I get the chance to,” Taehyung says back. “I like carbs and coffee.”

“Then I suppose you’ve found the perfect place to be,” you say. And then, in a blaze of courage, you ask, “Are you just popping in, or do you want to sit down for a little?”

Taehyung smiles, warm and wonderful. “I’d be happy to.”

You snag a table in the corner, facing away from the barista who keeps sending you nonsensical and exaggerated facial expressions and gestures, because this is not a movie, and he is not your beautiful love interest who waltzes into your life and sweeps you off your feet. Even if he is rather beautiful.

“I got two pastries,” you say, tugging them out of the bag, still wrapped in napkins. “Want one?”

Taehyung chuckles as you hand one to him. “Do you always get two of what you order?”

“Hey, I like carbs too,” you tell him defensively, making Taehyung nod in agreement. Seeing as you bought them just a few minutes ago, they’re still warm, soft between your fingers as you pull apart the dough and slowly take a bite. It tastes even sweeter than usual.

“Do you come here often?” Taehyung poses.

“Anytime I drop by the parlor,” you add cheerfully. “And sometimes even when I don’t.”

“We seem to always be missing each other, then,” Taehyung muses.

“Hopefully that will change,” you add with a grin. “Jungkook finished my tattoo a couple of days ago. Do you want to see?”

“The one of my drawing?” Taehyung asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“What else would there be?” You say, pulling up the sleeve of your shirt to reveal the design. It’s only been a few days, so the tattoo hasn’t had nearly enough time to fully heal, but the sketch is just as prominent as it was when it was first pressed into your skin. It fits perfectly in the empty space that was there before, the lines filling out the blanks between the other pictures. Almost as if that spot had been waiting for the right thing to fill it. Almost as if it had always belonged there.

Taehyung’s mouth opens in awe as you show him, the skin still raised where the needle had pressed against it. You have to say you don’t really mind showing off your tattoos to others, especially when they bring you so much joy yourself, and people are usually more appreciative than disapproving, but watching the way Taehyung’s face lights up when he sees his design, his sketch, his art on your skin makes your heart beat something terribly fierce.

The beauty of tattoos is that it is permanent art. Art on the wall of a museum will need to be constantly restored, will be moved from place to place as people bid hundreds of thousands of dollars on owning it. But tattoos follow you wherever you go, will keep you company no matter what the circumstances are. It is art that is permanent, because it will never leave you.

It seems that Taehyung has realized that as well.

“Wow, I—” Taehyung says, rubbing at the bottom of his lip, unable to tear his eyes away from the dark ink decorating your body. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I’ll let Jungkook know that you really like it,” you say, pleased. “He did an excellent job, as always.”

“Why?” Taehyung asks, the simple question being the only word he’s able to form, the only thing he’s able to think.

“‘Why?’” You repeat, an eyebrow raised. “Why did I get it?”

“Why did you get that one?” Taehyung says for emphasis, pointing to the design laced along your upper arm. “Out of the millions of possibilities, why choose mine?”

“Oh,” you say, at a loss for words. It’s difficult to pinpoint why. It doesn’t have a terribly sentimental meaning to you. No long-lasting symbolism that has followed you throughout your life. You chose it because it was simple and easy and beautiful. Because you thought that it would be the perfect fit. “Well, I don’t have a great reason.”

“It’s permanent ink on your body,” Taehyung says. “You must have thought it meant something.”

“I just liked the way it looked,” you say. “It was so plain and modest, but it looks like a scene out of a movie. Like a moment captured in time. I don’t know—” you shrug, “—it sort of reminds me of a Polaroid picture. The sun halfway above the horizon. Its reflection on the water.”

Taehyung is speechless, a soft grin slowly inching its way across his face. He looks fond, looks grateful and honored. Like what you told him was the perfect answer.

“Is the sun rising or setting, Taehyung?” You ask, curious. You suppose that no matter what he chooses, it’ll be the right answer. That the sun can either be rising or setting, so long as you know that it will always return. If it’s rising, it is but a reminder that there is a whole day ahead of you. That you have so much to do and so much to look forward to. And if it’s setting, it’s to let you know that you made it another day, another twenty-four hours. The sun may be saying goodbye, but you can never lose faith that it will come back to say hello.

Taehyung seems to ponder for a moment, eyes tilting upwards as he thinks, lets the question weigh on his heart. And then he turns to you, a glint in his eye, and he says, “You think it’s the sun?”

And truth be told, you had never considered that it might be the moon.

In the stark black-and-white of a single-color tattoo, it could be anything you wanted. It could be a massive planet in another galaxy, could be a sweet chocolate ball sinking into a warm cup of milk. But Taehyung thinks it’s the moon. He sees the absent sky as dark, sees the circle in the center as the one that watches over you when you sleep.

The sun and the moon are the only two constants in everybody’s life. One will never be without the other. And they will always chase after each other, circling the sky every day and every night, eternally unable to stay together.

Perhaps it is the moon. Or the sun. Perhaps it is rising, or setting.

And perhaps that is why you chose this design. Because of its ambiguity. Because it can mean so much despite being so little, which is what art is for, isn’t it? To see something and make it beautiful in your eyes? To always look at the world through rose-colored glasses?

No matter what it is, it will remind you that you are never alone. No, even when you have nothing left, the sun and the moon will always stand by you, watch over you. They will light up the path in front of you and guard you on your journey.

“Well,” you ask Taehyung, smiling. You wonder briefly if that was the whole point of his design. For it to represent whatever the viewer wanted it to. And then you realize that of course that was the point. That Taehyung drew it like this on purpose. Tattoos will follow you for the rest of your days. So will the sun and the moon.“What do you think it is?”

You don’t see Taehyung for a while after that.

Not that you had been expecting to inexplicably bump into him on the street, or anything, but you were secretly hoping that your luck had changed. That you were slowly beginning to make up for all of the moments you missed each other, all of the times you were just five minutes away from meeting, always just a little too early or a little too late.

Still, you wish that you could see him more, or at least more often than you currently do, which is never. You know so little about him and yet there is something that draws you closer, makes you want to sift through the layers of dust between his bones, find out what makes his brain tick and his heart beat.

Ever since he walked into the tattoo parlor that day, strolling in with his hands on his pockets and witty comeback on the tip of his tongue, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him. About how his art is etched onto your skin eternally. About how he does everything with purpose.

Meeting him was no accident.

Is it possible that you were always meant to know each other?

After a month, you return to the parlor, half in search of another design to add to the collection and half hoping that maybe your luck will change and you’ll be able to see him again. And if not, at least there’s always Jungkook to keep you company.

You drop by the bakery and pick up a very optimistic three scones, just on the off chance that Taehyung may be there when you arrive. Besides, you can’t imagine Jungkook complaining about free food, let alone extra of it.

But when you arrive, you’re shocked to see that Jungkook is busy working on someone.

“Taehyung?” You ask, his name the first word to come out of your mouth when you enter. He’s sitting at the same stained white vanity sleeve rolled up as Jungkook presses the needle against his skin. He’s wincing, in that way that people who are getting their first tattoo do, not necessarily from pain but simply from the feeling.

Jungkook pulls the needle away from Taehyung’s arm before the two of them both turn to look at you, equally as shocked by your presence.

“Y/N,” Taehyung says back, almost as if your very existence has taken his breath away.

“You weren’t supposed to come for another hour or so,” Jungkook says, checking the clock on the wall.

“Are you complaining to the person who brings you free baked goods?” You ask, making Jungkook shake his head in a guilty no. You saunter over to the table to pull out the scones, giddy about having rightly purchased a third, when you notice the design slowly being imprinted onto Taehyung’s skin.

It’s the same one you have.

“Hey, what’s this?” You ask, not necessarily looking for an actual response so much as wondering aloud. Taehyung’s getting it in the same place as yours, the upper arm, a single drawing of ink on bare, untouched skin. It must mean something rather special to be his first. “Is that—?”

“Don’t be mad at me for copying you,” Taehyung says sheepishly. “The more I thought about it the more I liked it.”

“I’m not mad at you,” you tell him.

“I don’t know,” Taehyung says with a sigh as Jungkook motions towards the needle, a silent question to see if Taehyung’s still alright with him continuing. Taehyung nods, letting only his eyes drift upwards to yours as Jungkook goes back in. “I mean, I guess it’s kind of impulsive, isn’t it? Getting a tattoo after seeing what it looked like on someone else. But when we were talking about it, I just thought about how detailed it really was. How it said so much despite being so little.”

“That’s what I thought about it, too,” you say with a grin. “It’s special. I mean, every tattoo is special, but this one is because it can mean whatever you want it to mean. Whether it’s the sun or the moon, rising or setting. And the beauty of it is that you can change your mind about it, too.”

If one day, you would rather the moon watch over you, keep the waves calm on a quiet night, where your thoughts are loud and heavy, then it will. But if, the next day, you want some light to shine down upon the field of daisies and wildflowers in your heart, then the sun will come out. No matter which it is, it will stand guard over you, protect you from what the rest of the world will try to throw at you.

“What do you think it is, Jungkook?” Taehyung asks, making Jungkook stop.

Jungkook looks down at the drawing, at what he is pressing into Taehyung’s skin, and he says, “I think it’s the rising sun. Telling all of us to look forward to a brand new day.”

You smile. “And what do you think it is, Taehyung?”

Taehyung doesn’t skip a beat. “I think it can be all four all at once—the sun rising, the sun setting, the moon rising, the moon setting. It just depends on what you want it to be.”

“You know,” you say with a grin. “We’re going to have matching tattoos now.”

“Oh, are we?” Taehyung asks cheekily, even though nothing he ever does is accidental. Not the sketch, not the tattoo, and certainly not its placement.

“We are,” you say, pulling up your sleeve for good measure. “They could be buddies. Hang out and take pictures together.”

“What about us?” Taehyung asks. “Can we hang out and take pictures together too?”

“Are you asking me out on a date?” You pose, even though you already know the answer.

“That depends,” Taehyung quips back. “Are you saying yes to one?”

“I think I am,” you say, pleased smiles lacing their way across your faces. Taehyung is beaming, the discomfort of a needle barely even registering, as he grins at you, charming and brilliant and bright. “And I look forward to it.”

“Me too.” Taehyung nods.

“I’m here to hopefully get another tattoo,” you tell him, raising your eyebrows. “If you want, you can stick around and maybe we can get tattoos together.”

“Isn’t that a bit impulsive?” Taehyung smirks.

“Aren’t you?”

And you think that, even though the universe kept you apart for so long—separated by minutes, perhaps even seconds—it sort of always knows what it’s doing. You were never not going to meet. It was just a matter of when.

And the sun and moon will never not protect you. It is just a matter of which.

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

#taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #v fluff #v angst #v scenario #taehyung scenario #bts imagine #taehyung imagine #v imagine #bts au #taehyung au #w: tattoos together

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smallestchances · 4 years

Text

Almost Royal (2)

Long overdue?? Absolutely. Please forgive me? <3 Hope this was worth it!

Summary: (Y/N) is struggling more than she’d like to admit, and with the eve of her daughter’s birthday looming, she decided to give her daughter an unusual gift.

Pairing: Royal!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Douchebag boss, small amount of angst, mention of death, etc.

Masterlist

Taglist: @that-one-gay-girl @fanfictionjunkie1112 @flamencodiva @hoboal87 @cutestdolans @anaissomnia @kbl1313 @fuzzycloudsz @hollymac79 @vicmc624 @roxytheimmortal @lunaticgurly @coffeebooksandfandom @A-dorky-book-keeper @nihilismworld

“Order up for table sixteen!”

The constant murmur of the diner around you only gets louder, and you skirt around the tables and patrons as fast as you could. Sweat collects on your top lip and your brow, the too small uniform chafing in almost every crease.

“(Y/N)! I told you, order up for table sixteen!” Sal yells from the kitchen, his baritone voice causing you to grit your teeth. You drop off the most recent order you had in your hands, giving them a quick smile before rushing to pick up the food.

You try to avoid the greasy cook, but Sal gives you a cunning smile that only makes your skin crawl as you pick up the four plates, balancing them perfectly. As you reach for the last one, Sal pushes it too far off the counter with his spatula, and it falls helplessly to the floor with a crash.

“What the fuck!” Is all that passes through your mouth, and before you know it the whole diner has gone silent. Your fellow coworkers only look on with sympathy in your eyes, and it doesn’t take long before the usual white noise falls back into place.

“That’s quite an unprofessional mouth you’ve got there,” Sal reprimands, and you have to clench your jaw to prevent yourself from spitting in his direction. “I think I’m going to need you to open up tomorrow in order to amend that.”

“Sal--” you choke out. “You, you can’t do that. I’ve requested tomorrow off for the past three years--I’m already closing, I can’t do an fourteen hour shift tomorrow--”

“Then I can just take it out of your next paycheck,” he shrugs, starting to redo the food he destroyed.

All you can do is swallow. “No, I...I’ll come in at 6.”

“And?”

“And I’ll close at 8,” you mumble.

“Good girl.”

It takes everything in you to go to table sixteen with the food in your hand, apologizing furiously on the delay for the last patron’s food. They seem understanding enough, and it almost makes the tears you were holding back fall from your eyes.

You thank God that you get to leave after the lunch rush, and you try to avoid as many people as you could. Driving quickly to the store and then home, you allow yourself to let out all frustrations as you blast your music.

When you finally get home, you’re about ready to collapse onto your couch and sleep when a piece of paper taped onto the grate in front of your door stops you. All you have to read is the big bold words Eviction Notice before you rip it off and storm into your apartment.

As you descend into your basement apartment, it’s just as cold and dark as you remember. A candle flickers on the center table in your makeshift living room, slightly illuminating the backpack and shoes that were thrown haphazardly. It’s the sight of these that make you smile, and as you put down the bags, you sprint into an adjoining room.

“Happy birthday eve!!” You scream at the top of your lungs, jumping excitedly onto the bed covered in purple comforters, avoiding the body of your daughter as you smile brightly. She only groans, beneath you, shaking herself awake from her after school nap. You strategically flop onto her, still in your Sal’s uniform.

You lock eyes with a shade of green you know too well, and you snuggle into her. “How does it feel Opal? Have you grown three inches? Have you grown a shoe size?” You gasp. “A BOOB size??”

“Mom!” She laughs, pulling away from you to bring a pillow over her head. “I’m not even sixteen yet. I feel the exact same way I did yesterday.”

“You’re going to be sixteen,” you mumble to yourself, staring up at your ceiling. Opal uncovers her head to plop it onto your shoulder. “My baby is going to be sixteen! It feels like just yesterday I was making you mac & cheese while we watched cartoons on the sofa.”

“That was yesterday Mom.”

“Oh how the time flies!”

You both laugh together, and silence falls over you briefly. You watch the sun go down from the limited rays of light from the “windows”. Your heart tightens. “I’m sorry baby bear,” you mumble rushing on before she could interrupt. “You deserve more than this, more than I’ve given you--”

“This is more than enough Mama--”

“No, it’s not. And I know that.” You sigh. “The moment you were born, I promised to always provide you things to the best of my ability. I promised to protect you--and through it’s come in the form of a wild basement with 90% thrifted clothes--”

“I love my wild basement and thrifted clothes--”

“My point is,” you pause. “I am going to try so much more. Harder than I ever thought was possible, starting today.” You reach into your pocket book on the floor for a bulky parchment held together by brown paper and twine.

“How much money did you fit into there?”

You roll your eyes, nudging her softly. “Don’t be a little shithead”--she smiles brightly--”I can’t celebrate your actual birthday with you tomorrow. I have the opening shift at Sal’s before going over to Rick’s to clean up. So, I have three presents for you.”

You and Opal shift into a sitting position. “Present number one: I have ice cream cake waiting for you in the freezer.”

“Friendlys?!”

“You know it. Present number two: I got Rick to let us use his place to bake some apple pies. We’d have to make him some, but as soon as you feel ready--”

“Let’s go now.”

“Geez Opal,” you giggle. “As soon as you’re ready, not tonight, we can go. Present number three,” you breathe in deeply. “You know your father is a sore subject for me.”

Opal immediately sits up more, her eyes searching yours. “Mom?”

You nod in confirmation, tracing your fingers lightly over the parchment. “In here...are memories of what we had.” You swallow hard. “Now, I’ll give this to you, and you will have fourteen questions you can ask me with full disclosure.”

“Full honesty?”

“Full honesty. After that, I will fulfill two requests of yours that are in my jurisdiction. All to get you to your sweet sixteen.”

Opal doesn’t say anything for a few moments. Then, she surges forward to embrace you tightly. “Mama,” she says through tears.

“Baby bear,” you respond, your voice thick as well When you pull back, you wipe away her fallen tears while you both smile. You place the package in her lap and she excitedly tears through it.

What she finds is photos. Piles of photos and letters and more letters and photos that illustrate the three years you had with the love of your life. There’s even hints of Sam in there, and you watch carefully as she picks up a photo of Dean where he’s smiling brightly at the camera while on a boat--a smile that mirrors the one your daughter frequently wears.

“Mama,” she breathes. “This...this is a photo of King Dean. Why do you have a photo of King Dean?”

“Is that one of your questions?”

“No!” She amends, rewinding. “My father...is King Dean.”

“That’s wild.”

She flicks your arm. “Mom! I mean this is--I’m a--how?!”

“Excuse me,” you scoff. “Your mother’s a catch. And for that, you have 13 questions left.”

“Ah!” She exclaims, searching for words. “How did you two meet?”

“I worked all over the palace. I was a floater, I went where I was needed and coincidentally he was always there. He kept talking to me, we became friends, and eventually...one thing led to another.”

“Did you love each other?”

You swallow thickly. “With everything in us. Or at least for me. I’d always look for ways to see him, and he’s forgo royal duties just for me. We even got married, but I think it’s some sort of treason so I don’t bring it up.”

Opal’s jaw drops briefly. “What was he like?”

“Your father…” You pause. “Your father was one of the most selfless, bravest, stubbornest assholes I’d ever met. He was fiercely protective of his family, and he would sell his whole being if it meant the people he cared about were safe.”

“So when you say all men…”

“I only partially include Dean. 10 questions.”

“Who’s this?” She points to a group photo of you, Dean, Sam & Jess.

“That is your Uncle Sam.” You shift slightly. “He was my best friend. We were as thick as thieves within the palace, always getting into trouble. You wouldn’t believe the situations we got into.”

“And her?” She points to Jess.

“That’s Jess. His ex-fiancee.” Your heart lurches into your throat. “She was also my best friend, but things...Things went wrong when she went on a charity visit to a Rehabilitation Center. A patient got ahold of a gun, and she was shot.” A tear escapes your eye. “By the time anyone got to her, it was too late. She died instantly.”

Opal reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers before squeezing tightly. You give her a close lipped smile. “Did Sam or Jess know about me?”

“Sam yes--we found out together actually. Jess passed away a year before it all happened.”

“Does my father know?”

Your heart beats incessantly against your ribcage, drowning in your ears. You’d prepared for this question, you could answer it. But even as you did, each word felt like liquid tar in your mouth. “The day I left, no. I was too hurt to even seek him out…But when I had you, I thought he had a right to know just how much of a true gem had stemmed from our love. Every year, a week after your birthday, I sent him memories of us from the past year. Photos of you mostly. I never got a reply.”

Opal deflates, and your chest clenches. “Do you...do you see any of him in me?”

A smile flits to your mouth, “So much it hurts,” you let out a chuckle. “From your smile to your eyes to your goddamn apple pie, there’s no way I could forget him when he lives so much in you.”

“So why’d you leave?”

You can only stare at her, mouth paused in shock. You debate whether you should tell her the truth.

“You said full honesty Mama.”

You close your eyes tightly, trying to catch even your faintest breath. “He um,” you clear your throat to dislodge the block forming. “He was too invested in running the country, and getting married to someone who wasn’t me--”

Opal leans into you, trying to offer some comfort. “Aww, Mama.

“The worst part is...is he didn’t tell me. I’d heard it from his m--from someone who was more than pleased to see us separated. I hadn’t heard from him for days, I’d just found out about you, and now here they were, threatening our lives if we didn’t get on our first plane out of there.”

“So you left without another word.”

You don’t answer.

“But--but maybe if you’d stayed, if he’d known about me we’d be together right now! You should’ve fought for him--”

“Fought for him?” You interrupted. “Opal, I had done nothing but fight for him. I would never leave his side and then--then he wasn’t the only person I had to fight for.”

“So who was it?”

“What?”

“Who made you leave? Who threatened us?”

“Opal--”

“Mom--”

“Don’t make me answer this.”

“You said full. Honesty.”

It takes everything in you to answer. “Your Grandmother.”

Opal lets out a breath and sits back heavily. “Well fuck.”

“I know,” you chuckle.

You both don’t speak for a while.

“Do you miss him?” She asks.

“Everyday. Every time I think I’m over it, it comes back tenfold.”

“Does that mean you’d go back if you could?”

You but your lip. “I...I don’t know. That’s something I’d have to reevaluate if it ever came down to it.”

She nods thoughtfully.

“One more question baby bear.”

“...Which palace do they spend their most time in?”

You tilt your head, surprised at her last question. “That’s what you’re going to ask.”

“What can I say? I’m curious and a little bit of a daydreamer.”

Her last words break you a little more, so you tell her. She nods gratefully, and you lean forward to give her forehead a kiss. “Alright, do you want a slice of cake before we clonk out?”

Once again, to your surprise she shakes her head. “I’ll have some with you tomorrow, I think I might hit the bed now.”

“Okay.” You surrender, lifting yourself from the bed. “Good choice. Goodnight baby bear.”

“Goodnight Mama.”

You walk out of the room, and immediately Opal pulls out her phone to look up the palace. After some extensive digging and some slight dead ends, she finds a Redditt thread that swears by a palace address that’ll get her immediately to the inner circle. She quickly writes it down, and she finds a piece of paper and a few pencils.

With a deep breath, she starts to write.

It’s been about a week since your conversation with Opal, and work has been shitty. Nothing new, really, is all you can think as you wait patiently for Opal to meet you outside her school in your beat up car. Your vows to make things better seem to have fallen flat. Bills have started to drown you more than before, and you’ve recently been fired from Sal’s--you honestly don’t know how much longer you can keep your head above water.

Opal bounds to the car, humming and you give her an incredulous look. “Someone’s awfully chipper.”

“Well someone’s awfully a grouch,” she retorts.

“Well, we do live in a trash can,” you mumble, pulling away from the curb. “Baby bear, I gotta tell you something--”

“You got laid off.”

“I got--wait, how’d you know?”

“I heard you grumbling Wednesday night about Sal being a sleazeball who couldn’t keep his hands to himself.”

“Well--”

“And I found our eviction notice Mom.”

Blood rushes to your ears and you groan. “Look, I know this sounds bad, but we’ll be back on our feet before we know it, and this’ll all be behind us.”

“I know.”

You smile. “Thank you for your optimism baby bear.”

“Next time, I’ll charge you $25 for each optimistic phrase.”

You laugh heartily. “I’ll let you know when I can afford that.”

Pulling onto the side of your street, things are awfully quiet, though neither you nor Opal notice. Unlocking your apartment, you go down the steps only to freeze at the sight of apple green eyes you never thought you’d see again.

“Dean?”

---------------------------

Look out for Part Three coming soon!

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cringeyvanillamilk · 4 years

Note

Yoo~! Your modern au series is pretty entertaining. Please do one for Gordon (and Grey and Gauche too if you don't mind; I love this trio) in the future! 😊❣❣

I finally finished your request!! I’m happy to finally draw these three, especially Gordon! I hope you enjoy~! <3

Gordon Agrippa

Loves reading various types of books, specifically ones about the power of friendship

Has a lot of knowledge on pharmaceutical drugs and medicine due to family background

Current Career: Freelance Writer, but currently works at Black Bull’s cafe

Was part of the book club and knitting club at Clover academy

Performs poetry every night at the Black Bull’s cafe

Fashion: Gordon has a love for gothic victorian inspired fashion. He finds this type of fashion to be aesthetically pleasing, which is greatly inspired by his family who also loves this particular clothing style. Any clothes with chains, belts, and studs will most likely catch his eyes. He also loves wearing his signature cap with his outfit. The colors that he usually wears are mostly black, grey, and red. He likes to wear gothic jewelry where he sees fits and completes the look with dark eyeshadow, black lipstick, and black nail polish. Despite this dark image, Gordon loves to decorate himself with cute and bright buttons to make himself more approachable. The buttons include a happy face, a pansexual flag, and a strawberry. Overall, Gordon’s fashion is goth with a sprinkle of cute accessories.

The Agrippa family had an infamous reputation of owning a pharmacy store that was rumored to secretly provide immoral people with drugs that could potentially poison those they want dead. While this rumor was true generations ago, Gordon’s father, Nathan, wanted to turn their family’s reputation around and become a pharmacist that helps people with their health. But due to the lack of proper communication between Nathan and Gordon, Gordon assumes that his father wants to continue their family’s sick tradition and left to live on his own near the capital. While Gordon successfully attended Clover academy through achievements and awards in writing, he spent the majority of his life in isolation. Even though he joined a lot of clubs in the academy, people still didn’t want to befriend him. And despite getting his English degree, Gordon has trouble getting jobs due to his intimidating appearance. After being rejected by a lot of jobs, Gordon decided to stop by the Black Bull’s cafe to rest and find more jobs to apply. This is where he met Yami who noticed that Gordon was looking for a job and offered him a spot at the Black Bull’s cafe since they are short of staff. Yami also commented that his creepy appearance would be perfect to bring in more customers. This was the first time Gordon experienced someone wanting him to be a part of something and was overwhelmed with happiness. He now works happily at the Black Bull’s cafe while also looking for a job that fits his passion.

Random Fact: Gordon is an amazing cook. He is part of the cooking team at Black Bull’s cafe along with Charmy and Gauche. He specializes in desserts and can make any types of sweets (e.g., cake, cookies, etc.). Gordon usually makes cookies for the staff to eat with each cookie representing each one of them. Gordon isn’t good at designing people in his baking and so they look very creepy. He’s really good at making Halloween themed desserts, even when he isn’t trying. Since strawberry shortcake is his favorite food, you’ll always see him make it every day. His love for strawberry shortcake is the reason behind his strawberry button.

Gauche Adlai

Owns a mirror that was previously owned by his deceased parents

Had a bad reputation from stealing from stores and getting into street fights when he lived in the streets

Possible major: Photography

Has a room full of photos of just Marie, but he has a secret stash where the photos are of the Black Bull’s cafe employees being happy (don’t tell anyone)

Has won many photography competitions with each photo being related to Marie in some way

Fashion: Gauche doesn’t pay too much attention to his daily clothes, but he does know how to dress himself for any occasion. He prefers tasteful and simple clothes, nothing too fancy. You’ll usually see him with a collar shirt, jacket, and slacks. He also likes wearing vintage shoes because he finds it aesthetically pleasing to his eyes. He generally shops at any thrift store nearby, unless it’s Marie then he’ll shop at an expensive clothing store. Gauche’s fashion may lean more towards hipster if he spends a lot of money on himself. Overall, simple but somewhat stylish.

When Gauche and Marie were young, they had a healthy relationship with their parents who loved and cared for them with all their heart. Their father was a respected and rich businessman and their mother was a famous war photographer. Each time their mother would come back home from her trips, she would usually share the happy photos she took to Gauche and Marie. Seeing these happy pictures inspired Gauche to follow in her footsteps in becoming a photographer. Gauche specifically wanted to take pictures of people who are happy because seeing people smile makes him feel good. But one goal he hopes to complete is creating a photo album of his family being happy together. After receiving his first camera from his father, Gauche was ready to start his photo album once his mother came back home from her trip. When Gauche’s father went to pick up their mother from the airport, Gauche and Marie received terrible news that they both died in a ‘car accident’ on their way back home. This accident was actually orchestrated by his uncle who wanted to inherit their wealth and kicked Gauche and Marie out of their mansion. After being left on the streets, Gauche decided to take it upon himself and take care of Marie like how his parents would’ve wanted him to. Acting as a reliable older brother and the only family Marie has, they frequently moved to different locations to look for food and shelter. They were later taken in by an orphanage led by sister Theresa. Gauche had a talent in photography and was pushed by sister Theresa to compete in various contests where he won 1st place in each one. These great achievements led him to be chosen by Clover academy, but quickly rejected the offer since that would mean he’ll have to dorm at the academy away from Marie. During their walks, Marie found out about Gauche’s rejection to the academy and was upset that Gauche would decline such a great offer. Gauche argues that he doesn’t want to leave her alone which made Marie feel even more frustrated and ran inside a nearby cafe. This is where he met Yami, who happened to eavesdrop on their conversation. Yami reasoned that if Gauche really cared for Marie, he’d bring in more money to support her if he managed to graduate from the academy and go to college. Then when he’s financially secured, he and Marie can live on their own with no need for outside assistance. Yami’s words were able to convince Gauche to proceed in attending Clover academy which made Marie happy. As a way to show thanks, Marie said if the cafe needed any help, Gauche would be happy to work for him. Gauche was about to disagree but Yami was quick to accept Gauche into the cafe and promise Marie that he’ll keep Gauche busy. Gauche had no say in the matter since Marie already sealed the deal with Yami.

Random Fact: Gauche has a talent in art. Whether it’s sculpting, drawing, painting, or knitting, Gauche can replicate anything he sees. Even in baking, he can replicate any object or person as a cake. In fact, Gauche’s extraordinary skills would’ve been perfect for the recent cake cutting trend. However, Gauche mainly uses his younger sister, Marie, as a model for all of his artistic creations. If you go inside his room, you’ll see a shrine of sculptures, drawings, paintings, and dolls of Marie.

Grey

Likes to cosplay and attend conventions

Finds comfort in watching Cinderella

Possible major: Acting

Was an exceptional actress back in high school and would get chosen for lead roles but always decline these roles because of her sisters bullying

Has a great singing voice and likes to hum whenever she cleans

Fashion: Grey is incredibly shy and so her fashion reflects this. Grey’s casual attire is very modest and rarely shows a lot of skin. She likes to wear sweaters, long pants or skirts, and blue flats that her father got her as a birthday present. However, whenever she imitates a character for a cosplay or theater play, she becomes a completely different person and could wear very revealing clothes if it fits the character she’s impersonating. Grey likes showing off a lot of skin when she’s in character because this gives her an excuse to be confident in herself. Outside of her cosplays, Grey rarely wears jewelry since she thinks she doesn’t deserve to decorate herself with pretty things. Grey does value her belt since it was another gift from her father. Overall, Grey’s fashion is modest and warm.

Grey came from a middle class family where she used to live with her father, stepmother, and two elder stepsisters. Her father owns a small boutique store and her stepmother co-owns the store with her father. While her father showered Grey with love, her stepmother and stepsisters mistreated her and forced her to do all the chores in the house. They frequently lied to her father saying that she always wanted to do all the chores and didn't like going out with them since she prefers to stay at home. Because Grey’s father was oblivious of his daughter’s struggles, he never questioned it whenever they would go out without her. Grey was too meek to speak out and so she would go along with what they said in silence. During her time alone, she would always watch anime or DVDs of musical plays whenever she was done cleaning the place and making food. Grey always dreamed of being an actress in a play or show, but would get ridiculed for wanting to pursue such a career. Grey still tries to participate in various plays or get into cosplay where she gets to act like a completely different person. Grey finds herself comfortable as another character and still yearns to be an actress and so she auditioned for her school’s plays. She would get chosen for major roles in the plays, but when her stepsisters found out, they bullied her into going for a minor role instead. After graduating high school, Grey was ordered to stay home and not go to college to continuously be a servant for the family. Despite wanting to go to college to be an actress, Grey obeyed and continued to take care of the house for many years. It wasn’t until one day when Grey wanted to find a way to get closer to her stepsisters where she decided to dress up and perfectly transformed herself into looking like one of her stepsisters. Her stepsisters were outraged by her impersonation and threatened her which made Grey run away in fear. While on the streets, Grey was jumped by three muggers, but was saved by Gauche by Marie’s request. Gauche said if she’s running away, she should try and live for herself which inspired Grey to follow Gauche into the Black Bull’s cafe. With no courage to go back home, she was told by Vanessa that she could live at her place in the meantime while she gets back on her feet. Gauche commented that she should also start working at the cafe if she wanted to make enough money to support herself now that she’s starting fresh. Grey gratefully took Vanessa and Gauche’s offer and so now lives with Vanessa at her apartment, attends the same college as Gauche, and works at the Black Bull’s cafe.

Random Fact: Grey is great at doing makeup when she wants to replicate another character or person for her cosplay or costume. Whenever she attends anime conventions, she is complimented a lot for perfectly imitating the characters she cosplayed as. Even during cosplay contests, she would always place 1st place for her high quality clothes, wigs, and makeup. Grey thanks her father for teaching her these skills when she was young.

#black clover #Gordon Agrippa #gauche adlai #grey #modern au #my art #answered #I feel like I wrote a lot for their backstories in comparison to the other ones I've done-#I think I got too excited that's why-#Thank you for the request~!#I HOPE THEIR BACKSTORIES MAKE SENSE?

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smileyface-backpack · 3 years

Text

I found this extremely lovely skirt at the thrift store recently. It was a few sizes too big, so I took the waist in a bit.

I created two three inch darts, in the back of the skirt; Taking a total of six inches. Since there were multiple sections that created the skirt I worked with the seams on both sides of the zipper. I created little waste because I did not cut down the leg portion of the skirt. Doing this gave it more frame as well and left the bottom as flowy as it was originally.

I really love the pattern and the texture of fabric. It’s got a decent weight to it as well. I’m a beginner tailor but I love seeing it’s so much fun.

They/Them

#nonbinary #green witch #stoner witch #high elf #art witch #witchblr #ethereal #art hoe #avant garde #fae aesthetic #sewing #tailoring #thrifting #thrift finds #thrift flip #thrift fashion

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msfangirlface · 3 years

Text

I wrote a silly Halloween ficlet for my Modern AU, because the idea of Millie and Jean dressing up as each other got into my head and seemed too good to resist. Enjoy!

It had started as a teasing suggestion on Millie’s part, as so many things did.

“Hey, this says I should dress up as you for Halloween, darling,” she had said, flashing her phone in Jean’s face for just enough time for her to see the result of ‘Sexy Librarian’ on a Halloween costume generator site. In response to the sight of Jean’s raised eyebrows she had added: “Yes, I know you are an archivist and not a librarian and that people and fought and died through very boring meetings for that distinction to be made, but I think we can agree that when it comes to Halloween costumes the difference is negligible,” and then “Would you be mad if I actually did dress as you?”

“Oh, feel free, my love,” Jean had replied. “But don’t think I won’t reciprocate.”

From there things had turned (again, quite inevitably) competitive, and the fortnight that followed had been full of visits to thrift stores and furtive trying on of various items from each other’s wardrobe.

Millie had been quietly confident in her own effort. She’d paired a long cardigan of Jean’s and a plain t-shirt of her own with a mid-length checked skirt she had found at Goodwill, and added some woollen tights and the flat shoes she wore for waitressing. Her hair in a bun and she was wearing Jean’s reading glasses on a chain around her neck. However, even she could admit when she had been outdone.

In her outfit – a red satin blouse, a black skirt which reached her mid-thigh, meeting sheer black tights and heeled ankle boots - Jean not only looked like Millie, but she looked phenomenal. As she finished applying her lipstick, she turned around to speak.

“Will I do?” she asked, in a tone of someone who very much knew that she would do, and quite unlike her usual one.

“I know we were a little worried that our costumes weren’t that Halloween appropriate, but let me tell you that finding out you’re basically attracted to yourself is pretty scary,” Millie said, by way of answering.

Jean laughed. “Well, I’m glad you like it.”

“Honestly, I’m inclined to suggest we skip the party because you look so good, and I don’t know what that says about me,” said Millie.

“There is perhaps a touch of narcissism in it, dear,” Jean said, adjusting her curled hair with recently-painted nails. “Anyway, we can’t skip the party, quite aside from the amount of effort we’ve put in, Hailey will never let us live it down if we don’t see her Holtzmann outfit in the flesh.”

“I am looking forward to Iris and Marcus’s Zombie Eliza and Alexander, too,” Millie said, watching as Jean leaned over slightly to pick up her handbag and the skirt rode up her thighs. “But they could send pictures.”

“We’re going to the party,” Jean said, rolling her eyes. She turned to leave the room, and when there was no sound of movement behind her, said “Come on, Millie!”

Millie raised her eyebrows, but followed. “We can stay in and read!” she said, grabbing the novel she had taken from the bookshelf earlier to accessorise her costume. “I’ve always been much more of a homebody, me, not one for parties.”

Jean shook her head, putting her prop cigarette into her bag. “We’re going.”

Millie sighed. “Okay, but can I just-” she leaned in to kiss her but found herself blocked by an arm on her shoulder.

“My lipstick!” Jean said, offering her cheek instead.

Millie laughed. "Such a diva."

“I’m just in character, darling,” Jean said.

Millie found she couldn’t argue with that.

You can also read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25937437/chapters/66714652

#the bletchley circle #the bletchley circle: san francisco #jean mcbrian #millie harcourt #fanfiction

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hobidreams · 3 years

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tag game!!

thank you for the tags @yeojaa, @hauntedlilies, & @jinpanman 💗💗💗 you’re all the sweetest!! i tag anyone reading this ✨

Post your favorite/most recent photo of yourself!

sorry, won’t for privacy reasons 💞

Favorite personality trait of yours?

i’m passionate! i rarely, if ever, half-ass things. this... can very easily turn into a negative trait hahah... 🤣

Favorite body part of yours!

probably my legs! they make me look taller than i am haha

Favorite aesthetic/style on yourself?

my style is like classic + business!! i love those long wool overcoats, sheath dresses, structured blouses, etc. i don’t have a lot of opportunity to wear clothes like this bc i don’t work in an office environment yet but i’m EXCITED for it hahah ✨

What are you most proud of?

probably my writing! it’s the one thing i’ve put 100000% of myself into, though i’ve still got so much more to learn about the craft so i’m looking forward to doing that!

A trait people say they like about you?

i’m pretty honest and straightforward! though this is sometimes annoying to me because i can’t even tell white lies (like pretending not to be annoyed by a customer back when i used to work retail LOL)

A personality/physical trait you used to be ashamed of but now appreciate?

idk if this counts but my name! i used to really dislike my real name & wanted to change it all the time bc ppl teased me abt it so much. but now i’m really really happy with it & wouldn’t change it for the world.

Favorite color on you?

black for sure. i tend to gravitate towards dark colors, like burgundy or dark cobalt blue.

Favorite clothing on you?

high waisted anything! i have a black velvet skirt that i thrifted in high school and it’s been with me for soooo long, through so many body changes but it’s still going strong hahah 😭💓 high waisted + crop is usually the silhouette i go for.

An aesthetic you’ve always wanted to try but are too scared to?

really want to try chunky boots! my feet hurt when i wear heels but they look so CUTE UGH. i’m definitely gonna try on a pair in store after the pandemic. i usually go for sleek styles so it’ll be a huge shift haha

Thing you like getting compliments on the most?

probably when my efforts are acknowledged! ngl to you, on the first day of one of my classes last term, one of my profs said something like “if you need a day’s extension, just let me know because i know you’re all working so hard and i know you’re all doing your best” and i literally started tearing up right there lol 😭 i think esp in asian culture, it’s not really said a lot. so i try to tell my friends “you worked hard today” when i can.

And lastly, do you love yourself?

yeah! it took me a while (also one particular ex 😔) but i’m at a good point in my life with who i am & my choices. of course, there are parts of myself i’m working on & would like to improve/change but i’m trying to be kinder to myself in general 🥰

#tag game

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starbuck09256 · 5 years

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Green Sweater

You know the one, that one she favors in Season 7. Yea that one. Wonder who picked it out for her?? We all know.

Fictober day 7. Barely making it.

tagging @today-in-fic and @suitablyaggrieved

She stands at the edge of the luggage carousel watching it spin round and round with a small purple suitcase spins past her, mocking her each time it goes around as not another bag drops. She stares down at her black heels, anger blooming up in her chest as she thinks about the fact that it was ridiculous to check her bag, she only did so because they were racing through the terminal. Mulder and his be ready in 10 minutes. She gets that sometimes they do need to leave with little notice. She knows she's not really mad at him but the airline. The 12 hour flight with 2 delays and a middle seat the entire time as done little to dissuade her anger. She just wants her pajamas. She’s still feeling the effects of the chemo even with the recent remission status she’s received. She also doesn’t want to complain, have Mulder pull her out of the field, tell her to go home and rest. She wants to live now, she wants to be out there in the field using her talents again. She needs the challenge because in the last few months all her energy had been drained fighting the invisible force lingering from her chip. She wants to have her mind back, her body back. She wants to feel warm, to feel Mulders love not just in a hospital bed. She wants to move them forward, try and find the beauty in the world again. First though she wants to change into pajamas grab some popcorn from the convenience store and maybe just maybe lay down next to Mulder and fall asleep. She throws up her hand as the purple bag finally gets picked up by the punk teenager with the colorful mohawk. She is defeated once more as she resigns herself to meekly head over to the airline counter Mulder is already sweet talking the attendant.

“No more flights tonight dude, there is a mall though about 5 minutes away. They are still open you know with the holidays coming up.”

Scully looks over his shoulder to see that he has in fact accurately described her bag with precision. She looks up and is so sad sighing.

“I probably have an extra shirt you can sleep in Scully.” he mutters toeing his food against his black roller bag.

She can’t help but feel angry staring up into the bright florescent light that blinks back at her. This man has cost her so many outfits and heels. He practically owes her a new wardrobe. She takes a deep breath, thinks about the mediated therapy she tried when she was sick. Thinks about being grateful to even be wearing clothes or heels to begin with and not still be tethered to an IV or worse buried in some terrible outfit her mother thought would encompass her in the afterlife. He sees her anger most of this is his fault. He should have told her last night, he shouldn’t of kept her up arguing over some cryptoid he found, shouldn’t have stayed over longer and let her sleep against him so long. She wouldn’t be rubbing her neck or have been so out of it when he picked her up. He taps his fingers on the counter, remembers the girl letting him know that this baggage claim was pretty much incompetant and Scully would be lucky to get her bag by next week. He knows he’s ruined a few things of hers, shirts with his blood, shoes with the running in the woods. Jackets and pants getting covered in god knows what. She now uses his dryer cleaner, who doesn’t ask questions but shakes their head and gives him a look. He thinks they were just happy to see that he had a lady friend after all. Never removing lipstick being the one thing they never had to worry about. He grabs the rental car keys reaches down and grabs Scullys hand.

“Mulder what?”

“Let's go to the mall,”

“You are not serious”

She doesn’t want to shop, she hasn’t gained back the muscle she wants. She was out so much that the 60% short term disability leave that she did take really hurt her overall savings and she doesn’t want something cheap. She wants Brooks Brothers, to look like a partner worthy of the man she stands next too. It’s taken her a bit of time to find some good thrift shops that lobbyists favor to donate clothes.

“I’m buying” he says as he wheels his bag and heads towards the car.

She’s never paid full price for anything, growing up with 4 kids on one income even with Base stores meant you hit shops carefully, you planned and you saved and you found ways to buy quality garments that lasted. Her student loans and medical school only made her even more conscious of the importance of being thrifty. She would rather have a spacious place in Georgetown then any latest trend. Now though now she is staring at beautifully crafted clothes that hug her athletic figure in ways that she only dreamed. Mulder went through Brooks Brothers in record time, they close in 20 minutes and he didn’t want her to feel the pressure so he just started picking stuff in her size. Normally she would hate it, would hate someone picking out things for her to wear but now she is standing in a fitting room wearing a pencil black skirt with a hunter green sweater and she sees the woman she is, the sweater so light and comfortable perfect for an evening at home or with a blazer at work. Mulder grabs a blazer and another white blouse throws them over the stall door.

“Hey I know it looks good on you, hurry up so we can pay for it, we still need to get you some sneakers for the autopsies tomorrow”

She can’t help but bite her lip. She laughs for a second, another shirt comes flying over the top.

“This one isn’t for you it's for me, don’t wear it around Skinner though… oh I just noticed the famous footwear I’ll be right back, get everything together and meet me at the counter.”

She can’t help but roll her eyes at the clearly way too low cut for anything professional shirt he tossed to her. Skinner would probably not care about anything they did if she wore that to the office. She gathers up everything lays carrying it to the counter, she probably only needs 3 things if she is honest. But there at the counter is another stack of pajamas some fuzzy slippers some beautiful lingerie it makes her blush wildly. The lady at the counter just looks at her. She is scared for a moment of how this looks like Pretty Woman. The cashier looks at her and smiles.

“Guy said they lost your luggage, said to have you get this stuff too, even though you don’t need it. Because putting up with him is more than a 40 hour job and to consider it back pay.”

She is slightly shocked. But the cashier doesn’t seem to care and starts ringing everything up, the numbers are staggering. There is no way she can let Mulder pay for this, well maybe the stuff he picked out, whatever that’s not her problem. The green sweater is lightly folded on top, “wow this color goes really well with your complexion.”

She isn’t sure where Mulder is and the daunting amount that is showing in bright green is more than a little disconcerting. She feels a warm hand slide around her though.

“Phew, sorry, hey I got these, these are the ones you always have right?” her perfect white little reebok tennis shoes stare back at her with her favorite brand of socks in a big plastic white bag. Because of course he would know her favorite brand of socks.

“Mulder” she can only mutter as he pulls out his wallet and grabs a 20% off your entire purchase coupon.

She laughs, Mulder is a bad tipper, even though he grew up with money he doesn’t like to pay anything more than he has too. He shrugs hands over a credit card and touches the green sweater, he clears his throat.

“So you uh gonna wear that one tomorrow?”

“I thought you wanted me to wear that piece that has both my tits hanging out?” She replies with a smirk.

“No, no Scully that one you know is for… nevermind. Wear the green sweater tomorrow ok. Since I didn’t get to see you model it.”

“It looked good,” she replies.

“Yea well you would look amazing in a burlap sack Scully,” he thanks the cashier. Grabs the four giant bags as she rolls a new black sleek suitcase towards the exit.

#mulder and scully #fluff #season5ish?#myfic #the xfiles #txf fic #msr #fictober19

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inkofamethyst · 4 years

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September 21, 2020

Over the past few months, I have decided to make some changes to my life, and it’s been really interesting how I’ve gone through the same process for pretty much all of them. First I decided in March that I wanted to change my major from biochem to a bio/anth double. I kept having feelings of “Well, how will others perceive me?” Truth be told, none of my friends (save... two, I suppose) actually know for a fact that I’m no longer planning to graduate with a biochem degree or that I’m no longer planning to go to pharmacy school. But I don’t think I’d be against telling people at this point, though I haven’t actually technically made the switch yet. The next change came sometime during the summer when I had become sufficiently radicalized to decide that I no longer wanted to buy new clothing from fast fashion/department stores unless I was getting an item of which I was assured that its fabric content was of natural fiber and it was a basic item that I was willing to invest in. This basically meant saying goodbye to trendy clothing altogether which, like, I’ve never really be one to try to keep up with trends, and while I felt a similar sense of freedom as I had when I’d decided to, well, quit my major, there was still some apprehension as to whether I would actually be able to pull it off (I’m actually thinking that I may try the sewing-only challenge one year, but that’s quite a bit down the line for me). Then, most recently, I decided to basically shun my attempts at looking like everyone else in favor of a more classic look. I’m honestly feeling the most apprehension about this, because as fun as it is to twirl around in my new thrifted gray midi skirt (which is almost definitely handmade), it is far far far different from anything I’ve elected to wear before. This new style that I’m trying to curate is so outside the box and it’s something that literally everyone will see. People won’t be able to see my majors by looking at me, and they’d likely be unable to tell that I’ve set shopping restrictions on myself, but wearing circle skirts and blouses and nicer pants every day is definitely different in a way that I may or may not be prepared to be. I’m also worried, as I have been with those other two changes I’d instituted, that I may be wasting my time and money on this. It would be so much easier to just wear sweatpants, you know (to be perfectly clear, I do not want to go back to wearing sweatpants on a regular basis)? I don’t know, I don’t know. I’m likely just overthinking all of this.

Also,,, I don’t know if I’m just weirdly good at reading spectroscopy or if I’m good at finding resources to help me do well on spectroscopy assignments, but chem lab so far has not been nearly as difficult as last semester. Is this really how nice the non-majors have had chemistry labs all this time?? While I was freaking out over my required freshman chem lab?? Wheeew I been missin out. These bio majors and premeds don’t know how good they’ve got it.

That said, I am horribly unprepared for my first chem midterm next week. Time to start crammingggggg.

Today I’m thankful for the fact that I don’t really have any long-term projects right now. Everything resets on a weekly basis for the most part, and that really helps to keep me on track. As annoying as it might be to have a weekly quiz in anth and bio, they keep me from falling too far behind. Frankly, I’d love to go back to having the weekly orgo mini-quiz-homework-things that we had last semester to help keep me on track. Even if they were ungraded or for a minimal amount of extra credit (I’m talking 0.33 points per week or something so you could get a maximum of 5 extra credit points), that’d be nice. But! As I was saying, this lack of long-term projects really has helped me stay fairly on track, and if I ever do run off the rails a bit (like I did last week with anth), I know when I have to catch up by and I’ll have the chance to start over the next week. With long-term projects and my procrastination habit... it’s just not good. Every week presents an opportunity to do better.

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dat2ndaccount97 · 4 years

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Doll Inventory Part 18: My box of Frozen Dolls.

These are all my frozen dolls, and I have quite a lot because I REALLY like Frozen 1 and 2, and the shorts/specials too. I also in particular REALLY REALLY LOVE Anna. She’s my Favorite Disney Princess and one of my favorite Disney Characters ever. I’m borderline obsessed with her lol. Anyways These are All My Older Disney Store/Disney Collection princess Anna Dolls with the original Face Sculpt.

- 1st row Left side is My 2015 Disney Store Princess Anna Doll. She was My First Anna Doll, I got her brand new back in 2016, and she’s my Favorite, most cherished Doll ever. I love her so much. I got her During a point when I was very Obsessed/In Love her her lol. While Her Hair is a Stiff dry mess, and she’s missing a lot of Hair Plugs, I still love her all the same. I did Trim her Bangs a few years ago, be more accurate to her look in the film, and I think it looks pretty good for the most part.. I also touched up her Blush Yesterday with some color pencil, and I think it came out pretty good. Usually I don’t have her in her Cap and her cape but for this Inventory post I had her wearing it.

- 1st row Right side is my 2013 Disney Store Princess Anna Doll, who I got a few years ago. She was one of the First Disney Store Princess Anna dolls released, and has a more detailed outfit than later Annas. Her Cape is Layered, had the Heart clips around the collar, the Purple trim/underside of the boots, and she has some furry gloves. Also Something I’ve noticed about the 2013 and some 2014 DS Anna Dolls is that they have a bigger head than the later 2014 to 2015 and onward Anna Dolls. Anna I also trimmed the Bangs on to be film accurate as of about a year ago. While The Later Annas use the more barbie style vinyl doll legs, the 2013, 2014, and some 2015 Anna Dolls use the awful Jointed Disney Store Soft Plastic legs that make it impossible for them to sit. But yeahI do really like her a lot.

- 2nd row Left side is My other 2013 Disney store Anna Doll, with her har uncut (and messy). She originally came nude when I got her but I later got her a 2013 Anna outfit. Also she has some weird Black stains on her nose and cheek, which I still need to clean off.

- 2nd row Right side is a JCPenney Disney Collection Princess Anna doll. I think she’s from 2013 or 2014 as she has a bigger head. Also the JCPenney Disney Collection Dolls are not as Articulated as the regular Disney Store dolls, and have the barbie like vinyl legs (one of which is broken on the inside on mine). When I got her she came in garish Bootleg clothes. In the Pic here she’s Wearing her bootleg Skirt but the Top and Shoes of the 2018 Disney Store Anna Doll. Also Trimmed her bangs to be film accurate.

- 3rd row Left side is a Disney Store Coronation Day Anna, I think she’s from one of the Box sets. The top of her Dress has no Details, Her hair style isn’t accurate to the film, as her bun is a little different, missing the braid in her hair, and the barrette. She also doesn’t have the Necklace, rather a black chocker for some reason. Also she got a Blue Stain on her nose at some point that I need to wipe off. I still really like her regardless.

- 3rd row Right Side is My Custom Coronation Day Disney Store Anna Doll. She’s Made from a Disney Store Frozen Fever Anna (Due to her Painted on Leggings), and a Disney Parks Exclusive Anna Doll Costume set that’s very hard to find. It’s the only disney store sized Coronation dress that accurate to the movie. However the set comes with high heels so I gave her the flats from the other DS Coronation Anna, and she also wearing the “necklace” that comes in the set, which doesn’t look like the necklace from the movie at all. Regardless I love how she turned out and is my other favorite Anna Doll

- 4th row Left Side is a Disney Store Epilogue Ice skating Anna that came in a 2 pack with Elsa. It’s one of the ony DS Anna Dolls of her from her epilogue outfit from frozen 1. I’m thinking about trying to find another pair of her boots online to snip off the ice skates

- 4th row Right side is another Disney Store Frozen Fever Anna. I found her at a thrift store, and I decided to keep her hair down. Still need to style it.

- 5th row Left side is another Thrifted Disney Store Anna. Her hair was longer, and a but on the top was cut when I got her, but I decided to cut it short recently, and I think it looks great, Just need to style it.

- 5th row Right side is a 16 inch Disney Store Anna. She has an intense Side Glance, some awkward arm articulation, and her chest lights up when she sings “For the First Time in Forever”. I’m wanna try to rebody her at some point, I just need to find a body her size that matches her skin tone.

#anna #princess anna #Doll Inventory #Doll Inventory part 18 #My Box of Frozen dolls #My Frozen Dolls #anna doll #princess anna doll #disney store princess anna doll #2013 disney store anna doll #2015 disney store anna doll #Coronation Day Anna doll #Disney store coronation day anna doll #custom coronation day disney store anna doll #Ice Skating Epilogue Anna doll #Thrift Strore Anna doll #16 inch anna doll #16 inch disney store anna doll

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amiafairyprincessyet · 5 years

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Alright... Don’t say I didn’t warn you...

Here it is: the exhaustively detailed breakdown of my 1920s costume/outfit for the interactive theatre event I went to! I’m posting this 60% because I can’t shut up about historical fashion, 30% because it’ll be fun to re-read years down the line, and 10% because hey maybe you’ll find it interesting.

Let’s start with how I built the outfit and started to form the character for it!

The two most important pieces for this outfit were the dress and the hat, and I can’t quite remember now which one I bought first. It looks like both purchases hit my bank account on the same day, so that doesn’t clear things up. I think maybe it was the hat?

Alright, so let’s start with the hat. Now, see, I love the 1920s but they really don’t love me back. The main problem I have is with the popular silhouettes of the clothes, but I also have a serious issue with the hats--I’m allergic to wool. Cloches are the stereotypical 1920s hat and almost ALL of them are made of wool. I can’t do it! But, sometimes, you can find ones made of straw. I’ve been meaning to buy a cloche for ages (tbh it’s ironic I didn’t do it until I had long hair) so I’d been planning to buy a straw one. Now that I had an occasion, I was ready to make that leap! I searched for straw cloches on Etsy, found tons of cool ones, and then drastically reduced my options when I started paying attention to sizing. (My head is both literally and figuratively big and I have A Lot of hair.) I finally settled on this one from itbecomesyou.

I actually wasn’t planning on buying a dress specifically for the occasion--I have one or two things that I could fudge a little and it’d look okay. (Certainly better than, like, a cheap Halloween costume, which is what some people were wearing.) But I was right by the thrift store anyway, so I popped in and looked around. The green dress was almost the first thing I spotted, and I got my hopes up right away. I could tell that it would fit loosely and have a low waist on me, even if that’s not how it was intended to fit--it’s actually from eShakti so it was custom made to someone’s measurements! That person also clearly donated more than one dress, because there was another dress there in the exact same style made of chambray--I’m wearing it as I write the first part of this post, actually. For some reason, I think the chambray one is a little smaller, but that’s not relevant.

The dress definitely isn’t perfect--I think it’s kind of obvious that the waist is elastic, and it’s still way too defined. The skirt is also a bit short. (Skirts in the ‘20s weren’t as short as popular culture would have us believe!!!) I figured it was supposed to be the late ‘20s (specifically ‘27) and the skirts got to the shortest point around then, so the length was forgivable. But the waist? Iffy. Like... with the full skirt it’s ALMOST got a bit of a robe de style silhouette going on but it’s not really all the way there, either. It’s a very confused dress. (Or it’s really just meant to be a more fitted style for someone a size up from me. Whatever, I like loose clothes and I’ve already worn it a bunch of times!)

When I was initially planning, I was originally going to put my hair in a low updo rather than a faux bob. That would actually be period-accurate--a lot of women who didn’t want to cut their hair did it! They’d often do a lot of work to keep their length while faking or imitating the look and shape of a bob. So I figured that with my long hair and my not-quite-boxy-enough dress I would just be unfashionable and poor, newly arrived to the city. Especially because this is clearly more of a day dress than an evening gown. My hypothetical character wouldn’t have the means to buy a dress just for going out in the evenings, and she’d maybe come straight from work (as a secretary, since that’s my actual job and I wanted to keep it simple) without changing.

As for the rest of my clothes... Well, between the hat and the dress I could see I was going in an earth-toned direction, so this was the only cardigan I had that would work. I have NO IDEA if it’s period-accurate or not. The scarf wasn’t really planned, but I thought I needed something with a bit of pizzazz, or else even my dowdy and plain “poor, rural secretary” outfit would be too boring. My compression stockings are obviously a) medical gear that I kinda just have to work around, and b) not at all accurate. Pretty sure in the ‘20s they still wore thigh-highs (sort of) that you had to hold up with straps. My shoes are okay, they’re character shoes from a musical I was in, so they’ve got a much thicker heel than most modern heels do. The shape of the heel isn’t quite right but like... I don’t think anyone’s looking THAT closely. (Okay, maybe I am.)

As for hair and makeup, well, my makeup isn’t as dramatic as you might think it should be for the ‘20s. Like I said in the makeup post, I shared that misconception too, up until pretty recently. Most of the standard misconceptions of 1920s fashion I already knew about, because I am. a nerd. But I thought that the makeup was pretty heavy! I re-watched Karolina Żebrowska’s video on the ‘20s and actually paid attention when she talked about the makeup this time. I was kinda relieved when she said that the makeup was much lighter than you’d think, because this outfit would look pretty weird with heavy makeup, since it’s a casual/unfashionable day look. I didn’t do any particular research other than glancing quickly at the examples of “normal” makeup that she showed because I was being lazy. Also, don’t come for my eyebrows. I like them and I refuse to do anything to make them look super-thin.

On to the hair, which is probably the most complicated and most important part! Like I said, I was originally planning to just do a low updo instead of a faux bob. However, when I got the hat and tried it on, I realized that a low updo wouldn’t work with where the hat sat on my head/how it fit me. A faux bob would also mess with the fit, but my hope was that it would be a bit better. I didn’t practice at all before the day of the event, I just kinda decided that It Would Definitely Work. So here’s how I did it:

Pincurl hair the night before

Wear hair down in pincurls the next morning

Humidity deflates curls within an hour, wear hair in improvised updo for rest of day

Try to redo pincurls in the afternoon

Oh shit it’s humid they’re still wet

I don’t own a hair dryer

OH WELL

Take top section of hair, sticking fingers in and parting so that you’re separating out the section in front of the ears

Go up to top of head in inverted V shape, so that a lot of the hair at the back of your head is not in the chunk you’re holding (how much depends on how thick your hair is)

Clip that chunk up; look ridiculous

Braid the hair that’s down--my hair is super thick so it made five braids

You want a LOT of your hair to be in these braids

Pin braids flat to the back of your head--similar to what you do to fit hair under a wig cap

Let down clipped up hair

Sigh over the fact that it’s barely wavy at this point

Make sure side part looks clean

Take back-most chunk of loose hair and grab a decent section, maybe an inch wide?

Grasp one small subsection of the hair in that section

Tease all the hair of the section--you don’t need to go overboard

The one piece you held onto should still be longer and straighter than the rest

Curl that bit around your finger a bit and then pin it up under the braids right at the back

Repeat for all but the two front-most sections of hair on either side of your part

Don’t tease these, just try to make the waves look nice with some subtle pinning and then pin the bottoms up

Oh shit you don’t own hairspray better hope this stays

Shove hat on top, DO NOT take it off for the rest of the night

I had a hilarious conversation about my hair with one of the actors, who was in character as a ~mystical flapper~. It went something like this:

me: Yes, I know it’s all the fashion these days to bob your hair, but I just couldn’t bear to cut it! Really my hair is this [gestures to top of chest] long, but I’ve got it pinned up.

actor, in character as someone in an era where “toxic orange” is not really a feasible hair color: That’s your real hair!?

me, with no hesitation: I’m Irish.

actor:

me:

me: That’s... orange. It’s orange. That’s why.

actor: :O

I then rolled with my ~brilliant improv~ and introduced myself as Bridget Kelley for the rest of the night. To be fair, I am almost certainly related to someone with that exact name.

The other bit of characterization I came up with (which I never really got to do much with) is that Bridget was a serial killer? I have no idea why I decided this, but I actually chose it a couple days ahead of time. I think I just had Chicago on the brain, since it’s set in the ‘20s. I also made her socially awkward but kind of the opposite from me where she was intense/focused/non-fidgety/interested one-on-one and shy as hell in crowds. I’m generally a fan of crowds as long as no one tries to socialize with me, because I can just hang out anonymously. I like being one-on-one or in small groups with people I like, but with random strangers I absolutely hate it.

And that’s basically it! I had a lot of fun at the event and I was really lucky and caught a ride home with an acquaintance I didn’t even know was going to be there. We got “raided by the police” at one point, and I also spent a decent chunk of time in the corner sewing. Good times!

#blog business

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forwhycas · 5 years

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Love Thy Neighbor (part 2)

Part 2, a little cute shopping scene, including Freddie:)

************************************************************************************************

Five days later and you’re still sewing and salvaging as much as you can. She really did tear up almost every article of clothing you had, even the underwear, who the fuck does that? Leaving work in the morning was fun, you found a note on the half broken door.

Lacy, meet me at 7 in the lobby we’ll get that new wardrobe figured out.

Drummer boy came through. You honestly thought you wouldn’t hear from him ever again. Especially after he saw you cry and saw how messed up your apartment was.

Work was going to go by slow now that you actually had plans afterwards.

Wow 7 o’clock could not come faster, 20 more minutes and then you have to speed walk back to the apartment, in skin tight red leather pants. So much work. You got their ten minutes late but their he was, you were out of breath and bent down and put your hands on your knees and tried to catch your breath, huffing and puffing.

“Thought you weren’t going to show, love take a breather, I’m in no rush”

He chuckled as you flipped him off, catching your breath finally.

“Sorry my boss was lecturing me on the ‘appropriate’ work attire, I thought I looked fine, but ya know, I guess I didn’t”

Roger walked a circle around you, and you could feel his eyes on you. He then stopped in front of you and smirked.

“I mean your ass looks quiet spectacular, so I don’t know what his issue is with this ensemble”

Wow your actually blushing, this is new.

“So, you want to drive to this place? I don’t think I can walk for too much longer in these pants they might split. I can drive if you want?”

He nodded and out the door you went, his eyes obviously on your ass. You crossed the street to your car.

“This is your car?”

“No Rog, this is some randos car and I’m gonna hot wire it, yes its mine!”

“Wow, thought you’d have something a little more…….feminine”

“What can I say I like fast cars”

You said while shrugging and getting in. You missed the cold leather and the stick shift and the slight smell of weed.

“Ok where too?”

20 minutes later you arrived near a sketchy alley way, and he told you to park.

“Roger are you gonna kill me?”

“What!? No, I’m about to show you my favorite place to shop”

He led you down the alley and into the cutest place you’ve ever seen before, your face must have lit up with excitement because when you looked over at him, he was grinning as well.

“I’ve never seen someone so happy about a thrift shop, here let me get Freddie, he’ll help you out.”

He wandered off and you just looked around at all of the colorful coats and denim jackets.

“Darling those pants fit you like a glove, Lacey, right? Roger was right, you are quiet a stunner! I’m Freddie”

You looked at Roger while shaking Freddie’s hand. He had marvelous flowing hair with piercing dark eyes and the best cheek bones you have ever seen. You two went off into the store and Roger went off looking at other stuff.

“What else has he said about me? Just curious.”

Freddie grinned at you.

“You’re the girl from across the hall, tight ass, nice eyes, American accent, always has woman and men going in and out of your door… shall I continue?”

“No that’s enough…..I honestly thought I was just ‘the neighbor’ in his eyes.”

He started picking stuff from racks and putting them up to your body for size comparison as you rambled on about nothing.

“Try these on love, he said you’re an artist, you must have a kick ass closet”

You were in the dressing room and had just gotten into a skirt Freddie had shoved in your hands, you heard the curtain open and close quickly. You looked in the mirror and saw Roger closing in on you.

“Can I help you? Last time I checked this is the ladies changi…….”

He didn’t let you finish as he backed you up against the mirror, catching you off guard, he was about to kiss you when you pushed him off.

“Take a lady to dinner before you ravish her.”

You said with a smile on your face and put your hand on his bare chest due to him just wearing a vest and kept pushing him out until he was out of the dressing room. After he was gone you let out a big sigh and pushed the thought of what could have happened out your mind. Just then Freddie walked in, with a whole stack of clothes with him. You could tell Fred was harmless.

“He’s just hurt you didn’t want to fuck him like all the other girls he hangs around with, you might be the only girl, recently at least, who shot him down……try this skirt on its shorter and a better quality……Well? Let’s see it!”

You changed out of the first skirt leaving you in just your underwear and blouse in front of him and he just handed you the skirt, he gave off a sweet vibe that didn’t even phase you with being half naked in front of him.

“Yup that’s it, pair that with anything and maybe even this ex of yours will take you back.”

“I think I’m done with that for a while, after someone trashes your apartment and leaves it destroyed there is no going back from that, but yes this skirt is fantastic, not too short?”

“Perfect length for those legs”

He winked at you and started handing you other clothes and you comfortably changed in and out of at least 30 different outfits with him helping you. He was different and he knew you were different too. You haven’t felt this comfortable being this naked in front of any guy in a while. You only caught him checking you out a few times, but it was more adoration than lust.

“These skirts I’m not charging you for, don’t even argue with me on it darling, you owned them the second I saw you in them.”

Roger looked annoyed when you and Freddie were arguing over the skirts and how you wanted to pay, you lost and ended up buying a hand full of other pants, shirts, dresses, kimonos, and blouses.

“Thank you, Freddie, I’ll be back, and I will pay you for those one day.”

You winked at him and he smiled and playfully smacked your ass as you and Roger turned around to leave with at least 10 bags in hand.

“You know Roger, that was fun!”

He didn’t answer and turned up the radio instead, you got the hint that he was annoyed that you were gushing over his friend and not him. And drove in silence on the way home. He helped you bring everything up and set them down on your couch

“Thanks again for showing me that gem of a store, also I never thanked you for helping me clean up my place the other day.”

He seemed at ease, and back to his cocky and flirtatious self.

“Anytime love, what are neighbors for?..........Can’t wait to see that ass in those skirts”

He winked at you and left you there in your living room to collect your thoughts.

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#roger taylor #fanfic #queen

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