#pleated bodice

[gogmstuff]

Around 1840 -

Top  Elisabeth, Freifrau von Oefele by Josef Karl Stieler (auctioned by Hampel). From their Web site via pinterest.com/andrewschroeder/1840s-art/; filled in shadows 40% 1758X2250 @144 3.6Mp.

Second row left  ca. 1840s Evening dress (location ?).  From threadingthroughtime.wordpress.com/2014/06/20/your-weekend-wow-19/ 572X896.

Second row right  ca. 1840s Detail of dress satin lined with tulle floral embroidery in metallic threads tulle and ribbon-trim (location ?). From threadingthroughtime.wordpress.com/2014/06/20/your-weekend-wow-19/ 736X896.

Third row  ca. 1840 Lady, probably Marie Charlotte, marquise de Bonneval, née de Segur by François Meuret (auctioned by Sotheby's). From their Web site 1070X1281.

Fourth row  1841 Countess Sofia Stepanovna Apraksina by Olga Golitsyn (Tomskiy Oblastnoy Khudozhestvennyy Muzey/Tomsk Oblast Art Museum - Tomsk, Tomsk Oblast, Russia). From Wikimedia; removed spots with Photoshop

[angelacostumery]

I can't even tell you how many days passed and how many curses were uttered in getting this from a mock-up of this overlay (image one) to a mostly functional bodice (image two).

It is just pleated, right? Well, no, it is also gathered and the combination makes things tricky...

Here you can see the pattern on tracing paper pinned to the fabric I'm using as an overlay, I sewed through each line that is marked, removed the paper, and used those lines of stitching as a guide for creasing and pressing the fabric.

The result is...very flat. Even flatter than my chest (impressive) which means it won't sit nicely at all. To form it to the bust the sides have to be gathered, not pleated--but I wanted to keep the definition of the pleats.

So I switched to pleats that were only 1/2" deep, then gathered in-between each one...I also switched fabrics and added some trim to the edge of each box pleat, because without it the detail of the pleats was sort of getting lost in the sheen of the fabric.

Much better! Then the entire edge was gathered down to match the measurement of the lining and the front seam was sewn.

This shows it in this state, on the dress form, resembling that mockup it all started with. But it is shinier (that is the fabric) and has more character (that is the cursing).

Some other stuff happened (lining, straps, etc.) to get it to the stage seen on the right but that is to be explained on another day!

[zegalba]

Issey Miyake: Body Works (1983)

[daguerreotype-era]

1/6 daguerreotype

[fauvester]

love cardassian military bodices. very Army does 1840s. here’s my 1840s does alien army does 1840s

[myfashion25]

Expertly designed by Jovani, the -40144 Pleated Bodice Ruffled Short Dress is perfect for any occasion. With a flattering pleated bodice and playful ruffled hemline, this dress will make you stand out in any crowd. Made with high-quality materials, it ensures both style and comfort.

[thebestshoppingonline]

Fu Jiang Women's Ruffle Bridesmaid Dresses Long Slit Chiffon Pleated Formal Evening Dress for Wedding

About this item

Feature:V Neck, Ruffle, Pleated/Ruched Bodice, Chiffon, A Line, Floor Length, Corset Lace up Back, Sleeveless

Size:Please refer to the standard size chart displayed left below the picture

Occasions:The Chiffon Bridesmaid Dresses with Slit Perfect as wedding party,pageant,photography,formal evening gown,concert,clubs,engagement,holiday,photoshoot dress,christmas party dress,dinner,dress-up, cocktail,dancing,family gathering, brithday party, beauty pageant,graduation ceremony,festivals,club wear or special occasion

Custom-Made Service: Custom-made Service is available without any Extra Cost, as for the customization, please send us a message about the measurements including bust/waist/hips, shoulder to hem or height

Service: If you have any questions about this dress, please feel free contact with us , we will try our best to help you

[marzipanandminutiae]

thinking about the infantiliztation and/or formalization of 19th-century women's clothing to modern audiences

like

our entire reference point for "wearing long skirts and outfits with decoration like lace, embroidery, appliques, etc." is either formalwear or fictional characters in children's media like Disney princesses. women's clothing is just so radically different now- not that those elements don't exist, but they're much less common in everyday clothing than they once were. some form of simple trousers and an equally simple top are de rigeur for everyday attire, and anything else is Fancy

combined with the fact- which is true! -that a lot of what survives to end up in big museums belonged to wealthy people, this ends up in wild assumptions like "basically our entire idea of what the Victorians dressed like is just Rich People Clothes really"

which has led to the eternal cry of "but what did NORMAL people wear?!?!?!" that will not be satisfied with real examples of middle or even working-class everyday clothing because it still looks too "fancy" to modern eyes

not Victorian, but a great example of this is what Abby Cox wore to portray a milliner (hatmaker) in Colonial Williamsburg. a working, middle-class woman:

(ignore the facial expression there)

this is the exact outfit she sported in a video that apparently got responses like "but that's just what rich women wore!" and it is, in fact, everyday attire for a working person. a person who worked in the fashion industry, it's true, but still

I had someone ask me about how to find examples of casual Victorian clothing because they were at their wits' end trying to research it. and I had to tell them that...what they were looking at WAS casual. in the sense of Clothing For Everyday Wear That's Not Especially Formal. there's nothing inherently formal, or exclusive to the wealthy, about a matched bodice-and-skirt dress, instep-length, with some trim. or even a trimmed blouse and skirt. obviously women working the absolute hardest outdoor, physical jobs might have adopted occupational trousers or similar, but we don't all dress like construction or farm workers all the time nowadays. why would they have back then?

Laundresses, probably 1850s or early 60s. Note that I can STILL date the picture based on their outfits and hair, and these are the furthest things from wealthy socialites.

Maid scrubbing steps, probably 1870s or 1880s. Note pleated trim on her skirt and what appears to be a peplum at the back of her bodice.

also, not all working women worked physical jobs any more than we do today. here is a teacher around the turn of the 20th century:

Teachers, 1887

"Breton Seamstresses," 1845, by Jules Trayer

were there differences in quality, type and quantity of trim, fit, etc? obviously. but some people are convinced that the basic outfit format can't POSSIBLY have been something ordinary women wore, because it looks formal and/or princess-y in a modern context

[cheapieclassic]

🍃Eucalyptus print dress from an H&M tablecloth - I made this AGES ago and forgot to post!

🍃Self drafted bodice with inverted box pleat skirt. The tablecloth and buttons are both thrifted.

🍃Styled with thrifted silk shirt and agate jewellery 🌿

[windmountain]

It annoys me so much when extra seam lines and sewn details are added for detail on a design, but they don't add seam lines where you NEED a seam for the design to work

[chic-a-gigot]

Le Petit écho de la mode, no. 16, vol. 18, 19 avril 1896, Paris. 11. Robe de maison en foulard mauve. Modèle de la Capdeville, 58, boulevard Haussman. 22. Corsage Tannhaüser en lainage violet évêque. Ville de Paris / Bibliothèque Forney

(11.) Robe de maison en foulard mauve, de forme droite, froncée devant et dans le dos, avec pli rond rapporté retenu par une ceinture de ruban nouée de côté, i rangs de petite Valenciennes ornent le devant et le haut des manches; la manche ballon, très basse sur l’épaule, se termine par un bracelet de ruban, double col rabattu orné de dentelle.

(11.) House dress in mauve foulard, straight, gathered at the front and back, with round pleat held in place by a ribbon belt tied at the side, rows of small Valenciennes adorn the front and the top of the sleeves; the balloon sleeve, very low on the shoulder, ends with a ribbon bracelet, double turn-down collar decorated with lace.

Matériaux: 10 mètres soie ou 5 mètres lainage, 20 mètres dentelle.

—

(22.) Corsage Tannhaüser en lainage violet évêque, rentré flans la jupe, le devant avec col revers est croise de côté; il est ouvert du lia ut sur un plastron en pareil surmonté d’un col de velours, garniture de velours assorti. Manche d’une seule pièce avec revers velours.

Matériaux: 3 mètres de tissu, 1m,50 velours.

(22.) Tannhaüser bodice in purple bishop wool, tucked into the skirt, the front with lapel collar is crossed sideways; it is open from the lia ut on a bib in the same surmounted by a velvet collar, trimmed with matching velvet. One-piece sleeve with velvet cuff.

[gogmstuff]

Glam dresses worn by Zinaida Ivanovna Yusupova (from top to bottom) -

1826-1827 Ball gown of Princess Zinaida Ivanovna Yusupova (Hermitage) From fripperiesandfobs.tumblr.com/page/5 838X1080.

1826-1827 Another ball gown of Princess Zinaida Ivanovna Yusupova (Hermitage) From fripperiesandfobs.tumblr.com/page/5 714X1080.

1826-1827 One more ball gown of Princess Zinaida Ivanovna Yusupova (Hermitage) From fripperiesandfobs.tumblr.com/page/5 656X1080.

1831-1833 Evening Dress of Princess Zinaida I. Yusupova (Hermitage). From their Web site 1351X1920.

[johnpriceslamb]

— 𝓙𝓐𝓝𝓤𝓐𝓡𝓨

You are to be wedded by the end of the year. Upon travelling, you’re met with a group of pesky bandits.

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓒𝓔𝓔𝓓 : age gap . fem ! reader . afab ! reader . hyper feminine ! reader . reader is mentioned to be physically smaller than chars mentioned in story . reader is in early 20’s . arthur is in late 20’s - early 30’s . fighting scenes . gore . traditional gender stereotypes heavily mentioned .

At the end of the year, you’ll be married off to a man.

Someone strong, handsome, clever, and gentle in heart. You hope.

“Marriage is the ultimate goal for a woman.”

Your corset is tightened by your nanny from behind. The tightness of it makes your breath hitch slightly, hands curling up unconsciously.

In the late winters of 1892, the rolling plains of Lemoyne were no match for nobility. You were dragged along by daddy who was on a grand tour in the west, despite not being keen on the idea. He insisted on seeing the rails and trains he invested in, so you didn’t have much of a choice other than to tag along.

She ushers you to stand up so she could fit the petticoat around your hips. The bands of the voluptuous under-skirt were stretched, allowing you to titter in the large hole and shape your figure again. You’re thankful that it’s a lightweight cotton fabric, considering that all the other layers you adorned added a bit more unnecessary weight to your small frame. Then comes the underskirt, adding another layer of volume and structure.

“If a man stares at you, avoid direct eye contact by using the fan your grandmother has gifted you.” She instructs, remembering the lessons your governess taught you. Her frail hands place the soft, silk evening bodice over your tightened corset. A beautiful little thing which accentuated your curves even more so, kissed with ribbons and flares below the piece.

The burning wood which crackled near the fireplace left a smell around the changing room which you longed for. You’ll be leaving in just a few more minutes, having to face the harsh winter storms outside. You wonder to yourself if the amount of beauty products delicately touched on your face was really worth it, considering that the weather outside will most likely dishevel it. And of course, you’ll be spending most of the day travelling by carriage.

Finally, the skirt. The main part of your outfit. Nanny brushes off the remaining particles on the skirt with her wrinkled hands. You couldn’t help but admire the beautiful little thing, pleated with satin which ended with small bows. She repeats the steps like for the other underskirts, stretching the band, allowing you to step in, and lifting it up to shape your figure.

Upon the stool you sat, you squirm uncomfortably because of the amount of layers you had to wear. She notices, and kisses her tongue.

“A woman should not squirm uncontrollably in their seat.” She hisses, lightly tapping your hands with a ruler as a way to discipline you. “Repeat what I have said.”

A sigh escapes your tinted lips. You hold out your hands.

“Marriage is the ultimate goal for women,” You repeat, “I must not stare back at a man and avoid direct eye contact.”

“Why must you not stare back at a man?” She asks.

You hesitate. The ruler comes down to your skin and places a stinging kiss. You hiss at the pain.

“B-because—” Another hit.

“No stuttering.”

You take a shaky breath, enduring the soft whimper which begs to escape from the bottom of your throat, “Because returning a man’s gaze could interpret as an invitation or a sign of interest.”

“What must you do if they stare?”

“Avoid eye contact by using my grandmothers’ fan.”

“Good.” She nods her head in approval. You place your hands neatly on your lap, looking down to avoid eye contact.

You’re ready to leave as soon as she ties the delicate satin bonnet on your head, ensuring that your face is covered with enough shade provided by the head piece. With the helping hands of the maids in daddy’s manor, all of your luggage was carried to the boot of the carriage. You bid your goodbyes to a few of your selected favourite maids, lightly kissing their cheeks before tittering away.

As soon as you walked outside, you knew that the cold winters of ‘92 would affect you much more than you’d expect. Suddenly, you appreciate the amount of layers you adorned. You could hardly feel the cold winds blowing even if you stuck your head outside the carriage’s openings.

The old man who drives the carriage around hops out of that tall seat in front to open the door and lend a hand for you to enter in. Upon entering in, you can see that there was a small lit candle; your only source of warmth.

You feel really glad for all of the layers.

You vaguely remember daddy boasting about all of the railroads built all over this part of America. ‘The Central Union Railroad’, a camp made up by working men who were in charge of building all railroads— daddy owned that camp. Some parts of you feel grateful for being raised in wealth and comfort, while the remaining parts felt guilty for seeing others having to slave away just to get ends meet.

You’re not convinced that all the men in that camp were capable of working. You’ve seen a good litter of youths labouring here and there. You pitied them greatly but alas: you were a woman. The most you could do was provide them more food rations and safety gear.

But as time slowly passed by, you’ve noticed the laws overseeing the amount of child labour happening in businesses. Daddy wasn’t too happy seeing a slight decline of workers in his company, nevertheless it did make your lips curl up a bit.

You’re not particularly interested in watching the railroads daddy invests and funded in, only because your thoughts immediately go back to the amount of workers that barely get payed to slave away in building these roads.

On the other hand, it was also how you’re able to sleep in a large manor everyday.

The roads slowly turned more bumpy and rough when leaving Lemoyne territory. You’re quite surprised that your carriage hasn’t been robbed considering the amount of warnings of raiders being littered across this part of territory. Your beady eyes boredly peer out of the windows of the carriage, watching the distant white-tipped evergreen trees pass by.

There wasn’t much to do other than watch nature unfold or perhaps pester the driver. You’d rather the former since you don’t even know the drivers name.

You can still feel the stings from that stupid ruler your nanny punished you with. They catch onto the fabric, which makes you twitch a bit at the abrupt pain. The more bumpier the road was, the more it caught on.

It’s been a few hours since you’ve left home. If you remembered correctly, you’d be arriving to a town somewhere in Chicago. You peak out to the driver up front, politely asking him what the time was. You left during the early hours of the morning, and you could see the sun rise much more.

His warm, honey-dew tipped voice replies back with a frail ‘9 in the morning’. Just a few more hours until they’ve reach to Chicago. Maybe even another day is to be filled with travelling.

You can’t help but sigh, “Could we take a break and rest somewhere in a few hours time?”

The old man hums, “We may, if that is what you wish.”

You smile sweetly. Of course, being told no was quite foreign to you. “Thank you kindly.”

You rest back onto the velvety cushions, heaving out another deep sigh. You look out of the openings again, and for the first time in a few months you lay eyes upon a long stretch of natural snowy land. It’s a vast difference between the usual scenery you’d see back in Lemoyne. There was no puffs of dark grey smoke in the sky, the heavy scent of engines and oil running wasn’t to be smelt, the bellowing of officers directing a crowd, no city life around.

Sometimes you’d see a few run-down stables with a few animals. Other times you’d just see landmarks with just the never-ending cold covering in it. On one occasion around noon, you saw a dead animal with its bones protruding out. Your nose scrunches up at the sight before looking away to the other opening of the carriage. Not much of a difference in scenery.

You tinker your lashes out of boredom, now playing with the satin-tipped bows on your bodice. The travel becomes much slower and difficult because of the amount of snow which catches onto the wheels of the carriage. It’s excruciatingly difficult to be entertained in these types of situations, considering that you left your novels back at home. You scoot back to the front seat of the carriage, peaking out to the man who lead the vehicle.

“May we please take a stop over there?” You ask with a shy smile, gesturing towards the small town from afar. You wonder if there’s any pastry stores nearby. The last time you ate was a few hours ago, a bowl of porridge and a few thin slices of bread. The man acknowledges your polite request with a gruff.

There’s been a bit of a food problem because of the cold winter, more snow meant less crops being able to grow and lesser animals being produced. You’ve been stuck on porridge and bread for a while now, and you’re hoping that it’ll change.

Once the driver stopped near the town, you’re greeted with the wind yet again. You unconsciously curl inward to protect yourself from the cold, peering at the people who lived in this little area. It’s humble, isolated, quiet.

Cold. Too cold.

You take a few steps, the bottoms of your shoes caked with snow. The man beside you takes ahold of your arm in case of any danger which falls upon you. He coughs a bit when the air hits his lungs. You pity him, asking if he needed a hot cup of tea or anything of the sorts to get him to warm up again.

His old eyes light up at the mention of tea.

“You mustn’t fret over me, my lady.” He whispers lowly.

“I insist.”

He takes a slow breath before sighing. “ If you must.”

Another pause to take a deep breath, “Your attitude is nothing like your father’s.”

You quirk a brow, “Pardon?”

He grabs onto your arm for support, mindlessly dawdling. “It’s a shame that you’ll be married off soon. When you see potential candidates during this trip, take a look at his attributes rather than his looks.”

What?

You tilt your head, “I thought this trip was a tour around the West.”

He grunts slightly, flinching a bit. “Perhaps I’ve spoken too much.”

Before you utter out another word of disbelief, you’re met with a click of a gun.

“Another step from either one of ye’,” A hoarse voice from behind grumbles like a predator, “One of yer head’s gon’ be rollin’.”

You’ve never been in situations like these before. Your nerves are getting to you. A soft sob escapes from your mouth as the tip of the gun threatens to puncture the back of your head. Your hands are immediately up in defence, beady eyes staring back at the frail man who could not do anything but mimic your actions.

You croak, “Please, sir. We don’t have anything valuable for you—”

Many more of them pop up. As if a litter of ants come and pour, the man behind scoffs before kicking your knees to buckle and kneel on the floor.

“Bullshit,” He snarls, “Look at what yer wearing. Pretty lil’ thing like ye’ ought to have somethin’ hidin’ under that skirt of yers.”

“What do we do with this one, boss?” One of them knocks the nozzle of his gun into the old man’s head. An old wail of pain escapes him, and your eyes water even more as you helplessly look around.

“Get rid of ‘em.”

“Wait, please! Don’t harm him! He hasn’t done anything wrong!” You sob, trying to reach out for him— only to be held back by these bandits, “No- stop, stop!”

The man who holds you back cackles, mocking your high-pitched pleas and sobs. The old man is knocked out with another blow to the head with the end of the bandit’s gun. You could see the back of his head starting to bleed.

“I’m telling you, a pretty girl like ‘er would sell real well in the markets.”

“How much do you think we could make?”

Another tug on your bodice gets you to raggedly gasp. Before your eyes peer to the Heavens above and beg for mercy, bullets from afar ring past and alert the others. You can hear gallops of multiple horses coming your way, and a heap of other outlaws.

“Shit, ‘s the Van Der Linde Gang!” The leader of the group- who currently holds you captive in his arms, yells at his group to gun them down. A bullet zooms past and catches onto his shoulder which allows you wiggle away and squirm to hide.

With the remaining strength you had, you drag the driver’s unconscious body with you and behind a barrel. He’s cold, everything is cold, you’re cold.

He’s dead.

The impact of the gun’s end must of cracked his skull. Tears pour down your beauty-tinted face, mustering up quiet prayers for him. Bullets are the only thing you can hear, accompanied with loud bellows and curses.

You have never in your life witnessed anything like this before.

You peak from the barrel, watching the man who gunned your driver down drops dead to the floor from one bullet which hits his head. Another array of shots are fired, and soon enough the litter of bandits are all gone.

Your ears perk when you hear them converse lowly, “Who the hell were those guys?”

“I don’t know, son. John, you ‘n Bill find supplies ‘round this town. Rob, steal, or be law abiding citizens— I don’t care. Just get as much as you can.”

You stifle a soft sob at the rowdiness. The man who was recently talking hears your soft whimper, before wondering over to you and crouching down.

“Arthur,” He seems to be calling for one of his men. He looks like he was born from wealth like you were. His clothes are tinted with jewellery and his vest looked like red velvet fur, “Come over here ‘n escort this girl!”

He lends you a hand. He sees the hesitation in those eyes of yours which lead him to a more softer approach.

When his eyes focus onto your face, he squints. He sizes you up and down quickly, the clothing you adorned clearly catching his attention. “Oh, you poor thing.”

Your small hands are held firmly by his as he hoists you up. Burdened with trauma and shock, you could only hear him murmur soft words of encouragement. You see a younger man strolling towards him, only for him to blink in surprise when seeing you.

There was something about him which sparked your interest greatly.

He scratches at his light stubble, barely visible yet. His breath seemed to hitch at the first sight of you.

“Can she talk?”

The other man who holds you closely scoffs, “‘Course she can. She’s just shocked.”

“Huh. Okay. What do we do with her?”

The man looks at you, “Hm. What’s your name, miss?”

You sniffle a bit, shakily replying with a meek babble of your name.

“Lovely to meet you, my dear. Dutch. Dutch Van Der Linde.” He squeezes your shoulder a bit, “Where were you last heading to before.. all of this?”

“Ch— Chicago,” You stutter, either from the cold or from the scene which unfolded beneath your very eyes.

“Damn.. That’s a long way away.” The man who eyed you with interest mumbles, not taking his kind eyes away from you.

You stare back of course.

Some sort of spark in you flared up.

He could feel it too.

“We ought to take her back to camp. She doesn’t seem like she’s in good condition.” Dutch makes you step forward out to Arthur, who grabs you and hoists you in his arms and to his horse, a soft grumble of annoyance escaping his lips, before murmuring a low ‘up you go, girl.’

“When she’s settled enough, we’ll ride ‘er to Chicago. We’re headin’ north aren’t we?”

“Indeed we are.”

“Not much of a problem, then.”

You needily paw at him before he could settle you on the large saddle of his horse, “W-wait but my luggages..”

He quirks a brow at you, “What about it?”

You meekly look around, stammering. “I need it. ‘s— ‘s important, I just—”

He cuts you off, “Where is it?”

You gesture to the carriage from afar. You watch his built figure stroll down thataway to retrieve them. You’re still surprised that the bandits from earlier didn’t manage to spot it. But nevertheless, you profusely thanked him before he left to go grab it from the boot.

You watch Dutch’s other men grab your old driver’s body and sling it on the back of their horse, probably to bury it somewhere. You deeply thank them in your mind, only for a chuckle to interrupt your thoughts.

“The boy’s smitten, Hosea! Look at ‘im,” The man who found you nudged an older looking man’s shoulder, pointing to his bulky figure which held onto your absurdly large luggages, “Never did that with any of the other men we saved. Didn’t even protest when I said that we’re bringing her back to camp.”

Dutch titters to you with that beautiful stallion of his. You couldn’t help but envy at how gorgeous that mane was. You remember back home your horses were used for training and educating rather than for show. “You’ll be staying with us for a while until we can get you on your feet again.”

You slowly nod, sniffling a bit. You rub your arms for comfort, hoping that they won’t do anything funny to you, “Th—thank you..”

Hosea— if you recalled, only looked at you with eyes as warm as the fireplace back home. He pitied you too, but in a sense that wasn’t belittling like how Dutch pitied you.

Arthur grunts as he heaves the luggages on the back of his horse, securing it with some rope to not make it fall. He mounts from the left and settles behind you, before kicking his spurs gently which makes his horse start walking in a slow pace.

A comforting hand is placed on your shoulder. He leans in a bit and murmurs, “You’re safe with us.”

[frostedmagnolias]

Dress

c. 1890

“This silk dress has a standing lace collar as well as a lace yoke. There is floral applique on the center front and on the back of the boned bodice as well as on the sleeve cuffs. There is also ruching at the center front of the bodice and on the sleeves. The full sleeves are gathered at the shoulders and have velvet trim and lace trim at the cuffs. There are gathers at the waist and cartridge pleats and ruffles at the skirt hem. Features that indicate this dress is from the late 19th century are the hourglass silhouette, the monobosom, and the boned bodice.”

Grand Rapids Public Museum

[angelacostumery]

I'm not sure which is more surprising, the fact I finished this, the fact I photographed this, or the fact it actually fits. Usually I get two out of the three at best.

Anyway, this is my creatively titled "red dragon dress" which I sort of made to celebrate House of the Dragon being back, but also because I like dragons and wanted an excuse to use some of the many scale print fabrics I have hoarded while on my time away from making things.

(I may not be inspired to sew but I am always inspired to waste money on Etsy.)

It was made from a chemically pleated satin, a red jacquard, black brocade, and probably like forty yards of trim. It was fun to play with fabrics and texture again, I must say, even if this project tested my patience at times!

In total it took about 9 days of work from design to drafting to completion, spread over a period of two weeks. Made and modeled by me, as per usual. 

I hope you  like it, and if you would like to see how I made it, you can see me making it over on the YouTube -- part one [the bodice] and part two [the everything else].

[suugarbabe]

Saving Grace (III)

[Chapter 3]

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

Word count: ~4.3k (she a long one this time 'round)

Warning: drinking, smut adjacent content [readers below the age of 18 this is your warning to be aware of the content you consume]

Summary: The Slytherin party has arrived and y/n may have gone a little too far...

[chapter 2]

You spun around once more, inspecting your outfit from every possible angle. You had asked Pansy if she wanted to get ready with you and your friends, partly because you wanted to get to know her a bit better, and partly because you knew she’d help you look hot enough to actually convince other people that you and Mattheo were together for the night. She was a lot nicer than you expected, getting along with your friends, all of you helping each other pick out your outfits and finish each other's hair. Pansy had let you borrow one of her mini dresses. It was a gorgeous emerald green, made of silk and hitting mid-thigh. It had a corset laced back, helping your waist look snatched as the pleated bodice helped accentuate your cleavage just enough to be tempting. You made the decision to pair it with a pair of black Doc Marten boots you had borrowed from your friend Luna. You had no idea why a doctor was making boots, but you thought they were adorable and made a mental note to ask Luna where you could get a pair the next time you saw her. Flora and Ottie were sitting on their beds while Darcy and Pansy told you for the third time how perfect your outfit was. 

“You’re absolutely sure, guys? I feel like if I were to bend over my entire ass would be out,” you peered over your shoulder at the mirror, seeing the silk fabric lay just below the curve of your ass. Pansy smirked to herself, “If you’re bending over at all tonight let’s hope it’s Mattheo bending you over the edge of his bed.” You gasped, cheeks burning red, “Pansy Parkinson! That will not be happening tonight.” She shrugged, “I bet he would. I see the way he looks at you. It’s different than the other girls he’s brought around. No offense.” Darcy and Flora both shrugged nonchalantly . “No, you’re right,” Flora agreed, “We were both drunk when we made out with him. Just kind of feral and a natural instinct. He seems to really like you, Y/n/n.” You opened your mouth to protest again when a quick rapping came from the door. Darcy opened it, greeting the person and stepping aside to let them in. “Why hello ladies,” Mattheo’s voice floated into the room, as did he along with it. 

He was wearing black straight legged slacks that were cuffed at the bottom, displaying his black high top converse. He wore a black tank top with a black short sleeved button up, completely unbuttoned. For a seemingly simple outfit, he looked really handsome. “We’ll give you guys a minute and meet you down there,” Ottie winked behind Mattheo’s back while Pansy flashed you two thumbs up, the other two girls dragging them out the door, leaving you alone in the dorm with Mattheo. He stood with his hands in his pockets, but a smirk plastered on his face as he gave you a once over. You started getting nervous, “How do I look? Is it too much? Pansy let me borrow a dress.” You did a slow circle, giving him a view of the whole picture. “No, no. I mean, I think you look great. Better than great, bloody gorgeous really.” You felt blood rush to your cheeks at his compliment, “You don’t think it’s a little too revealing? It’s not like teasing Adrian or anything? The plan is to get him to back off after all, not drool over me.” Mattheo flung his hand like he was throwing your words and worries away, “Princess, wear whatever makes you feel good, revealing or not. Doesn’t matter to me, I know how to fight.” He punctuated his statement with a wink. 

You rolled your eyes, grinning at his remark, “Okay, machismo, well hopefully it doesn’t come to that.” You walked past him to the door. You grabbed the handle, turning back to him once more before opening the door, “Are you accompanying me to this party, or you gonna stand there and stare at my ass all night.” His eyes snapped up to meet yours immediately, mumbling a shy ‘sorry’ as his cheeks tinted the slightest pink. He led you down the steps from the dorms to the common room where the party was in full swing, a hand helping guide you just above the curve of your ass. As soon as you stepped off the last step, you broke through the barrier of the silencing charm that was placed on the room and your ears erupted with heavy bass. You spotted your three friends in the middle of the dance floor as Mattheo led you to his group’s usuals spot in the back corner. You had spoken with Ottie, Darcy and Flora earlier that day and they all agreed you should spend the party getting to know Mattheo better. You tried to argue against them, but they truly believed you two were on the verge of dating and loved that, for the moment, it seemed like someone was keeping Adrian off your back. 

As you reached the couches, the rest of his group was already there, Pansy included. Mattheo sat in one of the arm chairs, patting his thigh for you to sit on his lap. You raised your eyebrows at him slightly, a smile tugging at your lips, “I think I’m gonna grab a drink first, do you want one?” He offered to grab them for you but you insisted, he agreed only if you brought Pansy with you. She, of course, agreed immediately. Mattheo requested a fire whiskey, stating he took it “straight, on the rocks”. You could understand why some people thought he was psychotic by that drink request alone. You opted for a gin and orange juice that was very much so gin and more of a wafting of the citrus mixer. You weren’t exactly sure why but you were feeling nervous. Your answer to your nerves was revealed when you and Pansy turned to head back to the boys and you nearly slammed into Adrian’s chest. “Merlin’s beard, what do you want, Pucey?” Your tone was laced with irritation but Adrian didn’t seem to take the hint, “Just wanted to tell you how breathtaking you looked tonight, Y/n.” You rolled your eyes, looking over at Pansy who had her tongue out and her finger in her mouth faking a gagging noise. “Fuck off, shit stain, Y/n came with someone else tonight,” Pansy threw her shoulder into him, knocking him back enough for you both to walk past him. 

You could feel him staring as you both walked away and a chill found its way up your spine. As you reached the group you could tell Mattheo saw the entire interaction just by the glare on his face. You walked up to his chair, standing in front of him with a drink in each hand. “This seat taken?” You asked, nodding towards his lap. He smirked as you turned around, he placed a hand on each side of your waist, helping guide you down to his lap before taking a cup from one of your hands. He took a large gulp before his face immediately twisted in disgust, “Fucking Salazar’s dick, Y/n! Is this straight gin?!” You winced, “Oh, shit, I’m sorry, Matty! Yours is this one,” you switched the cup he was holding with the one from your other hand. “And for your information, there is also orange juice in there. Don’t be such a baby,” you grabbed at his face, squeezing it playfully and making his lips purse slightly. He pushed your hand off him, grin forming on his lips. “Don’t let her fool you, she put maybe a drops worth of juice in there,” Pansy spoke up. You shot her a look, but she only shrugged. 

“Mattheo’s new girl likes to drink…I dig it,” Theo nudged Enzo who laughed along with him. “Alright, Mattheo! Finally found one that can hang with the rest of us huh?” Mattheo squeezed the outside of your thigh playfully, resting his chin on your shoulder as he answered his friend, “Yeah, she’s different this one. Got a bit of sass to her, too so I’d watch out.” The group laughed together, making you feel a little more at ease. You all started chatting for a bit, general banter occurring between the boys. It was fun to watch them tease each other. Enzo seemed to be the butt of most of their jokes but he didn’t seem to mind, taking everything said in stride like a good sport. Blaise was the one to suggest playing a game, everyone seemed up for it but there was a collective agreement that refills were necessary. Mattheo offered to get yours and you gladly accepted. He placed a gentle kiss to your forehead before following a few of the others to the drink table, leaving just you, Enzo and Draco to keep your spot in the corner reserved. You placed one of Theo’s empty beer bottles in the middle of the floor between all the couches, flicking your wand to transform it into a table. Enzo wore a drunken smile, “I love magic.” You ruffled his hair as you went to sit back in your spot, “Me too, bub.” You sat back in the armchair, slinging your legs over one of the sides. 

You noticed Draco staring at you, a less than pleased look on his face. You rolled your eyes, leaning an elbow on one of the arm rests, “Care to share what’s on your mind Draco?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Yeah, yeah I do actually. What do you even like about my cousin? I don’t know if I believe this little thing between you two is even real.” You felt like your body temperature rose ten degrees, but you tried to play it off, “He always this skeptical, Enzo?” You tried to distract from the question aimed at you. Enzo giggled to himself, “Always.” You turned back to look at Draco who, once again, looked irritated and still waiting on your answer. You huffed, “I happen to think Mattheo is very funny. He’s also very witty, and incredibly kind.” Draco scoffed at this, “Did you say kind? That’s definitely not a word that describes him.” You continued to sing Mattheo’s praises, “I think you’d be surprised.” The others started coming back around at that moment. “What would be surprising?” Mattheo asked as he handed you your new drink. He lifted your legs, sliding into the chair before setting them back down across his lap, resting a hand on your knee. “I was just telling Draco how kind you were,” You smiled at Mattheo as the others attempted to hide their grins, “Are you tarnishing my bad boy reputation, Princess?” Mattheo mocked offense, giving your knee a light squeeze, you squealed softly, squirming in your seat as he grabbed your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His curls tickled your skin, making you laugh further, attempting to push him off you. 

“Okay, lovebirds, real it in before we all vomit,” Theo teased. You turned to him, “Awh, don’t be jealous, Theo. I can have my friends come over and hang with us if you’re lonely.” You were half joking just to mess with him, but his eyes lit up at the suggestion. “If you have hot friends why are they not already over here, where are they?” He turned to look at the crowd of dancing bodies, a hand over his eyes like he was searching the oceanside. Pansy jumped up immediately, stating she would go grab them because, “games are more fun when the boy to girl ratio is properly even.” You turned to Blaise then, “Alright, gamekeeper. What’re we playing tonight?” His face broke out into a grin, grabbing another one of Theo’s empty beer bottles and placing it on the table, “It’s a little mix of a few different games. You’ll spin the bottle, whoever it lands on gets the age old question: Truth or dare. If you refuse or answer, or refuse to do the dare, you drink.” It was simple enough, but with this lot you could definitely see how it could get out of hand. Pansy came back with your other three friends in tow. Ottie sat on the couch with Pansy and Draco, while Flora and Darcy sat on either side of Theo, who looked like he was in heaven. Darcy was sat between both Theo and Enzo, the latter boy’s face looking like he’d never been that close to a female person in his life. Pansy volunteered to spin first, placing the bottle on its side and giving it a good twirl. 

It stopped on Enzo, Pansy smiled wickedly, “Enzo, truth or dare?” Enzo looked like he might pass out, which told you that you were right to assume how intense these games get, and that Pansy was likely going to be ruthless. “Truth?” Enzo said it more like a question, probably assuming it’d be the safer choice between the two options. Pansy’s face revealed that neither option was going to prove easy, “Okay, who were you thinking about the last time you got a boner?” You had to cover your mouth to conceal your laughter, however others in the circle were not as kind. If looks could kill, Pansy would be dead, but Enzo braved up and answered, “Astoria.” “Greengrass?!” Flora covered her mouth, not meaning to sound as shocked. “In Enzo’s defense, her skirt was proper short in Ancient Runes this week, so you can’t blame him,” Theo patted his friend's shoulder, but Enzo’s face was stained red. Enzo spun the bottle, ready for the attention to be off of him and on to somebody else. The bottle stopped while facing Theo, “Truth or dare, Theo?” He took a swig of his drink, “Let’s go truth this round.” Enzo sat up straighter, “Fine, have you ever had a crush on anyone in the circle? And if so, who?” Theo scoffed, “Easy, Y/n.” You were shocked to say the least, “What? Me? When?” He shrugged, “Dunno, like year three or something I think?” You turned to look at Ottie who was doing the worst job possible containing her laughter. To say she she was past the feeling of buzzed was an understatement as she seemed to lose the ability to keep her mouth shut, “That is actually hilarious because Y/n also had a crush on you in year three.” 

You launched a pillow at her head, which she somehow managed to deflect, “Seriously, Ottie? What the fuck?” You looked over at Theo who was wearing a proud smirk. “What a missed opportunity, Y/n. To think it could’ve been my lap you were sitting on tonight,” He threw you a wink and you hid your face in your hands. “Watch it, Nott,” Mattheo warned with a playful tone, running his fingers up and down your back to soothe you through your embarrassment. The game continued, dares being thrown wildly around the circle, surface truth’s being told between each other, alcohol being downed by those refusing to do either depending on who and what was asked of them. You were pleasantly surprised at how well your friends seemed to mesh with Mattheo’s. Darcy had kissed both Blaise and Theo. Blaise had dared Draco to smile, who refused because the dare was “ridiculous” and instead chugged half his drink in one go. You were having fun, relaxing further into Mattheo the more you drank. You thought how nothing could ruin the good time you were having until you spotted Pucey leaning against the wall just beyond the couches. He was glaring at you and Mattheo and the rest of the group. You rolled your eyes, turning to look at Pansy and give her a disgusted look. She raised an eyebrow, silently asking what was wrong. You glanced sideways, not moving your head but also telling her to look to her right. As she glanced over slowly, she saw what you needed her too and she screwed her face in disgust. Thankfully it was her turn to spin the bottle again, but this time she had a plan. With her wand flush against her thigh, Pansy silently cast a spell, making the bottle stop when it pointed at you. “Truth or dare, Y/n?” Her tone more emphasized on the word dare. She had a look in her eyes that told you to pick the latter option, so you obliged. “I dare you to give Mattheo a lap dance.” 

You’re sure your eyes looked like they were going to pop out of your skull, but Pansy glanced over to where Pucey was standing again. “You don’t have to do that, Princess,” Mattheo assured you. You shook your head, “No it’s okay.” You stood up, smoothing out your dress and setting your drink and his down on the table. You turned to face him, leaning down to whisper in his ear, “We have an audience.” You grabbed his chin, turning his head slightly so he could see Adrian. Mattheo’s lips turned up at the corners ever so slightly before turning back to face you. “Now, sit back and enjoy, handsome,” you placed his hands on either arm rest of the chair, “but no touching.” You winked at him as he sat back, eyeing you up and down as he manspread on the chair. You turned back around, everyone in the circle, and pair of eyes to the side, watching you. You listened to the music of the party, allowing yourself to sway your hips back and forth. You ran your hands up your thighs slowly, grazing your fingertips over the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, over the swell of your breasts and up through your hair. You were thankful you had drank as much as you did up until this point. You bent slightly at the knees, placing a hand on each of Mattheo’s thighs, your ass hovering ever-so-slightly over his lap. You stuck your ass up just a little higher, the black lace of your thong that covered your core just peeking out below the hem of your dress. You felt Mattheo’s thighs tense as he lowly growled out, “Careful, Princess…” You stood up slowly, turning to face him now, peering over subtly to see Adrian still watching, looking angry, but not angry enough or your liking. You decided to finish the dare with a bold move, straddling one of Mattheo’s thighs. You grabbed hold of each side of his black button up, then pulled him into you, crashing your lips against his. Your tongue slid into his mouth with ease, another low growl erupting from his throat as you did so. His hands flew to your hips, grinding them down slightly making your core rub against his slacks. You whimpered, unable to control your reaction before you pulled away, chest heaving as you caught your breath. 

“Bloody hell, that was…sexy as fuck,” Enzo’s statement returned you back to reality and where you currently were. Your cheeks burned as you got off Mattheo’s leg and sat down next to him. “Guess you should’ve spoken up in year three, huh Theo,” Draco teased his friend who was now holding a pillow over his lap, face still stunned from what he just watched. “Careful, cousin,” Mattheo spoke, “Games not over yet, there’s still time to embarrass you, too.” The game continued for a little while longer, before slowly dying down. Draco and Blaise ended up having to carry Enzo back to the dorm, thankfully he was only three fourths their size so they were basically carrying a child. Your three friends said their goodbye’s shortly after. Theo and Mattheo began picking up the trash the others left behind. You went to assist when Pansy grabbed your wrist, pulling you to sit down next to her. “Bloody hell, that lap dance was amazing, Y/n! When you started making out with him, Pucey fucking crushed his cup and threw it on the ground, it was amazing,” you laughed at this. “Serves him right, he’s been being a creep to me since the start of classes,” you glanced around the room, making sure he wasn’t still somewhere stalking you. Pansy stood up, pulling you along with her, “Hopefully he doesn’t get more jealous and try to take what clearly isn’t his.” You slapped her arm playfully, “Do not place those negative manifestations into my life Pansy or I’ll sic him on you instead!” 

You felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind you, Mattheo’s chin now resting atop your head, “If you’re quite done hogging, Y/n, I think we’re going to call it a night.” Pansy kissed your cheek, “Alright, alright. Go and take your girlfriend, Riddle. But we’re talking tomorrow, Y/n/n.” You assured her you’d likely see her back in the dorm shortly but she said she “wasn’t going to hold her breath" before walking away to the room. You rolled your eyes, leading Mattheo up the stairs and down the hall towards your dorm door, the man still attached to your hips. He released you from his grip when you approached the end of the hall. You turned to face him, seeing him sporting a goofy grin. “What is it?” you questioned. He shrugged, resting his hands on your hips, “Tonight was…unexpected.” You wrapped your hands around his neck, tilting your head slightly, “What? Didn’t expect me to get along with your friends so well?” You were playing with the curls at the base of his neck. He closed his eyes, humming at the feeling of comfort the simple action gave him. “I was more so talking about the lap dance I received. Didn’t really expect that from the quiet girl at the back of Charms class.” You could still feel the alcohol flowing through you slightly, giving you a little more confidence and a lot more boldness. “Oh Matty, didn’t anyone ever tell you, it’s the quiet girls that you have to watch out for, usually they’re the kinkiest,” you patted his cheek playfully. 

He grabbed your wrist, backing you up against the wall, his knee slotted between your thighs. His eyes turned a shade darker, almost lust filled, “Careful, y/n/n…you are very close to breaking your one rule in this whole arrangement.” You opened your mouth to respond, your breath catching in your throat as Mattheo’s thigh applied pressure between your legs. Your brain finally caught up to his words, sobering you up slightly. “You’re right, I-I’m sorry,” you placed your free hand on his chest. He let your other wrist go as he took a step back. He ran a hand through his curls, “You’re fine, erm, it’s fine.” He kissed your forehead softly, “Goodnight, Y/n.” He started to walk away but you called after him, a question burning in the back of your mind, “Hey, Mattheo.” He turned back around to face you. “Why didn’t you correct her? Pansy, earlier, when she called me your girlfriend. We didn’t really tell people we were dating, the plan originally was just to be seen together at this party to get Pucey off my back.” He walked back over to you until he was standing right in front of you. You waited a beat, anticipating his answer. Instead, he reached up, grabbing the pendant of your necklace, “You wear this every day. I noticed it the first time you came up to me in the hall. A protection rune carved on...,” he flipped the pendant back and forth between his fingers, “black obsidian?” You nodded, “M-my mother gave it to me my first year.” 

He hummed to himself, letting the necklace fall back to your chest. “I didn’t correct her because I think we can help each other. Like you said before, Pucey’s persistent. You definitely pissed him off tonight but I don’t think he’s going to give up all together. You always want what you can’t have, right?” You nodded, grabbing his hand. You ran your thumb along the top of his knuckles, feeling the different bumps and scars along them, “So how does me being your girlfriend help you then? Someone you’re trying to make jealous?” He laughed lightly, “No, nothing like that.” “Then what is it?” your curiosity was peaked now. “I think it would just be good for me to have a positive influence around for a while. You saw my friends,” he laughed to himself. You weren’t quite sure if you believed his answer, but you decided tonight was not the night to press the conversation further, “Okay, Matty. I don’t mind keeping you company.” He smiled at you, another small goofy grin. A girl rounded the corner, stopping abruptly when she saw the two of you. “Erm, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Mattheo flashed an award winning smile, “No worries, darling, I was just going.” He turned back to you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, “Sleep well, beautiful.” He winked at the girl in the hall as he passed her. She turned back to you as you opened the door, following as you entered the room, “You are seriously so lucky.” You sat on your bed, undoing your laces and chucking your boots off, “You have no idea.” You threw on some pajama shorts and a t-shirt, laying the dress on Pansy’s trunk. She turned over in her bed, “I’m surprised you’re sleeping here tonight.” You pulled back your covers, “I told you I’d be here, Pans.” 

She mumbled something but it got muffled by her pillow. You tucked yourself into your own bed, flicking your bedside light off. You laid on your back, staring at the ceiling. You ran the events of the party over in mind. You could partly blame the alcohol for the intensity of things between you and Mattheo tonight, but you weren’t sure it was fully to blame. You closed your eyes, trying to focus on the soft snores of the other girls in the room. You were eventually able to doze off, however your dreams were flooded with a certain curly haired boy.

[chapter 4]

Taglist:

@b3ean @l4venderia @mypolicemanharryyy @ma-las @usmell4 @carav4l