Devil's Darling ~ Miguel O'hara +18

p10

Writer's note: save me pls

-- ﾉ⁠♡

As Y/n prepared to walk the runway, she remained calm and collected, her demeanor was unbothered and free from any trace of nervousness.

She waited for her turn, chatting with the other models who had just returned from the runway. One of them, a tall brunette called Alia nudged Y/n lightly with a playful grin.

"Hope you don't trip out there," she teased, her eyes sparkling with malice.

Y/n laughed, rolling her eyes. "Please, if anyone's tripping, it's the audience ~~ over me."

Another model chimed in, giggling. "Just make sure you don't steal too many hearts. We need some fans left for the rest of us!"

Y/n smirked, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "No promises. It's not my fault if they can't handle a little competition."

The group burst into bitter laughter, but as the echoes faded, an eerie silence settled among them. Their smiles turned sly, and eyes darted with judging glances, each sizing the others up with a hint of malicious intent.

Y/n's gaze swept over them with a knowing glance, her eyes cool and subtly disdainful. She tilted her head ever so slightly, a smirk playing on her lips as she muttered "sluts" under her breath. Her voice carried enough for them to hear, punctuated by a sly, mean look that she casted her way.

They exchanged offended looks, some narrowing their eyes with a sharp edge silently seething at Y/n's audacity.

Then, the voice of the event emcee echoed through the venue, announcing the arrival of the showstopper. The room hushed in anticipation.

With all her charm and confidence, Y/n stepped onto the runway. Her walk was a masterclass in allure. Her gown swayed gracefully around her, the fabric catching the light and casting mesmerizing colors.

Her face remained neutral, yet there was an unmistakable intensity in her gaze, holding captivity and intimidation, a perfect blend of allure and authority.

Every eye in the room was fixed on her as she moved, there was no need for theatrics or exaggerated expressions; her mere presence was enough.

As she approached the end of the catwalk, she slowed her steps and struck a dramatic pose, knowing that her appearance would leave a lasting impression on the audience.

And indeed, it did. As Y/n stood motionless, the stage lights shone down on her figure, casting dark shadows that made her seem almost otherworldly. It was as if she was a black hole, absorbing all the light around her and twisting it into something otherworldly.

But it was not only the stage lights that created this effect. Y/n dress itself seemed to change color before their very eyes. What had once been a bright violet dress now shimmered with a deep, inky black patina.

The audience was stunned by this transformation, and for a moment, there was only silence in the room. But then, like the crack of a whip, applause echoed throughout the hall. Everyone knew that they had just witnessed something truly exceptional, and Y/n felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through her body.

The famous people in the front row were visibly confused, as they had never witnessed anything like this before. The show owner and the designers, who stood at a distance, were equally confused, because they had never created a dress that turned black.

But one person in the front row remained quiet and unruffled. He wore a black suit with black glasses and a hat that casts a shadow over his face, making it impossible to read his expression. He remained seated as everyone else stood up in amazement, clapping and cheering for the design. It was as if he was not affected by what he had just witnessed, or if he had seen something entirely different than everyone else.