Costume Tf Novels & Stories

However, now that I thought of it, I didn't know why I'd been so reluctant after all. The costume shop had all sorts of hunting festival attire on display, such as capes cut from whole silver fox pelts, dark, long dresses embroidered with crescent moon hunting patterns, and more. I picked out a simple yet sturdy-looking garment. It felt solid and seemed suitable enough for carrying out long missions. As I was about to check the price on the tag, I suddenly heard Cynthia's voice from behind me. "Which one do you like, Layla? I'll pay for it for you."

Something soft, stylish, his. ​ He crossed to the digi-wardrobe, a seamless panel of crystal that hummed faintly when he approached. ​ “Customize outfit,” he said aloud. “Breathable. Mid-thigh shorts, tunic-style top. Sheer but modest. Incorporate Zephyrian traditional designs—keep it respectful, nothing that violates custom.” ​

The doors at the top of the dais opened and Kael stepped out, and a collective gasp rippled through the room. He was in full royal regalia, a high-collared military tunic of midnight-blue wool, piped in silver, with a heavy velvet cloak pinned by a diamond-encrusted wolf’s head. He looked like the personification of the night sky itself, he looked ancient, lethal, and devastatingly handsome. But as he descended the stairs, my heart stopped. The fabric of his tunic was a perfect match to my dress. The silver embroidery on his cuffs mirrored the pattern of the diamonds in my silk. Standing across the room from each other, we looked like two halves of a single set.

Coward. Faced with the prospect of my first day as Alpha Alexander's personal maid, I stood before the closet, contemplating the array of clothes hanging within. Uncertainty lingered as I sifted through the options, seeking the perfect balance. A long-sleeved T-shirt, adorned in subtle patterns that mirrored the sophistication of the Alpha's mansion, emerged as the ideal choice. The soft fabric promised both ease of movement and a touch of casual elegance, suitable for following the bastard's orders. As I slipped into the snug embrace of skinny jeans and pulled the T-shirt over, a sense of readiness and determination settled within me.

When the door opened, my eyes widened with surprise at the group of men who entered. Eleven of them were dressed exactly as Tobias told me to expect. They were in rough-hewn leather tunics, primitive jewellery made of bone and stone, and cloaks crafted from animal pelts. They looked like they'd stepped out of a museum exhibit on prehistoric civilisations, except for the unmistakable aura of power that surrounded them. The twelfth man, standing closest to Kael, looked completely different. He looked like he'd stepped off the cover of a magazine. He seemed to be around the same age as Kael. His dark hair was perfectly styled, and he wore an expensive designer suit that probably cost more than

Tara clutches her chest dramatically. "He was born an Alpha." I sigh heavily. "That explains so much." Tamsin's expression softens as she studies me more carefully. "You balance him." I glance at her. "How?" "By not taking him too seriously." Lizzie nods immediately. "That tracks." Tara suddenly lifts another dress. "Okay. Back to important matters." She holds it against me. "Ooooh." I eye the fabric suspiciously. "It looks expensive." "It is expensive." "Then I can't wear it."

I said, smirking. He groaned and rolled his eyes so hard I was worried they’d get stuck. “Is this live?” “Nope. But it’s being recorded for future generations to mock.” “Great. Then we’re wearing masks,” he muttered, fishing something out of his pocket. What he pulled out looked like a black garbage bag had a baby with a cheap Halloween costume. It was a mask... technically. But also a crime against aesthetics. “You’re kidding, right?” “Nope. Didn’t you check our mail?”

The belladonna drops were already working; the edges of the dress blurred and swam in her vision. "Put it on," Tristan said from the washbasin. He was shaving, the razor scraping against his jaw with a rhythmic shuck-shuck. "It’s indecent," Saoirse whispered, clutching her rough wool tunic. "It’s a costume," Tristan corrected, wiping soap from his face. He turned to look at her. He was dressed for war disguised as a party—black breeches, high polished boots, and a coat of deep charcoal velvet with silver buttons. He looked devastatingly handsome and entirely dangerous.

The costume landed at Aria’s feet with a heavy, dusty thud. "Put it on," Cassandra commanded. "And don't complain. It’s vintage." Aria looked down at the pile of fabric on the floor of the penthouse guest room. It wasn't a ballgown. It wasn't silk or satin or lace. It was a heavy, shapeless cloak made of gray velvet that looked like it had been cut from a theater curtain in the 19th century. Beside it lay a mask—a plain, featureless white porcelain half-mask that covered the eyes and nose, devoid of glitter, feathers, or expression.

Dressed as a fairy and toy soldier respectively, Lily and Aaron barely pulled their gaze from their movie to acknowledge his entrance. He might not have shown it to Cassie but he was very excited to be going trick-or-treating. He had gone above and beyond to get a costume. He wore a long rich coat made of rich velvet with an intricate gold embroidery running down the front and at the edge of the sleeves. Underneath the coat, he wore a white blouse with more ruffles than he wished for on the collar and cuffs. The trousers were made of tight fitting supple leather and disappeared into the elegant leather boots that rose to his mid-calf. A replica of a rapier hung at his side from a baldric. A