#cosmetology school. small world!

[theinconveniencing]

hung out my sister and her friends and it's so fun because they're explaining drama that happened in my grade when I was literally at school that I just had no clue was happening or forgot entirely. like damn how come these kids who were sixteen when all this was going down know it better than me

[lexirosewrites]

I've been in a funk ADHD wise so I haven't had the same inspiration I usually do🥺 let's give this a try

Steve & Robin r platonic soulmates & they're both omegas & they're gross twins with little to zero boundaries

They share the same piece of gum till it runs out of flavor, they've helped eachother build up a storage of tasteful nudes on their respective phones, when Robin had constipation Steve not only got the laxatives he held her hand in the bathroom, when Steve got food poisoning Robin not only helped him out of bed she helped him aim for the toilet or trash can, their heats r synced up in a way tht allows them to take care of eachother in turns, yes Steve taught Robin how to kiss, yes Robin taught Steve to use a knotting dildo

When Steve eventually gets kicked out of his house bc his parents want to sell it he just goes to the Buckley's with a couple of suitcases & one box bc so much of his stuff was already at their place anyway, robins parents barely blink when stobin tells them tht Steve is moving in, they all cry when Steve says he'll b changing his last name to Buckley tho

Robin graduates high school & then they're setting off for the big city so she can study linguistics & Steve can study cosmetology

When they get their degrees they decide "why the hell not?" & go to live in California bc neither of them have seen the Pacific ocean before. They end up in LA even tho the plan was San Francisco, and they both find semi fulfilling jobs. Robin works as an interpreter with various state government offices, helping individuals whose first language isn't English, taking some of the pressure off of the children in the situation

Steve finds work at a small hole in the wall salon that's been in business longer than the many fancy salons all around LA. He's doted on by the regulars, surrounding shop owners, and his coworkers. There's a small hole in the wall barber shop a few shop fronts down the street tht the salon has a friendly relationship with. On the corner is a teeny tiny burger spot that's been around since the 1920s with no changes to the menu except for price & it has the best burgers Steve & Robin have EVER had.

It's a good life, the only thing they want tht they cant give eachother is a romantic connection, but they've tried every app & no one seems to actually want a relationship or they get weird abt how close they are

Well one day a chipper female alpha wanders into the salon looking for a last minute shampoo & trim to keep her strawberry blonde waves healthy. The only person available is Steve & he does so well tht the alpha introduces herself as Chrissy & books an appointment with him for a couple of months later when she knows she'll need another trim.

Except Steve & Robin don't rlly engage with social media, they rarely watch recent shows or movies, and their taste skews between horror or romance there's no in-between. So neither is aware tht the nice female alpha Chrissy is THE Chrissy Munson, an up & coming movie star, adopted sister to Eddie Munson the lead guitar of world famous metal/rock band Corroded Coffin, and someone very fussy abt her hair.

Chrissy comes back for her next appointment & at the end she point blank asks him if he'd like to be the only person doing her hair for the next 8 months, he asks her why & she realizes he genuinely has no idea who she is, so she explains & tht she has a production filming soon & she wants him to handle hair at the end of the day to wash out all of the gunk that gets into it for filming

Steve says yes only after the salon owner & regulars tell him to say yes & tht there will b a job waiting for him when he's done

Blah blah blah

Steddie meet & fall in love then buckingham meet & fall in love

scarily close stobin is my favorite flavor! and of course all steddie needs a side helping of buckingham🥰💕💕

[lunarfied]

WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP ME ? ; friends

introducing the skittle squad ☆

characters ;

y/n: you are a social work major, wanting to better the lives of those in need. you are on your second year of studying your degree. after your particularly rough breakup, you went through a phase where you decided to stream online to find people similar to you, landing you to your current day semi content creator friend group. you’re also a faceless streamer! mostly streaming hand cams or having venti sit behind the camera for you.

lumine: she is a marketing business major, a real saving grace for when you started to get sponsored and needed help with deciding what brands to show off. they love traveling with their twin brother, aether, and sends you postcards everytime they are out of town (which is often). she also loves dancing, and takes classes for ballroom dance on the side. she doesn't stream, but will crash their brothers streams to dump water on him.

kaeya: a cosmetology major, he will critcize your split ends and dry skin as his way of showing how much he loves you. kaeya was the first friend you made in college that paved the way to get to know everyone else in your group. while he doesn't stream, he has a lot of followers throughout various social media sites for his creative hair and makeup looks.

diluc: kaeya's older sibling. he graduated with a business degree in accounting where you two met prior to your friend group expanding. she was always the leader in group projects the two of you did, so it wasn't a surprise when she told you she inherited his father's wine company. while kaeya and diluc butt heads everytime you force them to be in the same room together, they care about you and have shown their support throughout your growing online career. oh, and you always make sure to bribe diluc to let you take some alcohol home when you visit.

keqing: studying political science as well as minoring in history, keqing is no stranger to blowing her friends off to cram in a last minute study session. while she doesn't mean to come off as rude doing so, she may have lost a few friends over the years because her degree comes before everything else. thankfully, you didn't give up and have continued to stick by her side. she won't admit it, but she's glad to have you as a friend and be the main reason she is dating her childhood crush. while her social media presence is limited, keqing will gladly post pictures and videos about her girlfriend.

ganyu: they study international business as their major, but also communications as a minor. a busy woman indeed, ganyu believes she doesn't have enough time on her hands to study everything she needs to. in comes you, who has helped ganyu to relax and find the joy in the small things of life. not only that but you single-handedly helped ganyu to confess her longterm crush on her current girlfriend, keqing. so you get extra pats on the back for that. she likes to stream cooking, baking, anything related to her side passion about making food for others. you often asked her why she didn't become a professional chef with how well she could cook, but ganyu doesn't budge, and decided to go down the workaholic route.

tighnari: he is a botany plant biology major and a dedicated father of many, many plants. unlikely friends, it seemed at first, with his sarcasm outweighing your desire to get to know him any further until you found him in the back of one of the school buildings crying over his dead plant. he's very sweet and caring at heart, but likes to annoy everyone with his knowledge and wits, which, by now, you're used to. he accidentally got famous online when his boyfriend turned on his stream and told a string of shitty jokes that went viral and now streams usually with his boyfriend or younger sister in the background.

ayaka: marine biology major, though on the side she is not only famous online but in the real world too. she debuted as a figure skater when she was younger and has garnered a fanbase ever since, a passion she has never discarded. the kamisato company is big in maintaining international business affairs and while she'll eventually run the company, her older brother ayato has taken the stress off her shoulders for now to allow her some freedom to do what she wants. the two of you met at a mutual club meeting you had, and her smile was infectious - how could you not be her friend?

venti: ah, him. a musical theater major who dropped out by his third year, why? because they were spending all their money on alcohol and useless nonsense, if it weren't for you taking him in, venti would probably be out on the streets. while it's technically not allowed for her to be roommates with you... nobody needs to find out! venti is your best friend and your ride or die, wherever you go, he's closely following. either that or they're drunk somewhere in diluc's home.

masterlist | playlist

prev | next

notes: idk if it is obvious but ive never gone to college so if the majors dont make sense im sorry pookies i researched i swear it also doesn't really matter in this au what their majors are lol jus making them more human if you're confused about me using diff pronouns for certain characters check their locations these are headcanons esp on diluc bc i told my bestie i'd make diluc transfem in this au giggles plus all the archons have like no gender anyways so genderfluid venti supremacy childe will be in scara's friend group list because they're bff's (reluctantly)!! just know that the roommates are - y/n, venti, childe and soon to be scara teehee

🏷️: @machiroll

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Most Tragic of Mistakes

|Charlie Barber x Fem!Reader Short Story|

Chapter One

Masterlist of Series

Summary: You're a fresh-faced makeup artist trying to make it in the Big Apple. Finally, you get a job as a makeup artist for Exit Ghost's new production of Caligula and meet the infamously intense director, Charlie Barber.

Author's Note: Hey y'all! I hope you enjoy the first chapter of this short story. I uploaded this quite some time ago on AO3 and Wattpad, but not on here. Why? I'm unsure. Well, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Warnings: Smut, age gap, slight innocence kink, adultery, unprotected sex, dom Charlie, the other woman-type trope, power imbalances, workplace relationships, choking, hair pulling.

You set down the glass of red wine on your coffee table, absentmindedly scrolling through Instagram with your feet propped up, and release a long sigh. An anxious feeling permeated your stomach for the day you have ahead.

The sun has long since set and covered the outdoors with its shadow, the only light shining in the corner of your living room with a soft yellow hue. 

Your first big makeup gig starts in only a few hours. It would help if you slept, but you can't. The anxiety is too much to relax your heart. 

When you applied for the makeup artist position in the art department for a new play production, you didn't think you would get it. There was still the microscopic hope you would when you clicked 'apply' on the website, but this was New York. There was no way in Hell that an unknown "just-graduated artist" could book a gig like this. So young, so fresh out of cosmetology school that you hadn't even been able to work at a spa or salon, no real-world training. Nevertheless, the risk-taking director, Charlie Barber, decided you were the perfect fit. 

When you got the call back from the hiring manager, you were stunned. No words could leave your mouth when she told you when the start date was. You could barely even reply a yes when she asked if you were still interested, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. You suppose you were one. A small fish yanked from the comfort of its calm water, Charlie Barber, the person who reeled you up, taking a chance on some nobody girl. 

You reach your hand over, feeling the cold stem of the wine glass and twirling it between your index finger and thumb. 

You had known who Charlie was before applying to this job, being familiar with the theatrical troupe of Exit Ghost but needing more interest to look at any of their past performances. You regret that now. What if any actors or coworkers tried asking you about your knowledge of their past plays? Quizzing your dedication to Charlie Barbers' work, asking for your thoughts and opinions on his directing. You couldn't brush those questions off; your ignorance and naivety would shine even more than your artistry. 

You quickly tap the magnifying glass on your phone screen, searching for Exit Ghost. Surely, they would have social media. Everyone and every company had one to keep up with the growing advancement of technology and popularity to ensure they stayed in the loop.

It looks good if you follow your employer. 

Finding their page, scroll down, making sure to follow them. You continue looking through their page, taking notes of all the plays they've mentioned. Opening nights here and there, celebratory dinners after successful shows, and some intimate pictures of the acting process occasionally. Then, you reach a post with the caption, "A look at the director: Charlie Barber mean mugging, no mess ups accepted!" 

A small smile grows as you examine the picture. His intense brown eyes bore ahead at what you assume is the stage, his raven hair whispered back, framing fluffily around his freckled face, his nose prominently showing in the stage light. Sleeves from a blue button-up shirt rolled past his forearms, exposing the broad muscle, black hair lightly covering it. Charlie's giant fist covers his mouth as a sliver watch adorns his wide wrist, resting an elbow on a crossed thigh.

He's beautiful and regal, even if he's the inspiration for every Roman statue in history—a longing forms in your chest. You wish you could reach through the phone and touch him. Trace your thumb across his nose and cheekbones, feeling the chiseled structure. Run your fingers through his hair and feel the tickling between them as you kiss his lips, exploring every hidden inch of Charlie Barber's mouth. 

Your thumb twitches at the thought, a white heart popping up on the screen.

You freak, a panicked cry releasing as you realize you liked a picture from three years ago. Three fucking years ago! You quickly unlike it, but the damage is done; they'll still be notified when they open the app. They'll see that the only picture your profile liked was the one of Charlie.

"This is so fucking embarrassing." You groan, cheeks on fire.

Hopefully, enough people will like their page, and your notification will be buried among them, but that isn't certain. The average amount of traffic they get in a single post is around a hundred or so, and more is needed to disguise your own digits' betrayal. 

You put your phone face down, unable to stomach the antagonizing look of the pixels, and down the rest of your wine. That's enough electronics for today as you decide to go to bed. 

Your phone buzzes you awake, the vibrations sending a small shock through your bones. Turning over in bed, you stretch, your muscles and joints groaning at the sudden movement. You sit up, slouching inwards as you stare lazily at the blank wall in front of you, trying to keep yourself alert after only being asleep for a few hours. The chill air hits your skin, causing goosebumps from the lack of blankets as you smack your lips together, mouth dry. You grab your phone, checking the time. 

4:05 am

Why would anyone make rehearsal start so early? 

You woke up extra early, unsure of the commute from the station to Exit Ghost's theater. Not to mention the time it would take to set up your station. 

Finally, you crawl out of bed, eyes still hazy with sleep as you ready yourself for the long day ahead. 

You arrive at the theater building, rolling a makeup case in tow. It was sketchy lugging that thing around the sidewalks and subway. You kept it near, wrapping your legs around it and studying anyone who dared to look your way. 

If someone even attempted to touch your most prized position, you would lay your life down for all those cosmetics, not batting an eyelash. But thankfully, no one dared to try.

Pushing down the retractable handle, you grab the one on the side of the black case, hoisting it up and leaning as you ascend the concrete stairs. Your biceps curl and flex underneath the weight of it. The end of it tips backward. The force is too strong to be gravity. Your grip falters, nearly dropping your most prized possession on the dirty cement. You turn your body, swinging the luggage in the opposite direction as you curl your fist, ready to sock the person who dared to touch your makeup bag. 

Charlie Barber stands there, his arms up in surrender, a leather bag strapped across his body as he chokes on a laugh. 

"Woah, hey there now, put that sucker away." His eyes match his light-hearted tone with a hint of humor. 

You quickly lower your fist, almost hiding it behind your back as if you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar, your face scorching with embarrassment.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Mr. Barber. I didn't mean to do that." You release an awkward laugh. "I didn't know it was you." 

He chuckles, finding this situation a whole lot more entertaining than you

"It's all good, Miss..." He pauses, unsure of your name.

A pang of sadness hits you, completely involuntary. It's not like you should expect him to know it. After all, you've never met him, only having talked to the hiring manager, but it still hurts. Surely he should know his new hires? You push it down, filling in the gap with your first and last name. 

"Ah, yes," he says, acting as if he knew it in the first place, repeating it back to you. "That seems like a mean left hook there! I'm glad I didn't have to taste it. I feel bad for the next guy, though." 

You smile back, lips tight as you nod, refusing to speak, unsure what to respond with. Your mind is not nearly as witty as his. A small silence enters the air, soon interrupted by Charlie clearing his throat.

"Uh... Would you like help with that?" He asks politely as you shake your head. You're still uncomfortable giving your respective baby to a stranger, even if he was technically your boss.

"No, thank you. I got it. It's honestly not that heavy," you lie. 

Charlie nods, humming slightly with approval as he steps aside, walking the few places to the door. You close your eyes as he passes, releasing a sigh of almost pleasure at the noise, knees going weak. 

He unlocks the door, letting you enter first with the swoop of his hand, and you nod thanks. 

A marble stairwell is all you're greeted with, silver and black plaques designating which floor you can go to. You stand there, wondering where the dressing room will be. No one ever told you the layout. If it weren't for Charlie, you wouldn't have entered the building. 

The door closes automatically behind him as he shrugs his bag, adjusting it on his shoulder. You look at him, a deer caught in headlights, unsure of where to go, pleading for help.

"Which way to the dressing rooms, sir?" Your voice sounds small, barely bouncing off the hard stone. Charlie steps closer, nearly ending the small gap of space you have in the tiny area. His plush lips smile down at you, almost caring, wanting to guide and take care of you. He licks them.

"Let me show you," he says plainly. His rumbling voice sends shivers down your spine as you turn around, ready for him to lead. You're sure even if he led you to a different place, you would still follow, clinging to each step in the movement. "The dressing rooms are on the first floor with the stage."

Charlie rests a small hand on your lower back. It stays there as you descend, both of your shoes lightly tapping the hard floor. You stiffen at the touch but don't move, letting him guide you.

He shows you the dressing rooms, a mirror with light bulbs surrounding it that spans the entire room length, and wooden chairs with fabric backs resting in front of a long table. It's so secluded from everything, the cream walls trapping every sound.

You glance at the mirror, Charlie stares at your reflection, and you meet him, both expressionless. What is this? Why does your gut stir when you see him? Why does your mind lose control of your body when he talks?

He's just so handsome. 

You would do anything for him. You would run your fingers through his hair for hours as he pulled you close. Brush your noses against each other as you kiss him, his plush lips overlapping yours. You would rip off your clothes and display your most intimate parts just for him. If only he would ask.

He removes his hand from behind you, lifting itself towards your neck. Your legs clench with anticipation, feeling your core damp and getting through your pants. And that's when you see it. A glint of gold sparkled in the mirror lights- a wedding band. 

Oh God, oh God, oh God. 

He's married! Of course, Charlie is fucking married!

You shuffle away from him, turning your head to look at the ring.

"You're married?" You question with shock, your composure leaving you momentarily at the revaluation. "How long?" You force a polite smile on your face, trying to cover up the hurt from your past words.

He quickly drops his hand, his other fingers twisting the band nervously like he was checking if it was still there. 

"I'm not sure exactly. Ten years or so? It's been so long." Charlie's words sound wistful, cold even, at the mention of his marriage. You brush off the feeling of his voice, trying to hide the hurt brewing inside. 

"That's so sweet." You add a smile to your face. "Finding a partner you could get lost over the years with. So many people would kill for that."

Oh my God. You want to fuck a married man. You're officially a homewrecker. 

"Yeah. I guess you could see it that way." 

Anger pools behind his eyes. You want to reach out and touch Charlie, comfort him, trace the freckles and moles on his face, and ask what's making him hurt so much, but you don't. You can't. He's not yours, and he never will be. 

He clears his throat, cutting through the thickness that has built. 

"Let me show you the stage." Charlie glances at the silver watch on his wrist, the same arm his wedding ring rests on. "The others should be filing in soon." 

He shows you the rest of what you need to know. The quickest way to get from the dressing room to the stage is by introducing yourself to the people who come in. 

Eventually, you excuse yourself, saying how you needed to set up and get comfortable with your station. Which you needed to do; it wasn't entirely an excuse to get away from Charlie. 

Others have already settled in the dressing room. White fabric costumes that resemble togas hang on silver racks, making the ample space incredibly small. When someone taps you on your shoulder, you set your case down, unzip it, and pull out all the makeup you packed within. 

"Hi," a middle-aged woman with brown hair greets. Her skin hangs slightly with her years, crow's feet showing as she smiles. "I'm Mary Ann. I'm the Stage Manager here at Exit Ghost." She extends her hand, and you grip it lightly, startled by the sudden and loudness of her words. 

You say your name politely, exchanging formalities, telling her your title. 

"Oh, so you're the newbie!" She looks you up and down, examining your body, hair, clothes, and everything about you. Sizing you up almost. "You're a bit young, don't you think?" 

You gawk at the audacity, too stunned to speak. She's not wrong, but there's no need to point it out. Your mouth opens and closes, trying to make any sound as Charlie enters, ducking through the doorway.

"Now, Mary Ann, you be nice to her. It's her first day." The man from before, cold and aloof at the idea of his marriage, is gone, replaced with a stern yet kind man, a director. 

She backs away from you, finding a place by his side, her arm sneaking a slight touch on his side. You examine how her body gravitates to him, her eyes lighting up with an emotion only lovers share. You see it. No one seems to notice or care about it, but you do.

You tilt your head and squint at her slim fingers, trying to find a diamond, but you don't. Your pupils travel across their bodies as they converse, lost in the conversation of what the lighting should look like in this scene, how this one actor was off, and such. 

Charlie glances at you, stuttering as he sees the realization dawn on you. He knows that you know. Out of everyone here, the newbie spots it and sees his affair. 

He pushes Mary Ann away harsher than he should, not believing that he let himself slip in front of all these people. In front of you. The newbie he had to hold back from caressing their neck just moments ago, from griping her jaw and fucking her right there while they were alone. 

You stare at him, unrelenting, as Mary Ann tries acting like he didn't just tell her with his body to leave. 

Maybe Charlie made a mistake saying yes to the young cosmetology graduate, letting her into his production and thus his life. How could she, out of everyone here and out of everyone who interacted with him and spoke with him every day, see it? It was she who saw Charlie for what he was. An unfaithful man, a husband who broke his vows to the woman he swore death would be the only thing to separate them. 

You break the stand-off, continuing to unload your supplies. Charlie excuses himself from Mary Ann-- from this whole situation. The sudden urge to light a cigarette and leave the theater for the rest of the day, to run away from them all, is strong, but he snuffs it out. Putting on the hard face of the director, everyone knew. The one that everyone needed for this production to go well. 

Actors periodically returned to the dressing room, testing different makeup styles and techniques in the lighting, getting fit, and seeing what worked well and needed to be changed. 

Charlie never returned. Mary Anne relayed all messages to him. 

Finally, the black and white clock ticks to three, signaling your freedom from the almost den of a dressing room. You pack up, clicking every palette closed and sheathing every brush in its protector. 

"Hey," the art director, Heather, says, a white toga with a golden belt in her hands. "Do you think you could hang this up for me since you're still in? It goes on hanger seven." 

She throws you the garment, not waiting for an answer. You catch it before it falls on the dusty floor. 

"Thanks," she calls back. And with a wave of her hand, she's gone. Everyone's gone, you realize, every chair empty, leaving only you... alone. 

You look at the gown again, straightening it with a flick of your wrists. You turn your head, seeing something dark on the fabric that shouldn't be there. Eyeshadow. All color from your face drains, and you feel like you'll puke.

"Shit," you whisper. "Shit, shit, shit." 

Slamming the costume on the table, you search desperately for a makeup wipe, rubbing the black shadow. It only makes it worse, smearing the pigment upwards. 

"Oh God, what am I going to do?" Your breath quickens, panic setting in as you continue to scrub viciously. 

You don't even notice when Charlie calls your name, too concentrated on the end of your career muttering expletives. His significant digits wrap around your tricep, and you jump, trying to cover the mess.

"What are you still doing here," he questions with a raised brow, looking you up and down. A smile cracks on your face as you hide the costume from his view. 

"Oh, you know, just," you lift your hands, gesturing, "cleaning up... and... stuff." Your eyes snap to the side with each pause. 

"Uh huh," Charlie responds in an unbelieving tone and puts a palm on his hip, his hair shining in the artificial light.

Why does he have to be so hot? 

You blush, crossing your ankle over the other, subconsciously creating friction. 

"What's that there behind you?" 

You chuckle nervously. 

"Oh, uh, this?" Gesturing to the ruined toga behind you. "Nothing. Just a costume that needs put away." 

"Okay..." He draws the word out on his pink tongue, still a hint of curiosity behind his iris. 

"Is that all you needed, Mr. Barber?" Hopefully, this will urge him to be on his way, and you'll find a way to fix this. 

"Yeah..." Charlie says, once again drawing the word out. 

Suddenly, his fingers snatch the robe, whipping it back too fast for you to grab it. He examines the dark, damp spot on the fabric. You flip your body around, signaling you're done with the conversation, and he can finally leave. 

"Did you do this?" He questions, tone flat, devoid of any hints of his emotions. 

"I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Heather just threw it at me, and-and I had makeup on my hands..." You ramble, tears nearly springing from your eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr. Barber." You look away, shame forcing you. 

"Don't call me that." Your eyes snap up, ready to apologize again as he throws the toga on the floor and steps closer. "Do you see what it does to me?" 

Tilting your head, you study him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion when nothing seems different. Charlie moves again, and you slide back, spine hitting the table. He gestures to his waist, a prominent bulge protruding from his khaki pants. You cough awkwardly, too stunned to speak.

"Look at me," he commands, "look at what you do to me. Do you know how difficult it is for me not to fuck you right here?" 

A bolt travels through you, straight to your core, as you squeeze your thighs together. He puts his hands on the table, caging you in. You cower away from the intensity, his hot breath rolling down your cheek. 

"You're so beautiful, and you don't even know it. You stand there, looking all innocent with those doe eyes begging me to fuck you." You shudder, Charlie's words so erotic and explicit in your ears. "I bet that's what you want right now, isn't it? For me to rip off all your clothes and pump your cunt full of my cum?" 

There's nothing more in this world you would want. You felt that life would be complete if he just claimed you. A moan escapes from your chest, unable to longer contain your desire for Charlie.

His knuckle brushes down your face, fingers wrapping around your throat, threatening you into submission. 

"Say it." He commands, pausing and waiting for your answer. He tightens his grip when you don't respond, your knees weakening from the growing desire. "Say it," Charlie repeats, the words gritting his teeth. 

"Yes," you exhale in a soft breath. 

Charlie leaves no room for second guesses as he slams his mouth into you, the soft flesh squeezing between the gaps of your teeth. Your fingers slither into his hair. It feels exactly as you imagined, silky and clean, with hints of product to smooth it back as you groan, opening your lips further.

If someone came in and shot you, you would die with a smile, your life finally complete with this one moment. It's as if everything in the past has led you to this moment. Forged you and carved you out for this very thing. 

A giggle vibrates through your connected mouths, your chest bouncing as Charlie pulls back with a questioning look. You shake your head almost in disbelief. 

"I was made for you, Charlie Barber." He smirks as he goes to cup your breast, testing it in his hand, seeing if your statement is true. Your back arches into his touch, asking without words for him to use it however he sees fit. 

Finally, he removes your shirt, diving into trailing kisses down your neck, sucking too harshly as you whine. He bucks his hips into your still-covered cunt, grinding, seeking friction to ease the ache in his cock. 

That's all he can think of as if it has a brain, neurons firing into his muscles and controlling his movements.

Charlie's digits unclasp each hook of your bra, exposing your tits to the chill air, your nipples perking into peaks. He latches onto one, licking and teasing you until you writhe under him, desperate mewls whispering. 

Your legs buckle as teeth latch onto the sensitive skin, but Charlie stops you from falling, palms resting behind your thighs as he lifts you on the table. He pulls back from your tits, examining your state. 

Cheeks flushed with blood, skin prickled with goosebumps, sweat dampening your sternum as your heart hammers in your chest. If Charlie didn't know better, he would think he's already fucked you, but seeing as your pants are still on, he digresses. 

"Look at you. Already coming undone for me, and I haven't even touched you yet." You whimper, pouting with embarrassment at your lack of self-awareness. "Awe, sweet thing." He says, grasping your chin with his thumb and index pads, forcing your eyes to meet his. "Don't worry. I'll fix that for you." 

He unbuttons your pants, sliding them down your legs as he kneels between them, nose pressing against the clothed mound. You move your hips slightly, trying to seek pressure covertly, but he notices and smirks, nuzzling closer. Charlie mouths at your wet panties, and you gasp, the foreign sensation building. 

He continues to teethe lazily, not giving you nearly enough of him. You gently grab his obsidian hair, forcing him to meet your gaze, but not enough to completely pull away. Your eyes wide and pleading, begging for him to give you what you desire, ready to bargain anything for it. He gets the message, hooking his middle finger on the hemline and pulling it to the side, your wet and waiting pussy appearing. 

He trails a digit down the middle of your slit; you gasp, happy with finally getting some semblance of what you want. Charlie purses his lips, a glob of fat spit splattering on your entrance. He pushes it in, finger-twisting and curling to ensure it stays there. Your hips buck and thighs clench as he hits that sweet spot inside you. 

"Please, Charlie, I need more."

If your pussy could talk, it would be weeping, crying at the lack of attention it's getting, as Charlie teases. 

"What a greedy little thing," he comments. "Who knew you were such a slut?" 

You moan at his words, swelling from them as he gives in. He slides another finger, stretching your hole too broad for an average man as he moves it back and forth with a slow "come here" motion. 

"You sure you can take me, sweetheart? You feel so tight."

"Yes! Your fingers are just huge," you grit out. 

Charlie chuckles as he picks up his pace, pulling the tidal wave of your pleasure out to sea. He leans back into you, his lips circling your clit as he sucks, tongue licking. 

You stroke his scalp, smoothing the waves back. He hums into your cunt, the vibrations sending you shivers. A sudden pang enters his chest, nearly stopping him for a beat before continuing. 

The feeling is longing within his ribcage, old emotions Charlie thought he would never feel again with a woman, though unbeknownst to him, he sought-- a woman to fulfill his carnal desires that his wife no longer wanted. He thought he could find it with Mary Ann, but with her, it was just empty nothing.

But with you... With you, it was different. 

The feeling of you softly gliding your nails along with his head as he devoured your cunt wasn't one of a woman who was just lost in ecstasy, greedy for her climax, but one who seemed to care. One who seemed to enjoy the thought of him wanting to take the time to put her first, to ensure she enjoyed herself without any expectation of reciprocation. 

It hurt him almost to realize that what he was looking for, begging for, was someone happy with just the thought of him, grateful for his kindness and thoughts.

Perhaps it was selfish of him to want anyone else other than Nicole to give him that, but at the same time, was it too much to ask? Did he not deserve to be happy again? Not to be bogged down by a person who only saw the faults in him and nothing else. He was sure you would be his death in so many ways.

Charlie wraps his arms around your legs, smashing his nose into your pubic bone as you begin the crescendo of your orgasm.

Yes, he did deserve it, deserved the serotonin it gave to be with someone who saw him for what he was in his entirety-- deserved you. Your screams and cries of heaven are lost on Charlie's ears. The only thing he could hear was his thoughts. 

I do deserve her. She's mine. Mine.

And he had to have you. Again and again and again. You couldn't walk until his milky white seed dripped down your pussy and thighs.

Charlie grips your hips, fingers digging in painfully as you cry out, spinning your body around and flipping you on your stomach. He rips your panties down your legs, the dry cotton burning your skin. He grabs his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it out of the loops, his shirt untucking as he unbuttons his pants. They slide down, getting stuck on his knees as you see his tight grey underwear, his impossibly hard cock straining underneath the fabric, a small dark dot on the top from pre-cum. You look into the mirror, seeing the reflection of Charlie behind you, his cheeks tinted pink and hair wild even after smoothing it. He's so crazy, completely unhinged behind you, your pussy tightening around nothing as you wait.

Charlie's thumbs hook onto the lips of your hole, prying you open for him, his fingers splayed over your ass. 

"You sure you're ready for me," he teases. 

You nod frantically, trying desperately to get what you want as he smirks, removing his hands to take off his underwear. His cock springs free, veins protruding on his long shaft, the pink head glistening with seed. Your mouth falls open. Charlie is enormous, more significant than anything you've ever seen. He's equally as wide as he is long. Unsureness washes across your face.

Maybe you can't take it? You could barely take his fingers; how could you even handle his manhood? Charlie notices your hesitancy as he steps closer, bending as he peppers comforting kisses down your spine. 

"You can do it, sweetness." He affirms, his hot breath dancing on your skin. "I know you can." 

If it were possible to turn into a liquid, you would do so now. Charlie's words were so sincere and kind that you could melt into the cracks of the tile floor. You nod, agreeing with him as he spares you one last lick of his tongue around your sensitive bud. 

The head of his cock pokes at your entrance, daring to go farther, just testing the waters. You gasp, feeling Charlie's skin on yours enough to send you into a frenzy as you buck your hips back. He pulls away, sliding his shaft along your wetness, readying himself for you, tiny shocks of pleasure traveling through your nerves as he rubs your clit. You whine, clenching around nothing, finally having enough. 

"Charlie," you mewl, "please, I can't wait anymore." 

His heart swells at your voice, happiness overcoming his entire being at the thought of someone needing him. After all, he is a caring man. He can't deny you any longer, not when you need him.

Charlie pushes the tip into you as you gasp, gritting your teeth, a slight sting emerging from your core. He shushes you with his lips, his palms rubbing soothing circles on your ass cheeks as he goes in a little further. 

"Look at that," he comments. His cock disappears into you.

Your head lowers as your eyes roll back, a guttural moan escaping you as he bottoms out, stretching you so tightly around him. 

"You take me so well." 

Your body twitches at that, cinching around him momentarily, causing him to groan. The sound is heavenly, putting a smile on your face. You could listen to that noise forever, putting it on a loop and never getting tired of it. You do it again, trying to coax it out of him. Charlie grunts with a small ah, his hand smacking your skin in punishment as he slides out, leaving only a sliver of him, your lips encompassing his cock.

Charlie begins thrusting, his hips coming into contact with your thighs as you feel the tiny tickles of his hair. He doesn't go slow this time, his carnal desires taking over as he slams back into you, his head brushing against your cervix. You cry out, the pain of him stretching you mixing with the pleasure of his cock rubbing your sensitive spot.

You flatten yourself on the table as he pistons into you, his pace unrelenting as you continue to pant. Your hands scratch the plastic-coated wood, trying to find something to ground you at this moment as his strength pushes you against the mirror. Your cheek squishes as the oils smudge it. Your eyes look feral. Your pupils dilate with lust as you search for his. Charlie's lips are pursed, gaze downcast as he concentrates on your cunt, your pussy swallowing his cock. 

You could stay like this for hours, looking like a mindless little fuck toy for him, doing anything and everything he could ask for and thanking him in the end.

He catches you staring in the mirror, looking entranced. He grabs your hair, his digits tangling in the locks as he pulls your head back, fucking impossibly deeper than before. Your chest rises and falls in a quick breath as he keeps drilling, a pressure in your gut growing. 

"You are doing so well," he smirks. You return a small, lazy smile, happy to be pleasing him. 

"Thank you, Mr. Barber," you say breathlessly, your voice hiccuping. "You feel so good." 

Charlie sighs, your words putting him in a daze as his mind wanders. 

It's been so long since he felt this way... truly appreciated even this most simplistic of actions. It has been years since Nicole had sex with him, months since she had let him kiss her, even hug her. Their bond was severed and destroyed long ago, their spark lost. He tried to find it in Mary Ann. Charlie was so desperate for a connection, for anything, when he confided in her about his marital troubles that he had no idea she took it as him wanting her. 

He did not stop the affair from advancing; it was a good distraction for the most part. He could channel the affections and longing he wanted from Nicole through her, and it worked... kind of. 

But then you came. 

Walking up the stairs of his theater building, he was severely overdressed with an air of innocence he wanted to possess again. So new and fresh-faced to the world, Charlie realized he had to have you, be with you, guide you, and teach you about what this life has to offer.

And here he was, balls deep inside you as you panted his name, praising him for making you feel so good. It was almost naive of you to do, so childish that you thought it was a luxury to feel this good when Charlie could do it all the time. He wanted to teach you about life, and wasn't this a part of it? 

Your velvet walls tightening around Charlie rips him from his thoughts. He could tell you were close, inching your way over to ecstasy. 

He snakes his hand around you, the pads of his fingers coming into contact with your clit, your body twitching. 

"Oh, God, Charlie, I'm so close." You pant, eyes shutting as another intense wave of pleasure washes over you.

"Look at me," he demands. You don't obey, too lost in the building pressure. He slaps your clit in admonishment as your leg hikes up at the intense sensation. "Let me see those eyes." 

They almost flutter shut again at his command. It sounds like pure sex on your ears. 

"Good girl," he praises, "I wanna see your face when you cum."

Those words nearly push you over the edge, but you hold back, not wanting this moment with Charlie to end. 

"I bet I'm the first man ever to make you feel this good. The first one to have you cum from my cock alone." 

The squelching of your wet folds as he thrusts is almost embarrassing, your face heating up even more. 

"Listen to yourself. You're sopping wet, and it's all for me, only for me." Charlie's hand tightens your scalp. "You're going to fucking cum on my cock, and then, I'm going to stuff you full of my seed. Until it's dripping down your thighs and on the floor." 

You shudder, his words almost pulling you out of your body as the pressure in your stomach bursts. You orgasm deep inside, racking through every bone in your body as he pulls you through it. Fucking you until you're a blubbering mess under him, twitching and clamping. 

He lets go of your hair, and you collapse back down on the table, air shuddering out of your lungs. Charlie keeps fucking you a little slower now. You're like a rag doll under him, stilling and moaning softly when you realize he hasn't come yet. He put your pleasure before his own; tears nearly spring at the thought. You need to make him cum. He deserves it more than anything else in the world. 

You extend your back, pushing your ass into him as he grunts. He must be so close. You don't want him to hold back any longer. You want him to fuck you and use your body for his own. 

"Charlie." His gaze snaps up to yours in the mirror, his lips swollen and eyes glossy. "Please, cum. I need to feel you cum inside of me." You plead. "Please, Mr. Barber," you hiccup as his hips snap harshly into you. "You deserve it." 

His mouth twitches, his jaw clenching as he slams into you a few more times, chasing his high. His warm seed fills inside your walls as his pelvis stalls and groans, tucking his chin to his chest. He pauses, catching his breath as he finally pulls out. You squeak as his tip glides over your sensitive spot, sending a bolt of overstimulated pleasure. You hear Charlie chuckle as he shuffles around and gathers your clothes and belt. You stay there, not trusting your knees enough to get up; you're too happy to move.

Charlie gently grabs your ankles, telling you to pull them up so he can slide your pants back on. They reach the crease of your ass before he stops, his thumb gliding over your swollen and abused mound, collecting the cum dripping and pushing it back in. You gasp, still sensitive. He runs soft fabric over the area, cleaning you up to the best of his ability as he pulls your pants up the rest of the way. Your turn around still bent over the table.

"Charlie, where is my underwear?" you ask, raising an eyebrow, already having somewhat of an idea of where they could be.

He grins, showing you the cum stained panties as he stuffs them into his breast pocket. You roll your eyes as you extend your arm for the rest of your clothes, regaining enough strength to move. Finally, fully covered, you glance at the costume you ruined draped over his arm as you frown.

"I'm sorry about that, Mr. Barber. I can take it to a dry cleaner to see if they can fix it. I'll pay for everything." You still can't believe you ruined a costume on your first day. You won't believe you did many things on your first day. He waves away from your offer with a shake of his head.

"No, it's fine," he says your name tenderly. "I'll take care of it." You nod, agreeing with your lips pursed, still feeling guilty as you gather your things to leave, walking to the exit as Mr. Barber shouts for you. "Also, please don't call me that, Mr. Barber." You nod again wordlessly. "Everyone just calls me Charlie around here."

"Okay, Charlie." It feels foreign when you're saying it without his cock inside you. "I'll see you tomorrow," you say with sleep lacing your voice. "You and Mary Ann have a great rest of your day." 

Your words would sound innocent to the middle ear, just a coworker wishing her bosses a good day, but you know better, and so does Charlie. He also knows that he and Mary Ann will, in fact, not have a great day with what he plans on doing now. You've changed everything for him, unbeknownst to you, as the wheels of your makeup bag click on the floor. Whether or not it is for the best remains to be seen.

You set down the glass of red wine on your coffee table, absentmindedly scrolling through Instagram with your feet propped up, and release a long sigh. An anxious feeling permeated your stomach for the day you have ahead.

The sun has long since set and covered the outdoors with its shadow, the only light shining in the corner of your living room with a soft yellow hue. 

Your first big makeup gig starts in only a few hours. It would help if you slept, but you can't. The anxiety is too much to relax your heart. 

When you applied for the makeup artist position in the art department for a new play production, you didn't think you would get it. There was still the microscopic hope you would when you clicked 'apply' on the website, but this was New York. There was no way in Hell that an unknown "just-graduated artist" could book a gig like this. So young, so fresh out of cosmetology school that you hadn't even been able to work at a spa or salon, no real-world training. Nevertheless, the risk-taking director, Charlie Barber, decided you were the perfect fit. 

When you got the call back from the hiring manager, you were stunned. No words could leave your mouth when she told you when the start date was. You could barely even reply a yes when she asked if you were still interested, your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. You suppose you were one. A small fish yanked from the comfort of its calm water, Charlie Barber, the person who reeled you up, taking a chance on some nobody girl. 

You reach your hand over, feeling the cold stem of the wine glass and twirling it between your index finger and thumb. 

You had known who Charlie was before applying to this job, being familiar with the theatrical troupe of Exit Ghost but needing more interest to look at any of their past performances. You regret that now. What if any actors or coworkers tried asking you about your knowledge of their past plays? Quizzing your dedication to Charlie Barbers' work, asking for your thoughts and opinions on his directing. You couldn't brush those questions off; your ignorance and naivety would shine even more than your artistry. 

You quickly tap the magnifying glass on your phone screen, searching for Exit Ghost. Surely, they would have social media. Everyone and every company had one to keep up with the growing advancement of technology and popularity to ensure they stayed in the loop.

It looks good if you follow your employer. 

Finding their page, scroll down, making sure to follow them. You continue looking through their page, taking notes of all the plays they've mentioned. Opening nights here and there, celebratory dinners after successful shows, and some intimate pictures of the acting process occasionally. Then, you reach a post with the caption, "A look at the director: Charlie Barber mean mugging, no mess ups accepted!" 

A small smile grows as you examine the picture. His intense brown eyes bore ahead at what you assume is the stage, his raven hair whispered back, framing fluffily around his freckled face, his nose prominently showing in the stage light. Sleeves from a blue button-up shirt rolled past his forearms, exposing the broad muscle, black hair lightly covering it. Charlie's giant fist covers his mouth as a sliver watch adorns his wide wrist, resting an elbow on a crossed thigh.

He's beautiful and regal, even if he's the inspiration for every Roman statue in history—a longing forms in your chest. You wish you could reach through the phone and touch him. Trace your thumb across his nose and cheekbones, feeling the chiseled structure. Run your fingers through his hair and feel the tickling between them as you kiss his lips, exploring every hidden inch of Charlie Barber's mouth. 

Your thumb twitches at the thought, a white heart popping up on the screen.

You freak, a panicked cry releasing as you realize you liked a picture from three years ago. Three fucking years ago! You quickly unlike it, but the damage is done; they'll still be notified when they open the app. They'll see that the only picture your profile liked was the one of Charlie.

"This is so fucking embarrassing." You groan, cheeks on fire.

Hopefully, enough people will like their page, and your notification will be buried among them, but that isn't certain. The average amount of traffic they get in a single post is around a hundred or so, and more is needed to disguise your own digits' betrayal. 

You put your phone face down, unable to stomach the antagonizing look of the pixels, and down the rest of your wine. That's enough electronics for today as you decide to go to bed. 

Your phone buzzes you awake, the vibrations sending a small shock through your bones. Turning over in bed, you stretch, your muscles and joints groaning at the sudden movement. You sit up, slouching inwards as you stare lazily at the blank wall in front of you, trying to keep yourself alert after only being asleep for a few hours. The chill air hits your skin, causing goosebumps from the lack of blankets as you smack your lips together, mouth dry. You grab your phone, checking the time. 

4:05 am

Why would anyone make rehearsal start so early? 

You woke up extra early, unsure of the commute from the station to Exit Ghost's theater. Not to mention the time it would take to set up your station. 

Finally, you crawl out of bed, eyes still hazy with sleep as you ready yourself for the long day ahead. 

You arrive at the theater building, rolling a makeup case in tow. It was sketchy lugging that thing around the sidewalks and subway. You kept it near, wrapping your legs around it and studying anyone who dared to look your way. 

If someone even attempted to touch your most prized position, you would lay your life down for all those cosmetics, not batting an eyelash. But thankfully, no one dared to try.

Pushing down the retractable handle, you grab the one on the side of the black case, hoisting it up and leaning as you ascend the concrete stairs. Your biceps curl and flex underneath the weight of it. The end of it tips backward. The force is too strong to be gravity. Your grip falters, nearly dropping your most prized possession on the dirty cement. You turn your body, swinging the luggage in the opposite direction as you curl your fist, ready to sock the person who dared to touch your makeup bag. 

Charlie Barber stands there, his arms up in surrender, a leather bag strapped across his body as he chokes on a laugh. 

"Woah, hey there now, put that sucker away." His eyes match his light-hearted tone with a hint of humor. 

You quickly lower your fist, almost hiding it behind your back as if you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar, your face scorching with embarrassment.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Mr. Barber. I didn't mean to do that." You release an awkward laugh. "I didn't know it was you." 

He chuckles, finding this situation a whole lot more entertaining than you

"It's all good, Miss..." He pauses, unsure of your name.

A pang of sadness hits you, completely involuntary. It's not like you should expect him to know it. After all, you've never met him, only having talked to the hiring manager, but it still hurts. Surely he should know his new hires? You push it down, filling in the gap with your first and last name. 

"Ah, yes," he says, acting as if he knew it in the first place, repeating it back to you. "That seems like a mean left hook there! I'm glad I didn't have to taste it. I feel bad for the next guy, though." 

You smile back, lips tight as you nod, refusing to speak, unsure what to respond with. Your mind is not nearly as witty as his. A small silence enters the air, soon interrupted by Charlie clearing his throat.

"Uh... Would you like help with that?" He asks politely as you shake your head. You're still uncomfortable giving your respective baby to a stranger, even if he was technically your boss.

"No, thank you. I got it. It's honestly not that heavy," you lie. 

Charlie nods, humming slightly with approval as he steps aside, walking the few places to the door. You close your eyes as he passes, releasing a sigh of almost pleasure at the noise, knees going weak. 

He unlocks the door, letting you enter first with the swoop of his hand, and you nod thanks. 

A marble stairwell is all you're greeted with, silver and black plaques designating which floor you can go to. You stand there, wondering where the dressing room will be. No one ever told you the layout. If it weren't for Charlie, you wouldn't have entered the building. 

The door closes automatically behind him as he shrugs his bag, adjusting it on his shoulder. You look at him, a deer caught in headlights, unsure of where to go, pleading for help.

"Which way to the dressing rooms, sir?" Your voice sounds small, barely bouncing off the hard stone. Charlie steps closer, nearly ending the small gap of space you have in the tiny area. His plush lips smile down at you, almost caring, wanting to guide and take care of you. He licks them.

"Let me show you," he says plainly. His rumbling voice sends shivers down your spine as you turn around, ready for him to lead. You're sure even if he led you to a different place, you would still follow, clinging to each step in the movement. "The dressing rooms are on the first floor with the stage."

Charlie rests a small hand on your lower back. It stays there as you descend, both of your shoes lightly tapping the hard floor. You stiffen at the touch but don't move, letting him guide you.

He shows you the dressing rooms, a mirror with light bulbs surrounding it that spans the entire room length, and wooden chairs with fabric backs resting in front of a long table. It's so secluded from everything, the cream walls trapping every sound.

You glance at the mirror, Charlie stares at your reflection, and you meet him, both expressionless. What is this? Why does your gut stir when you see him? Why does your mind lose control of your body when he talks?

He's just so handsome. 

You would do anything for him. You would run your fingers through his hair for hours as he pulled you close. Brush your noses against each other as you kiss him, his plush lips overlapping yours. You would rip off your clothes and display your most intimate parts just for him. If only he would ask.

He removes his hand from behind you, lifting itself towards your neck. Your legs clench with anticipation, feeling your core damp and getting through your pants. And that's when you see it. A glint of gold sparkled in the mirror lights- a wedding band. 

Oh God, oh God, oh God. 

He's married! Of course, Charlie is fucking married!

You shuffle away from him, turning your head to look at the ring.

"You're married?" You question with shock, your composure leaving you momentarily at the revaluation. "How long?" You force a polite smile on your face, trying to cover up the hurt from your past words.

He quickly drops his hand, his other fingers twisting the band nervously like he was checking if it was still there. 

"I'm not sure exactly. Ten years or so? It's been so long." Charlie's words sound wistful, cold even, at the mention of his marriage. You brush off the feeling of his voice, trying to hide the hurt brewing inside. 

"That's so sweet." You add a smile to your face. "Finding a partner you could get lost over the years with. So many people would kill for that."

Oh my God. You want to fuck a married man. You're officially a homewrecker. 

"Yeah. I guess you could see it that way." 

Anger pools behind his eyes. You want to reach out and touch Charlie, comfort him, trace the freckles and moles on his face, and ask what's making him hurt so much, but you don't. You can't. He's not yours, and he never will be. 

He clears his throat, cutting through the thickness that has built. 

"Let me show you the stage." Charlie glances at the silver watch on his wrist, the same arm his wedding ring rests on. "The others should be filing in soon." 

He shows you the rest of what you need to know. The quickest way to get from the dressing room to the stage is by introducing yourself to the people who come in. 

Eventually, you excuse yourself, saying how you needed to set up and get comfortable with your station. Which you needed to do; it wasn't entirely an excuse to get away from Charlie. 

Others have already settled in the dressing room. White fabric costumes that resemble togas hang on silver racks, making the ample space incredibly small. When someone taps you on your shoulder, you set your case down, unzip it, and pull out all the makeup you packed within. 

"Hi," a middle-aged woman with brown hair greets. Her skin hangs slightly with her years, crow's feet showing as she smiles. "I'm Mary Ann. I'm the Stage Manager here at Exit Ghost." She extends her hand, and you grip it lightly, startled by the sudden and loudness of her words. 

You say your name politely, exchanging formalities, telling her your title. 

"Oh, so you're the newbie!" She looks you up and down, examining your body, hair, clothes, and everything about you. Sizing you up almost. "You're a bit young, don't you think?" 

You gawk at the audacity, too stunned to speak. She's not wrong, but there's no need to point it out. Your mouth opens and closes, trying to make any sound as Charlie enters, ducking through the doorway.

"Now, Mary Ann, you be nice to her. It's her first day." The man from before, cold and aloof at the idea of his marriage, is gone, replaced with a stern yet kind man, a director. 

She backs away from you, finding a place by his side, her arm sneaking a slight touch on his side. You examine how her body gravitates to him, her eyes lighting up with an emotion only lovers share. You see it. No one seems to notice or care about it, but you do.

You tilt your head and squint at her slim fingers, trying to find a diamond, but you don't. Your pupils travel across their bodies as they converse, lost in the conversation of what the lighting should look like in this scene, how this one actor was off, and such. 

Charlie glances at you, stuttering as he sees the realization dawn on you. He knows that you know. Out of everyone here, the newbie spots it and sees his affair. 

He pushes Mary Ann away harsher than he should, not believing that he let himself slip in front of all these people. In front of you. The newbie he had to hold back from caressing their neck just moments ago, from griping her jaw and fucking her right there while they were alone. 

You stare at him, unrelenting, as Mary Ann tries acting like he didn't just tell her with his body to leave. 

Maybe Charlie made a mistake saying yes to the young cosmetology graduate, letting her into his production and thus his life. How could she, out of everyone here and out of everyone who interacted with him and spoke with him every day, see it? It was she who saw Charlie for what he was. An unfaithful man, a husband who broke his vows to the woman he swore death would be the only thing to separate them. 

You break the stand-off, continuing to unload your supplies. Charlie excuses himself from Mary Ann-- from this whole situation. The sudden urge to light a cigarette and leave the theater for the rest of the day, to run away from them all, is strong, but he snuffs it out. Putting on the hard face of the director, everyone knew. The one that everyone needed for this production to go well. 

Actors periodically returned to the dressing room, testing different makeup styles and techniques in the lighting, getting fit, and seeing what worked well and needed to be changed. 

Charlie never returned. Mary Anne relayed all messages to him. 

Finally, the black and white clock ticks to three, signaling your freedom from the almost den of a dressing room. You pack up, clicking every palette closed and sheathing every brush in its protector. 

"Hey," the art director, Heather, says, a white toga with a golden belt in her hands. "Do you think you could hang this up for me since you're still in? It goes on hanger seven." 

She throws you the garment, not waiting for an answer. You catch it before it falls on the dusty floor. 

"Thanks," she calls back. And with a wave of her hand, she's gone. Everyone's gone, you realize, every chair empty, leaving only you... alone. 

You look at the gown again, straightening it with a flick of your wrists. You turn your head, seeing something dark on the fabric that shouldn't be there. Eyeshadow. All color from your face drains, and you feel like you'll puke.

"Shit," you whisper. "Shit, shit, shit." 

Slamming the costume on the table, you search desperately for a makeup wipe, rubbing the black shadow. It only makes it worse, smearing the pigment upwards. 

"Oh God, what am I going to do?" Your breath quickens, panic setting in as you continue to scrub viciously. 

You don't even notice when Charlie calls your name, too concentrated on the end of your career muttering expletives. His significant digits wrap around your tricep, and you jump, trying to cover the mess.

"What are you still doing here," he questions with a raised brow, looking you up and down. A smile cracks on your face as you hide the costume from his view. 

"Oh, you know, just," you lift your hands, gesturing, "cleaning up... and... stuff." Your eyes snap to the side with each pause. 

"Uh huh," Charlie responds in an unbelieving tone and puts a palm on his hip, his hair shining in the artificial light.

Why does he have to be so hot? 

You blush, crossing your ankle over the other, subconsciously creating friction. 

"What's that there behind you?" 

You chuckle nervously. 

"Oh, uh, this?" Gesturing to the ruined toga behind you. "Nothing. Just a costume that needs put away." 

"Okay..." He draws the word out on his pink tongue, still a hint of curiosity behind his iris. 

"Is that all you needed, Mr. Barber?" Hopefully, this will urge him to be on his way, and you'll find a way to fix this. 

"Yeah..." Charlie says, once again drawing the word out. 

Suddenly, his fingers snatch the robe, whipping it back too fast for you to grab it. He examines the dark, damp spot on the fabric. You flip your body around, signaling you're done with the conversation, and he can finally leave. 

"Did you do this?" He questions, tone flat, devoid of any hints of his emotions. 

"I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Heather just threw it at me, and-and I had makeup on my hands..." You ramble, tears nearly springing from your eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr. Barber." You look away, shame forcing you. 

"Don't call me that." Your eyes snap up, ready to apologize again as he throws the toga on the floor and steps closer. "Do you see what it does to me?" 

Tilting your head, you study him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion when nothing seems different. Charlie moves again, and you slide back, spine hitting the table. He gestures to his waist, a prominent bulge protruding from his khaki pants. You cough awkwardly, too stunned to speak.

"Look at me," he commands, "look at what you do to me. Do you know how difficult it is for me not to fuck you right here?" 

A bolt travels through you, straight to your core, as you squeeze your thighs together. He puts his hands on the table, caging you in. You cower away from the intensity, his hot breath rolling down your cheek. 

"You're so beautiful, and you don't even know it. You stand there, looking all innocent with those doe eyes begging me to fuck you." You shudder, Charlie's words so erotic and explicit in your ears. "I bet that's what you want right now, isn't it? For me to rip off all your clothes and pump your cunt full of my cum?" 

There's nothing more in this world you would want. You felt that life would be complete if he just claimed you. A moan escapes from your chest, unable to longer contain your desire for Charlie.

His knuckle brushes down your face, fingers wrapping around your throat, threatening you into submission. 

"Say it." He commands, pausing and waiting for your answer. He tightens his grip when you don't respond, your knees weakening from the growing desire. "Say it," Charlie repeats, the words gritting his teeth. 

"Yes," you exhale in a soft breath. 

Charlie leaves no room for second guesses as he slams his mouth into you, the soft flesh squeezing between the gaps of your teeth. Your fingers slither into his hair. It feels exactly as you imagined, silky and clean, with hints of product to smooth it back as you groan, opening your lips further.

If someone came in and shot you, you would die with a smile, your life finally complete with this one moment. It's as if everything in the past has led you to this moment. Forged you and carved you out for this very thing. 

A giggle vibrates through your connected mouths, your chest bouncing as Charlie pulls back with a questioning look. You shake your head almost in disbelief. 

"I was made for you, Charlie Barber." He smirks as he goes to cup your breast, testing it in his hand, seeing if your statement is true. Your back arches into his touch, asking without words for him to use it however he sees fit. 

Finally, he removes your shirt, diving into trailing kisses down your neck, sucking too harshly as you whine. He bucks his hips into your still-covered cunt, grinding, seeking friction to ease the ache in his cock. 

That's all he can think of as if it has a brain, neurons firing into his muscles and controlling his movements.

Charlie's digits unclasp each hook of your bra, exposing your tits to the chill air, your nipples perking into peaks. He latches onto one, licking and teasing you until you writhe under him, desperate mewls whispering. 

Your legs buckle as teeth latch onto the sensitive skin, but Charlie stops you from falling, palms resting behind your thighs as he lifts you on the table. He pulls back from your tits, examining your state. 

Cheeks flushed with blood, skin prickled with goosebumps, sweat dampening your sternum as your heart hammers in your chest. If Charlie didn't know better, he would think he's already fucked you, but seeing as your pants are still on, he digresses. 

"Look at you. Already coming undone for me, and I haven't even touched you yet." You whimper, pouting with embarrassment at your lack of self-awareness. "Awe, sweet thing." He says, grasping your chin with his thumb and index pads, forcing your eyes to meet his. "Don't worry. I'll fix that for you." 

He unbuttons your pants, sliding them down your legs as he kneels between them, nose pressing against the clothed mound. You move your hips slightly, trying to seek pressure covertly, but he notices and smirks, nuzzling closer. Charlie mouths at your wet panties, and you gasp, the foreign sensation building. 

He continues to teethe lazily, not giving you nearly enough of him. You gently grab his obsidian hair, forcing him to meet your gaze, but not enough to completely pull away. Your eyes wide and pleading, begging for him to give you what you desire, ready to bargain anything for it. He gets the message, hooking his middle finger on the hemline and pulling it to the side, your wet and waiting pussy appearing. 

He trails a digit down the middle of your slit; you gasp, happy with finally getting some semblance of what you want. Charlie purses his lips, a glob of fat spit splattering on your entrance. He pushes it in, finger-twisting and curling to ensure it stays there. Your hips buck and thighs clench as he hits that sweet spot inside you. 

"Please, Charlie, I need more."

If your pussy could talk, it would be weeping, crying at the lack of attention it's getting, as Charlie teases. 

"What a greedy little thing," he comments. "Who knew you were such a slut?" 

You moan at his words, swelling from them as he gives in. He slides another finger, stretching your hole too broad for an average man as he moves it back and forth with a slow "come here" motion. 

"You sure you can take me, sweetheart? You feel so tight."

"Yes! Your fingers are just huge," you grit out. 

Charlie chuckles as he picks up his pace, pulling the tidal wave of your pleasure out to sea. He leans back into you, his lips circling your clit as he sucks, tongue licking. 

You stroke his scalp, smoothing the waves back. He hums into your cunt, the vibrations sending you shivers. A sudden pang enters his chest, nearly stopping him for a beat before continuing. 

The feeling is longing within his ribcage, old emotions Charlie thought he would never feel again with a woman, though unbeknownst to him, he sought-- a woman to fulfill his carnal desires that his wife no longer wanted. He thought he could find it with Mary Ann, but with her, it was just empty nothing.

But with you... With you, it was different. 

The feeling of you softly gliding your nails along with his head as he devoured your cunt wasn't one of a woman who was just lost in ecstasy, greedy for her climax, but one who seemed to care. One who seemed to enjoy the thought of him wanting to take the time to put her first, to ensure she enjoyed herself without any expectation of reciprocation. 

It hurt him almost to realize that what he was looking for, begging for, was someone happy with just the thought of him, grateful for his kindness and thoughts.

Perhaps it was selfish of him to want anyone else other than Nicole to give him that, but at the same time, was it too much to ask? Did he not deserve to be happy again? Not to be bogged down by a person who only saw the faults in him and nothing else. He was sure you would be his death in so many ways.

Charlie wraps his arms around your legs, smashing his nose into your pubic bone as you begin the crescendo of your orgasm.

Yes, he did deserve it, deserved the serotonin it gave to be with someone who saw him for what he was in his entirety-- deserved you. Your screams and cries of heaven are lost on Charlie's ears. The only thing he could hear was his thoughts. 

I do deserve her. She's mine. Mine.

And he had to have you. Again and again and again. You couldn't walk until his milky white seed dripped down your pussy and thighs.

Charlie grips your hips, fingers digging in painfully as you cry out, spinning your body around and flipping you on your stomach. He rips your panties down your legs, the dry cotton burning your skin. He grabs his belt, unbuckling it and pulling it out of the loops, his shirt untucking as he unbuttons his pants. They slide down, getting stuck on his knees as you see his tight grey underwear, his impossibly hard cock straining underneath the fabric, a small dark dot on the top from pre-cum. You look into the mirror, seeing the reflection of Charlie behind you, his cheeks tinted pink and hair wild even after smoothing it. He's so crazy, completely unhinged behind you, your pussy tightening around nothing as you wait.

Charlie's thumbs hook onto the lips of your hole, prying you open for him, his fingers splayed over your ass. 

"You sure you're ready for me," he teases. 

You nod frantically, trying desperately to get what you want as he smirks, removing his hands to take off his underwear. His cock springs free, veins protruding on his long shaft, the pink head glistening with seed. Your mouth falls open. Charlie is enormous, more significant than anything you've ever seen. He's equally as wide as he is long. Unsureness washes across your face.

Maybe you can't take it? You could barely take his fingers; how could you even handle his manhood? Charlie notices your hesitancy as he steps closer, bending as he peppers comforting kisses down your spine. 

"You can do it, sweetness." He affirms, his hot breath dancing on your skin. "I know you can." 

If it were possible to turn into a liquid, you would do so now. Charlie's words were so sincere and kind that you could melt into the cracks of the tile floor. You nod, agreeing with him as he spares you one last lick of his tongue around your sensitive bud. 

The head of his cock pokes at your entrance, daring to go farther, just testing the waters. You gasp, feeling Charlie's skin on yours enough to send you into a frenzy as you buck your hips back. He pulls away, sliding his shaft along your wetness, readying himself for you, tiny shocks of pleasure traveling through your nerves as he rubs your clit. You whine, clenching around nothing, finally having enough. 

"Charlie," you mewl, "please, I can't wait anymore." 

His heart swells at your voice, happiness overcoming his entire being at the thought of someone needing him. After all, he is a caring man. He can't deny you any longer, not when you need him.

Charlie pushes the tip into you as you gasp, gritting your teeth, a slight sting emerging from your core. He shushes you with his lips, his palms rubbing soothing circles on your ass cheeks as he goes in a little further. 

"Look at that," he comments. His cock disappears into you.

Your head lowers as your eyes roll back, a guttural moan escaping you as he bottoms out, stretching you so tightly around him. 

"You take me so well." 

Your body twitches at that, cinching around him momentarily, causing him to groan. The sound is heavenly, putting a smile on your face. You could listen to that noise forever, putting it on a loop and never getting tired of it. You do it again, trying to coax it out of him. Charlie grunts with a small ah, his hand smacking your skin in punishment as he slides out, leaving only a sliver of him, your lips encompassing his cock.

Charlie begins thrusting, his hips coming into contact with your thighs as you feel the tiny tickles of his hair. He doesn't go slow this time, his carnal desires taking over as he slams back into you, his head brushing against your cervix. You cry out, the pain of him stretching you mixing with the pleasure of his cock rubbing your sensitive spot.

You flatten yourself on the table as he pistons into you, his pace unrelenting as you continue to pant. Your hands scratch the plastic-coated wood, trying to find something to ground you at this moment as his strength pushes you against the mirror. Your cheek squishes as the oils smudge it. Your eyes look feral. Your pupils dilate with lust as you search for his. Charlie's lips are pursed, gaze downcast as he concentrates on your cunt, your pussy swallowing his cock. 

You could stay like this for hours, looking like a mindless little fuck toy for him, doing anything and everything he could ask for and thanking him in the end.

He catches you staring in the mirror, looking entranced. He grabs your hair, his digits tangling in the locks as he pulls your head back, fucking impossibly deeper than before. Your chest rises and falls in a quick breath as he keeps drilling, a pressure in your gut growing. 

"You are doing so well," he smirks. You return a small, lazy smile, happy to be pleasing him. 

"Thank you, Mr. Barber," you say breathlessly, your voice hiccuping. "You feel so good." 

Charlie sighs, your words putting him in a daze as his mind wanders. 

It's been so long since he felt this way... truly appreciated even this most simplistic of actions. It has been years since Nicole had sex with him, months since she had let him kiss her, even hug her. Their bond was severed and destroyed long ago, their spark lost. He tried to find it in Mary Ann. Charlie was so desperate for a connection, for anything, when he confided in her about his marital troubles that he had no idea she took it as him wanting her. 

He did not stop the affair from advancing; it was a good distraction for the most part. He could channel the affections and longing he wanted from Nicole through her, and it worked... kind of. 

But then you came. 

Walking up the stairs of his theater building, he was severely overdressed with an air of innocence he wanted to possess again. So new and fresh-faced to the world, Charlie realized he had to have you, be with you, guide you, and teach you about what this life has to offer.

And here he was, balls deep inside you as you panted his name, praising him for making you feel so good. It was almost naive of you to do, so childish that you thought it was a luxury to feel this good when Charlie could do it all the time. He wanted to teach you about life, and wasn't this a part of it? 

Your velvet walls tightening around Charlie rips him from his thoughts. He could tell you were close, inching your way over to ecstasy. 

He snakes his hand around you, the pads of his fingers coming into contact with your clit, your body twitching. 

"Oh, God, Charlie, I'm so close." You pant, eyes shutting as another intense wave of pleasure washes over you.

"Look at me," he demands. You don't obey, too lost in the building pressure. He slaps your clit in admonishment as your leg hikes up at the intense sensation. "Let me see those eyes." 

They almost flutter shut again at his command. It sounds like pure sex on your ears. 

"Good girl," he praises, "I wanna see your face when you cum."

Those words nearly push you over the edge, but you hold back, not wanting this moment with Charlie to end. 

"I bet I'm the first man ever to make you feel this good. The first one to have you cum from my cock alone." 

The squelching of your wet folds as he thrusts is almost embarrassing, your face heating up even more. 

"Listen to yourself. You're sopping wet, and it's all for me, only for me." Charlie's hand tightens your scalp. "You're going to fucking cum on my cock, and then, I'm going to stuff you full of my seed. Until it's dripping down your thighs and on the floor." 

You shudder, his words almost pulling you out of your body as the pressure in your stomach bursts. You orgasm deep inside, racking through every bone in your body as he pulls you through it. Fucking you until you're a blubbering mess under him, twitching and clamping. 

He lets go of your hair, and you collapse back down on the table, air shuddering out of your lungs. Charlie keeps fucking you a little slower now. You're like a rag doll under him, stilling and moaning softly when you realize he hasn't come yet. He put your pleasure before his own; tears nearly spring at the thought. You need to make him cum. He deserves it more than anything else in the world. 

You extend your back, pushing your ass into him as he grunts. He must be so close. You don't want him to hold back any longer. You want him to fuck you and use your body for his own. 

"Charlie." His gaze snaps up to yours in the mirror, his lips swollen and eyes glossy. "Please, cum. I need to feel you cum inside of me." You plead. "Please, Mr. Barber," you hiccup as his hips snap harshly into you. "You deserve it." 

His mouth twitches, his jaw clenching as he slams into you a few more times, chasing his high. His warm seed fills inside your walls as his pelvis stalls and groans, tucking his chin to his chest. He pauses, catching his breath as he finally pulls out. You squeak as his tip glides over your sensitive spot, sending a bolt of overstimulated pleasure. You hear Charlie chuckle as he shuffles around and gathers your clothes and belt. You stay there, not trusting your knees enough to get up; you're too happy to move.

Charlie gently grabs your ankles, telling you to pull them up so he can slide your pants back on. They reach the crease of your ass before he stops, his thumb gliding over your swollen and abused mound, collecting the cum dripping and pushing it back in. You gasp, still sensitive. He runs soft fabric over the area, cleaning you up to the best of his ability as he pulls your pants up the rest of the way. Your turn around still bent over the table.

"Charlie, where is my underwear," you ask, raising an eyebrow, already having somewhat of an idea of where they could be.

He grins, showing you the cum stained panties as he stuffs them into his breast pocket. You roll your eyes as you extend your arm for the rest of your clothes, regaining enough strength to move. Finally, fully covered, you glance at the costume you ruined draped over his arm as you frown.

"I'm sorry about that, Mr. Barber. I can take it to a dry cleaner to see if they can fix it. I'll pay for everything." You still can't believe you ruined a costume on your first day. You won't believe you did many things on your first day. He waves away from your offer with a shake of his head.

"No, it's fine," he says your name tenderly. "I'll take care of it." You nod, agreeing with your lips pursed, still feeling guilty as you gather your things to leave, walking to the exit as Mr. Barber shouts for you. "Also, please don't call me that, Mr. Barber." You nod again wordlessly. "Everyone just calls me Charlie around here."

"Okay, Charlie." It feels foreign when you're saying it without his cock inside you. "I'll see you tomorrow," you say with sleep lacing your voice. "You and Mary Ann have a great rest of your day." 

Your words would sound innocent to the middle ear, just a coworker wishing her bosses a good day, but you know better, and so does Charlie. He also knows that he and Mary Ann will, in fact, not have a great day with what he plans on doing now. You've changed everything for him, unbeknownst to you, as the wheels of your makeup bag click on the floor. Whether or not it is for the best remains to be seen.

Masterlist of Series

[tctteredwings]

[ harry shum jr., genderqueer, he/they ] — whoa! KIAN ZHANG just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for THEIR WHOLE LIFE, working as the HEAD STYLIST AND OWNER OF KIAN ZHANG HAIR. that can’t be easy, especially at only 41 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit DRAMATIC and BLUNT, but i know them to be INNOVATIVE and ACCEPTING. whatever. i guess i’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to MANHATTAN!

IN A NUTSHELL; a smudge of eyeliner, vintage clothing, piano solo's when the sun's gone down, the slight scent of hairspray, an extensive collection of disney pins, willing to do anything for their son.

tw: bullying

ABOUT.

Name: Kian Zhang Nicknames: Ki Age: Forty-one Date of birth: 21st February 1983 Birth place: Manhattan, New York Occupation: Head Stylist and owner of Kian Zhang Hair Romantic/sexual orientation: Panromantic/pansexual

Kian was born in Manhattan, New York, along with his twin sister, his best friend from the word go.

He’s second-generation Chinese-American.

As the years ticked by they found themselves not entirely happy in their own skin, they started dressing differently, wearing the occasional smudge of eyeliner, something they attempted to embrace in high school.

It didn’t go well, the bullying soon followed; accepting apparently himself was frowned upon. Despite the multicultural city he lived in, his expression was limited in his youth.

He didn’t really listen, continued on in private, with close friends he made… with a boyfriend, someone who meant the world to him as time went on. He was someone who stayed a close friend long into his thirties, despite the break-up in senior year.

It was shortly after high school that they began to go by both he and they pronouns, something that has stayed the same ever since.

Their creativity came out over time and they embraced it, choosing in the end to make their way into the beauty industry and the Carsten Institute of Cosmetology was the place to do it.

He eventually chose to specialise in hairdressing, becoming a stylist to the stars within a couple of years of graduating.

Shortly after that they found themselves caught up in a new relationship, something that was difficult to balance, but he tried his hardest.

Within a year or so a wedding was on the cards, each detail planned out meticulously. It was to be the beginning of a new chapter for him and when they found out only six months later that she was pregnant, he realised it really, really was.

Somehow, at some point during all of this he managed to open up his own salon in the Upper East Side —- somewhere that ended up with a three-month wait for appointments at all times of the year.

Not long after their 30th birthday, the family of three relocated to London, UK, a decision that was made for her work. Kian chose to work on opening a salon there instead, a small franchise that they intended to let someone else run, but with their ethics and style.

As their time in London ticked on, cracks in the relationship began to show, attempting a slower lifestyle ( despite the location ) wasn’t working —- they were both so used to being rushed off their feet.

Two years later a divorce was finalised and Kian moved back to New York. A rocky few years followed, the pair attempting to handle parenting from different continents.

He soon met someone who changed things for him, someone who made them want to try again. A couple of years passed, they moved in together, they were complete opposites in a way, yet that only seemed to make their bond stronger. They complimented one another and it was as simple as that.

But then that ended, too, abruptly and painfully. Kian did all they knew how to do, focus on work and ignore everything else going on around them. Thankfully his son is back in the States now, his ex-wife's job changing a couple of years ago, meaning she could return.

HEADCANONS.

Their wardrobe is a rather eclectic mix of things, although their most colourful side comes out when they’re working and less so at home. At home they really are about being comfortable and nothing else.

There’s always the slightest hint of eyeliner with them, they’ve never been able to let that go.

He’s been playing piano since he was small and he’s pretty damn good at it now —- can definitely give Beethoven a run for his money.

He’s got a bit of thing for 80′s music and are playing it constantly, especially in the salon.

Can’t play sports to save their life, although they like to think they were an amazing high-jumper in high school ( they weren’t, but still mention it if anyone ever brings sports up ).

They collect Disney pins and have never been particularly shy about it.

Once got stabbed with their own scissors by an unhappy client.

[pandajaye]

I Wanna Be With You ~ (Chapter 1)

Characters: Bang Chan x OC!Soleil

Fandom: Stray Kids/Skz

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.0k

A/N: Hello, I write a lot but this will be my first time writing a fictional version of a real person so sorry if I mess up, I love Channie and I love the thoughts I have about Channie and want to express them through writing him with a new original (black!!!! 💅🏾) character of mine, Soleil (pronounced Soh-lay). I hope this is up to some of y’all’s standards and that y’all like it, enjoy!

No matter what anyone tells you, always remember to follow your heart. It may lead you to wonderful places and new experiences. Exactly like how it led Soleil to finding the love of her life. Soleil wasn’t sure what she wanted to do when it was time for her to enter the real world. So many of her peers realized things about themselves and had future plans that seemed so impressive and successful that they made her feel like she’d be stuck in the same place forever. Eventually, she had had enough of being confused about the future and needed to figure something out.

They say that a job is not the same as a career. That you can work a job, but you want your career to be something you’re passionate about. For Soleil, that was entertainment. She absolutely loved the entertainment industry ever since she was a little girl and would swoon over Aladdin’s smile or dance along with Beyoncé on YouTube or picture herself winning her own Oscar for being cast in a big movie. She understood that a big part of the entertainment industry was the behind-the-scenes work. Like the people that helped in the dressing rooms, fixing up the entertainers to look their best. As she got older, she fell in love with makeup. From daily looks to Halloween spooks, she was obsessed with it. A lightbulb appeared over her head when she came up with a wonderful idea. Soleil would learn to work in the entertainment industry as a makeup artist!

Soleil worked hard to learn all she could about makeup and skin and how colors worked for different tones and shades. She enrolled in cosmetology college and esthetician training classes and always worked hard to be successful, some of that success coming from showing off her creativity and style. Things started out small but over time she got more and more hirings for more than just parties and proms and weddings. She was getting hired for fashion shows and television and small movies. However, even with her success, she still wanted a little more from life itself. At the age of 23, she packed up her bags, hugged her family and everything she knew goodbye, and traveled to a place on the other side of the planet. Depending on which way you go, of course.

Another one of Soleil’s loves was music. The way certain voices would hug her mind be it happy songs or emotional songs or songs meant to make you feel like you could defeat a final boss, she loved music. During her early college days, Soleil found a new genre of music that she’d never heard of before called K-Pop. Korean Pop wasn’t popular where she was from but some of her new peers seemed to know a lot about it. Listening to K-pop is actually where a lot of her new school friends came from. Out of all the groups she listened to, the band to win her heart was Stray Kids. A group of eight incredible, talented, and super handsome men that sang and danced their way into her heart. The way their beautiful and unique music and voices took control of her emotions and turned her bad days into the best days was a special kind of happiness.

Happiness. That's exactly how she felt when she looked into his eyes. Among the eight members of the group, there was the oldest, the leader, Bang Chan. Bang Chan spent years on screen, becoming a trainee at the JYPE company when he was thirteen years old. He spent seven years waiting to find his group and those seven years could definitely be described as worth it. Sure, the group had their own trials and tribulations to overcome, but they continued, and continue, to rise through the ranks and make their place in halls of fame. Growing each year, becoming close like brothers. They're a family that represents fate. Award after award, sparkling performance after sparkling performance, Stray Kids shake the music industry and make their place everywhere all around the world.

Bang Chan is also one of the groups producers, his talents are more than what he does on stage or at dance practice. He spends all night putting beats together and working his magic, which he also does with Changbin and Han, who make up rap group 3Racha when all three of them join creative forces. "I can't stay awake anymore, Channie-hyung... I think Jisung is already asleep," Changbin yawned, sitting up on the couch to stretch. "I'm going to call a car to come get us. I think we have makeup trials in the morning for the next awards performance. I don't want to fall asleep with an eyeshadow brush on my face." While Chan could hear him talk, Han... not so much, his mind was only focused on the words of this new song. Or at least on the new beat anyway.

It was going to be a new love song, something to follow up Case 143 and Winter Falls. It would be a soft melody, something you could fall asleep to because it would ease your heart so you can focus on the person you love. "Chan-hyung? Hellooo?" Changbin's voice was actually able to capture Chan's attention this time. "Huh? What is it?" Chan turned to look at the great Dwaekki man who shook his head and sighed. "Let's go. I want my bed. You, too, Jisungie." Changbin pushed on Han's leg with enough force to wake him up but not enough to hurt him. Han whined and Changbin grumbled as Chan looked up at his desktop and began signing out of everything for the night.

By the time they got downstairs, the car was sitting right outside of the door. They let Han climb in first so he could get to the backseat and sleep some more on the way to the dorms. Chan, as always, let Changbin climb in second and then climbed in himself to make sure he was the last one inside. The other two members took naps in the car, but Chan forced himself to stay awake until they got home. There was pretty much silence other than some yawns and 'Goodnight's exchanged as they all turned in for the night. As Chan fell asleep, his mind continued to play the lovely melody they had conjured up while working in the studio. He felt the ends of his mouth twitch into a smile as he thought about how his fans would feel about this new love song. He hoped they'd feel dreamy.

The next morning, alarms woke the boys from their sleep. It was time to get up and get ready for makeup trials. Even the cold water while brushing his teeth and eating an energizing breakfast couldn't wipe the sleep from Bang Chan's mind. He was still so tired from last night; he couldn't even remember what time he went to bed. In the car, he let his eyes do a few long blinks until they got back to the JYPE building. He could've sworn he was sitting on a couch the last time his eyes closed but all of a sudden, he's now waking up in a makeup chair in front of a vanity mirror. "Soleil, Bang Chan is over here in chair four. You might want to hurry before he goes back to sleep."

Chan turned to look up at the kind voice talking about him. It was Sun Yoo, one of their veteran makeup artists. "Eh, I'm not sleeping. I don't know what you're talking about," Channie mumbled, sitting up in his chair and yawning. "Suuure. I believe you." Yoo smiled, chuckling to herself while blending out Felix's smokey eye. "I'm here, I'm here!" An even kinder voice announced herself. Chan watched a new person set up her makeup supplies. She had brown to blonde ombre with dark roots. The hair was curly, kinky even, which was something he'd heard about on the internet. Her skin was sparkly and deep brown like a luxurious espresso color. It was smooth and beautiful and looked so soft. "Annyeonghaseyo, Mr. Bahng. My name is Soleil. I will be your makeup artist for the day. It's nice to meet you."

Soleil quickly did a slight bow but to Chan it lasted forever. The light from the vanity shown behind her and flowed through her curls as they bounced coming back up. Her nose was beautiful and broad, very cute. It had the slightest teddy bear look to it. Her cheeks were soft with the slight tell of cheekbones and a pretty jaw that one could lift for a perfect kiss. The only makeup she had on was lip gloss, strawberry blush, and some mascara as far as Chan could tell. Her eyes were a brown that could make even the coldest heart feel warm like a big hug in a wool blanket. They made him feel safe and protected, which made him want to protect her.

"Mr. Bahng? Hello? Uh... Bang Chan?" Soleil's head was tilted with her face in a confused pout when Chan snapped out of his gaze. "Hm? Yes, yes, that's me. I'm Bang Chan. It's nice to meet you, Soleil. I trust that if anyone can make me beautiful, it's you." Chan smiled ever so welcomingly at his new makeup artist. Soleil couldn't help but smile back at his immediate charm. "Yes, sir. I'll do my best. But between you and I, I think you look beautiful just like this. Such a handsome man." Soleil had this smile she'd do where her two front teeth would show like a cute little bunny. Kind of similar to Felix. That smile of hers, those soft, full lips that had the prettiest two-tone coloring. He shouldn't be having these thoughts about this random but perfect woman he just met but he couldn't help it. She was mesmerizing.

Once the makeup trials ended and the artists and beauticians parted ways, the other members decided to order food to pick up on the way back to the dorms. There was an intense game of rock paper scissors to decide which car would be picking up the food that day, Chan's car lost and was chosen as the delivery chariot. Together, he and Hwang Hyunjin, another amazingly charming member of the group and co-writer of the song Red Lights, entered the restaurant together since it was a big order for one person to carry.

While they waited for the food, they engaged in small talk about how the makeup trials went. Hyunjin expressed how he whined and begged for glitter shadow and surprisingly won. Chan was proud of his musical son for fighting for what he wanted. While Hyunjin continued to talk about his experience, Chan saw gold with his peripherals. He turned to see... Soleil? What were the chances that she picked the exact same restaurant as them? She was sitting at a table with Sun Yoo and some other women that worked at the company. It kind of made Chan feel buttery to know that Soleil wasn't lonely.

If only he knew he was staring at her before she turned and looked him in the eyes. He jumped and quickly looked away, his nose and cheeks and ears becoming an adorable shade of pink. He glanced back at Soleil to see her smile at him before going back to talking to her friends. "Order for Mr. Bahng," the cashier called out. Hyunjin stepped up to the counter to grab the first bags of the group's food and then Chan after him. As they headed towards the door, something told Chan to take one more look back. It was too strong of an urge to ignore, so he did. He turned around and looked at Soleil who looked up at him when she caught notice. He readjusted the food to lean against him so he could have a free hand to wave at her. The rush he got when she, and the other women at the table, waved back was so energizing. He'd been more awake now than he had been all day. He turned back around and grabbed the food with his free hand and headed on out to the car. He really hoped to see Soleil again. Soleil, the human sunflower.

[oftatteredwings]

⸻  HARRY SHUM JR. HE + HIM / have you ever     heard of EXPRESS YOURSELF by labrinth, well,     it describes KIAN ZHANG to a tee! the 39 year old, and STYLIST AT KIAN ZHANG HAIR  was spotted browsing     through the stalls at portobello road market last sunday, do you know     them? would you say  HE is  more dramatic or more INNOVATIVE  instead?     anyway, they remind me of a smuge of eyeliner, vintage clothing, piano solos when the sun’s gone down and a slight whiff of hairspray, maybe you’ll bump into     them soon! 

time in notting hill ; 3 years.

tw: bullying, homophobia

ABOUT.

Name: Kian Zhang Nicknames: Ki Age: Thirty-nine Date of birth: 21st February 1984 Birth place: Manhattan, New York Occupation: Hair stylist at Kian Zhang Hair Romantic/sexual orientation: Panromantic/pansexual

Kian was born in Manhattan, New York, along with his twin sister, his best friend from the word go.

He’s second generation Chinese-American.

As the years ticked by he found himself not entirely happy in his own skin, he started dressing differently, wearing the occasional smudge of eyeliner, something he attempted to embrace in high school.

It didn’t go well, the bullying soon followed; accepting apparently himself was frowned upon. Despite the multicultural city he lived in, his expression was limited in his youth.

He didn’t really listen, continued on in private, with close friends he made... with a boyfriend, someone who meant the world to him as time went on. He was someone who stayed a close friend long into his thirties, despite the break-up in senior year.

His creativity came out over time and he embraced it, choosing in the end to make his way into the beauty industry and the Carsten Institute of Cosmetology was the place to do it.

He eventually chose to specialise in hairdressing, becoming a stylist to the stars within a couple of years of graduating.

Shortly after that he found themselves caught up in a new relationship, something that was difficult to balance, but he tried his hardest.

Within a year or so a wedding was on the cards, each detail planned out meticulously. It was to be the beginning of a new chapter for him and when they found out only six months later that she was pregnant, he realised it really, really was.

Somehow, at some point during all of this he managed to open up his own salon in the Upper East Side —- somewhere that ended up with a three month wait for appointments at all times of the year.

Not long after his 30th birthday, the family of three relocated to London, UK, a decision that was made for her work. Kian chose to work on opening a salon there instead, a small franchise that he intended to let someone else run, but with his ethics and style.

As their time in London ticked on, cracks in the relationship began to show, attempting a slower lifestyle ( despite the location ) wasn’t working —- they were both so used to being rushed off their feet.

Two years later a divorce was finalised and Kian moved across the city to be closer to the new salon.

But he soon met someone who changed things, someone who made them want to try again. A couple of years passed, they moved into together, they were complete opposites in a way, yet that only seemed to make their bond stronger. They complimented one another and it was as simple as that.

But then that ended, too, abruptly and painfully. Kian did all he knew how to do, focus on work.

HEADCANONS.

His wardrobe is a rather eclectic mix of things, although his most colourful side comes out when he’s working and less so at home. At home he really is about being comfortable and nothing else.

There’s always the slightest hint of eyeliner with him, he’s never been able to let that go.

He’s been playing piano since he was small and he’s pretty damn good at it now —- can definitely give Beethoven a run for his money.

He’s got a bit of thing for 80′s music and are playing it constantly, especially in the salon.

Can’t play sport to save his life, although he likes to think he was an amazing high-jumper in high school (he wasn’t, but still mention it if anyone every brings sports up).

He collects Disney pins and has never been particular shy about it.

Once got stabbed with their own scissors by an unhappy client.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

- twin sister;  - high school ex; his first boyfriend and first step into being who he really was. they’re still good friends to this day. - ex wife/mother of his child: they were together in nyc and moved to london, she currently lives here too. - exes: a couple of bigger ones that meant the world, as well as a few that lasted only a couple of months. - hook-ups, etc.; he’s not exactly shy and often try to shake off the loneliness with a random bedfellow. - clients; from both nyc and london, he’s worked with a lot of celebs over the years, but honestly, anyone. - an excuse to party; he’ll head out whenever he gets a chance, these are the people who regularly join him.

[brutclhonesty]

★ spotted!! RYLAN YOUNG on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 28 year old looks like MADELAINE PETSCH, but i don’t really see it. while the MAKEUP ARTIST is known for being SHARP WITTED my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be HARSH i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song SHE’S SO MEAN by MATCHBOX TWENTY

details.

name: rylan young

dob: may 20th, 1996

zodiac: taurus

face claim: madelaine petsch

gender identity: cis female

sexuality: bisexual

profession: makeup artist

hometown: san diego, ca

spoken languages: english

positive traits: resilient, creative, strong, bold, fearless

negative traits: emotionally detached, self-medicating, guarded, afraid to be vulnerable

about.

Rylan Young was born into the glamorous world of celebrity but was given up for adoption by her famous mother when she was just a newborn. Her birth mother, a well-known actress, couldn’t keep her due to the pressures of fame and a demanding career. Rylan was adopted by a loving but financially modest couple who did their best to give her a stable home.

Unfortunately, tragedy struck when Rylan’s father passed away when she was fifteen. Her mother, overwhelmed by grief and frustration, began to turn her anger towards Rylan, blaming her for the loss of her husband. The once warm and supportive home became a place of blame and hostility.

Feeling trapped and unloved, Rylan decided to leave her small town and move up to Los Angeles as soon as she graduated high school. Her goal was both to find her birth parents and also figure out a life for herself in a different place, one with less ghosts than her home town. While she didn't actually meet her biological father, the move marked a new chapter in her life.

In Los Angeles, Rylan found a way to channel her creativity into a career as a makeup artist, attending cosmetology school and quickly building a name for herself in the competitive Hollywood scene, working with many celebrities and taking part in many award winning films and shows. Her determination made her hard to ignore, and her talent plus her work ethic is what keeps her steadily employed.

Now twenty-eight, with a striking appearance of vibrant red hair and an edgy style that matches her guarded personality, she is a hard to ignore. Her childhood traumas and the difficult relationship with her mother have made her very wary of forming close connections, which means Rylan keeps people at arm’s length, choosing to remain emotionally distant and cold. Despite this, she has a reputation for being the life of the party. She often immerses herself in the nightlife, using social events and parties as a way to numb the pain of her past and escape from her feelings of loneliness.

Rylan is incredibly resilient, and works hard to channel all her frustration and emotions into her work. Despite the hardships she faced, she managed to carve out a successful career in a tough industry. Her ability to reinvent herself and keep pushing forward is a testament to her strength.

However, she can be emotionally detached, and has a tendency to self-medicate through partying. Her guarded nature makes it hard for her to form meaningful relationships, and her fear of vulnerability often leaves her feeling isolated.

[imbeautyschooll]

Unlock the Art of Beauty at the Chicago Beauty Academy

Located in the heart of Chicago, our academy provides a unique and immersive learning environment that simulates a real-world salon setting. Our expert instructors are dedicated to providing personalized attention and guidance, ensuring that you receive a top-notch education and gain hands-on experience with the latest techniques and products.

Programs and Specializations

At the Chicago Beauty Academy, we offer a variety of programs and specializations to suit your interests and career goals. Choose from:

Esthetician Program: Learn the art of skincare, waxing, and facials, and become certified in one of the fastest-growing fields in beauty.

Makeup Artist Program: Master the art of makeup application, special effects makeup, and bridal makeup with our comprehensive program.

Hairstyling Program: Develop your skills in haircutting, coloring, and styling for men and women, and become a master of modern hair design.

Nail Technology Program: Learn the fundamentals of nail care, including manicures, pedicures, and nail enhancements.

Why Choose the Chicago Beauty Academy?

Hands-on Training: Our small class sizes ensure that you receive personalized attention and hands-on training with our expert instructors.

State-of-the-Art Facilities: Our modern facilities are equipped with the latest technology and products, giving you access to industry-standard equipment and tools.

Flexible Scheduling: Choose from full-time or part-time programs to fit your schedule and lifestyle.

Job Placement Assistance: Our dedicated career services team helps you find employment after graduation, with job placement rates consistently above industry standards.

Industry Partnerships: We partner with top salons and spas in Chicago to provide exclusive job opportunities and networking connections.

Student Life

At the Chicago cosmetology school, we believe that learning is just as important as having fun! Join our vibrant community of students from diverse backgrounds and share your passion for beauty with like-minded individuals. Take advantage of our extracurricular activities, such as fashion shows, makeup competitions, and volunteer opportunities.

Admissions and Tuition

We accept students from all backgrounds and offer competitive tuition rates. Our admissions process is simple and straightforward:

Apply online or in-person

Complete an entrance exam

Submit transcripts and high school diploma/GED

Meet with an admissions counselor

Take the First Step Toward a Rewarding Career in Beauty

Don't miss this opportunity to unlock your potential in the beauty industry! Apply now to the Chicago Beauty Academy and take the first step towards a rewarding career as a licensed esthetician, makeup artist, hairstylist, or nail technician. Contact us today to schedule an appointment or learn more about our programs.

[draditijha9]

What is the difference between a skin doctor and a dermatologist?

Your best choice is to visit a skin expert, whether you’re searching for someone to cure your skin acne or are considering getting skin treatment for youthful-looking skin. Dermatologists are the first thing that spring to mind when someone asks about a dermatologist. Additionally, we frequently mix up dermatologists with skin experts. But in reality, there is difference between a skin doctor and a dermatologist. Confused? You no longer need to be concerned about this since we are here to allay your fears and provide clarification.

Cosmetologist

Hair, skin, and nail care are among the personal care services offered by cosmetologists, who are also skin specialists who practice medicine. Hairdressers, barbers, and estheticians, sometimes known as skincare specialists, are among the beauty professionals engaged in this cosmetology business and associated jobs. As of 2018, there were around 760,100 persons employed in the cosmetology sector.

Our skin is the biggest organ in the body, despite the fact that we rarely consider it that way. The average person’s skin takes up more than 14% of their body weight and occupies an area of 20 square feet. Our skin is extraordinarily complicated despite its small. Thousands of nerve endings and hundreds of sweat glands may be found in a single square inch of skin, among other tissue components.

Three major layers that are subsequently subdivided into further layers make up the skin. The epidermis, the skin’s outermost layer, is the part of us that is most exposed to the outside world. Skin alterations are frequently a visible sign of changes in the health and fitness of other body components.

How To Choose A Dermatologist?

Nearly everyone benefits from seeing a dermatologist. A dermatologist helps adults and teens manage their bothersome acne, improve the look of their skin, and guard against dangerous conditions like skin cancer. Selecting a dermatologist is a time-consuming and crucial choice. How can you locate the top dermatologist in Chandigarh who can address your skin care needs, then? Here are some crucial considerations when choose a dermatologist. 

A physician who focuses on identifying and treating skin conditions is known as a dermatologist. Dermatologists are medical practitioners who have graduated from medical school after completing four years of undergraduate education. Dermatologists who want to become licensed must successfully pass a challenging board test after finishing their residency. As medical professionals, dermatologists are qualified to conduct surgery and provide prescriptions for medications. Although they may also provide cosmetic therapies like Botox injections or laser hair removal, their main priority is skin health. You should visit a dermatologist for treatment if you have a skin condition such acne, rosacea, or eczema.

VISIT OUR WEBSITE FOR MORE DETAILS: https://draditijha.com/

[ukbeautys-blog]

10 Essential Skills Every Aspiring Beautician Should Master | UK International | Best Beauty School In Noida |

If you think a career in the shiny world of the beauty is your dream, please read on! Whether you hope to become a make-up artist, hairdresser or skincare specialist or any given profession of your choice requires more than merely a craze for cosmetics. To better the competitors in this cutthroat industry, it's vitally important to get into the flow of learning several skills. As the learners in UK International London Beauty College, we have come to appreciate the fact that being able to utilize this ability is a prerequisite to you noiz into the world of cosmetology.

Welcome to UK International London Beauty School, where passion meets expertise in the world of makeup education. Our school is dedicated to nurturing aspiring makeup professionals and empowering them with the skills and knowledge needed to thrive in the dynamic beauty industry.we are the best beauty school in Noida and provide the best courses with the best faculty and environment and join us to get a kick start in your beauty and makeup career join us fast and get the latest discount and join at a very minimal price 

Let's explore the ten essential skills every aspiring beautician should strive to master:

Creativity: Beauty is a form of art in which you are the brush, which paints your canvas. One of the key things that makes you successful in the beauty business is a unique style that you will be able to unravel and thus move from just being an artist into an entertainer. You could do everything from braiding complex hairstyles, trying out different makeup styles or customizing your skin care regimen with your unique skills; that part is completely up to you to choose.

Attention to Detail: Precision is the CAPITAL point in beauty universe. One thing that separates your work from being merely good to beyond exceptional is the fact that a small attention to detail is shown in the perfect way to apply makeup as well as nail art application. While on the job, strive to create a good impression for the clients by being sharp-eyed. This will help to build a reputation of excellence.

Communication Skills: Working as a beauticians, you can have conversation with client on daily basis and together with personalized style suggestion meet their requirements. Good and smooth communication skills is a must in the stage of developing relationship and interacting with clients, getting more in touch with their habits or preferences, and providing best of the best services ever. Always practice active listening and clear communication. Do not assume anything, instead, ask questions, make sure you address all the questions. Promote open and clear communication. This will keep them content and satisfied.

Technical Proficiency: While technical aspects of beauty services are critical for success, develop professionals beyond their technical ability. Whether you're a hairdresser looking to perfect your cutting skills or a skincare professional wanting to learn more about ingredients and makeup artist longing to get better at the makeup application technique, attain the required technical skills through education and practice.

Time Management: When the client is in a hurry to get a quick styling service and leave, the stylist becomes a time manager by finishing the service on time. The three main activities which are critical for the accomplishment of client satisfaction and quantity of productivity are: scheduling appointments effectively, servicing multiple clients, and maintaining compliance with time constraints.

Customer Service: Above all, the best customer service is the foundation of the well-performed beauty industry. Patients are the reason for the success of your facility. Making sure their needs are met effectively is your primary responsibility from the time they enter the door until they depart to go home. Getting over failure, having good manners and delivering customer service in a friendly way go beyond short-term transactions and they build solid client relationships.

Hygiene and Sanitation: Keeping clean and health facilities along with the hygiene is a must in the beauty sector. Having knowledge and being able to practice proper hygiene and sanitation manner not only safeguards your clients yet is also a key to having your professional soundness.

Product Knowledge: Informed yourself about current beauty trends by depending on your favorite magazines, Instagram influencers, and Your favorite beauty gurus on Youtube. Being acquainted with the backbone of skincare ingredients and the compositions of makeup and hair products naturally puts you in a position to give the right advice that's fitting to the needs and preferences of your clients.

Adaptability: It is a genre of business that is always moving, because of that, new trends and methods become a part of it all the time. You won’t be successful staying put and not absorbing anything new if you want to stay at the top. Embrace changes and welcome all opportunities of any nature for development and knowledge. Train yourself continuously in order to be on top of that big wave of information and always stay competitive in the industry.

From UK International London Beauty School,best beauty school in noida, we seek to provide to the aspirant to beautify professionals with the knowhow, talent and confidence to navigate competitively in the beauty sector. Featured in our program are classes that address all these disciplines with the leading practitioners in their fields as tutors and facilitators. Let's distinguish whether you're a newbie or just an expert. We offer you the tools and sources that you can use to change your simple pastime into a successful career.

Uk International is the best beauty school  in Noida. Can you provide the best beautician course near me? We are the best bridal makeup course providers, and we provide you with all the different types of courses, such as cosmetology courses, haircuts, chemical makeup courses, and many more. UK International gives you 100% job assistance, and we are the one where the skill meets the expertise. our academy has the best trainers to make you the best artist in this field. our course runs on the latest modules to provide you with the best quality education.

UK International is the best beauty school  in Noida, Ghaziabad, and Delhi, and we have the best faculty on campus across India. Join us fast for your makeup, hairstyling, cosmetology, nail art, and booster skills and become a certified beautician and makeup artist. We are best at creating experts.

[niucollege1]

Trade School Los Angeles: Empowering Futures with Hands-On Training & Certifications

Trade School Los Angeles stands as a beacon of educational innovation, providing hands-on training and certifications that pave the way for countless individuals to achieve their career aspirations. In a landscape where specialized skills are highly valued, this institution remains a vital hub for those seeking practical, industry-relevant education.

At Trade School Los Angeles, the emphasis is on fostering an environment where learning goes beyond the confines of traditional academia. The institution prides itself on offering a diverse range of hands-on training programs tailored to equip students with the necessary expertise to excel in their chosen fields. From plumbing and electrical work to cosmetology and culinary arts, Trade School Los Angeles offers a spectrum of courses designed to meet the demands of various industries.

The hallmark of the programs at Trade School Los Angeles lies in their practical approach. The curriculum is carefully crafted to combine theoretical knowledge with real-world applications, ensuring that students not only understand concepts but can apply them effectively in their respective fields. This emphasis on hands-on training not only enhances skill development but also boosts confidence in graduates as they enter the job market.

Trade School Los Angeles prides itself on its commitment to student success. With small class sizes, instructors can provide personalized attention to each student, ensuring that no one gets left behind. This approach facilitates a supportive learning environment where students can ask questions, engage in discussions, and receive guidance from experienced professionals.

Furthermore, the certifications offered upon completion of programs at Trade School Los Angeles are highly regarded within the industry. These certifications stand as a testament to the skills and knowledge acquired, often serving as a passport to various job opportunities and career advancement.

For those eager to take charge of their future and embark on a fulfilling career, Trade School Los Angeles stands as the ideal launching pad. The institution's commitment to providing quality education and practical skills not only empowers individuals to pursue their passions but also prepares them for success in the competitive job market.

Don't miss the opportunity to join Trade School Los Angeles and embrace a future full of possibilities. Enroll in one of their hands-on training programs today to unlock your potential and set your career on the path to success.

If you're ready to take the first step toward a rewarding career, contact Trade School Los Angeles at +1 818-960-6685 to enroll in one of their comprehensive training programs. Your journey toward a successful and fulfilling career starts with Trade School Los Angeles!

Trade School Los Angeles is more than an institution; it's a catalyst for transforming passions into professions. With a focus on practical education, industry-aligned programs, and certifications that stand out, it's where futures are shaped and careers are launched. Join Trade School Los Angeles to empower your future today!

Contact Trade School Los Angeles at +1 818-960-6685 to kick-start your journey toward a rewarding career in the field of your choice. Your future success begins with a simple phone call!

[tpwkluv]

Because I'm nosy, I now need your answer!

What is an ideal day of living to you if money and time were of no importance?

xo - Amanda (@curiositydooropened)

well, first i wouldn't wake up in indiana lmao. i am so ready to leave this state.

it has been my childhood dreaaaaam to just drive from state to state in a van, pick up small jobs along the way to save money, and just explore each state until i'm ready to move on (particularly out west because i've been to so many states around me).

although, i would also love to move out west (montana, washington, and oregon have stolen my heart ever since i went to wa last year) and have a home there. then, i would fill my days with painting, writing, portrait photography, time with my little family, gardening, and exploring the world!

OH, and i'd love to finally get to cosmetology school.

my evenings would definitely be spent playing video games, watching movies, or reading

[simondoibanenterprises]

Simon Doiban: when a man knows more about the beauty and youth of women than they do

If you set a goal and count the number of beauty salons in any metropolis, then there will be incomparably more of them than museums, theaters or concert halls. The trend towards the active development of the beauty market is set by society and its boundless desire to look beautiful, young and well-groomed.

Serious competition forces salons to constantly develop, improve, search for and offer the most advanced technologies for rejuvenation and personal care. Modern beauty establishments are significantly different from their predecessors. The quality of services and the level of service have stepped forward for decades.

A wide and constantly expanding range of services, experienced qualified specialists, the latest equipment, innovative developments. All this is necessary if the salon wants to reach the level of the market leader and, even during the general recession, continue to be a highly profitable enterprise.

In the current conditions, recognition and popularity are achieved only by those salons where the leader is at the helm. A strong and experienced manager, he always focuses on current business development trends, strives to improve the competencies of management and the qualifications of the narrow specialists of his center, regularly attends and directs staff to online trainings of reputable speakers who, over many years of work in the industry, have established themselves as beauty experts -industry. One of the most famous professionals in the field of management and development of beauty, health and rejuvenation enterprises is Simon Doiban.

Simon Doiban is an expert in the beauty industry

Simon Doiban is a successful international entrepreneur, owner of a network of beauty salons, cosmetology and wellness centers, an expert and business development consultant in the beauty industry, a salon business practitioner and a consultant with management experience. He knows how to develop beauty salons, cosmetology clinics and medical centers, how to sell services, products and a customer service system. Business owners and salon managers in Russia, Ukraine, Israel and America seek his business advice. Simon regularly speaks at leading international industry forums and conferences, conducts both corporate seminars for owners and directors of beauty industry enterprises, and master classes for leaders of key areas.

He has repeatedly become the winner of industry competitions and a participant in thematic events related to the beauty industry around the world. Among them: the international specialized exhibition of the beauty industry INTERCHARM Professional (Russia), SibBeauty (Russia) and many others.

The status of a professional is also confirmed by the fact that, as a VIP guest, Simon is often invited to be a member of the expert jury of specialized events: the TOP SALON ESTEL International Award, the Constant Delight Award competition, etc.

As an innovator in the beauty market, Simon Doiban is a regular participant in specialized forums held in digital format: the largest international digital exhibition Hi&Fi Asia-China, Beauty Business Forum, Beauty Digital Forum, which is especially important in a pandemic. Simon opened his very first salon in the Russian city of Omsk in 2012. From one small beauty salon, an entire beauty consulting business empire called "Beauty Consulting Academy" began to form, which in a short period has turned into a leading international business school for launching, developing and managing a salon business. Dozens of franchised salons of eminent Russian and Ukrainian beauty centers were opened from scratch under the mentorship of Simon Doiban. Among them: Alessandro Group, Aldo Coppola, Jean Louis David, MONET, Image-Laboratory Person and others.

At the start-up stage, Simon helps clients develop a business concept for a future salon, build a financial model for a steadily growing business, prepare a step-by-step plan for opening and an algorithm for building a strong brand. Already after the launch, he, both on an ongoing basis and on a specific request, advises business representatives from Ukraine, Russia and other countries on management, pricing and promotion.

The most demanded service today is a request for crisis management. Global economic instability affects beauty salons in the first place, and Simon knows what beauty salons, cosmetology centers and SPAs need to do today so that tomorrow they remain in demand in their niche.

Actual beauty business in America

Simon was able to integrate his colossal and multi-level experience gained during his work on the beauty markets of Russia and Ukraine into his own projects in the United States of America. Knowing all the latest business information and understanding current trends, Simon is committed to innovation and development.

He is always ahead of the times and strives to put into practice everything new, fashionable and progressive. An experienced practitioner talks about this in his latest educational online programs for investors, managers and staff of beauty salons, SPA, cosmetology and medical centers and personally uses in the development of his own salon business.

Today, Simon Doiban is not only a leading industry expert and international business coach, since March 16, 2018 he has also been the founder and head of the largest network of wellness centers in Florida, Solea Medical Spa & Beauty Lounge and Solea Brickell Spa, offering women a full range of first-class cosmetic and medical procedures for recovery and rejuvenation.

The success and rapid development of own beauty centers in Miami once again prove that Simon Doiban is a professional whose experience and knowledge entrepreneurs trust. Simon is a unique specialist, he helps the salon business in many countries of the world to achieve consistently high profitability and at the same time helps women to be young, beautiful, happy and satisfied with their appearance.

Anti-crisis management

According to statistics, about a third of the global beauty market players went bankrupt and did not survive the pandemic. Beauty salons cooperating with Simon Doiban turned out to be one of the most stable ones. During this difficult period for all business sectors, Simon developed and implemented, first in the spring on the basis of his own beauty centers, and then in partner projects, a unique plan of anti-crisis services. The complex of such services is aimed at strengthening the immune system, fortification and support of the whole organism. This is something that is relevant for every person during a period of strong virus attack. Individual cocktails, made for each client, fortify every cell, improve metabolism and increase the body's immune status. In Miami, which has steadily held its place as one of the epicenters of the covid-19 pandemic since the spring of 2020, the vitamin service has proven to be mega-popular.

It is worthy of respect that the qualified specialists of Solea salons do not sell the service under the guise of a "magic pill that will save you from the virus", they tell clients in an accessible way about how nano-technologies will help strengthen the body so that a person can asymptomatically and without consequences transfer the virus.

Already in the summer of 2020, anti-covid procedures were launched in many health centers and salons in Russia, Ukraine, Israel and America, cooperating with Simon Doiban, a professional in their field.

[abbyhogan15]

Don't Cut Corners: A Job in Hairdressing

This week I have chosen to explore being a hairdresser. Ever since I was a little girl I have loved playing with hair and learning new hairstyles. Being a hairdresser has definitely crossed my mind when I was younger, but has recently crossed my mind again. I think a few reasons as to why hairdressing has crossed my mind was that I have always been kind of good at it. I know hairdressing consists of more work than just braiding hair, but I think the idea of being able to make people feel beautiful and confident is such a great feeling. 

Just like any job hairdressing also consists of many pros and cons. A few pros consist of a small amount of school, flexibility, cash on demand, creating your own prices, working for others or working for yourself and meeting so many people. The cons consist of unknown income, providing your own products, no benefits, building clientele, and if you work for yourself you need to worry about renting a space or paying other employees. 

To become a licensed hairdresser most states require you to be 16 years old. You only need a GED or high school diploma, no college necessary. Most states also require you to go to cosmetology school which could take between 8 months to 2 years to complete. Once you complete cosmetology school, you must complete the state test. Most states have you complete a written and practical exam. The testing, age limit and schooling may change depending on which state you live in. 

Something that I find so interesting about this job is that you could travel the whole world as your profession. What I mean by this is that people hire hairdressers for weddings, proms, events and so much more. If you create a name for yourselves people will want you to travel to them to do their hair. 

Hairdressers get paid roughly between $21k-$55k a year in Connecticut. This is a profession where you need to create a name for yourself to get paid the best. There are famous hairdressers and companies that make great money because they have made their name so big that people will fly to them just to get their hair done. It’s all about the work you put in, to get the most out of it. 

I would rate myself becoming a hairdresser maybe a 6/10. I think hairdressing is more of a fun hobby to me. I think it is a great job and without a hairdresser we would be cutting our own hair. I did create a hair page on instagram because I find it to be fun, but for the rest of my life I don’t think I can do that. 

[bakhiu]

After Hours - Chapter 1

Washing Station - 03/28/2022 - also available on A03

You work as Geto Suguru's personal hair stylist and get to travel the world with him to various photoshoots and events. After visiting your studio after hours, demanding a special deep conditioning treatment, you quickly learn that Suguru sees you more than just his personal hair stylist.

Being one of Geto Suguru’s personal hairstylists had its perks and downfalls. He gave you all the industry connections you could ever dream of, he helped you secure your own studio to take other clients during the little down time he had, and you got to travel all across the world with his team. The downfalls? Long, exhausting hours, high maintenance tendencies and his pickiness when it came to haircare products. At first it offended you that he didn’t trust your recommendations, but after learning the damage his hair went through with previous stylists, you understood. Suguru’s hair is his entire identity, whether he wants it to be or not, so it has to stay in pristine condition.

You decided to skip out on his photoshoot in London to attend a seminar on a new hair repair system that Suguru had shown interest in and he was the one that bought the ticket for you, which you had to remind him about the night before his flight.

“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Suguru questioned in a playful tone. “You’ve always loved London.” “You’re the one who bought me the ticket, Suguru.” You sighed as you closed your laptop shut. “You’re the one who wanted me to further develop my skills.”

Suguru let out a soft chuckle and reassured you that it was fine, and he was just giving you a hard time. The two of you chatted for a bit about his photoshoot, and if he trusted your assistant enough to complete the look. Suguru believed in your assistant, as the two of you attended cosmetology school together and always ran into each other at seminars and beauty events. You knew Akari could get the job done, but Suguru always preferred your hands in his hair, always humming in content and showering you with praises at your gentle yet intricate touch.

“It’s late, I should go to bed, and you should too.” You stated while stifling a yawn. “Good night, sweet dreams and don’t let anyone recruit you tomorrow.” Suguru replied before you gave an annoyed sigh and hung up the phone.

That was Suguru’s biggest fear: losing his best stylist. Akari believed that is why he showered you with so many gifts, favors, and tickets to seminars, to buy your loyalty, which you agreed with at first. However, Suguru has been acting different as of lately. He has been calling you almost every night, to talk about everything and nothing. He asks about your plans on your days off, especially during long periods of time between shoots, and tries to wiggle himself in your plans any chance he could.

He would show up to your studio with fresh flowers, saying that a studio with such beautiful windows and natural lighting should be filled with plants. If you had a male client, he would stick around and pretend to be busy responding to emails on your work computer, claiming that he forgot his at home. After the male client left, he would grumble that he was flirting with you. You didn’t think anything of it at first, thinking you two were just comfortable together, until what happened last week.

Suguru showed up to your studio, an armful of new products in his arms, demanding that you wash his hair.

“C’mon, it’s been so long since you gave me the full treatment.” Suguru whined, pushing the products towards you. “These aren’t for sale yet, c’mon don’t you want to try them?” “Fine, get in the chair.” You finally caved in, putting the products on your work station.

You started by taking his hair out of the signature bun he wore on his days off, raking your fingers through his inky strands gently before grabbing you brush. You slowly brushed his hair in sections, the way he preferred as it was the most relaxing. Suguru let out a small hum as you began to massage his scalp.

“Are you using the scalp scrubber I bought you?” you asked as Suguru leaned his head back to stare at you. “Yeah; I’m surprised it’s helping with my hair growth.” Suguru replied with a smile. “Although, you fingers definitely feel better.” “Too bad my nails can cause microtears on your scalp, which is not good for—” “Yes, yes, I know. Can you just indulge me this once?” Suguru grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on it. “Pretty please?”

You pulled you hand back slowly, cheeks flushing a bit at the sudden show of affection. Suguru was flirty, but never to this extent. You led him to the shampoo station and instructed him to lay back. The water slowly streamed out, waiting for the temperature to be just right before wetting Suguru’s hair.

“So, who was that guy you saw yesterday?” Suguru asked as you began to work the shampoo onto his scalp. “Oh, um, someone from cosmetology school. He helped me during the barber section because I just could not get men’s cuts down for some reason.” You began raking your nails gently up and down on Suguru’s scalp. “Is that why he brought you a gift?” Suguru looked up at you, trying to gauge your reaction. “Well…” you began before turning the water back on and rinsing the shampoo out of his hair slowly. “He might have asked me out.” “Oh?” Suguru’s eyebrows furrowed together. “And your response?”

You worked the conditioning treatment into Suguru’s hair before reaching for a clip to keep his hair in place while the treatment soaked. You bit your lower lip and glanced at Suguru’s face, noticing his slightly annoyed expression. Even in the hair washing station, he still looked incredibly handsome.

“I told him no, like all the other times.” You replied as you finished twisting Suguru’s hair and clipping it into place. Suguru grabbed your hand before you could walk away, yanking you towards him. You grabbed his thigh to steady yourself from falling, glancing up at him in annoyance. “Good, because I don’t know what I would do if another man got your attention.” Suguru’s hand gingerly found purchase on your waist as your eyes widened in confusion. “Suguru, if this is another joke of yours…” you began, avoiding eye contact as best as you could.

Suguru sat up in the chair, his hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to look deep into his eyes. A playful grin was spread across his face, leaving you questioning his intentions even more.

“I’m not joking, just sick of waiting for you to get the hint.” Suguru replied as he pulled you closer to him.

The blush across your face intensified as he guided you to straddle his lap. You placed your hands gingerly on his chest, feeling the defined muscles under his shirt. You finally mustered the courage to glance up at him, noticing a slight tint of red spread across his own cheeks.

“So?” he asked as he tucked a lock of your hair behind your ear. “So, what?” you replied, adjusting yourself on his lap. “Well, I don’t want to assume that you like me too just because you’re grinding on my lap.” Suguru laughed as he drummed his fingers on your waist. “I’m not—”

You began to argue back but Suguru roughly pushed your hips forward and then back, making you take notice of his growing bulge hidden in his pants. Your breath caught in your throat, eyes widened at the pool of wetness forming between your thighs. The sensation felt amazing and you thanked yourself for choosing to wear a skirt today. You slowly moved up and down his clothed length, glancing up for approval.

“Dirty girl,” Suguru whispered as he pulled you closer, his lips inches away from yours. “Do you do this with every client that gets a deep treatment?” “Shut up.” You retorted, grinding down harder and stifling a moan in the process. “What if I do? Whatcha gonna do about it?”

Before Suguru could respond, a sharp buzzer sound came from the front of your studio, followed by three quick knocks. You groaned in annoyance, knowing it was the product delivery that you forgot was scheduled for today. You tried to get up and get the door, but Suguru gripped your waist with more force. “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded. “You have work to finish.”

You realized you were in bed, not in your studio, having a heated makeout and dry hump session with Suguru as the deep conditioner soaked into his inky black tresses. Eventually the delivery driver dropped the packages off by the door with a final loud knock, but you and Suguru were too engrossed in each other to notice. Your fingers slipped under your panties as you reimagined that scenario over again, wishing the two of you were able to explore more of each other before Suguru received a phone call from his agent. He ended up having to leave with damp hair but promised the two of you would continue where you left off another time.

As you slowly pumped your fingers in and out of your aching pussy, you wished Suguru was there with you, in you, on top of you, making you pant and groan like you know he would. It was no secret that he knew his way around the body; he would tell you stories of past partners that would make your skin crawl at first, but now it made your toes curl in anticipation. The rest of the week, Suguru talked to you like nothing happened at your studio, but every now and then he would place his hand on the small of your back or give you a kiss on the cheek before he left for the day. Did he want to continue where you left off? He didn’t seem as eager as you were, but you’d be damned if you showed it. You eventually finished yourself off, a mediocre orgasm, but made a promise to yourself that your next one would be better because Suguru would be the one making you cum.