#it’s just screaming effortless elegance
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[11:18pm]
The night was quiet and peaceful. Music played softly in your dimly lit bedroom. Little taps of a phone keyboard could be heard just a few inches down from where you sat on the bed. You looked from your own phone to see Donghyuck looking down and texting someone.
For a moment your mind wondered to the potential of him texting a lover that made you eyes waiver unknowingly. Surely he would’ve told you if that was the case, you were best friends after all. He was probably just texting his other best friend, Mark.
You wanted to be in his heart only like he was in yours so badly. You screamed about it every night into your pillow on the rare occasion he wasn’t there. When he was, you settled on silently screaming while rolling around in anguish on the bed where he slept soundly next to you, blissfully unaware.
You loved staring at him. He was so beautiful with his golden skin and the fluffy brown hair that was growing out nicely. He was slouched against the wall but still his composure was so elegant. His hands that typed away seemed so dainty and effortless as his fingers were adorned with rings. The thought of holding them and feeling that familiar warmth always made your breath hitch in your throat as you felt your heart stop. Your gaze shifted with one of his hands that reached up to move his glasses back up. He wore no makeup due to the time which allowed you to view the moles on his cheeks that cascaded down his neck perfectly. The longer you looked the more things you found to love.
So lost in your own mind, you hadn’t cared about the fact he noticed your eyes and was now looking at you.
“What’s up?” He asked, his head tilted a bit.
That was his way of asking if anything was wrong. There was a familiar flutter in your chest from the simple action. You blinked a few times before sitting up straight against your pillows and shaking your head.
“I was just thinking.” You shrugged.
“About what?” He pondered.
“Your moles.” You answered.
A pout appeared on his lips at the mention. He confided in your once they made him insecure which you could never understand. You never knew how to respond just because you knew you’d end up with a whole essay which would be suspicious.
“You know-“ He started.
“I know.” You confirmed before he could finish his sentence. “I never understood your resentment toward them, Hyuck.”
“Of course not.” He sighed.
“Some people theorize they’re where your twin flame kissed you most in the last life. They’ve always been pretty and maybe that idea can help you change the way you think about them.”
His phone landed in his laps at your words. You could see his eyes look across your own face and body in silence. He moved from his snug spot against the wall on your bed to sit directly across from you. The closeness always startled you despite how regular it was between the both of you. It never failed to get your heart going and your only hope was he didn’t know.
“You have them too.” He leaned in closer as his eyes scanned your face.
He moved the strands of hair out of your face and tucked them behind one ear. You didn’t expect him to get any closer but suddenly he leaned in and left a kiss on your temple.
“Like here.” He pointed out after leaving the unexpected peck.
He reached up to grab your chin and then there was another kiss on your own cheek, not far from your lips.
“And there too.” He hummed.
There had been plenty times where the both of you had kissed each other cheeks. Something felt different now though. You just hope he hadn’t been able to see the blush appear on your cheeks and the felt the heat with the kiss.
Both hands now cupped your cheeks in such a way there was no way to avoid his stare. You could see his gaze move downward before moving back to meet your own once again.
“I’ve never noticed how many little moles you have around your lips.” He smiled. “I guess I kissed you a lot there in the last life… And I’ll do it again in this one.”
Before you could even question him, his plump, soft lips were against your own. The air was taken out of your lungs and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. A sigh escape automatically and you could feel your body relax under his touch. You moved into his body more as his hands moved down your sides to rest on your waist as your hands instinctively went to his neck to pull his closer only to slid down to his rest on his chest as his arms were now wrapped around your waist to pull you flush against him.
You could feel his rapid heartbeat under your palm which had you smiling against his lips.
Oh yes, he would most be definitely keeping his promise to you.
not proodfread. aesthyuckic © 2024. all rights reserved.
#its 2:30 am#did my fit of energy do good#haechan#haechan au#haechan imagines#haechan scenarios#haechan x reader#haechan fanfic#haechan fanfiction#lee donghyuck#haechan fics#nct au#nct haechan#haechan blurbs#haechan blurb#haechan fic#haechan imagine#haechan drabbles#haechan fluff#haechan timestamps#nct dream blurbs#nct dream imagines#nct imagines#nct imagine#nct fluff#nct 127 imagines#nct u imagines#nct u fluff#nct 127 fluff#nct dream fluff
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NIGHTS WITH TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE ☽
nocturnal creature, he flourish in the dark
surrounded by scrolls, leather bound books and old parchments that crumble with the slightest touch
yet his hands are careful and delicate as he is roaming his finger through the ancient symbols
you could watch him like this for hours, deeply focused and painfully beautiful in the dim light of candles
his furrowed brows the only sign he is a creature capable of human emotions and not just an immaculate marble sculpture
he’s not some poor scribe hunched over stack of papers, he is full of grace as he is sitting behind his desk reading and learning the most wicked things with his shoulders upright, his face sharp and regal even when he thinks no-one is watching
epitome of effortless elegance and sophisticated mind, you don't meet someone like him often if ever
his eyes are holding dark secrets in them
which you desperately want to know but can’t, he shall take them to the grave with him
also this hint of a ineffable glimpse of sadness hidden deep within as unmerciful fate always watches him closely, it kills you and it kills him too
sometimes you share a glass of wine, his head rest on yours, his free hand caress your neck and it feels right, it feels like your whole existence was made so you could be here with him right now
although you can’t see it Tom is lost in his thought, his guard lowering for a moment, his shoulders relax
“I like being close to you, you’re warm”
sometimes you are slow dancing in tight embrace, your hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat and reminding yourself once again he's alive
his head lean across yours and you feel his black strand of hair tickling your cheek
sometimes he says “I’ll take care of you” and kisses your palm gently
and sometimes he says “I want to ruin you” as he tightens his hands around your throat, tears in your eyes
sometimes he kisses your tights gently but spanks you hard
he whisper sweet little nothings in your eager little ears, he kisses you mindlessly and bites your lower lip, he makes you scream with pleasure and pain
The nightfall is silent as you two lay in bed, tangled in each-others bodies in complete darkness
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
you can find more of my works about tom ♡here♡
#tom marvolo riddle#tom riddle imagine#tom riddle x reader#nights with tom marvolo riddle#lord voldemort#tom marvolo riddle imagine
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Enchanting to Meet You (Bridgerton: Benedict Bridgerton)
pairing: female reader (she/her) x Benedict Bridgerton
summary: In your debut social season in London, you can’t help but be absolutely enchanted by a certain gentleman. You wouldn’t be lucky enough to find a true love match after one ball…right?
notes/warnings: no warnings, just all fluff! does this song not scream dancing with benedict for the first time! stolen glances and witty remarks! like hello?
word count: 1.3k
The carriage was moving impossibly slow.
Trees passing by at a snail’s pace as you watched the light of your aunt’s estate grow closer in the distance.
The desire to run to your bedroom and bathe in the excitement of the night intensifying as each moment passed.
“A lovely opening ball, was it not y/n?”
You snapped your head from leaning on the window to where your mother and aunt sat across from you.
“Yes, quite lovely indeed,” you remarked.
You had grown up coming to your aunt’s estate in the summers.
As a child, you remembered begging your mother to take you to London for the social season as your older sisters were being presented to society.
You wondered if your sisters ever had a night as magical as you did tonight.
And it was all because of him.
Benedict Bridgerton.
You liked the name Benedict; you had never met another one before.
The blood rushed to your cheeks, so scarlet, at the memory of dancing the night away with him.
“Oh y/n, you are looking quite ill. You have had such a busy night; it would do you well to get a good night’s sleep and think on the many gentlemen who will call on you tomorrow.”
You could not help but lay awake that night, the moonlight shining through the curtains, as you thought about the entire night. Replaying it in its entirety, from start to finish.
The conversation was effortless, no lulls or awkward pauses you experienced with others.
What would you do if he had not called upon you the next day?
Would you be forced to entertain the other prospects in hope of waiting and biding time for his affection.
Was there someone else in the picture?
Why had you not thought to ask his intentions?
Was the chemistry enough to guide you through this season?
Your endless thoughts were torture.
Finally dozing off, the moonlight soon disappeared as the darkness of the night sky was replaced by the bright and glistening rays of the sun.
A subtle knock came from the other side of the door, your lady maid calling out.
“Miss Y/N, we must start getting you ready.”
With one final powdering of your nose, you made your way towards the parlor room.
As you walked in you spotted Benedict sitting on the settee near the large portrait of your family.
He stood up immediately once he noticed your presence.
As your eyes met the memories of the night before came flooding back.
******
You stood with your mother and aunt at the edge of the dance floor, running your hands down your dress, doing your best to smooth out the ruffles from where you sat.
“Miss y/l/n, what a pleasure to have you join us this season.”
“Thank you, Lady Danbury,” you smiled politely.
“Let us hope that she is as lucky as her sisters in finding a great companion,” your mother said.
You nodded your head as you took in the scene around you.
Girls and their mamas circling like vultures, while still maintaining the perfect amount of poise to be considered elegant and respectful.
It was much more overwhelming than you were anticipating.
The magic of what you imagined as a little girl was slowly fading the more you felt the pressure of finding a husband by the end of the season.
If forcing laughter and faking smiles is what it took to get through the night, then so be it.
You had evaded a few gentlemen by writing down the name of poets on your dance card, smiling shyly as you quickly waved the ‘full’ dance card as a polite dismissal.
It was a pity really, you loved to dance.
The small talk and inquiring about your pianoforte on the other hand was quite detestable.
You had just gotten done pity laughing at Lord Hardy’s ‘humble’ comment about his many properties, when above his shoulder your eyes met a couple of cool blue ones across the room.
Your insincerity dropped, curiosity taking over as you excused yourself from Lord Hardy.
The man had done the same with whatever company had previously occupied him, gently patting the man in front of him as he maneuvered his way towards you.
As he approached you bowed your head slightly.
“Miss--?”
“Y/N”
“Miss Y/N, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“I suppose we have not. I have just come to London for the season.”
“Ah, the marriage mart? Believer of love, are we?”
“Are you not?” you challenged back.
“In an artists’ sense, yes. Not in the way that I must bow, and you curtsy while we skate around each for months to appease our families What is it truly to admire a woman? To look at her and feel inspiration? To delight in her beauty, so much so that all your defenses crumble, that you would willingly take on any pain, any burden for her.”
You were shocked by his seemingly earnest words. Perhaps the shallow nature of society was not present in everyone.
“Well, we seem to have that in common Mr.—”
“Bridgerton, but you may call me Benedict.”
“Mr. Benedict Bridgerton, the artist or a poet?” you teased.
“This doesn’t really seem like the company you would choose to surround yourself with,” you remarked.
“Quite true Miss Y/N. I fear I am rather trapped among the duties of my family to attend tonight’s ball. You see, my sister Eloise is in her debut season as well.”
You followed his gaze to where a young lady stood next to an older woman. From afar their relationship was quite clear, a mama instructing her daughter on all the dos and don’ts of the night.
“Might you join me in a dance Miss Y/N?”
You looked down to your dance card, the spots filled with fake names.
Benedict grabbed your wrist, bringing the cards towards him for a closer examination.
He laughed as he looked at the names written, scratching out the last two to write his own.
“I do hope Lord Keats and Lord Wordsworth don’t mind me taking their spots.”
“They’ll live, I hear they have greater things to attend to.”
“Greater than you miss? I have high doubts.”
You took Benedict’s hand as the music began to play.
Your hand felt so right in his, as natural as breathing.
You could not help the fluttering in your heart as he whisked you across the dance floor.
This moment, this is the moment you imagined as a young girl.
The playful conversation, perfectly countering his quick remarks. Is this what it was like to meet someone at your level?
Your insincerity and vacancy from earlier replaced by a fulfilling excitement.
“It seems highly improper to have danced continuously with you Benedict.”
“I suppose it is a bit suggestive, do you regret it?” he asked seriously.
You thought for a long second before you looked at him properly.
“No, I do not regret it. Your company is quite refreshing and enjoyable.”
“Coming from someone with your elegance, I take that as the highest compliment.”
You had spent the rest of the evening walking around with your mother and aunt, engaging in superficial conversations, your eyes constantly peeled for a certain Bridgerton.
Your stolen glances and playful smirks across the ballroom went seemingly unnoticed by most.
However, after a brief encounter with Benedict at the drinks table, you felt the wandering eyes of a young lady wearing a lovely yellow dress.
You smiled sweetly at her before returning to your mother’s side.
******
“Miss Y/N, I hope it is not a surprise for me to have called on you so early this morning?”
“On the contrary, I would have been quite disappointed if you had not.”
“Would you care to join me for a promenade?”
“I would be delighted Mr. Bridgerton.”
check out the rest of my work ⤑ here!
#teentvimagines#bridgerton imagines#bridgerton#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x y/n#benedict bridgerton x female reader#benedict bridgerton x you#benedict bridgerton imagine#benedict bridgerton#bridgerton fanfiction#bridgerton masterlist#bridgerton fic#bridgerton family#bridgerton imagine#colin bridgerton#anthony bridgerton#eloise bridgerton#daphne bridgerton#lady whistledown#penelope featherington#Spotify
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Prince in disguise
☆ characters: crown prince!san & florist!you
☆ genre: modern royalty au, fluff
☆ warnings: mention of a break-in
☆ summary: you like to joke about how San carries himself like a prince; one day it turns out, it’s because he’s indeed royalty
☆ words: 7,9k
☆ a/n: this story was inspired by this video of San
☆ also: merry Christmas to the lovely @restlessmaknae 💕 i wish you a peaceful holiday, so that you could regain your energy and start the new year stronger than ever
☆ massive thanks to: @dat-town for proofreading the story 💕
You often teased San about how he was the embodiment of your childhood crush, Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid. There was just something in the way he held himself, with so much effortless elegance and pride, that screamed royalty. However, up until the very moment three grown ass men in suits and sunglasses stormed into your flower shop, undoubtedly looking for him, you had never been able to decipher how he really felt about your lighthearted jokes. He definitely didn’t hate them, that much you could tell. He knew you would have stopped as soon as he showed any signs of frustration or discomfort, yet his most common reaction was a small smile and kiss on your forehead.
It had never, not even in your wildest dreams, when you let yourself dream about your future, occurred to you that he was an actual prince. Like a real prince with a queen as a mother and a kingdom to rule.
‘Miss, I would like to kindly advise you to refrain from any form of dishonesty,’ one of the men said, his voice calm and collected despite the photo in his hands and the urgency of the issue they were dealing with. You had never given any thought to the qualities a bodyguard (a royal bodyguard!) should have possessed, but you had to admit that he must have ticked off all the boxes on that imaginary list. ‘We have been informed that the Crown Prince, in fact, entered this flower shop and he could not have possibly had enough time to leave before we came in.’
You could feel your heart picking up its rate and your palms getting clammy, but you refused to show how nervous his way of speaking made you. You also refused to think about all the negative consequences your inner need to protect San could bring you. You knew that as soon as you let your brain come up with those worst case scenarios you would fold like a folding chair. And you simply couldn’t afford to be weak.
‘Thank you for your advice, sir. However, I also need to kindly remind you that you need a warrant in case you wish to enter the staff only area,’ you stood your ground, grateful that the owner of the shop wasn’t present, so she couldn’t grant them access to the storage room. That might have put both San and you into an uncomfortable situation. ‘I have already told you that your Crown Prince is not here. You are wasting your time,’ you claimed, impressed by how calm your words came out despite the hurricane of emotions inside of you.
What would you tell your parents if you got arrested for lying to these men? It wasn’t like you were hiding a criminal, right?
‘Disobeying the Queen is considered high treason,’ the royal bodyguard stated firmly and you gulped down the knot in your throat when you realised he wasn’t talking to you. The warning was dedicated to the guy who was currently hiding behind dozens of bouquets of lilies and sunflowers for a summer themed banquet tomorrow.
‘Sir.’ You cleared your throat to gain his attention or more like, to divert his attention from the storage room’s door that he was eyeing with intent. You didn’t know what you could have done if he decided to push you aside and enter the staff only area anyway. He clearly had the muscles for that and he also had backup even if the other two men were lingering by the front door. ‘I am a South Korean citizen and we are in South Korea. With all due respect, your Queen has no power here,’ you reminded him, mustering up all the confidence that was left in your body, which wasn’t too much to be honest. You were a mere commoner standing in front of a royal bodyguard, after all. Hell, you were a petite woman in her twenties against a man who had biceps the size of a smaller melon.
In the back of your head, you wondered how long your protective instincts would take you. For the sake of San and yourself, you hoped you could hold on long enough for these men to give up and leave. If things had gone there, you didn’t know how you would have explained to your boss why you had stayed overtime on a Wednesday night.
It took time, and a horrendous amount of awkward and pressuring silence, but eventually a new customer came in and your afternoon regained some of its normality. You helped the girl choose the most suitable flowers for her confession and gave her a gift card for free partly because she was adorable and partly because you were so genuinely grateful for her presence. Her ramble about her childhood best friend slash crush had successfully taken your mind off the predicament you were in with a prince in your storage room.
Unfortunately, after that, the rest of the afternoon kept you on your tiptoes. Two of the men in black suits left, but the third bodyguard refused to leave the shop and made sure you didn’t have a moment of peace with his countless questions and polite warnings of which quite a few were meant for San. At least, you honestly doubted his intention was to appeal to your emotions when he brought up the people of their nation, their well-being and the well-being of the royal couple. As much as you could tell from the morsels you actually understood - at one point the guard started to speak the same language San spoke when he was frustrated -, San’s parents were healthy, but his father was too drained to keep ruling the country for much longer. They wanted him to go back and be the king he had always been meant to be. They wanted him to settle down and have his own heirs.
The latter felt like a fist in the gut, like a knife in the stomach even though your translation’s accuracy was heavily dependent on context clues, so you might have been wrong.
You hoped you were wrong.
‘Sir, we are closing. I have to ask you to leave,’ you spoke up ten minutes before eight and let out a relieved sigh when he didn’t argue. You could handle his ice cold stares, but you were doubtful whether you would have had the energy to get into a fight after hours of cold war. His presence alone had drained you dry and honestly, the only things that kept you going were the knowledge that you were doing this for San and the cinnamon rolls from the vintage coffee shop across the street. They closed at ten, so they usually weren’t out of sweets when you visited them at the end of your most tiresome days.
A little paranoid that the bodyguard might have been still lingering out there, waiting for the moment when you foolishly let your guard down, you busied yourself with the online orders that came in in the last hour and stock checked the customer area. It took almost one and a half hours before you informed San that the coast was clear.
The boy walked out from the storage room with his lower lip between his teeth and a rather embarrassed smile on his face that - based on the months you had spent getting to know each other more - was meant to be reassuring.
‘Are you okay?’ San asked, warmth swelling in your chest due to his first words. Of course, your well-being was his top priority. His apologies and weak attempts at making excuses, so you wouldn’t have been mad at him always came second. ‘I’m so sorry.’
You clenched and unclenched your fists as you looked at him. Did he seriously believe that you could be angry with him for longer than a couple of minutes? You had gotten to know the truth hours ago. You were over the initial shock and done being sulky.
At that point, you just wanted him to be safe.
Therefore, you destroyed the distance between the two of you and not giving a damn about his title, you wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him impossibly close to your body. You could feel your cheek being squeezed as you rested your head on his chest.
‘Are you okay?’ You threw the question right back at him, feeling your heart picking up its rate with each second that passed you by in silence.
San’s lips were soft against your scalp when he kissed the top of your head and wrapped his own arms around your petite frame.
‘Thank you,’ he mumbled against your hair, his tone urging you to pull away and look him in the eyes, hence that was what you did. You pulled away with your hands still around his body and rested your chin on his chest, picking apart his facial expression as you tried to decipher what he was thinking.
Your breath hitched when he pressed his lips against yours briefly.
‘I promise I will explain everything,’ he said, his forehead fitting close to yours before he lifted his right hand and brushed a stubborn lock behind your ear. ‘But first, I need to take care of a few things. Important things,’ he claimed and with that - and another tender kiss pressed against your parted lips - he was gone.
You looked after him in trance for minutes before you shook your head and willed yourself to walk in the storage room to finish the stock checking. There was a cinnamon roll waiting for you at the coffee shop across the street.
You hadn’t heard from San that night, which was a tad bit alarming considering that he was living in your apartment unofficially for over a month. He had his own clothes at yours, his own towel, shower gel, shampoo and toothbrush. You had his favourite plant-based milk in your fridge along with his favourite instant coffee. His mug that matched yours was in your cabinet, waiting for him to come home. So why hadn’t he? The number of possibilities made you anxious.
What if those men had found him and he was already out of the country?
By the time the second night of radio silence rolled by, you were checking your phone abnormally frequently and couldn’t stay focused for longer than five or six minutes. It came to a point where even the Thai series you were currently obsessed with couldn’t keep you on the couch. You had to move around, clean up something, do something, anything that might have been able to take your mind off San’s absence.
You almost knocked off the half-empty mug of hot chocolate from the kitchen counter, the marshmallows still in your hands, when your front door opened out of the blue. You threw the sweets into your drink with a yelp and grabbed the first potential weapon that you came across: the cutting board you kept behind the knife organiser.
‘I have 112 on speed dial,’ you threatened, lowkey wondering whether you should have been more daring and grabbed one of the knives as you walked towards your bedroom, not turning your back to the front door. There should have been a key in the lock from the inside. You should have been safe once you reached the bedroom.
‘Well, that’s good to know, but why are we calling the police?’ A very tired, very amused San asked from the threshold, walking into the open space of your living room slash dining room with a bag of takeout in his hand.
You could feel the rocks being lifted off your chest.
‘Are you crazy? San! You scared the shit out of me,’ you accused, more relieved than angry. Seeing his tired eyes, you were reminded of the bodyguards and wanted to run up to him and inspect his body for injuries. You wanted to make sure he was okay; however, your limbs were frozen, hence you just stood there like a way too realistic statue from Ancient Rome.
Then, your gaze fell on the plastic bags in his hands again and your brain supplied you with all the worst case scenarios it could come up with: San coming over for a last minute farewell dinner before he moved countries; San asking you to change your relationship status to long-distance relationship; San breaking up with you with your favourite black bean noodles. You weren’t ready to let him go after putting so much effort into winning him over.
‘I’m sorry, petal. I thought you would know it’s me. After all, there aren’t many people who know your passcode and your parents are out of town,’ he said. There was something in the way he broke the situation down to you that made you feel a little dramatic. Of course, you should have known it was him. Other than your mom and your best friend, he was the only one who had access to your apartment.
You pressed your lips together and pouted. He had no right to make you feel silly when your survival instincts were the ones to blame.
‘What are the noodles for?’ You asked as soon as you put yourself together, finally finding the power to move your legs and walk up to him. The furrow between San’s eyebrows and the confusion in his eyes shouldn’t have been so adorable.
‘It’s Thursday. You never have energy to cook on Thursdays and Fridays,’ he explained, like you were some kind of alien who wasn’t accustomed to the local habits yet or a person who had just woken up from years of coma. He must have thought that your question was so damn ridiculous, but it wasn’t what you had meant.
‘You didn’t come home yesterday,’ you said, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the whiny edge of your statement and the fact that San had his own place to sleep at. His lease wouldn’t expire for at least three more months, so you hadn’t moved in together yet. You had no right to call him to account regarding his whereabouts and still, after what had happened the day before, you kind of felt like you had.
You took the bags out of his hands and helped him unpack the still pleasantly lukewarm food. You also started to prepare a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows for him, too, without asking whether he wanted some. He never said no for hot chocolate.
‘I was with Wooyoung,’ he said, filling a tray with numerous tiny bowls containing various side dishes such as kimchi and yellow radish. ‘I needed his help to contact my oldest cousin, Seonghwa.’
You nodded along with every new revelation, paying close attention to every detail while you slid San’s drink towards him on the dining table. It was your first time hearing about any of his family members, at least from him, so you were admittedly curious.
Even though the trays on the table made it obvious that San’s initial intention was to have this conversation on the couch, you didn’t move an inch from your poor excuse for a dining room. You just stood there, with your elbows on the marble, one of your soles resting on the inner side of your other leg and dove into your food with a pair of wooden chopsticks. You didn’t take your eyes off San while he told you everything about his situation.
‘I left the country with Woonyoung’s family when I was fourteen,’ he started, assuring you that he wasn’t a runaway prince per se, and that he had never hid from his parents. Both the queen and the king of their country knew how to reach him in case of emergency, teenager San had just convinced himself that that day would never come as his parents had never bothered to contact him after he had moved out of the palace. With years of neglect behind his back, his adult-self never thought about the possibility that things might have changed.
You placed your hand on top of his and squeezed it as a sign of your support. You were afraid that he would interpret your sympathy as pity, therefore you tried your best to keep your emotions in check. Instead, you gave San all of your attention, hot chocolate momentarily forgotten.
‘Would you like to go back? Now that it’s an option?’ You mustered up the courage to tear off one of the band-aids; the unsaid inquiry whether he wanted to become a king in the first place hiding between the lines. Somehow, it sounded such an insensitive question, you didn’t have the heart to phrase yours like that despite your curiosity. Therefore, you decided to focus on the fact that the royal couple was his parents. ‘To see your mom and dad?’
After a few seconds of contemplation, San shrugged.
‘I guess so,’ he said and you hated yourself for feeling disappointed. They were his parents. Of course, he wanted to see them again. Who were you in comparison to his family? Without much thought, you took your hand off his; however, San didn’t hesitate to reach after it and intertwined your fingers with a soft smile. ‘But that can wait until Seonghwa’s coronation. It’s been over a decade since we’ve last seen each other. A few more months is no big deal if it means they will let me come back to you.’
As touching as it was that he was willing to delay their reunion to be able to stay with you, your first instinct was to remind him that he was his own person and no one had more power over his life than him. But then you swallowed down the words as your brain caught up with the situation. You might have been absolutely right about this matter in general, but San was a prince. Clearly, general rules didn’t apply to him.
‘What do you mean Seonghwa’s coronation?’ You tried to fill in the holes that made it hard for you to fully comprehend the situation. You thought he was the next in line to rule. You definitely remembered the bodyguard referring to him as the Crown Prince.
‘Well, that’s the most important part of our plan,’ he started, pushing the food closer to you, encouraging you to start eating before it got cold. Albeit reluctantly, you eventually gave in, allowing him to steal himself a couple of seconds as well as he dove into the perfect mixture of noodles and red bean sauce.
Then, he proceeded to tell you about the plan they had made with Woonyoung and six of their mutual friends including his cousin and Seonghwa’s personal bodyguard, Jongho. Since San didn’t wish to become the new ruler of their country, but knew that his parents wouldn’t back off without a fight, they intended to prove to them that Seonghwa was the better choice in every aspect: maturity, dedication towards his people and the country, connections, political and economical knowledge. The way he presented their idea and backed up each one of his reasons made even you think that Seonghwa was more fitting for the role. It made you feel hopeful.
‘Do you think your parents will let you give up the crown?’ You couldn’t help but ask when it became obvious that he didn’t have anything more to say.
The silence that followed was palpable. Still, you let him drag it out and pull you into his lap, so he could wrap his arms around you instead of giving you a definite answer. Now you knew that he wasn’t close to his parents - that their relationship could only have been described as distant. Making guesses based on childhood memories would have just given you false hope. You much preferred his soothing touches and the desperation in the way he held you close.
‘I love you,’ he murmured into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, hinting the soft and sensitive area with feather-like kisses.
You sucked in your lower lip, holding your breath. Even though his actions had shown you, even before you two had gotten together, that you were an important person in San’s life, the two of you had never exchanged I love yous before. As much as you hated to acknowledge, it had a bittersweet undertone to it. You wished you could have told him how precious he was to you under different circumstances.
Nevertheless, you said it back.
‘I love you, too. So much.’
That night you eventually relocated to the living room and got comfortable under your fluffy blankets on the couch. You had two mugs of freshly made hot chocolate with you - this time, without marshmallows to lower your already high sugar intake - and some salty snacks you could munch on while you talked. And you talked a lot. You talked about the day before, how the bodyguards had found him and how serious their threats had been. San was almost sure that his parents would have never imprisoned him for high treason if he had refused to go home willingly. By the way his lips curled upwards and his eyes gouged your reaction, you knew he was only trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but it was too early, hence it wasn’t funny. Life imprisonment with a cheap excuse was exactly how they could have kept him in the country! How could San not see it?
‘Don’t even think about joking about this again, you hear me? It’s not funny,’ you scoffed when he tried to ease you with lingering kisses atop of your head, temple and on your blade bone. Him disappearing on you just wasn’t it.
‘I promise.’ He nosed your temple, holding you in his arms a big tighter to make up for the anxiety he had unintentionally caused. ‘I’m sorry,’ he added, repeating it like a mantra until he successfully coaxed a chuckle out of you.
With the show you had been watching before his arrival as your background noise and his warmth surrounding your body, you fell asleep on San’s shoulder while he was talking about Seonghwa’s bodyguard, karaoke, imported beer and apples. If anyone had asked you, you were sure you would have failed to draw the connection between all four, but you knew your boyfriend would have never used your tiredness against you. On the contrary, he would have been grateful that you still felt safe in his arms.
And you did. You did feel safe. Because for you, he was your home.
In the back of your mind, you were aware that your story wouldn’t end up being a fairy-tale, and that even those had some dark twists to them here and there when they were told by the original authors. Still, coming home for a messed up apartment and no San in sight knocked the air out of your lungs. No matter how much you tried to rationalise the happenings or keep your cool, panic overcame you in a matter of seconds. You didn’t know what to do. Would calling the police have made things worse? What if it had been those bodyguards? You didn’t intend to put San into a tight position in case the pitiful state of your home was a consequence of their family quarrel.
On the other hand, what if he had been kidnapped? You had left work pretty late that night, so there was a possibility that San had been home when things had escalated.
Hands shaking and mind pushed into an overdrive, you fished your phone out of the bag you had previously dropped on the floor and dialled San’s number. He didn’t pick up, so you did the next best thing you could think about without losing it: you called him again. Again. And again.
You called him as many times as it was necessary for him to answer your call, his calm voice breaking something in you as your knees gave out as soon as his greeting reached you and you fell on the floor, crying.
‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ When you sniffed into the phone instead of answering, his voice lost its calmness. ‘Petal, what’s happening? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?’
You weren’t hurt, not physically at least. But the chaotic mess your mental state was in was secondary to the fact that San sounded to be oblivious of the intrusion into your home.
‘Please, petal, talk to me,’ he tried to coax you and while it didn’t work immediately, when he started to do a breathing exercise, you automatically mimicked the way he sucked the air into his lungs. In through your nose, out through your mouth. In through your nose, out through your mouth.
‘Where are you?’ The words felt like sand on the tip of your tongue, your urge to know for sure that he was in public or at least among people who could help him in case of emergency pushing all your other worries aside.
‘I’m with the guys at Wooyoung’s place. Do you need me to pick you up? Where are you? I will pick you up,’ San said, the distant sound of keys chiming and wood cracking assuring you that he was ready to leave as soon as you gave him the sign. Hell, he might have left the boys without you explicitly asking for it considering the worry in his voice.
But as comforting as the thought was, you didn’t want him anywhere near your apartment.
‘No!’ You objected, maybe a tad bit too vehemently for which you might have felt awkward under different circumstances. Now, emotions like shame and embarrassment were at the end of your priority list. ‘Can I visit you instead? I promise I’ll tell you everything in person,’ you negotiated. Not realising that you were holding your breath, a relieved sigh escaped through your pressed lips when San chose to withhold his questions for the time being.
Some matters were wiser to discuss in person. Matters that could put you in a tight position if anyone found evidence about your scheming. Especially when you were up against an opponent so powerful, they had the resources of actual royalty.
Looking around in your fucked up apartment, without your heart threatening to explode in your ribcage, you knew you didn’t want to take unnecessary risks. You had to be smart about your next move.
You showed up at Wooyoung’s place an hour later with one sports bag packed with your most necessary belongings and was greeted with a worried San who didn’t understand why you would have brought your entire bathroom cabinet to his best friend’s apartment when you loved your home. You definitely had a lot to unpack, both literally and figuratively.
‘I can’t believe they’re willing to go this far,’ a guy with sharp eyes and nose said, the same guy who had taken it upon himself to bring you a mug of herbal tea when you made yourself comfortable on Wooyoung’s couch. His name was Hongjoong or something similar if you remembered correctly. ‘I start to think that we might have underestimated them a little.’
‘A little?’ Two or three of San’s friends asked in chorus at the same time San lifted his head up from your shoulder and said:
‘I doesn’t matter. Our plan is good, they’ll have no other choice but to go along with it.’
Just by looking at his friends, you couldn’t tell whether they actually believed what San had said, but it was clear as day that they believed in your boyfriend, hence you leaned against his broad chest and let yourself relax. Neither San nor you were alone in this. You had allies and strategies. You had a good plan, and even if that failed, you had options. San’s parents might have been powerful, they could clearly break into your home to scare you, but they had no real authority in Korea.
A voice in the back of your head also reminded you that you lived in the era of social media. You doubted they would have risked bad publicity by pushing their son too much and causing irreversible damage to those he cherished. Or so you hoped.
‘Our plan is good, but will princess Yuna actually agree to go along with it?’ Another guy, whose name you hadn’t memorised yet, asked, his question piquing your interest. It was the first time you heard about this princess and with your obsession with Asian dramas, you did not like the first scenarios your brain threw at you as it tried to fill in the gaps. Who was she? Why was she an important part of the plan? Was she interested in San?
‘Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about before petal came. She said yes,’ San said, the hollering and overflowing happiness in the room making you feel weird, like something wasn’t quite right with the situation: like you were missing something crucial that would have given you a perfect explanation for the odd reaction the news received.
With naturally pouty lips and furrowed eyebrows, you placed your hands on your lap along with the pleasantly warm mug and turned towards San. His smile was so beautiful. He was genuinely happy about the progress they had made now that this princess was on board.
‘Who is she?’ You asked, mentally reminding yourself that you were San’s girlfriend. You had every right to ask him about this girl until you remained clear-headed and didn’t throw a temper tantrum for no reason.
‘She is the most sought out unmarried royalty in Asia. Her family’s country is very small, but their economic power is remarkable.’ Hongjoong said.
‘She is two years older than San, but they’ve known each other since they were babies, so he’s allowed to talk to her informally. Her kindness isn’t just for show, she really is the most warm-hearted royalty I’ve ever met,’ Wooyoung added before his wide grin turned into a frown. ‘She never lets me talk to her informally, though. Like I haven’t known her for just as long.’
‘Yeah, she’s so unfair.’ Yeosang’s voice was teasing as he altered it to sound more mocking: like Wooyoung’s but a pitch higher. ‘It’s not because you called her Yuna in front of a bunch of politicians when she explicitly told you to use her birth name when people other than your family were present.’ The bombastic side eye the blond boy gave to Wooyoung almost made you laugh. Almost.
You had to admit, this princess Yuna sounded pretty amazing. Gosh. You were such a horrible person.
San must have sensed your inner turmoil, because the next thing you noticed was the light touch of the tip of his nose against your cheek and his pillowy lips against your jawline.
‘She’s also Seonghwa’s fiancée,’ he murmured, placing one of his warm palms on the other side of your face, so that he could turn your head a bit more and make you look at him. You gulped, more shy than nervous. ‘That’s what she said yes to. Seonghwa proposed to her a few hours ago.’
You sucked in your lower lip, but before you could have done any damage, San pulled it out from between your teeth with his thumb; the fondness in his eyes simultaneously took your breath away and made you feel unworthy of his love. How could you have seriously thought that he would have included someone in their plan - felt so happy about her joining their team - if she had any interest in him romantically?
‘So it’s not a fake marriage?’ You inquired, coaxing a small laugh out of your boyfriend. His eyes almost disappeared because of the pure amusement on his face. It didn’t take long before you gave into the urge to hide your own in the crook of his neck.
Going easy on you, San semi-successfully bit back a chuckle and put his chin atop of your head, stroking your hair.
‘No, it’s not a fake marriage. They’ve also known each other since childhood, obviously. And they’re pretty much in love,’ he reassured you, letting you have all the time in the world if that was what you needed to be able to look him in the eyes again.
Fortunately, you didn’t need that much to get over the fact that you were only human; a girl with fears and insecurities. The herbal tea in your mug was still pleasantly lukewarm when you pulled away and straightened your back.
‘So cute,’ San whispered, pressing a soft peck against your lips before he helped you readjust your position on his lap, so you wouldn’t hurt your neck too much with the way your body was twisted and turned to be able to be chest to chest to him.
‘Oh, stop that!’ Wooyoung’s frustrated voice came from somewhere beside you, your brain not registering that he was teasing, or that he was talking to you until he said: ‘One royal wedding will be shocking enough for your parents. I don’t think they will be able to handle two.’
Failing to disregard the sudden attention on you, your cheeks became warmer and more pink with each second; however, you refused to seek comfort in the crook of San’s neck because you just knew that would have made things worse. You concentrated on your tea instead, on the feel of the porcelain against your clammy palms, on the fluffy blanket on your thighs. On everything and anything that wasn’t your boyfriend or his friends.
‘You’re making her shy,’ one of the boys cooed and some other joined, pushing your heart to the verge of an explosion. You didn’t realise that your hands were trembling until San slid his fingers between yours around your mug and leaned close to your ear.
‘Let’s kick Wooyoung out of his bedroom. I know where the clean sheets are, and it can be locked from the inside,’ he whispered, his lips curling upwards, therefore grazing along your earlobe. You hesitated only for a split second before you nodded.
You got up from the couch and let your boyfriend lead you towards his friend’s bedroom. As the key turned in the lock the thought crossed your mind that you had never done anything so scandalising before, but somehow the immense amount of guilt never came. Instead, you felt excited.
Excited, hopeful and safe in San’s arms.
You were arranging a bouquet of light pink carnations and peach-coloured buttercups for an anniversary when San walked out of the storage room at your workplace with a new roll of lace wrapping and his phone in his hands. With the way he dragged his feet, walking impossibly slowly, you just knew that his eyes were glued to the small screen; you didn’t need to tear your gaze away from the flowers that had your attention to be a hundred percent sure.
‘Have they started it already?’ You inquired between two twists and turns, holding the whole bouquet together with practised ease even when you had to take the wrapping from San with one of your hands. You still remembered how many you had dropped on the floor during your first few months at the flower shop. The number of flowers that had gotten destroyed in your care haunted you up to this day.
‘No, they’ve been focusing on mother and father so far. Mostly on father, but that’s kind of understandable,’ he said, your lips twitching at the mention of the royal couple.
Prince Seonghwa and Princess Yuna’s wedding had been a week ago and while you hadn’t attended the event, nor had done San, your boyfriend’s parents had made it to their mission to put you through anxiety when they had demanded to talk to you as soon as San had picked up the phone for them the day his cousin had announced the big news. They hadn’t gone as far as to threaten you or bribe you with more money than your type could comprehend, but you were well aware they didn’t think you were worthy of their son. God, they had quite literally told you he could have done much better.
‘Last minutes being a king. I wonder how he feels about that,’ you commented, putting in a bit of extra effort to not sound rude. You didn’t want San to think you hated his father even if, rightfully so, he hadn’t been your favourite person in the world.
‘I don’t think he minds it that much. He was only twenty-two when he took the throne. Three decades is a long time,’ he explained while he leaned the phone against a vase on the counter and put a part of his weight on his palms that laid flat against the marble. ‘The only thing he might be upset about is Seonghwa taking my place.’
You regretted the snort the moment you did it. Your hands froze around the perfectly wrapped bouquet and so did the air, which made it hard to look your boyfriend in the eye.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful,’ you apologised, putting the flowers in water before you took San’s hand in yours. ‘They are your parents and I’ll be forever grateful to them for your existence. For sending you to this country out of all the countries they could choose from.’ You shot a small albeit genuine smile in his direction. It might have sounded a little cheesy, but you meant every word. Without them you would have never had him.
‘I’m not mad at you,’ he reassured you, squeezing your hand and pressing a soft kiss atop of your shoulder blade before he turned back to his phone and you reached for the next pieces of flowers. You had five more bouquets to finish before your lunch break.
Seonghwa’s coronation officially started when your bibimbap was still in need of some more mixing, but that didn’t keep you from leaning closer to San’s phone and watching the live stream with more excitement than you had had for his father. You might have never spoken to your boyfriend’s cousin before, but you had heard enough stories about him from the boys to know he would be an amazing king. Mostly, because he cared for his people and because he genuinely wanted the responsibility that came with the title.
‘He looks like a leader. So serious-looking,’ you commented, shoving a huge spoonful of food in your mouth and humming in appreciation because goodness, it tasted just like your mom’s homemade bibimbap.
You lifted a bite in front of San’s mouth, so he could try it, too.
You watched the ceremony in complete silence; sometimes you fed him, sometimes you put your head on his shoulder while munching. It was nice. You hadn’t been so content in weeks if not in months.
‘Aren’t you disappointed?’ San asked you after the crown was put on Seonghwa’s head and the sovereign’s sceptre and the sovereign’s orb were placed in his hands.
You furrowed your brows in confusion.
‘About what? The ceremony?’ You asked, completely oblivious of what was going on in his head. You jutted out your lower lip; you didn’t like feeling as though you were kept in the dark. It made you feel stupid.
San shook his head, failing to hide the fond smile that was in the corner of his mouth.
‘Yuna is officially a queen now,’ he mumbled and despite how embarrassing it was to admit, it took you a couple of seconds to decipher what he was hinting at: you could have become a queen, too, if only he had gone along with a different plan, with a different goal in mind. You were pretty sure, based on your impactful experience with his parents, that they would have let him keep you if the other option was their nephew on the throne.
‘And you’re officially free. I think it’s an amazing day for everyone,’ you teased, gifting your boyfriend one of your happiest smiles, so that he wouldn’t have doubted that you loved him for who he was instead of what he could have become. You didn’t care about the title or the fortune that golden crown came with. Honestly, all you focused on was how heavy it must have been to carry it, especially when one wasn’t keen on looking after an entire nation.
One careful glance at San was enough for you to know that a well-thought-out retort was already on the tip of his tongue - maybe something along the line that his salary was barely enough to save up a decent amount in each month -, but he never got the opportunity to actually put his concerns into words. The bells above the front door cut him off and naturally, your conversation came to a momentary end.
The new customer was a middle-aged man with a little girl on his right, her tiny hand getting lost in her father’s much bigger one before she pointed at one of the peonies and the man let her explore the flower shop on her own.
‘Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?’ You greeted the man with a smile as soon as his steps came to a halt in front of the counter.
Like most people who visited your workplace, the man had only vague ideas of what he was looking for, but you were fluent in the language of flowers, hence it caused you no headache to help him find the most suitable bouquet for his wife’s birthday. He wanted something that expressed his dedication to make the woman smile, therefore, you gave him options like pink tulips and yellow flowers in general.
Meanwhile, the little girl pulled on the hem of San’s tee and didn’t let go of the fabric until he stood up and followed her towards the customer area that you liked to refer to as the jungle. The corner with the spiller plants for example were like a sight from a botanical book or the children’s book with the gorillas and the little boy taken in and raised by said wild animals.
You bit back a giggle when you saw San lifting the little girl up, so that she could see the red roses from up close; however, your subtle smile froze on your face anyway when the little one asked San:
‘Are you a prince?’ In the most innocent voice you had ever heard in your life. She was so pure. She clearly had no idea what she was talking about and yet, both of you needed a few seconds to realise she wasn’t onto something bigger than her - something that could have put her in harm’s way. ‘Can I be your princess?’
The mortification on her father’s face almost cracked you up, and you did chuckle discretely when looking up, you took a better look at the girl. What looked like a summer dress at first glance turned out to be a princess costume. She even had a tiny, plastic tiara on her head.
San put her on the ground and crouched down to be at eye level with her.
‘I’m sorry, princess, I would be honoured to become your prince, but you see, I already have my own princess and I need to treat her right,’ he explained with utmost patience, then took the little girl’s hand in his (with her permission and her father’s approving nod, of course) and pressed a feather-like kiss on the back of it. ‘Will you forgive me and keep my secret?’
You couldn’t see the little girl’s face, but she was shifting her weight from one foot to the other, so your best guess would have been that she wasn’t entirely placated. Still, eventually she nodded and made grabby hands at your boyfriend, insisting that she wanted to see more of the flowers. That, you did not mind at all. In fact, you found it rather adorable.
(San with a tiny human being in his arms was adorable. They turned your legs jelly and your knees uncharacteristically weak.)
‘I’m sorry about Minah. They had Occupation day in school today and she insisted that being a princess is a full-time job, so her mother and I let her dress as one,’ the man explained and you shook your head with an endeared smile. You weren’t mad at his daughter nor were you jealous of the attention she got from your boyfriend. If anything, his willingness to humour her made you fall for San harder.
‘Minah is right. Being a princess is a full-time job,’ you said without contemplating whether your words sounded ridiculous, although before the whole royal guard incident, you would have thought she was childish, rightfully so. She couldn’t have been older than seven.
You didn’t talk much with the customer after that, but you didn’t mind the silence. It gave you the perfect opportunity to listen to San’s conversation with the little girl, which was just as hilarious as cheesy, especially when you caught him declaring his love for you with such vehemency as if real-life princes also needed to defeat magical creatures to protect their loved ones. Where was their debate about good dragons and bad dragons coming from?
A light shade of pink crept up your cheeks when the little girl asked San straightforwardly whether he was talking about you, but you tried to remain composed.
‘It’ll be 30,000₩, sir,’ you informed the customer with a customer-service smile and gave him the bouquet before you took his money; the exchange smooth and fast. The prices were written on the board above your head, right behind the counter; however, some people liked to criticise your craft in hope of a discount. Those customers never failed to make you feel anxious.
‘Thank you. It’s beautiful,’ the man complimented the arrangement before he bid his goodbye and turned towards his daughter. ‘Minah-yah! It’s time to go. Say goodbye.’
Albeit reluctantly, the little girl wrapped her arms around San’s right leg and hugged him. Then, like a real princess, she walked up to you and did a curtsy, which you returned with a few-second-long delay. You were too taken aback to react immediately.
You were still a little shocked when the door closed shut behind the two, but then San hugged you from behind and reality caught up with you. You melted against his broad chest.
‘She was cute,’ he commented, coaxing a hum out of you.
Closing your eyes and letting out a content sigh, in the back of your mind you knew that you still had a very serious conversation on hold. A conversation in which your boyfriend would tell you over and over again why he wasn’t enough: how he had barely enough savings, hence how you couldn’t possibly depend on him in financial emergencies. Like money was the most important thing in a relationship! Like you didn’t have your own savings.
Turning around in his arms, you linked your arms behind his neck and pressed your soft lips against his. You wished these gestures were proof that his heart of gold had won you over years ago; that you didn’t wish to become a queen and even if you did, you didn’t need the title because he already treated you like royalty. He was everything - kind-hearted, attentive, loyal and so much more - and you wouldn’t have changed a thing in your lives.
Crown Prince or not, San made you happy and excited about the future. About your future. Even if you had a long way to go and might have had numerous battles to march into to earn his parents’ approval.
the end.
#san x reader#san x you#choi san x reader#choi san x you#ateez scenarios#modern royalty au#ateez fluff#ssbyme
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The Fallen Star ✨ Wish Reimagined
Chapter 3 - The roses
Tw: nightmare, fire, small prick I guess? it's a thorn, swearing as always, it's Asha and by that I mean it's me
Chapter 2
Asha is burning.
She's screaming, she's being crushed. The crackling of fire echoes in her ears, drowning out her own cries.
Everything is bright, but there's a single pair of eyes staring at her from behind the flames.
(Imagine something like this shot from The Owl House)
The creature tilts its head, its expression unreadable. It emits a series of musical tones, like a melody woven from starlight and moonbeams. Asha feels a strange pull, as if the creature is trying to communicate with her through some arcane language she can't quite grasp.
The roof caves in and crashes down, obscuring Asha's view of the figure. The collapse pushes the rubble further into Asha, squeezing the air out of her lungs.
Someone pulls the rubble off her. She wants to yell. Watch out! You'll get crushed too!
They say something. Asha can't hear them. She wants to reach out. Stay with me. The words are on the tip of her tongue. Her throat is parched.
Don't go back in! she wants to cry. Someone's in there!
Why are you leaving me—
She wakes with a gasp, something flat and wet catching the inside of her mouth.
Asha hacks. Valentino had accidentally licked her tongue.
She wipes her tongue and takes a moment so her eyes adjust to the darkness. In the dim light filtering through the curtains, she can make out the familiar details of her bedroom. But with it, she can also see the memories of the dream, crisp and fresh in her mind.
The feeling of panic, of helplessness... she won't be able to fall back asleep, not with the echoes of their screams still haunting her.
This was bullshit. She shouldn't be affected this much by a stupid book. It was just a light.
Asha gets up. She does not tremble.
She unties her hair scarf. Valentino raises his head, his cheek fluff smushed flat from the blanket.
Asha smiles softly and pets his velvety ear. Val bleats quietly, and Asha kisses his forehead.
"Stay here, baby," she whispers, grabbing her cloak. “I’m going for a walk. I'll be back in a bit. Go back to bed, okay?”
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
The air is cold, but the crispness is a shock to her system that Asha desperately needs. She decides to head to the gardens.
She smiles softly as she remembers the gardens of her childhood. They had roses there, too. Asha used to paint the white ones red.
Red like fire.
Asha hurries on.
She tucks her hands inside her cloak pockets as she walks across the checkered-grass floor. Asha stops at a pocket of daffodils, walking between them and sitting down, careful not to disturb the petals.
Asha watches the flowers dance in the wind, effortless and elegant. She brushes her hand along a row of them.
Right before she reaches the end, she pricks her hand on a thorn. Asha swears under her breath, pushing back the flowers to see a single strewn white rose laying amongst the crowd.
Asha picks it up and stares at it in distain. At a glance one might gloss over it. Even now, a drop of crimson blood painting the petals, the rose blended in quite well with the daffodils.
But up close, it wasn't fooling anyone.
Asha plucks off the petals and tosses away the thorny stem, watching the wind carry the petals... and something else, too. A quiet conversation, approaching Asha's location.
“Baz, I told you, it’s fine, Dahlia just wanted us all there.”
“Argh, but what if we get caught?” came the responding whisper. “Safi, I– I–”
“Hey, breathe,” Safi whispered. “We’re al– a– ACHOO! Why are there so many flowers?”
“Hehe. We’re in a garden…”
“Heh. Made you laugh.”
Asha rolls her eyes and makes her way out of the flowers, making sure her footsteps are heavy enough to catch their attention.
“Eep! Your nose gives away your lies! Hide, Safi!”
“Oof!”
Asha rounds the corner, and Bazeema hides her face as the bush next to her sneezes.
"Ah. Bashful. What are you doing here?” Asha asks, entertaining the other girl’s silly fantasy.
Bazeema peeks open her eyes and lowers her hands. “H-hi, princess. I- I –”
“Speak properly.”
“I–” The girl swallows. “I like to come to the gardens to get inspiration for my designs,” Bazeema squeaks out. “I’m a weaver. My hijab this morning– I made it myself. I’m actually really proud of the design–”
“Yeah yeah yeah, I don’t care,” Asha says. “What are you doing out at this time?”
Bazeema blinks. “I, um… couldn’t sleep. I was worried about Hal.”
“Pfft. Worried?” Asha smirks.
Bazeema looks firmly at the princess. “Yes," she whispers.
Asha frowns. “Right. Uh. Sorry... that your friend is now depressed.”
“Hal has been through a lot, and yet she still smiles. It’s… a trait I admire about her.” Bazeema’s face takes on a wistful look.
Asha is about to respond, but then the bush sneezes again.
“Welp! Time to go, oh I am rather exhausted! Maybe I need that spindle idea of yours!” Bazeema peeps, ushering Asha out of the gardens. “Thank you for gracing me with your presence, princess! Sweet dreams!”
The gates slam in her face.
Asha blinks.
She entertains the idea of throwing Bazeema out the castle windows.
(Can't find the gif, but Bazeema is the old man that Emperor Asha would punish for throwing off her groove)
“So, you admire Hal, huh?”
“Oh, shush, Safi!”
The sound of footsteps retreat. Asha pushes open the gates.
“That was shady,” Asha says, pulling her cloak hood over her hair and shadowing the two teens.
She sneakily follows the two teens to the chicken coop. She peeks around the corner to see the seven teens holding candles and quietly catching Bazeema up to speed.
“I fell asleep in while cleaning my dad’s armour, and I heard something." Sleepy's voice.
“It nearly killed me!” Gabo huffs. “Abuela told me to go see what was causing a ruckus. That could've been the last she saw of me!”
“Baaaaa!”
Asha covers her mouth with her hand to silence her yelp as Valentino pops up beside her. “Jeez, baby! You scared me!” Asha whispers, pulling the goat close.
Dario signs something, not paying attention to the conversation.
“We trapped it inside the coop, but it’s scaring all the chickens,” Safi says worriedly.
I think they're performing an opera, Dario signs, grinning.
Gabo stares in disappointment at his friend, then moves on. “That’s why we sent you to get Bazeema. You’re worrying about the birds too much when you’re here,” he grumbles to Safi. “They’ll be fine.”
“The chickens probably think it’s a fun surprise,” Hal offers. “They sound like they’re having fun.”
“And why wake us all up for this?” Dahlia yawns. “Dario, put the soap down. Where did you even get that?”
It flew out of the coop! Dario grins. He signs with one hand, spelling out some words since the other hand is occupied with holding the bar of soap. I think the chickens laid it. It smells like apple. Hey, do you think this is related to the S-
"Dario, for the last time, spoons cannot be ingested," Dahlia says, massaging her temples while Safi takes the soap from a frowning Dario.
Simon looks nervous. “Well… my papa’s one of the bookkeepers for the castle. I think I know what’s in there—”
Suddenly, Valentino wriggles out of Asha's grasp.
"Valentino!" Asha whisper-shouts as the goat and runs towards the teens. Dario notices the blur of fluff heading towards him and stumbles back, dropping his candle and colliding with Simon, who's already snoring against the wall.
The impact shakes the wooden support beam, and a pile of baskets falls down on Dario’s head. Bazeema yelps and swats at the baskets, crashing into Safi behind her.
The two fall down, almost knocking over Dahlia, but Gabo pulls her out of the way and stomps out the fire Dario's candle lit.
"Okay, spy! Reveal yourself before I do something I won't regret!" Gabo snaps. Dahlia shushes him.
Asha rolls her eyes and pulls down her hood, stepping into the light. The teens' eyes widen, and they scramble up, quickly dropping into a bow.
All except Dario, that is. He was still peering into the chicken coop.
Hal pulls her friend into a bow.
(I can't find a picture but it's like that part in the movie where the seven teens bowed down to Queen Amaya)
"Threatening a royal, Grumpy?" Asha tuts. "Keep it up and I'll have your friend's precious chickens filleted."
Gabo snarls, but stays quiet.
"Now, care to tell me why you stole my goat?" Asha asks. "And what are you doing by the chicken coops when you should be sleeping?"
"None of your royal business," Gabo mutters.
Suddenly, a burst of sparkles poofs out from the crack under the coop's door.
Safi kicks over a pile of baskets. "Whoops! I am so- so-- ACHOO!" The baskets kicked up some hay in the air. "I am so clumsy!" he laughs awkwardly, sniffling.
"What are you hiding?" Asha demands.
"Nothing! And no one!" Safi says quickly.
"Well, we should all head to bed! You too, princess, your otousan would be very cross if he saw you out this late!" Dahlia smiles, moving to direct Asha away.
There's another poof, and a discord of musical instruments.
"Magnus?" Asha scoffs. "I can deal with my adopted father. Now out of the way."
Dahlia looks desperately at her friends. Asha storms past her, shoving away Hal when she tries to stop her.
The princess yanks open the wooden door. Inside the coop is a crazy sight.
Dario smirks, self-satisfied.
Chickens, dancing, doing ballet
Angry chickens in bisexual lighting
Chickens, shooting out eggs out of PG-hidden cloacas
Chickens, juggling their eggs
And in the center, conducting them all...
The thing was round, with eyes shaped like a sparkle and an oval respectively, five points sticking out of it like little limbs.
Exactly like the symbol on the spellbook in Magnifico’s study.
“Oh, fucking hell," Asha swears.
Author's Notes
UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I hated writing this. I was just stuck, and then I was like, fuck it, I'm posting it because the next chapter I'm really excited to write. Because if I add more, then the cut-off would be... too harsh? I don't know. My phone is broken so I can't create gifs right now akjdkjajksjskjksaj fuck it. Post.
Btw, Star in The Fallen Star looks like this:
With a sparkle on the (our) left and a "regular" oval for the other eye on out right.
GET READY! THIS CHAPTER SUCKED BUT THE NEXT ONE SOMETHING BIG HAPPENS AND IT IS A LONG ONE!
Me to my own writing
#the fallen star au#asha x star#asha#star x asha#disney wish#wish 2023#human star#princess asha#starsha#the fallen star fic
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discovered a new site that is just wall to wall food crimes
the top recipe right now is a festive christmas pretzel salad, and truly if someone served this to me and I didn't know what it was I would run away
the copy says it's effortless elegance but uh this does not exactly scream elegance to me
warning: picture under the cut
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There's something so grotesquely thrilling about the unknowing being a dance. As an art form dance is uncomfortable, painful, and even causes lasting damage to the dancer; but above all it is something that MUST be beautiful.
"I just want you to join me for a dance!"
Such an innocent statement, even if you know that it isn't.
To think of a partner dance: Perhaps a waltz where your partner is much taller than you, their position forcing your arms out of their sockets as you struggle to keep your form.
A solo dance? Ballet without training, elegant poses that stretch your tendons til they snap; pointe work without shoes, the weight of your body crushing the bones in your feet.
Or musical theatre! Your body moves at a pace you can't control as your throat grows hoarse from singing louder than you ever should. A smile (or perhaps a grimace) plastered painfully on your face.
What about contemporary? Your soft unprepared body meeting the harsh ground from a leap that ended too soon; something tears inside you as you draw yourself up gracefully in a way you wouldn't think possible.
The pure raw confusion of your body doing something you never allowed it to know how to do. What is this body? What is this movement? What shape am I being twisted into?
"so effortless!" an onlooker exclaims, as another bone snaps.
You'd scream, but the punishment for not smiling is worse than this pain.
The harsh gaze of dead, automaton eyes watches you from the wings, judging and critiquing. It's not good enough, your performance wasn't perfect; but if you're lucky you won't live long enough to hear the feedback. You wouldn't understand it anyways.
#The body horror potential of dance is honestly great#I've been a dancer my whole life (never a good one tho) and the stuff that so many dancers go through is 😳#Like that shit is freaky#But yeah Jon says after he wakes up from his coma that he remembers dancing and i like to think that this is the kind he remembers.#the magnus archives#tma#the magnus institute#Jonathan sims#Nikola Orsinov#The unknowing#tma the stranger#mag 119#tw body horror#tw graphic description#tw unreality#tma spoilers#tma season 3
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siren
genre for entire series; dating show au, angst, smut, fluff, a touch of humor
genre; a touch of humor
warnings; mc will mention having had plastic surgery, future smut, insecurity, may be triggering for anyone who was ugly in high school or experienced being the "ugly one" in their friend group (I'm writing this to heal my own trauma, and bc I love single's inferno)
preface; this is going to be a very relaxed series with short parts and minimal to no editing. please don't pressure me about new parts for older fics (especially ones I didn't really intend to have a part two anyway) i've just decided that I'll get to them when I do.
siren masterlist
Going last is the best case scenario here. It gives you more time to think.
“Hiii! My name is Ning Yizhuo!” The woman with large round eyes waves both hands excitedly at the camera. You can’t tell if it’s the bright, large screen singing your eyes or her bright aura. She’s a cute type, and you’re pretty sure you’re already fucked.
“I’m twenty-one years old and I’m a college student! I’m in college, hoping to get my BArch degree soon!” She laughs in an attempt to undercut the genuine fatigue that slipped through. Cute and smart? Shit.
The woman who walks in front of the camera next is the utter opposite of Yizhuo in every way possible. From her blonde hair, her tan skin, to her sultry gaze.
“I’m Jeon Somi. I uh… I’m twenty-two. And um! I’m a model. I mostly shoot music videos, hip hop is my main genre so some people call me a video vixen.” This time the laugh isn’t to undercut anything, it’s to drive home her tone insinuating how silly that label is.
“But I do photoshoots sometimes. Mostly editorial and experimental shit. Not your average insta model.” She smirks, cementing her confidence. Confident and Sexy. Not for everyone, it’ll be fine.
“Hi, I’m Roseanne Park.” The Australian accent makes your ear perk up. “I graduated from a performing arts college with a bachelors in music. So now I mainly write and produce for other artists but hopefully I’ll release my own music some day.” She smiles slightly, pursing her lips. “Oh! And I’m twenty-six.”
She’s eloquent but not too flashy with how she speaks. She screams normal but not in a bad way. In a “girl next door” type of way. Fuck.
What did you expect? That they’d cast mediocre women? In a reality show meant for dating? When has that ever happened?
You exhale sharply, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants. Just get through one more and then do your own. Don’t overthink it. You hear the sound of heels clacking but give yourself another moment to collect yourself as you close your eyes.
Once you open them, you’re faced with that of an angel. Except not an angel, not a doll either because she’s natural. She’s believable. And dammit she’s effortless. Her features fit together perfectly, nothing hogging the spotlight. She turns to the side briefly and you catch a glimpse of her nose. As if she needed anything else, she has a perfect nose too. She’s elegant with a hint of innocence. She’s cute but with a tempting edge. There’s something about her eyes that tell a deeper story that any man lost in them can craft to their liking, pull them in deeper.
“Hi. I’m Jung Chaeyeon. I’m twenty-six and I’m a freelance model and actress.” She gives a captivating smile and walks off camera. Fuck.
Shit.
siren masterlist
#ningning#somi#rosé#jung chaeyeon#chaeyeon#ning yizhuo#jeon somi#roseanne park#park chaeyoung#txt#nct#seventeen#svt#tomorrow x together#ateez#atz#enhypen#kpop#kpop smut#au#angst#smut#fluff
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Rating Talia al Ghul’s Outfits:
*disclaimer this is just my personal opinion based on my style/taste and everyone style’s different so take this with a grain a salt*
1. Starting out LOVE the Matcha green color on her and we already know this girly can rock a skin tight leather anything at this point. Personally, wouldn’t have added a belt but we know if miss girl can incorporate an accessory to her look she will take the opportunity. It does bring more attention to her shape because it hits right under her natural waistline that, mixed with how the neckline hits, creates a nice harmony that compliments her figure well. I’ll give the nails a bonus point as well. My only downside is that while cute it would be a headache to wear with that fabric all day. I know queen is picking the wedgies out left and right when she wears this. Also she only has a front zipper which means she has to peel off that entire suit just to use the bathroom especially when it’s hot outside. With all that being said I’ll give it 6/10. The color of the suit with the nails is to die for but while it’s aesthetically is cute it’s a little underwhelming. Also the idea of trying to peel that off at the end of a long day is a no for me.
2. Love Love Lovveeee this one!! Her in vibrant pinks slay every time it’s always a vibe like you go you dramatic lil groovy barbiecore gal 💞 Anyways getting onto the look the waistline is gorgeous it looks like either gold boning or fabric draped down along the body whatever it is it’s stunning and adds a dramatic yet dainty detail. I’m also loving the pleats on the skirt and the sleek sophisticated yet playful feel the fabric and sleeves gives her. I know this one is a specific type of taste but personally it’s a yes for me I’d give this one an 10/10 Ik Ik it’s only the 2nd one I’ve rated but I’m a big fan of this look and am always here for a good high neck moment also feeling the slit yes queen get the airflow. That is one downside of the dress is the slit fairly high so prone it accidentally flashing and some people could find the high neck stiff and restricting but overall with the shape, color, fabric, the gold on the dress paired with matching gold bracelets the look gives a very feminine elegance that while soft makes a powerful statement.
3. …..total early 2010s vibes with the chunky bracelet paired with the even chunkier necklace. It’s perfect for the era of when this comic came out but I’m sorry it’s not the vibe personally. Love the shoes and the blouse but just maybe not with that skirt paired together. Or you know what the outfit is do able I take that back the combo isn’t too bad. It’s just not the best for what she’s trying to do like I’m sorry this doesn’t scream “I’m the woman who’s going to world dominate and take your business” she’s still girl bossing and dominating yes, but in a Vegas Nightclub Receptionist way. Which isn’t a bad thing I say that as someone from there. It’s just idk something about it ain’t hitting. My baby is always pretty and her hair flows gorgeously in harmony with her blouse maybe it’s her stance the photo but idk I’d give it a 3.5/10. 🤷♀️
4. A simple look but she does her job bringing back the hot pink in the form of cargo pants. It’s Talia’s world and everyone else just lives in to when she walks around in pink. Her blouse is super cute and length of her sleeves give her a “let’s get down to business” energy. It’s not her most over the top and flashier moments but it’s giving effortless intelligent beauty who might or might not be some sort of doctor/professor. I’d give it a 7/10 nothing bad aesthetic wise and comfort wise you’re pretty set. A little bit on the basic side for someone like Talia but for someone who constantly wears statement pieces. A casual civilian moment is refreshing to see on someone like her. Definitely a perfect outfit to for a cute hiking date or mission with Bruce. Not high enough to be a 10 but too cute of an outfit to be a 5.
5. Yeah you know not really feeling this one either. I know different artist have done variants of this suit but no matter the art style it just doesn’t do any thing for me aesthetic wise. Like idk what it is about it because I ofc love white on her and I can appreciate the symbolism behind the suit but idk i feel like they could of gone different directions. The suit just is a little stiff looking. Which I know that is the point of the look but I’m sure she definitely not comfortable imagine getting a back itch in this outfit not the vibe. The gloves are little too medical feeling especially with the straight jacket looking bands. I know I’m tearing into this one but a positive of the look is the texture of the suit I do like that added detailing gives her a bite of a regal white knight in shining armor feel. Overall would give it only a 3/10.
6. Idk about y’all but I’m feeling the long slit midi skirt with the black garter or weapon giving a free little show. The whole ensemble all together gave camp steampunk pirate feel in the best way. What I’ve learned making this post is that our girl loves a good blouse and any outfit she pair with it. The sleeves on this one is a lot more of a puffier bishop than the ones she’d d normally wear. I also really like the little belt she has sitting at her natural waist with the gold in the center. It’s a tiny detail but the gold on the belt pick up on the gold rose on her skirt. I’d rate this one a solid 8/10 maybe that’s too high of a rating but it’s different it’s dramatic without it being too over the top. Very Talia as well. 🏴☠️
7. It’s iconic, it’s an OG style on the queen we all know and love just with added accessories. Always the moment whenever she wears this type of style dress and she knows it. It’s a 9.5/10 ofccc! Love the plunging neckline again personally wouldn’t of done a belt if so maybe a gold one to pair with the gold jewelry but maybe that would of been too much gold and draw too much attention. Her shoes are so cute and look comfy which is a plus. Her cape piece and how the fabric falls gives her such an ethereal but modern essence when she walks through the door.
8. -10000/10 Love an orange moment on her just not when it’s a prison uniform…. #freemygirl
9. Another iconic look from an iconic moment. She reminds me of the blue fairy from Pinocchio. The twinkle in the night serving femme fatale but also girl next door at the same time with the pink dainty shoes. A simple but timeless dress comfortable enough to tend to Bruce’s wounds while also looking good. Some people might say it give night gown vibes but in a 13 going on 30 way. I’d give it a 7/10
10. Basically her high neck pink dress but in a sun-kissed orange and more gold accents with a ruby gem draped over her waistline with a slit. My god and though SLEEVES giving Shakespearean vibes ! 😍 Since it’s a version of the other one ofc I’m going to give it a 10/10 🧡
But yeah that’s it maybe I’ll make a part 2
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Here is a small contribution to prongsfoot microfics. Let's pretend it is still April 4th. 🙈
@prongsfoot-microfic
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This happens in an AU in which Voldemort has won and Sirius who had been the secret keeper is dead and James is captured.
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April 4 , Loss
( + March 22 , Lineage )
****
Canis major was bright tonight.
No, it was not just bright, it was ablaze with radiance, stars shining too close, too blinding. They were beautiful and James shakily reached out to grab Sirius, his favourite one, the brightest.
But the sky was frigid through his fingers, solid yet empty to touch, and James whimpered pitifully to an obscure entity, his fragile hold seeking Sirius in Canis major desperately, seeking but not finding.
"Let go, filthy blood traitor. You're ruining my robes," an eerie voice snapped. It was overdosed with saccharine which masked tons of hatred.
James relented, disoriented and dizzy. He blinked rapidly, his bloodshot eyes nearly blind at this point. Glasses did him no good, not with his damaged eye nerves and overwhelming shock. He made his mind to focus, chasing dizziness away. It was hard, but he did it.
Oh, there was Sirius!
He was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at his weak body with cold amusement. His hair was longer than James remembered, wild yet still blessed with the Black effortless elegance. His lips were full and red, a shameless lure of a poisoned apple and his lashes were lush and long, framing his beguiling grey eyes.
"I said let go. Are you dim?"
"Si…Sirius…" James slurred feverishly, mind hectic with delusions. The surreal sky seemed distant now, a vivid sequin dress in it's place. He heaved, or maybe it was a sob. All this time, he was reaching out hopelessly for something that was not there.
How stupid of him.
Blood gurgled through his windpipe like sand through a broken hourglass and it bled on his lips along with Sirius' name once again, a prayer begging to be heard.
"Poor little Potter, Murderer little Potter..." The voice was giggling and singing now and James' blood turned into ice. This was not Sirius' pleasant baritone, it was softer and mockingly shrill.
Bellatrix.
"Regained some consciousness, huh?" She smirked at him before tilting her head. "What do you think of this dress? It's for the Dark Lord's victory party." She twirled around with careful steps. "It's magnificent."
"May you…and your dress..burn in hell," talking was hard and James was adrift.
"After you," Bellatrix sneered at him, her voice no longer scratching through the air like an angry cat's scream. It was deep, calm and cold , the Black voice.
"You killed my darling cousin," she said, voice clipped and raw. "You took him away from his family, poisoned his mind, made him betray his kin and then killed him."
Her words were daggers into James' heart and he could do nothing but to feel the sting of salt in his wounded eyes as tears fell.
"A secret keeper. A secret to be taken to his grave. You are a coward, Potter. You knew he would die for you," she spat bitterly.
Sirius and Bellatrix's bond was not of hate, James always knew. It ran deeper, way deeper. Bellatrix didn't hate Sirius, she hated James for shattering their crystal dollhouse, a dollhouse which was the House of Black.
"A pregnant wife, of course she was your top priority, not the stray you had taken in from the Black family," she giggled, playing with her wand nonchalantly.
"N…no…" James shuddered. Bellatrix's words were toxic and they burned throughout his body, making him numb, branding him with shame.
"You have his blood on your hands. It was your fault he died. Let me tell you something…Do you know who betrayed him the most? It was not me. It was not aunt Walburga or uncle Orion. It was not even Regulus."
James' lips were wobbling. He was disgusted with the world, with destiny and above all with himself, because in a way Bellatrix was right. Sirius would have been alive if he wasn't the secret keeper.
"The one who betrayed him the most was you, Potter. You failed him," she purred, enjoying the way James was drowning in a cesspool of guilt. She basked in James' brokenness and mourning, watching him falling apart gleefully.
"I…I didn't…" James moaned feverishly through vivid hallucinations, once again reaching out to Canis major, seeking Sirius helplessly.
"I may have killed my dear cousin with my own wand but it was you who drove him into this stupidity," Bellatrix's eyes had a strange hue in them, different and mad.
"When it comes to revenge, there is no inner hate in the House of Black. We are one. That's the rule."
James gritted his teeth and Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "I'm going to keep you alive in this fancy cage and will make sure you will remain alive. Every day you will grovel in your guilt and despair, you will beg me to kill you and I will spit on your rotten body because you deserve no more."
She looked like Sirius now, more than ever. The same beauty, same insanity, same cruelty.
James wanted to curse her but somewhere dark in his sick mind, he knew she was right in a twisted way. His choice had been wrong. He was given the chance and he made the wrong choice and now he was nothing but a decaying corpse in search of sweet release, in search of death and Sirius.
Bellatrix was right.
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Dance of the Empire
Chapter 3 Everything
Sometimes, love can be just as destructive as hate.
Especially the politics of the realm rip away an all-consuming love: especially when demons of the second-son are unleashed by thirst of vengeance.
Our choices have consequences.
“Got this feeling in our souls we carry, it’s about to be legendary.” - Legendary by Welshly Arms
« Je veux la gloire à mes genoux, je veux le monde ou rien du tout. » - Le Rouge et le Noir (La gloire à mes genoux)
(I want glory under my knees, I desire the world or nothing at all.)
It had been six years since Aemond had claimed Vhagar, but the thrill and power he felt when riding her still resonated within him. From high above, he overlooked the majestic castles of the Red Keep, feeling as though he could conquer the world. Riding Vhagar was a raw power that commanded fear and respect. There were no rules, no games of thrones, no order of things in the presence of Vhagar. It was just him and his dragon above the sky, above and superior to the rigid and unbending order of King's Landing. Usually, it was a moment of pure bliss and satisfaction, but today, trouble followed.
"Oh brother, I can't believe you need Mother to find you a girl! A Lady Companion, isn't it?" Aegon taunted from afar.
Aemond ignored him and commanded Vhagar to soar higher into the clouds. The strong wind and freezing cold seemed to calm his buried frustration for his own life, but as always, trouble followed.
"Oh Aemond, you know, I heard from some servant that your lady is a Lannister, what is it they called her? The 'Exquisitely Odd Lannister.' A brown-haired and dark-eyed Lannister, I never understood how a woman with such earthly features could be praised so much for her beauty," Aegon continued to taunt him, as he swiftly rode Sunfyre above Aemond.
"Mother's decision was wise," Aemond replied calmly with calculation. "Marrying an elder Lannister daughter will be an important political asset for us."
"Aemond, who said anything about marrying?" Aegon smirked. "Mother invited her to be your Lady Companion. But who can know, maybe she will somehow prefer your brooding nature over-" Aegon pointed at his body insolently, "this."
The younger prince had had enough of Aegon's relentless teasing. He redirected Vhagar down to the Dragonpit with a fierce intensity.
As Vhagar approached the Dragonpit, Aemond laid his sight on a figure dressed in a fine yellow dress, watching in awe as the beast landed before her. It must have been the Lannister girl, he thought. Even from afar, the girl in the golden dress was a sight to behold.
He descended from the dragon and approached her with composure.
“Lady Katherine Lannister, welcome to King’s Landing,” he greeted her calmly with a polite composure as he observed her. Katherine Lannister, almond-shaped doe-eyes, delicately round pink lips, with entire demeanor exuded a confident curiosity that was underscored by an effortless elegance. As Aemond looked upon her, he found himself momentarily stunned by her beauty, realizing that her reputation as the "Exquisitely Odd Lannister" was well-deserved. But it was her unconcealed awe, curiosity and easiness at the sight of Vhagar that startled him; her dark eyes glimmered at the majestic beast.
“My Prince, it is my pleasure and House Lannister’s to be of your company” Katherine slightly bowed at Aemond, her eyes never leaving his.
As Aemond’s remaining eye met the young Lannister’s, both of their hearts stunned momentarily. As much as her doe-eyes and doll-like features screamed innocence and delicacy, he caught a glimpse of something underneath them untamed, greedy, and even violent, something he recognized all too well, his own.
“Lady Lannister! The dark-haired Lannister in a golden dress, what a sight,” Aegon’s voice echoed as he dismounted from Sunfyre, “Prince Aegon Targaryen, at your service,” smirking, he leaned in and landed a kiss on Katherine’s hand.
“The pleasure is mine, my prince,” Katherine responded with a hidden giggle, memories of their distant youth slipped into her mind.
Aemond turned his head in annoyance at his brother’s pleasantries. He felt a slight sentiment of bitterness and resentment towards the Lannister girl, who appears to be another one falling for his wastrel brother’s charms
“You have grown up quite a bit, little warrior,” Aegon grinned while scanning her not very subtly.
Aemond raised his brow, “You two know each other?”
“It’s a long time ago, Prince Aemond, I once,” Katherine chuckled, “saved Prince Aegon from being kicked by a horse on his tenth nameday.”
Aemond couldn’t help but to burst into an unintended chuckle, “Aegon, is this true? My lady, if I am not mistaken, you are two years younger than me? Five years younger than Aegon?”
Before Katherine could respond, Aegon rolled his eyes, “Yes, Katherine was only five, and even then,” he winked at her, “you were angelic.”
“I don’t remember you being such a flatterer, Prince Aegon, though I do wish for someone who could see right through me,” Katherine replied with a hint of mischief, her eyes casually tracing back to Aemond, who watched with a buried irritation as his elder brother continued his flirtatious remarks.
Enough, Aemond declared to himself. The eldest daughter of the Lannisters, the beauty of Casterly Rock, was to be his. She was a key to a glorious future, with the potential of a powerful alliance and the prospect of a rare beauty by his side. He will not let his brother take what was rightfully his, not this time.
Without missing a beat, Aemond stepped forward with a composed smile and placed a hand on Katherine's arm. "My lady, if you would permit me, let me introduce you to the gardens of the Red Keep.”
“I’d be delighted, My Prince,” she clung onto his arm with a smile.
“Oh well, I’ll leave you to it,” Aegon shrugged and whispered in Aemond’s ears, “Good luck, little brother. Don’t forget your lesson from three years ago, you’re going to need it.”
Aemond glared at him ferociously as he walked away. As Katherine tightened her grip on his arm suddenly brought him back to reality, Aemond subconsciously gripped onto her hands.
For a moment, they gazed at each other silently, as if the rest of the world did not exist. [It was like their touch transmitted some sort of message beyond the world’s comprehension. Aemond knew the young lady felt and understood his rage. She didn’t have to say it. It was like she had been in his place, lived through and buried an anger like his.
With a tacit understanding, they walked towards the garden silently. Katherine’s grip on his arm did not loosen, and Aemond did not want it to. The warmth of her skin seemed to calm his racing heartbeat caused by both fury and fluster.
However, Aegon’s words still clung to him like a dagger. Remember your lesson. His older brother had dragged him to a brothel three years ago, when he was merely a thirteen-year-old. The disgust and shame of that night still taunted him. The implication of his words was clear. How could Aegon dare pronounce it in front of the young Lannister, Aemond’s potential betrothed, as if she was one of harlots on the Silk Street?
With that, Aemond broke the silence, gazing into Katherine’s eyes with a fierce intensity, “My lady, I apologize for my brother’s behaviour. It was inexcusable and I promise you that such a thing will never happen again in my presence.”
“No need to apologize, Prince Aemond, after all, you are not your brother’s keeper,” she tilted her head with a courtese smile.
“I see what they say in court is true, Lady Katherine,” said Aemond, “You are a true beauty with a wit.”
“You have heard about me?” Katherine raised her brows in mock surpris. In truth, she enjoyed feigning having no sense of the world, luring those around her to let down their guard without realizing that she was the master of the game.
Aemond’s lips twisted into a calculating smile, “Of course, the dark-haired ‘Exquisitely Odd Lannister’ who enchanted both my mother,” he paused and drew out each of the words, “and Princess Rhaenyra.”
Katherine’s breaths subtly quickened as she heard Rhaenyra’s name. He was testing her allegiance, as well as House Lannister’s, but she had her own trick. How to respond to a contentious remark? Throw it back.
“And what have you heard about yourself, My Prince?”
Aemond’s courteous facade startled for momentarily, sensing the faint change of power-dynamics between them. He had been the one testing the waters of her allegiance, and now she was making him prove his worth. It was no doubt that the young woman had heard, if not already had her judgement about him, but she wanted him to say the words. Katherine Lannister, you are truly something, he thought, gazing at her innocent expression.
“I've heard many things, Lady Katherine. Some true, some false. But you seem like someone who can handle the truth."
Katherine met his eye with an assertively charming expression, contrasting her earlier pretense of reserved innocence, "Try me, Prince Aemond.”
Aemond's lips twisted in a wry smile. "They call me the dangerous one-eyed prince, the reckless one who rides the largest dragon in the world. They say I'm brooding and obsessive, that I've isolated myself from everyone since losing my eye."
Katherine felt a thrill at Aemond's words. Anyone who can handle worldly judgement without embarrassment and fear must possess immense inner strength. "And do you think that's true?"
Aemond's gaze was intense, and Katherine felt her heart quicken in response. "Some of it, perhaps. But I'm also someone who knows what he wants, and won't let anything stand in his way."
A surge of admiration for the prince's spirit rose in Katherine’s chest. "And what is it that you want, Prince Aemond?"
Aemond's answer was simple, yet sending a shiver down her spine. "Everything."
#aemond stannies#aemond targaryen#dark aemond targaryen#aegon targaryen#aegon x oc#aemond fanfiction#aemond the kinslayer#aemond x fem!reader#house of the dragon aemond#house of the dragon#hotd aegon#hotd x reader#hotd imagine#hotd fanfic#hotd aemond#romance#fluff#eventual smut#aegon targaryen x reader#aemond x reader#dark aemond x reader#dark aemond x oc#morally grey characters#hotd fandom#daemon targaryen#rhaenyra targaryen#jace velaryon#lucerys velaryon#alicent hightower#queen alicent
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for the wip game: tell us about Sad Hug!
I’m so glad you asked about this one! This is inspired by some incredible art by @mandhos.
From this wip ask game!
~
Anakin was beautiful. There was grace and power in the broad set of his shoulders; there was effortless elegance in the ripple of his muscles as he stretched, and Obi-Wan’s eyes followed the line of his spine down to his waist, lingering on the two dimples just visible above the hem of his trousers.
For a moment, he was tempted to step forward and rest his hands on Anakin’s hips, if only to touch the golden expanse of his skin. He satisfied himself with staring instead, the sight of the man before him almost enough to make him forget why he’d sought Anakin out in the first place.
Finally, Anakin looked back over his shoulder. A soft, wry grin tugged at one corner of his mouth, and he turned slowly, a few strands of hair falling into his face. “You know you can always touch if you want to,” he said, the smallest hint of a tease in his voice.
Obi-Wan felt his cheeks reddening. He hadn’t meant to intrude, or to ogle Anakin while he was only trying to change his clothes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were—”
“Master, you don’t need to apologize.” Anakin’s smile became maddeningly affectionate. “You’ve seen a lot more of me than this.”
Obi-Wan huffed a laugh, but didn’t say anything more.
Anakin’s brows drew together, concern passing through the bond and across his face. “Is everything alright?”
“Of course.” The lie tasted bitter in Obi-Wan’s mouth, and he grimaced, dragging a hand over his beard. He looked down, training his gaze on the scuffed toes of his boots. “No,” he corrected softly.
“What’s wrong?”
The answer was too ugly to say out loud. He felt hollow. Broken. Afraid that the scars he’d earned in the war might never fade. They would be raw and red and angry forever, marring his body, staining his mind.
Force, he was so tired. Tired of putting on a brave face. Tired of pretending he was fine no matter what he felt. Tired of swallowing down the impulse to cry or scream.
“I… I can’t sleep,” he whispered hoarsely.
Anakin crossed the small space between them, resting gentle hands on Obi-Wan’s waist. “Obi-Wan. Come here.”
Something in the Force urged Obi-Wan forward, and he found himself unable to resist its pull.
There was nothing like the safety of Anakin’s embrace. Obi-Wan felt as though he could weather any storm as long as he stayed here, wrapped up in the strong circle of Anakin’s arms. He let out a trembling breath as he buried his face in Anakin’s chest, drinking in the heat of Anakin’s bare skin, hiding himself in the comforting scent of the man whose body he knew by heart.
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LOVE IN THE AIR SKY jason todd x peter parker
or, the big bad red hood being whipped for snarky and obvious spider-man in the future, this is just them meeting and jason is whipped, peter is obvious and cursing his parker luck
notes // i wrote this while screaming about this fic, sobbing over pandaman x spiderman and trying to finish a request. not edited since it's past midnight and i just want to have this out of my drafts, before it starts collecting dust in my drafts
tagged // @jasontoddskris , @rarepears
Jason meeting Peter
Jason saw him the first time outside of his mask. It was another gray day in Gotham, the city recovering from a recent Rogue attack and already preparing for another.
He visited a few street kids, looking after them and helping them where he could. Not everyone took his help, but most didn't turn it down, fully knowing he was a Crime Alley kid too.
And then he saw him. Walking towards him with his head down, sluggish and yawning every other second. Split lip, eye bags and hair tousled, he looked roughened up, tired and just dead at his feet. But then he lifted his eyes from the floor, brown eyes looking at him and Jason simply... stopped breathing.
How could this twig of a man look so goddamn beautiful?
Peter meeting Jason
Peter doesn't remember the first time he saw Jason. Well, that's not entirely true.
He doesn't remember what he thought when he saw Jason for the first time.
Big, tall, muscled? Good looking, hardened, suspicious? Angry, violent, hugable? He doesn't remember at all.
But then his spider senses tingled, blaring in his head and he winced. The man setting his senses off was... odd. He was pretty sure his eyes glowed green. This ugly, acid green. Skin marred with scars, dark hair disrupted by a white streak-
But Peter couldn't think about him any longer, he walked straight into someone and spilled their coffee all over them.
Just his Parker luck.
Red Hood meeting Spider-Man
It was afternoon when he saw Spider-Man. Well, more like he saw a red blur swinging through the Gotham skyline, doing more daring flips and stunts than Nightwing. But that's not the point.
The smooth movements, switching between the arms that supported his whole body, the twisting of his hips- everything Spider-Man did while swinging through the air was simply elegant, filled with confidence and grace. He made it look so easy, effortless and if Jason wouldn't be so busy trying to not smack himself against buildings while watching Spider-Man, he would be actually jealous.
Spider-Man meeting Red Hood
Peter's senses had been tingling the past few minutes. It made him nervous, subtly trying to find out who exactly was watching him while swinging through Gotham, searching for crimes he could stop.
He didn't come that far, not after he finally saw the man following him. A Gotham resident- a bat. The freaking Red Hood. Peter started panicking, almost flailing mid air only to barely catch himself, stumbling and almost faceplanting into a GCPD car.
Parker luck strikes again.
He hasn't only had to flee from the Red Hood, but from the Gotham police too.
ASTRANNE 2022
#jason todd x peter parker#jason x peter#marvel x dc#marvel#mcu#spiderman#peter parker#red hood#jason todd#dc#dont mind my vague writing it was the only way to keep this short#if yall interested send your thoughts about this madness lmao#now that ive finally brought this down on digital paper i can continue working on my requests#hhhh-#oh- it only has 16 fanfics on ao3 so it does count as rare pair right??#rare pair#crossover
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@conjurerandking || Continued from here
Watching James get ripped away, Loki felt the reality of all of this set in. And just how attached he had become to the people he had met along this journey. If he could even call it that. It was a selfish attempt to stay alive and stay hidden from the TVA, but not a single one showed up, no one plucked him out of this timeline. What kind of sick game was this, really?
He couldn’t think about it for too long, another tentacle barreled between himself and Elizabeth momentarily before ripping yet another random crew member overboard.
“We have to try!” He joined her side once again, his blade slicing through a smaller appendage that the Kraken was feeling around with that got dangerously close to grabbing her. He quickly pulled her close to him, “Don’t leave my side, you’ll make it out alive.” He told her before urging her to the starboard side, a rough ocean and monster awaited. But hopefully they could blend in with the rest of the debris crashing into the endless sea below. For a moment, he tensed when he saw a distant life boat bobbing up and down in the surf, already a considerable distance out. His blood boiled, and he held onto Elizabeth a bit tighter.
“Jump!” He shouted just as heavier cargo fell past them and into the water below. Holding her hand, he followed, falling into the dark blue sea beneath them.
It was hard to comprehend that even in this life threatening situation, Loki's movements were still so effortless and elegant. Then it dawned on her, she was staring at him, glad that he had been too occupied to even notice the way her eyes had studied his every move. "I wont" Elizabeth whispered as they stood on the edge of the ship, watching the horizon apprehensively. The waves broke around the ship and debris, their foam crests becoming chaotic lace over the grayish blue. And then, they jumped.
The waves had pulled her under several times, her legs tired and struggling to bring her back toward the surface. Desperately, she was trying to hold on to Loki's hand, but eventually they got separated. Under water there were no more screams and sounds of destruction anymore. With effort she broke the surface again, gulping at the humid air and then with barely a splash she was under again. This time she sank faster,the current to strong, and the panic had her heart hammering against her ribs. When she could no longer hold her breath the cold water rushed in, all illusions of surviving were gone. Soon the oxygen deprivation took away her thoughts.
The touch of sand underneath her fingers, made her gain consciousness again. A breathtaking sunset greeted her. Was she dead? No black ship decorated the blue sea. The agonizing screams replaced by the rhythmic sounds of waves. The view was breathtaking and for a moment she thought she was dreaming.
"Loki?" She spoke quietly. Horror crossed her features when she though about the most horrible outcome. When she managed to draw her attention away from the pink blossomed clouds, his face aglow in the gentle orange rays of the setting sun, relief brought a smile to her lips. Immediately she got on her feet and rushed towards him, eagerly sliding into an embrace. 'I almost thought I lost you too' her words barely more than a whisper. In that embrace, for a moment, she felt her worries loose their keen sting. Her arms enveloping him with a force that bordered on discomfort.
“Are there more survivors?” Elizabeth asked when she finally pulled away. The warmth faded and she almost regretted that she had ended the hug so soon.
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@digenvez : >:/
" Don't move. "
Saccharine timbre chimes in warning, evoking intrigue upon tip of tongue when bamboo monture of closed paper-fan taps its press, with reminiscent leniency, against Gojo's throat, softly, but like the edge of a knife aiming and capturing internal jugular vein. Just like a vile apparition of an elegant nightmare abusing moment of surprise ... masked individual magnifies prickings of conscience ten fold in the icy familiarity to haunt one of rare responders. Windblown apex of caligraphic brush comes to make its titillate landing upon the Honored One's cheek. A bunch of scattered children running wildly behind and all around them, peeping and calling with determination: punishment! Punishment! It was one of the unnamed rascals who incessantly brought in means of sentencing the moment Satoru stepped further onto the paved road.
'' You heard that? The conquerors of this place have strict rules, '' in the meantime of his brief enlightenment about going ons, he starts glamorizing varnish across the margins of his personal prisoner while verbally pin-pointing toward kids, '' whoever wishes to attend ' 灯籠流し, ' Tōrō nagashi from this side of the bank without a mask ... gets punished. By getting face painted without the right to choose stencil. ''
Like a story with lots of ink and plenty of air time; six eyes in mosaic cathedrals of misty surrealism scream out piercing laments of anger and grief under the scorching grasp of traitor. Skillfully with unique precision, his hand tightened the remaining coils and with exact veridicality and mirth in his poise, moving sensibly downward complexion then back to its ups, disseminating glittery ink of stricken garnish through delicate garden folds of ivory flesh. Subtly, almost too delicately like if every inch could crack under the heft of his markings, enough for one to relax and fall asleep under such caress. Something that should be rightfully done by him, a pattern of sort. Or? Judging by the ticklish sensation if movements perceived enough -- a symbol? So tense in his posture and bearing his hostage was, until relaxing just finely.
Meanwhile, in the land where gods could find sanctuary, crowds of people gathered from all across the country to witness such remarkable extravaganza, a spectacle of true romanticism. To bask in elemental comfort of heart and soul in a glimpse of the eternal, serene divinity; lay prayers into the flickering flames, and send them burning brightly with the river steams in hopes for their wishes to come true. Even better because Geto knew well his old friend would not start a battling ruckus with so many people present.
'' A bit up, '' in coincidental pitch of sound, he muttered nearly in a scolding frown because of reflective little vinces upon his countenance, then rekindled brush and cheekbone in unison. Insidious fan pressed some bit in motivation for shiro in blindfold to tilt head back and a little closer to him upward in better angle if appropriate.
Like fail-safe brakes for use on steep gradients, there was imperceptible purr to one's satisfaction for such effortless acquiescence had a certain allure that may break like a mirror, sending spinning pieces toward direction of the onlooker. All the meanwhile he would sketch throughout the black expanse of the vessel to bring limitless colors inside him to the surface. Only colors? For Geto knew at certain extent whatever he was capable evoking within the Honored One's heart had nothing to do with purity at all and could be quite the opposite and very destructive; such thought would never cease to amuse him to no ends.
One must not be over-confident or it will be no lasting defeat. Beneath the traditional mask, the Curse user's half-smile still cunning and full of tricks said much the same whilst binding time for idle talk as long as Satoru willed to listen to his account closely. Much was encapsulated in aureate patterns carved into kuro superfice symbolizing harbinger of good harvests, smarts, and prosperity. The creative moment finally comes to the breaking point when a tantalizing tool of tribulation is no longer needed and a child rushes back to re-claim it. But something's amiss, the last detail ...
The paper fan retracted, instead a hand clad in fine-drawn blackness sewn for traditional festivities rose to pale features. Thumb finds its way to lower dot and brushes across it, smudging and creating a visual oblique the brush could not.
There ...
And he looked once again more contently, " All done. ~ ''
... you're not a prisoner anymore.
But what it was was a mysterious decor coating the right side of his face? Satoru Gojo will figure out only after looking in the mirror.
#digenvez#!Satoru#Muse: Geto#{ Look at what one emoji can do. ~ :'3 OOP my finger slipped. }#{ The only thing I'm revealing abut this is that it's a symbol. <3 }#{ SO well if Satoru will feel one day like going somewhere to see what Geto painted on him he will see it. HE HE HE }#反応‚ㅤ╱ 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 reacted.
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Hello Universe!
Pageant blogger yarn?! I can try, right?
Last December, Annie and I were in a call. One of the things we talked about was pageantry—Miss Earth 2022 had just been crowned a few weeks prior.
I've been a pageant fanatic for as long as I can remember. But it was only until these recent years that I started making my personal predictions for the pageants that I follow—and I keep them to myself. I usually make ones for Miss Universe, then Miss Universe Philippines when it was inaugurated, and sometimes I also do Miss Earth. I don't remember any time that I did predictions for Binibining Pilipinas.
I even have these excel sheets for scores and all that, to help me determine my picks.
That's when I told Annie that my predictions have a high accuracy rate. I don't predict who will be crowned, but somewhere in those that I scored high always emerged as the winner.
So... here it is—as requested! My Top Picks for the 71st Miss Universe competition.
Upper Tier
They all did well in swimsuit and evening gown competitions. I don't want to say that these are my Top 5, but I'm almost 100% sure they would make it to the semifinals.
USA nailed both competitions. Enough said. She is THE frontrunner.
Curaçao caught my attention from the moment she introduced herself—I immediately chatted Annie saying, "Curacao is pretty." I eagerly waited for her turn on both swimsuit and gown segments, and she did not let me down. Her beauty is effortless.
Mexico is a good performer. I didn't like her gown, but she worked it and slayed.
Venezuela is Venezuela. You could see that she was well-trained, and she was not over-the-top or unauthentic. I'm not a fan of her gown or her gown performance, but she served.
Puerto Rico is gorgeous, but is prone to too much shoulder rolling, making her performance bordering theatrical. Also, she seemed like she came from the same "fierce Latina" cookie-cutter mold that most Latinas have been exhibiting in any pageant.
Middle Tier
These are the girls who are generally top contenders as well, but something's bugging me about them.
Dominican Republic is hungry for it, and she might as well get it. Whenever she's on the stage, you can feel that she is happy with what she's doing. Sadly, I see her like a cookie-cutter candidate too.
Jamaica is oozing with confidence and she did great—however, something's iffy about her. I really want to see her in the finals.
Philippines has this easy, calm and relaxed demeanor about her that some people might think is underwhelming—it gets drowned out by those who are overdoing their pasarela. She did fine 'coz she just has this gandang di mo na kailangan pang ipilit, di tulad ng iba, todo awra para gumanda. And she was amazing in gown, otherwise I wouldn't be grinning from ear to ear. F*ck all the naysayers.
South Africa is good in both swim and gown, although her gown performance was a little subdued and I could feel her struggle with her form-fitting dress.
Colombia, although beautiful, may look too robotic sometimes. Like... she has mastered everything there is to do in the Miss Universe stage, it's so unreal. She can make it to the semis, but I don't see her winning.
Lower Tier
They did well on both swimsuit and gown, and if they get through to the finals, I won't question it. However, their chances of moving further in the competition is slimmer than those mentioned above.
France is a consistent candidate, and my only concern with her is that she lacks the extra oomph that the other candidates possess.
Aruba is outstanding—honestly, one of the first girls who caught my attention. I just hope the judges noticed her too.
I really like Germany. When she came out, I was like, "Guuuurl, you are soooo pretty... and I'm glad you know what to do on that stage."
Bahrain... Screams diversity. She knows what she represents and she uses it to her advantage. Her gown is simple but unique—although not new in the pageant scene—but the way that she carried it with so much class and elegance... she deserves an applause.
I can feel that Cambodia worked hard for this and is eager to get a spot in the finals. I wish she could get in the Top 16.
They Might Get In
They weren't particularly bad—and they actually did well on some segments—but I'm not a fan. Somehow, gut feels tell me they'd make it to the semifinals.
Wishlist
Seeing these girls on the stage made me smile, but they were outperformed by other candidates. I have big doubts on their chances of making the cut, but I'd be really happy if any of them would be called into the Top 16.
Alternates: Australia, Panama, Honduras, Great Britain
General Thoughts during the Preliminary Competition
The stage isn't that bad. We've seen worse.
The program was boring. I mean, I know that it's gonna be, but nothing they did helped with toning down the boringness. And the background music during the swimsuit and evening gown competitions isn't exciting.
The girls weren't given enough time to showcase themselves. There's a freakin' catwalk on the stage, why the hell did they not utilize it???
In relation to the bullet point above, what's with the cape? I mean... okay, I get it. Customize it, whatever. Good idea. But it would've been better if the hosts were reading something about the cape, at least we'd know what's it about—instead of just viewing what it means on some app. They can still tell something about the girls during the evening gown, either way. And the girls were told to turn around and show their capes, therefore limiting their poses and movements. Their time was already shortened, and then they had to divide that time between showing themselves and the damn cape.
Too many nude, beige, silver, gold, bedazzled gowns.
Too many gowns with flowy appendages—and some girls didn't know what to do with them. This is the side effect of Ms. Paraguay and her mint-green flowy gown from last year where she won as 1st Runner-up.
Lots of "viva magenta" gowns too.
I'm a bit bothered by how Harnaaz pronounces the countries' names. I mean, she could've learned how to pronounce them properly beforehand.
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