the royal hue

Star-Crossed (M)

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☆Genre: Angst/Fluff/Smut || CEO!Jimin

☆Pairing: Jimin x Reader

☆Length: 22.7k

☆Summary: Like a constellation hung from the skies above, he who had once illuminated the lackluster night sky of the bustling city appeared to you like  a meteor shower raining upon the pitch black horizon, And just as quick and abrupt as the celestial display had graced its way through the lonely skies above, he left just as suddenly as it had arrived. But you should’ve expected this ill-fated story, a waitress struggling to get by had never been fitting of an heir-to-be CEO. What was written in the stars was written into history, and history is an irrevocable phenomenon that cannot be reversed.

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Better Than I Imagined

A/N: An anon request for a Colorblind Soulmate AU for Spencer. Basically, you finally see color when you touch your soulmate. @coveofmemories @sexualemobitch @jamiemelyn @cherry-loves-fanfic

                                                              —-

Day after day, year after year, Spencer was told that one day his day would come too. After all, his mother never expected her day to come, and then one day it did - in the most mundane of ways. Nearly four years earlier, Diana had been walking down the street to grab something to eat between her teaching classes at the University. As she entered the store, her vision remained the same, with various shades of black, white and gray - the only hues she’d ever known - plaguing her vision. She’d heard tell of land of color, where there were nearly as many shades as there were words, but she was convinced she’d never find that place. Then, as she left the store, a sandwich in her bag for after her next lecture, she bumped into a handsome stranger and from his being emanated a world of shades she never imagined she’d see.

Being the frank woman she was, she looked up into his eyes and said, “You’re my soulmate?”

“I guess I am,” he’d responded. 

And the rest was history. “Your day is coming soon, Spencer,” his mother said. “I can feel it.”

Spencer smiled at his mother from across the room. “You’ve been saying that for years, mom,” he said softly. He was getting ready to leave the facility where she’d been staying. For years, she’d been in Vegas, but recently, he’d had her transferred closer to him so that he could see her more often. “I’m 35 years old and I don’t feel any closer than I was ten years ago.”

“That’s the beauty of it,” she replied, standing up and caressing the side of her son’s cheek. “It’s not something you feel. It just happens. One day, you knock into someone and that’s it - your world brightens. Granted, your father and I aren’t together anymore, but I still see in color. A little more muted, but it’s still there, and it’s still beautiful.”

He could only hope that one day he’d experience what his mother had. As a man of science, it was difficult for him to understand something like this. “I hope so,” he responded. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” With a quick kiss on the cheek, he left her at the facility. It had been a good day; she’d been very lucid and very talkative.

Some people, like his mother, saw in color, and then it became muted because they’d separated. His friend JJ from the Bureau said she saw in what she called “a waterfall of color,” and Morgan hadn’t experienced it yet either. He’d been with plenty of ladies sure, but none of them had been the woman he’d end up with, at least according to his vision. Rossi, his superior, who’d had three separate marriages, and had seen brightly each time; but his vision, like his mother’s, muted upon separation. And perhaps most heartbreaking of all was his boss Aaron Hotchner, who saw in beautiful technicolor for the entirety of his marriage with Hayley, and then, when she was shot by George Foyet, Hotch’s vision had immediately turned to black and white; his soulmate had been taken away. Spencer always wondered what it would be like for someone to just be born seeing color. At least then, you wouldn’t be shockingly aware of when your soulmate died. Maybe it was better that way.

As he rounded the corner, he decided to grab a couple books from the library. He’d never seen in color, but when he read, he could imagine what the colors looked like from the words he read; they painted the canvas before his eyes. The minute he walked in, he saw the same beautiful girl at the counter. She’d always been very sweet to him, and more often than not, they’d talk for a bit about whatever book he happened to be checking out before he left. 

Sometimes he read the classics. Sometimes he read books in other languages. Sometimes he’d read whatever random book happened to be on the bestseller list, and more often than not, he was disappointed in those, but today he wanted a fairytale, so he reached up on the shelf for the collection of Hans Christian Anderson fairytales and another by The Grimm Brothers. 

With a strained smile, his brain running a million miles a minute, he walked over to the counter. “Hello, Y/N,” he said, handing over the two books along with his library card.

“In the mood for fairytales today I see.” Her smile shone bright. “I’m always in the mood for those. Still waiting for my own.”

“Really?” That took him by surprise. For some reason, he’d always imagined that she went home to a husband or wife at the end of the day despite the lack of a ring on her finger. He’d always imagined that she already saw the world for what it truly was.

Apparently, she wasn’t surprised by his assumption. “Yea. My parents have been together for nearly 35 years. Still happy and in love and seeing in that ever-elusive color I still haven’t experienced.”

“Me either,” he replied. “My mom claims my day is coming, but I think she’s just saying that to make me feel better.”

Y/N said her parents had been telling her the same thing for years, but no matter where she turned or the connections she made, no one “brightened her world” the way she’d always imagined. Apparently, some people went through life without one, but others found a friend that did what a partner didn’t. There were endless possibilities. 

As she handed him his library card, the tips of their pointer fingers touched. Spencer started to place the card back in his wallet when he noticed the floor, it was an almost rugged hue he’d never noticed before. Looking up, he took in the almost royal hue of the blouse she was wearing. It made him think of luxury. The skirt was a color he was all too familiar with, white, but everything around her was exactly as his mother had described - shades he’d never experienced before radiated outward. “Oh my god,” he laughed.

“Do you see what I see?” she asked hopefully, placing her hand on top of his. It was almost as if she was double-checking to see if what was happening was truly real. “We’re wearing the same color.” She pointed to his shirt, which he knew from the label was purple, but now he actually knew what purple was. 

For a few moments, they stood in silence, looking around each other and putting the names and colors together after 30 some odd years of only have a word, but not a visual for the hue. The woman who ran the library looked out with a smile. She and her husband had been married for 50 years, so she immediately noticed the look on her face. “Spencer?”

His eyes locked on hers and he took her hand. “My mom was right,” he said softly, the tears stinging his eyes in the most glorious way. “But you’re even more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

“Dinner tonight?” she asked, covering her mouth as she tried to make sense of all the color. 

He couldn’t form a coherent thought, so he just nodded his head and held her hand as she walked out from behind the counter and jumped into his arms. He’d waited so long for this day, when his world was changed forever. But as he wrapped his arms around her, he knew he would’ve gladly waited another 20 years for this moment. He’d imagined it every day, but this was more than his imagination ever could’ve dreamed up.

10

The cast of Riverdale is back at work filming the second season – and there’s a wedding!

While it’s likely some kind of dream sequence, Camila Mendes – aka Veronica – can be seen wearing a wedding dress.

She was joined on set by the whole cast, including likely groom KJ Apa as Archie, who was wearing a kilt alongside Cole Sprouse.

Some of the ladies were clearly bridesmaids in blue. Lili Reinhart, Ashleigh Murray, and Madelaine Petsch all looked gorgeous in the royal hue.

fleur de lune - v

“I am sure there is magic in everything, only we have not sense enough to get hold of it and make it do things for us”

(kim junmyeon x reader)

(3.2k words)

fleur de lune - masterlist


That morning whilst I was preparing for the day I had been told to dress warmly enough for the new Winter season. I had just finished lacing up my most durable shoes when I thought of the idea to pack an extra pair of socks for Junmyeon or I if we so needed it.

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Timed Prompt (10 min)

  • Prompt: Photo (below)

Music drones in his ears as his last note comes to a close. Heavy, passionate eyelids open to welcome the blinding lights hailing above in opulent shades of lime green, lavender and royal blue hues. Kyungsoo’s lips fall onto to the mic once more for the subtle adlibs to end the song before the music cuts off. It’s over, and the crowd encompasses him in a roaring applause.

He almost forgets; forgets that they are on stage in the face of millions. But the passion swarming just below the surface takes him elsewhere. He berates himself, because how could he forget? How could he forget that while enjoying the unyielding influxes of praises, Jongin sits on the side of the stage in his lonesome. An injury he has, one which doesn’t allow him to stand among his band mates, but that doesn’t stop him and Kyungsoo is proud of that.

Before he knows it, he’s walking toward said male who sits on a round ivory stool. Curled eyes and a bright smile greet him as he draws near, and once again, he hears his conscious buzzing about his lack of mental capacity.

Jongin mouths something that he can’t quite hear, and Kyungsoo removes the earplug in his ear and bends over to listen closely. A nod of understanding later, he smiles before leaning over to listen to Jongin once again.

Apparently, something is wrong with Jongin’s mic as he fiddles with the cylindrical object in his palms. Having sparse knowledge with stage technology, Kyungsoo isn’t well equipped to handle such a task. But the concentration exuding from Jongin’s face is irresistible, and he sticks around to see if he’ll be able to fix the problem.

Jongin crosses a leg over the other as he sits up, and Kyungsoo bends his body to accommodate the large distance again.

“Jongin,” he says, though the man doesn’t make any movement to acknowledge he’s heard anything, “Jongin,” he calls, but the other lacks a response again. Kyungsoo chuckles, hands luring to the object of Jongin’s obsession. “Let me see…” he takes it and works with the mic, but to no avail.

Winter Polish

15 festive nail polishes for the holiday season

Here at Wantering, we’ve covered the season’s best holiday dresses and accessories, but let’s not forget about the last detail of any look - nail polish. When seasons change, so do polish colors, and while we’ll always love the basics, the holiday season allows us the chance to switch up our go-to lacquers. From red and royal hues to metallic and sparkle glazes, scroll down to see our picks of the prettiest nail polishes that you can wear all season long!

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TPoH fanfic: My Hero

Obviously I do not own The Property of Hate nor the characters. You can also read this on fanfiction . net. Except for the ‘stubborns’-bit of a fan-er-monster I created.

Genre: Friendship and mild drama, K+

Summary: RGB wasn’t a hero. That was what that innocent girl, Hero, was for. He was just a coward acting as her charming guide to save his surreal world. However, in a harrowing series of events that puts their lives at risk, the roles within the unlikely duo become blurred and compromised.

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It’s Always You

In which the good/evil reversal results in Killian the upstanding Captain of the Royal navy and Emma his not-quite-as-upstanding wife.  Based on this that I made the other day because lenfaz and various anons requested a fic.

Thanks to Lanni for betaing!

Also on FF.NET

It is not the first time she has stumbled back to his ship in the dead of night with shaking hands and rum on her breath, eyes drooping and wild. It is more a routine, truly. It is not the first time he has sat out on the deck in the milky moonlight anxiously awaiting her return, either. He sits on the steps to quarterdeck with the top buttons of his uniform undone and his hair surely stood up in every direction, becoming further acquainted with the stars as he tries to distract himself from her absence—letter clutched tight in his hand.

He knows she is more than capable of caring for herself (he knows he should fear more for whoever dares cross her bloody path), but he cannot help but worry ceaselessly for her every night, till he catches a flash of bright blonde from the corner of his eye and can breathe easily again.

Tonight when he sees her, though, the fears do not melt out of his chest, and the paper clenched between his fingers seems to grow heavier.

She stumbles onto the deck and he rises to meet her, heart heaving in his chest as she slips out of the shadow of the mast into the rays from the moon—and he can see how her hair is tangled and her eyes dark and her hands tremble.

She catches sight of his eyes drifting concerned over her, and buries her hand into the material of her dress as she takes half a step back, sinking back into the darkness.

He follows, and when her eyes fall to the deck and the shaking of her hands become too much for the heavy leather folds of her dress to hide, he reaches out and tangles his fingers round her quivering wrist.

“Alright, love?”

She shrugs and he feels her muscles tighten beneath his hold, but she does not move to pull away. Her eyes slowly rise to his, and through the shadows he can see just how bright and full and green they are—pupils mere pinpricks.

“I’m fine.”

He sighs, heart clenching again, and he grips her wrist tighter—before raising the crumpled paper for her to see.

“I received a concerned message from the court today,” he says softly, voice scratching through the quiet night—and he does not have to explain further, because they both know precisely what the message is about.

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