#but those bright ones with the soft blue n purple are so so pretty im eating them

[lavenoon]

So I heard you like lilacs???? >: )))))

Lilacs upon ye!!! (I checked and I do, in fact, have exactly 30 lilac photos I took on my phone this year djfbfndn)

Oh hell yeah lilacs!! Ours are already wilting again, they come and go so fast!!

In all honesty I'm a lavender bitch (that's where the laven part of my name comes from after all), but anything purple sparks big heart eyes. And lilacs are so so pretty!! We call them butterfly bushes too, because butterflies love them and just flock around them while they're in full bloom!

Also ough /pos I'm just eating those pictures, the focus blur the way the little gradients pop, the individual petals getting to shine, they're so gorgeous!!

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Red hair as roses, and turquoise eyes as orchids

"Dada look!" The bored and depressed blue eyes stood up from his lap to his 6 years old daughter, extending her tiny hands up high in the air.

"Be careful with what you're gonna do pretty doll." He manage to smirk a bit as she pouted, strands of red brushing against her forehead until a huge wave of flames of the colour blue danced around her hands until she jumped and a small prinkle of flames were throw in the air.

She laughed at the sign and clapped her hands in glee at her own little show as Dabi let out a chuckle at seeing the happines of his daughter... instead of him, Emika had the blessing of having a body that could tolerate the heat enough of his quirk that she inherited it from him. Your quirk itself being a huge help for the little girl to not have scars as her father's.

"Did you see Dada?! It was soooo huge and beautiful!!!" She ran towards him only to trip and thankfully landed on the brunette male's lap, giggling with a smile so bright that could've hury his eyes.

"Hmm. Almost like mine princess, im impressed." His hands carresed her chubby cheeks until he heard murmuring behind them.

Of course. Even with his disguise, that were people whose were going to mutter, say bad things... he lost count on how many times Emika had been bullied because her quirk was similiar with the most cruel and wanted villain....

And much to his dismay, Emika didn't take that... very well.

"WHAT ARE YOU WHISPERING ABOUT?! LEAVE US ALONE!" the little girl shouted and the adults only scoffed, picking up their kids and getting out of the park.

"You're going to scare off anyone with that attitude of yours princess." He muttered while carresing her red hair and picking her up as she scoffed.

"They cant say bad things about MY dada!" He smiled at the little girl and sighed.

"Yeah yeah, just lets get out of here before you burn things down."

"Thats something you would do!" She poked his scarred cheek. "Ne ne dada? We gonna visit mama right? I want to bring flowers to her this time!"

His eyes dropped at the ground as his feet carried them to the cemetery...

"We can arrange that."

.

.

.

"Mama was so pretty!!!" Emika squealed as Spinner and Toga showed her some photos as Dabi stared holes into their skulls.

Is not that he didn't wanted his daughter to forget or to not know about her mother... but it was painfull enough to have a father as a villain, now being a mother orphan was just more harder.

Emika couldn't go to school without being recognized as Dabi's daughter. So he brought himself the task to teach her things , being thankfull to his past self that he had studied enough.

"Yeah and she was strong as fuck too according to your dad there." Spinner grinned, showing a picture of you pinning down a hero on the middle of the street.

"Emika-chan, despite not meeting (Y/n) you look so much like her!" Toga beamed with a smile, fangs showing and the little girl giggling when Dabi just yanked her away from the two.

"Naaaaaa dada no bed time!" She squirmed as he carried her to now the comfortable room the league gotten ever since the incident with Shigaraki and Redestro.

"Dont complain or else Im going to take away your toy." He grumbled as the girl gasped and pouted at him much like you would do.

"You wouldn't!" She defies him with a cheeky smile although while settling down on the bed she shared with him.

"Try me." He smirked with a atched eyebrow making her laugh.

Some time passed and Dabi watched as the eyelids of Emika slowly dropped until she called him softly.

"This place we are now... we gonna stay or are the bad man breaking it and we have to move again?" His heart clenched.. she still had the memories when the league had captured that blonde kid and the heroes busted the bar...

With her own view, she saw the villains as the good and normal people despite Toga being a crazy assasin that loved drinking blood, Shigaraki a men that only wanted to destriy the world, Twice a bipolar man and the list goes on...

Emika saw the villains as good people, and the heroes as bad ones... after all, after she found out on her own that her mother died not because of childbirth, but because of a hero that accidentally killed her with a much too strong attack... and only because she wanted to protect the baby on her arms at that time.

So much blood dropped from his eyes... some even dropping on your lifeless body and on the crying baby he soon noticed that thankfully was alive.

He would never forget whem he craddled the baby on his arms and sobbed deyly as his child wailed at not having the warmth of her mother anymore.

Things were tough until they found the league of villains and had at peast a place to crash.

Emika was now soudly asleep as he sighed and brushed his hair.

"When the heroes come to us... I will make sure yoi stay outta of the mess Emika. But you will not like to know the truth about our origins..." he muttered as a scarred hand brushed her bangs and smirked when she nuzzled on his hand... reminding him of how you would nuzzle on him on cold nights...

"Time to sleep off huh? The more we sleep, the pess we have to face the reality." He muttered before laying down and bringing her close to his chest.

.

.

.

"Dada..." she whimpered as fat tears fell feom her turquoise eyes as she tremblingly holded the box of paper towels, helping him clean off the blood from his stapples as he took a final look on the mirror, his white hair finally at show for the first time in so many years.

"Hey," he crouched down and made his best to not wince "I'm fine. Daddy is used to this by now and-"

"bUT I'M NOT!" she yelled and punched his chest with her tiny fist as he frowned and holded her as she sobbed on his chest.

"...Is it true..?" He looked down at the tuff of red hair on his chest "That uncle Twice is not coming back..? That.. T-That grandpa did this to you..m that we are from the family of E-Endeavour?"

He frowned and wiped her tears away as she holded his wrist while sobbing at the loss of Twice, whose always played and made silly faces with her on spare times.

"Yeah... Im sorry for not telling you... but I thought that... Me and your mother actually decided that Emika (L/n) was better than puttingnon a fake and... well, not right name on yours."

"... which hero... killed... mama..?" His heart stopped... should he reaally tell her? She was only a baby of five years.. five fucking years... he was already damaged by society, but her was just a little flower growing...

"Princess.. I-"

"Who?!" She sobbed as his eyes dropped, a heavy sigh as he dinally sit down on the edge of the sofa as he put his hand on his face as the other helped her sit on his lap.

"... your grandpa."

.

.

.

Emika cried heraelf to sleep that night. Wailing that she hated the heroes, that she hated Endeavour, that she hated him for not telling her the truth for so long, that she hated having fo be a Todoroki.

Each word was a spike to his chest as he tried and eventually succeed on calming her down enough, from harsh sobs and eails to soft sniffles and the rest of the tears she had to sheed.

He hugged her just a bit tighter that night as one drop of blood fell from his eyes.

"I thought I could do it (Y/n)... I fucking promised you... but... fuck." He bited his bottom scarred lips to contain a whimper "Everything is just the worst now... why did you have to be so goddamn stubborn and risk your life dammit..."

.

.

.

"Is your fourth bowl of ice cream ya know?" Dabi muttered from his place on the miserable yet comfy apartment you two shared as you stared back at him with a spoonfull of your favorite ice cream on hand close to your mouth.

"I have the right. I'm pregnant. Leave me be." You made a show of putting the spoon on your mouth and moaning out loud as Dabi shooked his head in dismay before taking a place on your side ofbthe couxh before you two cringed at the sounds of the old mobile almost creaking.

"We need to got money to find a new couch." You muttered horrified, just apmost ending all of your money on baby supplies and clothes.

"Or I can just steal one." He smirked at the slight slap you gave to him.

"And have shitty heroes coming our way later? Nu uh mister... maybe just rob a bank though." You muttered before both of you chuckled as you laid your head on his shoulder as he subconsciously placed his hand on the sweel of your stomach and felt a kick already.

"She is going to be a daddy's girl. Im so sure of it." You giggled as he arched an eyebrow.

"How cam you say this already? We dont even know if it is a girl of a boy doll."

"I know is a girl. I just know it. And she has already a favorite parent." You carresed your belly just besides where Dabi's hand was layed on.

"You're exaggerating." He chuckled as he felt another kick "They are going to be a nasty oen though, they kick alot."

"She kicks a lot when your nearby or talking to her. Just like I said, a daddy's girl." You smiled sweetly at him and he never felt so happy...

He looked at your lips for a second as you narrowed your eyes playfully at him before your lips almost touched-

.

.

.

He woke up with a hand tapping on his cheek and soon saw his daughter looking down at him with a pout.

"Can we go walk?" She almost whimpered as he could only stare and slowly nod as he caught his disguise and a very own for her.

.

.

.

She clunged to the black bunny plushie as she walked with pinks connected to him as he stated down at her in worry until she gasped at a convenience store.

"Dada! Snickers!" She pointed as he smiled at seeing a bit of bright on her eyes once again.

"How about we get some, eh?" She nodded with a small smile and soon followed her dad inside.

While she waited for Dabi to get the snacks and pay for them, for once, she gasped when a purple haired boy at the same age as her bumped accidentaly to her making her plushie drop.

"Hey!" She called out with tears on her eyes, being emotionally damaged enough for those past days.

"I'm sorry." The boy said immediatly, kneeling and grabbing the plushie to hand it to her "Its yours?" He tilted his head as Emika grabbed immediatly.

"Of course it was! It was with me until you bunped on me!" Emika slowly dropped her tone of voice at seeing how the purple haired boy seemed genuily sorry as he aproached and bowed once again.

"Sorry, I just am here to grab some medice and a chocolate for my mom and dad. They're both sick and they dont know i went out so I needed to hurry." He smiled as Emika soon dropped slowly her guard down as she muttered.

"Is okay... is just that bunny is speacial to me."

"I can see why. Your mama gave it to you right." Her turquoise eyes widened as she frowned her eyebrows at the boy.

"Kinda of..?" She clinged to the toy "Why do you that?"

He closed his eyes with a tiny giggle.

"Well, she told me as soon as you started to tear up. She is always by your side aparently." Emika eyes darkned and she let go of one hand of the plushie to heat up her hand.

"Say that one more time. I dare you. My mama is not here." She almost cried until the purple boy touched her forehead with two fingers and soon she was not more in the grocery store, but in a blank space.

"HEY YOU!" she shouted "THIS IS NOT FUNNY LET OUT YOU FUCK-"

"Geez, daddy did not spare you of curse words then?" She froze and looked behind her and saw the sane woman Dabi showed photos of and was compared whenever she was laughing or making a trick on others.

She froze for a bit before silently tears started to fall and she hiccupped for a bit before dropping her bunny and running to you as you hugged her tightly.

"Mama! I cant believe-! Is you-! I-I-" she hicupped as you wiped her tears with your thumb and let some of your own fall.

"You're take so much of your dada im so happy... My little girl is just so beautiful..." you whispered as she sobbed while wiping her tears with her sleeve.

"D-Dada!" She gasped before smiling widely and grabbing your sleeve "Dada needs to see this! Mama he misses you a lot he need to see yo-"

"Im sorry princess..." you grabbed her cheek softly "I wanted to see your daddy just as much, but I cant...." her face fell a bit but soon nodded while playing with your fingers and hair.

"Mama? Why did you do it?" You hummed as she looked up hesitantly "Why did youbleave dad? Why... you took.. Endeavour attack..?" She asked sadly as you furrowed your eyebrows but soon closed your eyes and smiled.

"Emika... the day you were born was the day I was gone as well... but when I saw your grandpa recognizing me as a villain and blasted an attack close to where you were... I just had to. I had to protect the feuit of love that me and your father made..." you smiled sadly as she sniffed.

"But you arent with us..." she almost sobbed until you made her look up.

"Emika... Im so sorry for the loneliness you had to endure... the pain... that was the only dowside of the decision I made. My swest little girl..." you cuppex her cheek and wiped a tear "Thank you for letting me be your mother, and Touya for being your father..."

You touched your forehead with her as she noticed your body was slowly turning to tiny hints of lights and fireflies.

"Mama..?" She looked at you crying softly as you kissed her forehead.

"Emika, evertime you see a star in the dark sky it will be me watching over you and your dada... and please understand one thing," you got away from her as your hair floated majestically "Dying for you, was a noble sacrifice I did for love..."

She widened her eyes as she grabbed your hands as you giggled at her expression.

"Say to dada Im watching him too, and that loving him were the happier moments I spend... I love him and always will...after all, he is my canolli, dead or not, okay?"

The littpe girl gasped and looked at the place she was, the grocery store and the boy from earlier retracting his hand with a unsure littpe smile.

"It was your quirk... you... you made me talk with my mama." She says outstruck as the boy giggled but soon gasped at looking the time.

"I have to go! But I hope we meet again." He ran to the door with the bags before looking one more time behind to her "Call me Akira! See you soon Emika-chan!"

She stood there in complete shook before brushing her fingers on the tingling spot you had kissed on her forehead before smiling widely and giggling before knocking her daddy's leg as he grunted.

"Emika what the-"

"Mama is watching us!" She bounced up and down as he atood with a 'what the fuck' expression.

"What the hell Emika?" He grabbed the packs and carried her as he walked on the street.

"Mama said your name is Touya dada! Which I found strange at first but anyway! She kissed my forehead! Hugged me and said how much she loves me and you and is watching us! She is a star dada! A star!!"

His eyes widened. Emika didn't hear his speech to Endeavour. Emika didn't know his real name was Touya instead of Dabi as the league called him... so she was not imagining neither making things up.

"..so you saw mama?" She giggled and nodded while boucing on his arms. "... did she say something else?" He asked hopefully and she smiled widely as much as you would do.

"She said loving you was the most happier she got! And that your are her canolli forever!"

His steps faltered and almost that he dropped his daughter as his eyes widened... only you knew that god for saken nickname you gaved to him...

"Dada?" His daughter words and hands on his cheeks made him ho back to reality as he saw the blood on his little girl's fingers and worried expression "Are you crying..? Dada?"

"Heh..." he wiped with one thumb the blood before smilling at her and continuing walking "Nah. Must be one of my staples..." he stared up as his daughter rested her face on his neck. "Mama is a star then?"

"Ya.." she yawned "Watching us... I bet she is that one." The little girl pointed at the shiniest star on the sku as Dabi smiled...

"Yeah... I also bet on that one."

[shyrose57]

Oooo maybe some real life plants! but they are .. off somehow, I think that the end should mostly keep its dull very color drained vibes so the colorful things just seem more. So the greens are so gray you could barely call it green, and for subsitute water? Maybe liquid magic. Becasue this place has to run off of magic, they are floating over a void...

SPACE WHALES! Flying Rays, JellyFish! A lot of deep sea horrors fit very nicely into space horrors (and wonders bc I'll cry if the whales are mean :( ) and would do nicely to fill the endless stretches of just void with no land in sight. and Anglerfish... maybe not a fish, or floating in the void like the others but something land bound that uses a hypnotic lure? It lures you in with the feeling of safety and home. There is a reason that the abandoned cities where off the ground :)

Anyways floating over a void, the end (in my head canon) is the source of all magics in Mc (all the planes are connected and it diffuses into the other dimensions, but it is SATURATED in everything in the end, the dragon is pure magic, a manifestation of the end itself, so a lot of things there are magic or sustain themselves on magic (things that stay there (live over generations n stuff our group is fine) get warped by it which could be how over world plants got in there and established themselves, they would not survive in the over world any longer, the sun would kill them, their roots would thirst to death on water. they have magical properties, some of them glow. ) Though there are a lot of End Native plants too (the trees that are only trees when you stretch the definition, that thing that Moves, and has what you could only call teeth but it is not an animal, so it must be a plant) Oooooo maybe the warped fungus ;) I mean everything in the nether is terrified of it, so maybe it doesnt really belong there, and hitched a ride on fleeing endermen

A lot of things glow, (its how we have those stars in the end, they are creatures off in the distance, and whenever the wastelands that stretch on for miles give way to not-trees or shrub-lands, something is gonna glow, which gives the areas eerie shadows that make the wide vulnerable wastelands they came from seem safer than whatever is found in there. The magic running in the rivers sometimes spill out into the abyss and dissipates to start the cycle anew. Things lurk everywhere and kind things are few and far between. The End is full of Life, and That Is Horrifying

Endermen are nomadic and travel in haunts (Im taking this from Human Error :D), and are generally friendly until you look into their eyes (Eyes are windows to the soul, how can they bear to look at you? You are so bright, so Warm. It Sears their eyes, It Burns their very being. Stop looking, It Hurts. Stop Stop Stop-) They are willing to trade and talk Enchanting (So All 3 Dimensions have a Sentient Race :DD) and are very magically inclinded. A lot of mages are endermen or have ender blood in them. The end is very deadly, and Haunts keep eachother alive because their death could mean death of the group (they are very close knit and that leads to very protective (what Im saying is when Tubbo gets back his Husband is going to smother him and fret over one of the 3 members of his Haunt (Tubbo, Michael, and Tommy :) )) when One finds themself without a haunt, many try and find safety in the other dimensions as they will not survive alone in the end.

( I Have more ideas, but the more I think the more I make more and I already think im dumping a lot, so sorry if I wrote too much. I tried to break up the text wall to to make it easier)

Oh, that's a good idea! Mainly dull colors-especially for the more dangerous plants, they'd need to blend in to catch their food. I feel like there'd be some more colorful ones though-the chorus fruits are pretty saturated, after all. Maybe purple colors are brighter, and others are more dull? Or no?

So many space creatures, oh gosh. There'd be very few grounded ones, with so much of the End being void, so sea-based creatures are definitely a good call. That'd be so pretty too?? And we've gotta blur the line between space wonder and eldritch horror for at least a few of them, of course!

The jelly fish are absolutely huge! Massive and glowing through transparent skin, they mainly hang out far from the islands, being mistaken as stars, and their tendrils glow so faintly you can only see them up close. From a distance, they're beautiful, but up close they're terrifying.

Flying rays the size of horses that can be used to cross the void between islands like striders for lava?? Flying rays that's tips fade into an abyssal black so deep it looks they merge into the void? Flying rays with a possible relation to phantoms? Seeking out the sleepless, but only watching, merely drawn to lure them to sleep with the mesmerizing patterns that run along their bodies.

Space whales!!!! Titans so ancient and old, parts of their bodies are overgrown by End islands and forest, making them for all purposes, living, breathing islands. Magic so deeply tied to them that even when they pass, they remain afloat, creating graveyards of still islands, that even still seem to breath when stepped upon. Gentle giants in that they are untouched by anything, and so curious of the new wonders the void welcomes.

A thing that stalks the islands it inhabits, singing out a call that seems ripple across the starry expanse-it sounds like love and warmth and understanding, and it says i love you, the universe loves you, in the same way the poem must rung in your ears, must nestle under your ribs. Love, love, love, it croons. Except then you get too close, and it catches you, and the sound is empty and hollow, and it's grip is tight, and nothing leaves it's arms or island alive, drained of life and magic.

Safety is only in that it is bound to the land, and no creature dares approach it, instinctively knowing of the danger. The islands that even the stars avoid...

Magic dragon?? Yes! Manifestation of the End?? That means it must somehow know how to take the appearance of one. Maybe smaller little space dragons, that play among the bones of the long-gone giant ones. The Ender Dragon isn't as large as they might've been, but it mimics the appearance as best it can-I wonder why. How long has it had that egg, again? How long has it waited for it to hatch?

So we can totally have some of the minecraft plants end-ified! Ooh, and since some adventurers probably brought them there to maybe try surviving in the End, there'd be things like crops and weeds and grass, long mutated as they grow along the ruins of what might've been a home once. E N D M O S S. It glow.

Warped fungus!! But more! Because this one wouldn't have ever been to the Nether, never mutated in such a way. It's home, but somehow, it still feels so very alien to those that look upon it. Maybe no orange?? Orange is Nether-color. Darker blue, or more purple-ish, possibly.

Everything is luminescent. The things that aren't are much more dangerous than the things at are, don't stare into the dark for too long-it might start looking back, and trust me, you don't want that :).

The Endermen Know they are not supposed to be here, even if the newcomers do not Stare with all of the heat and warmth and burn. One may bear the Wings, and two may speak their language, but they are too soft, and colorful, and bright, but not glowing. They are Outsiders, and Outsiders must go home.

Because nothing good comes from those that stay-how do you think that thing knows the universe's lullaby?

They ally with the four, if only to save themselves, but the Outsiders grow on them. Maybe they will visit, but the Outsiders must stay out.

(Ranboo does not let his Haunting out of his sight for awhile. Tommy and Michael too yes, but mainly Tubbo and Phil. They could have strayed too far, they could have not come back. He doesn't Know in the same way the others do, but even he is aware of what he could lose, and what could become)

(Tell me A L L of them, I beg of you)

[wonderland-in-bloom]

riddle, ace, deuce, and malleus watching a meteor shower w/ the reader

anon asked: hi! may i request hcs for a reader who's a super nerd for everything related to space and stars (as in. they'd talk about it for literal Hours if u'd let them) dragging out their friend (who maaybe has a crush on them lol) ace, deuce, riddle and malleus to stargaze after hearing there's gonna be a meteor shower that night, perhaps from astronomy class? how would they react, would they enjoy such an activity + how would they deal with such an excitable and odd person such as the reader? tysm!! 💖

im bacccccccc from deeeeeeeed,, hey guys how are y’all doing? i think this will be the last request i’ll do before i focus my attention on the summer beach bash writing collab event held by the amazing, the lovely @nonsensical-twistedriddles​ anyways i hope you all are doing alright and enjoy these headcanons ❤️

for a better visual/image of what the meteor shower is like, refer to kimi no na wa or episode 6 of violet evergarden “somewhere, under a starry sky”

headcanons under the cut :))

riddle rosehearts

being the dorm leader of heartslabyul means that he’s always busy and he has tons of things to do, so when you first approached him he was a little hesitant 

“i....i don’t know (y/n)...” “pleaseeeeeeee”

you gave him your signature ‘cute puppy dog eyes’ and that was when he knew he couldn’t resist, so he agreed

that night he was surprised to find himself in a hill at the back of the school. you had laid out a blanket and brought a couple of pillows and a telescope just in case. a couple books about the whole meteor shower, and books about stars and space in general were sprawled across the grass as well

“ah riddle! you’re on time!” “of course. those who are late have to be taught a lesson” 

you patted the empty space next to you and he sat down beside you

“i’ve actually read about tonight’s meteor shower in one of my books. it happens once every 300 years! i’m just getting super duper excited just thinking about it! the fact that i get to see a comet that happens once in 300 years! aaaah! it’s amazing!”

personally, riddle didn’t know too much about comets or meteors or just astronomy. he just knew what he needed to learn for the subject. but seeing you being so happy and hyped about the meteor shower made him want to learn more

as you continued to ramble, riddle let out a small chuckle, causing you to focus your attention on him

“sorry, sorry. it’s just...you’re so cute rambling about these things. please tell me more.”

riddle saw a light in your eyes as they seemed to sparkle and you continued

he didn’t really understand half of the things you were saying but he enjoyed it

“and...and then it said that-” your sentence got cut off as the meteor shower started. an array of colors filled the sky as the sight before your eyes was the most beautiful thing you’ve seen

you stood up and just gazed at the whole thing in amazement, riddle followed but half of the time, he was looking at you. he was amazed at how passionate you were in this and how he wants to see you smile like this all the time

“(y/n). thank you for inviting me.” “it’s no problem, really!” “they say that when two people who are truly in love are together gazing at a meteor shower...their love for each other will be known to both and it will continue to grow.”

riddle blushed and so did you. were you saying...?

“well it’s just an old legend, though. we should head back.”

the next day in class, riddle approached you out of nowhere and handed you something. it was a crystal necklace in the shape of a star

“i really hope there’s another meteor shower soon. and i want you to come along with me.” he smiled before quickly running to his own class. 

and as the legend went, after spending time with riddle during that meteor shower, your love for each other grew and grew 

ace trappola

“haaah? a meteor shower? what’s so interesting about that?” “oh come on ace! you owe me one anyways! remember that one time-” “okay! okay! i’ll go.”

truth be told, ace really doesn’t mind doing anything and going anywhere as long as you were there. but his big ego doesn’t allow him to agree that easily. 

 you were both snuck into the astronomy classroom and went out the window to the balcony. a perfect view of the meteor shower

“what’s so cool about this meteor shower, anyways?” “a lot of things actually!” you continued to ramble on about it

ace could care less about space, stars, meteors, all that jazz, but since you were the one talking about it, he really doesn’t mind. there was one sentence which grabbed his attention though

“tonight’s meteor shower is called ‘the falling stars’” “what? so like...stars come falling from space? or is it just one big ass star?” “no! it’s called ‘the falling stars’ because they say if you make a wish while gazing at the meteors, it’ll come true.”

“what the-that’s all-” “ace! it’s starting!”

he glanced up at the sky, and truth be told, he never saw a scene as beautiful as that. it was really as if the stars from the sky were falling down. 

“it lasts only for three minutes! hurry up and make your wish!” he turned his head to face you and saw your eyes closed and face scrunched up. some wish. “alright then~”

once the meteor shower ended you giddily asked ace what his wish was

“hmm...maybe i’ll tell you someday.” “what?! why not tell me now?!” “my wish is something you should figure out on your own.”  “what?! hey! that’s not fair! ace! wait for me!”

the next day, ace was delighted to find you skipping through the hallways with a bright smile on your face

“good morning guys!” you smiled to your two best friends. “what’s with the smile, (y/n)?” deuce asked you. “nothing! just feeling happy.” “so my wish did come true.” ace whispered to himself. 

“what did you say?” “nothing. now let’s get to class.” “ow! ace that hurt!” “it was just a playful slap, you big baby.” 

now what was ace’s wish, you may ask?

i wish for (y/n) to always be happy, and to let me see her beautiful smile on her face each day

deuce spade

“what!? it’s tonight?!” “jeez you never keep your eyes open in astronomy class, do you? but yes! it’s tonight. so we should go together, okay?” 

you and deuce were known to be the chaotic, nerd-like duo over these things. you were much more invested than deuce however, but he just likes to listen to you talk about it. 

he helped you up the roof of the ramshackle dorm where you both could get a good view of the sky

truth be told, you were trembling a bit. heights weren’t your thing and now here you were sitting on top of a roof which could’ve collapsed any second. 

you clung onto deuce’s arm, causing him to blush slightly but he assured you that you both were going to be fine

the sky changed from a dull dark blue to a bright, glowing purple and light blue, and you both knew that the meteor shower started

“it’s...beautiful.” the both of you whispered in amazement. you and deuce just stayed up talking about astronomy and how the both of you got interested in it as the meteor shower continued.

“you know something about this meteor shower?” deuce shook his head. “...no? what?”

“it says that you’re granted good luck if you’re under the sky of this meteor shower.” “that means everyone in night raven college gets good luck huh?”

“i don’t know. it’s not specific! they didn’t even say how long the luck lasts or...yeah. it’s just not specific. it’s just an old saying anyways.” you and deuce laughed. 

you both felt something slip under your feet. “uh oh.” it was a roof tile. 

this caused you both to slide from your position and started tumbling down the roof. 

“deuce! do something! summon something soft so we don’t fall!” “u-uhhh, okay!” 

it was his and your safety in his hands so he prayed that he was able to come up with something appropriate 

“i summon...a big fluffy pillow!” you and deuce managed to fall off the roof without any harm and landed on the pillow, slightly bouncing even

you both laughed in relief as the both of you were okay. “hey, you managed to summon something good!” “well..maybe it’s the good luck from the meteor shower.”

“and you know, i’m feeling pretty lucky. so...i can do this.” he leaned in and pecked your cheek. your cheeks instantly burned up as you buried your face in your arms. 

“deuce you idiot! you should consider being lucky that i don’t slap the heck out of you!” he just laughed at your cute behavior and attacked you with a big hug

you two ended up accidentally falling asleep on that big, fluffy pillow and you both woke up to find yourselves in each other’s arms 

malleus draconia

“(y/n).” he called out to you. “yes?” “i heard there’s going to be a meteor shower tonight.” 

“ah! yeah...about that. i was thinking...if you would want to come see it with me?” you fiddled with your fingers. “me? i’m...invited?” “yes! i wouldn’t want to invite anyone else in the whole world.”

malleus felt delighted and was just looking forward to that night. he didn’t really matter what else happened during the day. 

“but i don’t really know where we can watch it from. the other students are planning on watching it too...” “we can see it from the diasomnia observatory.” “WAIT, YOU HAVE THAT?!” you shrieked a little too loudly

“i mean....if you don’t mind.” “of course. it’s alright.”

you were shocked to find yourself in a neat and organized observatory. bookshelves surrounded the whole room and a big telescope was in the middle of it. “this is amazing...”

“you could always come here if you want.” “WHAT?! WAIT, REALLY?” you beamed as you followed malleus. “i know your love for space, (y/n).”

you mentally slapped yourself, was it always that obvious? am i just too loud about it? ugh damn it. 

“you shouldn’t worry about it. it’s fascinating to learn all about it.” you were always there for malleus when he was in depth into talking about gargoyles and you treated him with the utmost respect. you also joined in the conversation and actually asked him a few things. he wanted to do the same for you. 

“i was the one who invited you, yet here you are doing everything.” “i don’t mind...” if i can spend time with you, i’d do anything. 

“malleus, look!” you pointed at a golden glow coming from the sky. it was starting. 

you two stood in silence for a while, enjoying the view of the night sky and each other’s presence

“you know...i’ve seen this meteor once. when i was a child.” “really?” you scooted closer to him. “sadly, back then, i didn’t have anyone to enjoy it with. i didn’t have anyone who is as passionate talking about it as much as you. and now, i’m glad you’re by my side, (y/n).” 

“and i’ll continue to be by your side! i promise, we’re going to see as many meteor shower as possible! we’ll go stargazing, go chase clouds, everything! and--ah sorry. am i rambling too much?” 

malleus took your hand in his and placed a gentle kiss atop it. “hearing  you talk about these things makes me happy, (y/n). and i’m glad you’re by my side. i promise we’ll do all these things together. i’d do anything with you, as long as we’re together.” “thank you.” you smiled back (trying your best not to lose your composure)

and you both spent the whole night in the balcony, hand in hand, with your head resting on him as you watched the stars in the night sky and as the sky turned from a dark blue to a bright blue

just like the way you both wanted it to be 

and now i wanna go stargazing uuuugggghhhhh or watch kimi no na wa/violet evergarden again efjwoejfowe. FAIRY GALA EVENT TOMORROW!!!! the best of luck to everyone who’s scouting !!!

love, a♕

[palishere]

4 ingredients: Sammy... Handcuffs.... Whipped cream... And a pair of stilettos.

Click. Click. Click.

Goes the knee high, leather, black boots against the almost non existant floorboards. The shoelace thin ties are pulled tight eenough that the leather hugs my thigh. God, it feels so good. So sexy. My eyes glance over the small frame of my glasses and into the bright blue gaze of my reflection.

I single handedly took out a hunter today. Nothing can wipe this proud smile as i apply thick black eyeliner wanting to look my best. Especially when the Alpha finally turns up.

I feel the bottom of my stomache churning. Anticipation, excitement and nerves all washing around with just a dash of butterflies to keep life interesting. Im jittery. The adrenaline must be the reason. I haven't taken a hunter down before. And did my heart do somersaults when i pulled keys and a brown leather wallet from the agents pant pocket. He must have thought he wasn't staying long. He was very wrong.

It's exciting watching my pupils grow. Feeling my heart rushing gaster and faster as the adrenaline continues to consume the veins through my body. I haven't known lust like this.

The rattle of handcuffs behind me gives him away, he's finally awake. And i have never been so impatient to play. And when William sees him, sees me and him i hope with every fiber that i might be allowed to keep him.

I turn around with a cherry red smile on my lips as i face the stone cold, brown eyed hunter. And if looks could kill.

"Sam Winchester." I sigh a deep exhale to calm my nerves, "Finally awake..."

"You!" He snarls, "You killed those people!?" He yanks on the handcuffs and they scuff against the metal frame of the single bed. I'm feeling confident that they will hold.

"Me? Oh, God no. I- I'm not in that... brand... i'm far too new."

"New?" He says quickly and equally confused.

"Yeah. Honey, new-"

"So you're in a pack?"

"Pack? Oh, i suppose. "

"What does that mean?" He hisses and tries to act like i can't see his hand searching for a loose nail. Staller, i can't help but tsk as i walk closer to him.

"You boys never had werewolves get the drop on ya huh? Well, the pleasure really will be all mine." I feel my eyes glowing and i watch with curiousity as Sam takes in my unique feature. My eyes, for reasons that i will explain soon, they don't shift normally when i take my were-form. They kind of glow a dark pink colour.

"What... Are you? You're not-"

"A werewolf? I am. I'm just a new type of werewolf."

"A hybrid?"

"Thats the one..." i place my hand on his knee and give his leg a firm squeeze. "You excite me, hunter.."

He protests so pretty, i feel my body reacting favourably as he swears fore to stop. But, it was already too late for him. Noone was going to stop this.

His black dress pants are pulled uncomfortably under his knees, while the fabric is pulled so tight i retrieve his blade and nick the cotton pants and they fall apart under him.

"Stop. What are you doing? Why? Don't. Jesus. Don't."

"Hush. I'm not even close to done." I put one knee over him and straddle his hips and it's like they always belong. Like he always belong to me. Under me. With me. My heart pounds at an incredible rate, but, if this is how i die, well, better this than a shotgun.

I sit back a little and hitch my skirt up over my hips. Two fingers are quick to slide among my labia and spread the juices around i moan when i find my own clit and it's almost like i found it for the first time, i buck down and moan with a tear forming in my eye.

"I've wanted this for too long..."

"Ngh- you can't..." his voice stutters. And i don't even need to respond to that because. I can. And i will. And i am.

With one hand getting to know myself the other picks up a nearby can, shaking it just as i intend to shake Sammy's monster cock as soon as i get my hand in his clean, white underwear.

"W-what are you d-doin?"

"Helping you." Is all i offer before i tilt the can and spray the tasty white stuff over Sam's chest. A long stripe of whipped cream lands just above his nipple and up to the V on his neck. "There's a few things that make me unique," i say with a hard roll of the hips, but the noises it drags from his throat are what i've lived for. I lean over his generous body and lap at the whipped cream. And may the good Lord help me when he moans.

I feel him chubbing and i wish i could stop rolling my hips over him, but, like a needy animal in heat, there is no stopping me. "The first thing that makes me unique," i whisper againdt his golden skin, "Is how i was turned. It isn't everyday a succubus has an offer like i did.."

"Y-You're...!?"

My hand turns his chin towards me, and i let my eyes radiate once more with a hum before locking lips with the little hunter. "Delicious..." I can feel his heart, pounding, picking up pace and it takes another kiss or two before our hearts beat at the same rhythm.

"But that's not even where i get my power, see, to be turned a succubus... there is a ritual."

"N-Ngh..." he clamps his mouth shut and my eyes turn a shade darker at his defiance, another shake of the whipped cream and his eyes shoot open. I nip across his cheek and lean in to clean my mess.

Meanwhile, my hand has snaked behind his head and i grip his thick chestnut locks. He's perfect and i'm unashamed to admit that i want to keep him.

"Succubus are demons..! Th-they're bred as demons..." he sounds exhausted and i feel his energy seeping into me.

"Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Where did you read that?" I lean up to steal another kiss and this time he lets my tongue slip inside. So i naturally have to reward that with another grind. He responds so nicely.

I find his blade again and snip the underwear away, he is fully erect and Jesus, he is sporting a monster of his own. I can't wait for his tip to meet my folds, to mindless explore my entrance, to accidently bump my clitoris. To ride him for hours and hours on end. And ultimately for him to give in and accept that he will be my new breed.

"No, well- yes. Most Succubus. But, i was turned." Finally. Finally, my hand slips between the heat of our bodies and i grip him, "every wonder... what happens when a lust demon defiles a virgin?" No complaints, no swearing, no fighting and i line him up and it's like the first time. "It was some time ago and for most of that time I was forbidden of this act." I scoff, "Can you imagine a sex demon forbidden from sex?!" Less pain, more pleasure, heightened senses, lust filling the room. He moans so pretty, begging repeatedly. Beautiful. "Thats when i met William, the answer was to cross my bloodline with another..."A burst of energy pulses through me and although i've never experience anything like it before, my instincts know exactly what's happened. His resistance has depleted and all thats left is for his climax to fill me and i'll have him made an obediant servant before William even arrives.

"Ngh! Ah!" His head pulls forward watching as i bounce up and down over his throbbing cock, it almost slips out before i force it back in, it's filling me. I see him nodding, because he wants it, wants to release inside of me.

I lean forward, hand grabbing his neck and squeezing it as my hips push into his, the springs of the bed shriek loudly. He pants and pants and pants and i can feel his release building in his loins. Our pending orgasms entwining into each other, a mix of blue and pink energy swirlling together and his gaze fixes on me, he voiclessly begs me to let him cum and-

"Soon...Hang on...hang on, baby..." Our bodies make obscene sounds and i moan with eyes rolled into the back of my head, "Ahh! Yes!! Yes! So full...You gonna fuck me baby? Fuck me hard? Tell me..." my eyes are almost a glow of purple, the lust overbearing and the need for orgasm taking over as i ride the Winchester through the mattress.

He begged for the longest time. I wish Dean had been there to watch his baby brother come undone like he did. It was mind shattering.

My arms wrapped around his neck, holding him as i drilled my hips into his, his cock curving perfectly to fill my every need, when i finally got close and his climax was peaking, our energies combined into an explosion of power. His load never seemed to stop, just kept spurting and spurting and twitching inside of me and just when we thought he was spent, i lapped at his neck and shoulder, nipping lightly with my teeth and had him blowing a surprise load that neither of us knew he was holding.

Spent from the obvious, i grinded softly against him and once the effects started to wear off, his fight slowly started to repair.

The soft "What did you do?" Filled my heart with joy.

"Oh, sweetie, that was just round one..."

[angelguk]

i keep writing this au even though no one asked for this. here’s another dream boy drabble but this time it’s the first kiss. jeongguk isn’t in the best mental space in this one too, so that’s a warning. the realm they are in is weird and im not sure about the soulmate science in this universe. kind of angst if you turn it upside down. 2k words for some reason. listen to heart by otr ft. shallou if you want to hear the head space i was in.

He’s on the hill again. His back is turned to you, dark shirt billowing gently in a wind that you can’t feel nor see but you know it's there. It doesn’t take you long to reach him - time in this place doesn’t work like it does in reality. You should feel tired climbing up this hill but your legs pump on regardless, spurred by the strange curiosity the familiar stranger makes you feel. You can’t see his face, and you’re not sure you know his name but there’s something fluttering in your chest the closer you get to him. 

But then he turns, the sunlight in this place illuminating the slope of his nose and the boyish curve of his smile. The name falls out of your mouth before your brain can register it.

“Jeongguk!” 

He’s facing you now, the corners of his petal lips turned upwards. His cheeks look soft, tinged a soft hue of rose. You’re not sure if it’s from the bite of the wind or the warmth of the sun. But he looks good regardless. 

“Hey.” There’s a hand reaching out to grab you own, haul you up the last leg of the hill. You can spot the little ink drawings on his skin from here. The black bleeds out a little, staining the crevices of his skin. You think it’s the silhouette of a skull, but it’s partially washed off. Some part of you finds it endearing. 

“Why do you like this hill so much?” You huff beside him, slightly irritated that Jeongguk looks taller than the last time you recall. He smiles at that, dropping your hand to shove his own in the pockets of his sweats. He’s barefoot like you are.

“Aerial view. It’s nice to see what the birds see. Kind of like looking at the bigger picture.” You catch the strain in his voice then, gaze landing on the redness in his eyes later. You reach for his hand without a second thought, intertwining your fingers in the warmth of his pocket. But it’s hard to hold hands in that confined space and Jeongguk gingerly draws your joint hands out. He gives your fingers a tight squeeze, his grip echoing the pain suddenly holding your heart. 

“How was your day?” You ask it carefully, eyes surveying every flicker of movement in his face. He looks tired, exhausted really. And the fact that you can’t wipe that look of despair off his face makes your own fall.

“Bad.” Your heart shatters at that, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. The falter of his smile makes you want to punch the world for hurting him.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Yes and no.” He’s plopping down on the grass before you can blink, neatly tucking his feet under his thighs as he crosses his legs over each other. “Can we just sit for a moment.”

You nod and follow. But there’s a ticking in your head that makes you feel like you’re running out of time. You don’t know why you feel rushed, but you can’t keep your hands off Jeongguk. Your hands are tangled together again and you’re resting your head against his firm shoulder. 

You don’t know how long you sit there, watching an eternally still sun splaying over the vibrant green grass, with your hand in Jeongguk’s. It’s only when the sky turns lavender, a light tinge that ebbs away the blue, that he starts talking.

“Don’t you feel insignificant at times? Like the things you do and say don’t even matter in the grand scheme of things? There’s so many of us - who would even be affected if I disappeared? You know - what’s the point of existing if your existence it’s changing something about the world?”

You pause at that, taken aback but the torrent of words falling from his lips. You’re not looking at him, eyes on the purple haze deepening across the sky. The sun is still high though, glaring bright despite the darkness overtaking everything else. It’s unsettling, watching the sun keep it’s reign over the night instead of passing the throne to the moon. It makes your skin prickle, just like Jeongguk’s words.

“What made you feel like that?”

He bites his lip at that, but you still spot the wetness in his eyes. “Just things.”

You hum, carefully mulling over the words in your head. It’s hard to pinpoint the problem plaguing Jeongguk because you don’t know him outside of this realm. You don’t even know if he’s real, or whether he’s the incarnation of your subconscious. You decide to speak anyway.

“Okay. But you’re wrong.” You say it softly, afraid you're treading on cracked glass. He looks up, a glint in his honey eyes that you’ve never seen. “No matter how insignificant you feel, you matter. What you decide to do or say all contribute to the grand scheme of things. The impact we make on life doesn’t have to be huge. It could be small. Maybe you’ve made someone smile or laugh today. Or maybe you’ve been there for someone when they needed you most. You’ve been there for me.” The last sentence just falls out of your mouth. You know you know Jeongguk but at the same time you’re sure you don’t. “You are important. To a lot of people. Who would your friends be without you? Your parents? We’re not all made to be people who alter humanity with their words or actions. If we were, what importance would those people have? Sometimes the most significant thing we can do is just be. And that’s perfectly fine.”

The sky is apricot now, the glow of the sun bleeding into the world. A stark contrast to the purple hue from before. It makes his skin look golden, hand warm in your own. The silence that sits over your heads makes you want to cower away. You’re not sure why you said that. Or whether your words even made a difference. You hope they did. 

He glances up slowly, the motion revealing the speckling of beauty marks across pretty neck. You want to lean into his space, hold Jeongguk in your arms so that nothing ever hurts him again. The hum that echoes from his chest cuts through that need though, and suddenly Jeongguk is staring into your eyes. The glow of the sun makes the brown in his irises swim, shifting shades of caramel drawing you in.

“You have a point,” He whispers. His eyes are on the sky again, a wistful look in them. Your tongue in stuck in your mouth, immobile because Jeongguk has the power to strike you senseless at odd times. 

You make a noise of acknowledgement in response, fingers itching to rest themselves in his russet locks. “Want to distract yourself?” You say, trying to direct the conversation from from the pit of melancholy it is currently sitting in. 

“I’m up for a distraction.” He’s looking at you again. Your stomach does a funny thing that makes you want to run away and pull him closer.

“Air balloon ride? You said you liked an aerial view.” There’s that twinkle in his gaze. He’s up before you are.

“Race you to it,” He yells, before tearing down the hill, strides long because his sudden growth sprout makes his legs longer than yours. You chase at his heels, heart light in your chest as your lungs strain to keep up with his speed. He’s so fast, the strength of youth propelling his legs forward. Your brain recalls a memory you don’t, he said he did some sports awhile ago - or at least that’s what you imagine he said.

The air balloon rests at the bottom of the hill, already prepped despite no one ever being around to do. That’s one of the nice things about this place - things appear with a simple thought. Every whim was possible in this place. Every desire - apart from the one you kept harboured in your heart. 

Jeongguk’s feet skid into the dirt. You bump into him harshly, only saved from your ass kissing the ground when he spins around and grabs your arms tightly, yanking you right into his chest.

“Thank you,” He whispers into your ear. “I feel like I should say that.”

You blanch at that. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m your friend aren’t I? Am I not meant to be there for you?”

His brows furrow together in a way that makes your heart ache. “You don’t have to be. But you still do it.”

“We’ll we’re the only ones here, might as well.” You elbow his arm smiling but Jeongguk frowns a little. “And it’s because I want to.” You quickly tack on, afraid you’ve struck a nerve.

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re even real,” He whispers softly. His hands are slipping down your arms, feeling gently like he’s afraid you’ll evaporate. “You’re too good to be real.”

“So are you,” You murmur back. The sun is bright again now. As if dusk and dawn had sprinted through their stay to let the day take her place again. It makes the ticking in your head get louder. 

Jeongguk shakes his head, his brown bangs swaying softly. There’s that sheepish smile on his face again. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew me.”

But I do, you think. It comes rushing in then, every moment you’d spent with Jeongguk in this place. How days and nights had passed with you sharing anecdotes and laughter as the grass beneath you had tickled your skin. How you’d first seen him, crying on that curb. How he’d sketched a horizon on your skin one late night. Or was it a day. Everything seems to bleed together now, the ticking in your head incessant. The sky is too bright and it’s overtaking the profile of his face, leaving a radiant white light reflecting in your eyes. You can’t see his face. Were you even talking to a person? Who are you referring to? But you can feel someone close in and your eyes flutter close involuntarily. The press of their lips against yours makes your heart fly out of your chest. But things are happening so fast and even when you try to grasp onto them, pull them closer, they disintegrate beneath your fingertips. You open your mouth to say something, scream at them to stay. But your tongue is caught in your throat. You can’t call them if you don’t know their name. But you do - you know their name, you’re sure of it. Even though you scour your memory for their name, you can’t find it. Your heart bangs against your ribs painfully. Everything is fading away. This safe space in your head slowly turns to dust, picked up the wings of the wind as it travels to a new destination. You don’t want to go. You don’t want to leave them. You don’t want to go, you don’t want to go, you don’t want to go -

It’s your grandmother who opens the door to your room. You roll in your sheets, head trying to process the bright light shining on your face and the sound of her commanding voice ordering you to get out of bed. Your eyes feel heavy, cracking open when your ears register the heavy pattering of Pogo’s paws on the floor.

“Morning Pogo,” You croak out. She drops at the foot of your bed, panting slightly from the exertion. Her age is rapidly getting to her and it’s showing in the droopiness of her ears. But Pogo stretches out her paws regardless, mouth open in a wide yawn, acknowledging your greeting. Your grandmother is gone already, banging pots and pans in the kitchen in a vain attempt to wake up your father. She won’t win that battle. He came in late yesterday and it took him five tries to get the door open, obviously severely inhibited. She still valiantly tries, expending a lot of energy for a person her age.

You attempt to wipe the sleep away by rubbing at your face. It works for second, making the haziness in your eyes vanish. But then your fingertips fall to your lips. They tingle, warm against your fingers. You touch them again, mind lingering on the imprint you feel there. It feels like someone pressed their mouth against yours, hastily but harshly because your mouth still buzzes with the memory of them.

Weird.

Your grandmother shouts your name and that finally gets you out from your warm sheets. You immediately forget about the dream, the kiss and the boy, head space taken up by the tasks you need to do. There’s no space for him in your mind, not in this reality. There’s not even space for his name.

[batdaddies]

Madreperola

warnings: explicit content, violence

pairing: orm x reader

about: im rusty, been AGES since my last time writing, tried to post this into orm tag for three times now, hope now works, after you are done and still want more, leave a prompt at my askbox, i need some more orm around, patrick wilson killed and now i should write kinky smuts about the ex-king of atlantis, this is not that kinky yet, kinda wanted, kinda dont, whatever, the whole Y/N looks funny because I made it into a scenario in an extra page on my tumblr that you can actually insert your name into it, but it wasnt working so yeah, i just wanted to post it so i can write another one. You are not a surface dweller, you are a badass atlantis warrior, a lot of canon made by myself, sorry. Enjoy!

MADREPÉROLA - MOTHER OF PEARLS

Orm is made out of duties, ideas, strength, pain and pieces of a man who once thought he could die alone.

EYES

They were cheering, loud within the dense water, they had music, excited with drums and bubbles around the instruments. Atlantis was painted of those sparkling jellyfishes all around, all the citizens with hands up, waving. Happiness was a strange feeling, how deeply it was, he had been going around for some minutes now, and everytime his eyes flashed around the faces of his people, the smiles were pure, how could they not notice the way his father’s hand on his mother was a little too hard? Were they not seeing through, was it too dark?  How could they not see their smiles didn’t match their eyes?

He could sense on his skin, the hair on his arms, right under his royal armour, his hands holding the ropes with a tiny shake. The image of his mother yelling, back and forth with his father had been disturbing; he could hear from the corridor, a strong impulse and he was by the door, opening just to see her beautiful form on the floor, the silver trident on her hands, pointing into his father’s neck, who had his own trident against her belly. They all shared a quiet stare between, his mother soon being the first to give up, she had called his name, throwing the trident behind her, a sign of peace for the time, she didn’t try to explain anything, instead her long arms circulated his torso with care, love. But he was stuck with the situation, with his parents obviously fighting, hard, to the point of fists. His father spoke first.

“Tell him, Atlanta,” the voice husky, dark, capable of investing fear in any being under the seas. The wrinkles on his eyes showed the age, showed the tiredness, the madness, and the hard pupils, they were black unlike his own, his traces only from his mother. A trembling hand came for his mother's back, holding her to protect her, to protect both, specially himself from that tone. “Tell him about your time in the surface…”

His mother pulled him out of the room in that same minute, feet pushing the water, mouth rushing his concerns, not that she actually could, however she tried, whispered what she normally did. Don’t listen to your father. You know he is out of his mind. I love you so much. A help with his hair, a kiss on his head, and they were separated for the parade. He watched his father soon joining him with the soldiers behind, the tridents on hands, watched how he whispered something into her ear before impulsing her trident to her hand so she could have, they all sat down on the animals. He had a shark for once he was young, small, only a prince. His father and mother in front of him, on a pedestal on top of a tylosaurus.

The parade was for pride, the kingdoms together for the solemn purpose of existing after the Great Fall. The royal families, the respected generals and war heros, all lined up to celebrate another year. Atlantis was first of course, the Xebellians behind, followed by the Fishermen, and the Brine. The occasion was peaceful, for what Orm wasn’t in peace at all, he wasn’t a man yet, couldn’t understand the factors of marriage, couldn’t let go of the incident, he was smiling at least, because at some point his father turned behind to take a look, and his lips moved. Smile. As his king wished, he did, an order he wasn’t exactly fulfilling, the white teeth where showing, his mouth opened, but it was crooked, and fake. So lost inside his own head, inside his own thoughts.

Focus! Focus! The voice inside yelled at himself, what kind of Prince he would be if he couldn’t complete his duty? When he finally took his eyes off his father’s grip on his mother’s hands, they averted to the side, searching on the crowd a will to go through all that. All the faces, all the shouts. Nothing. He felt nothing. Until his head moved up, and there, far away, on the higher platform for important, high-borns families, on the privilege views. Someone who had the same serious face as him, unbothered gaze, hair swimming, adorning the shape of her cheeks like a crown with a gold ornament on the side, the lips closed on the rigid line of her jawline. She wore purple and suited her well.

Orm tried to recall when he had seen her before, failing. A strange face. But she was sitting somewhere he would known everybody. By the sides, a man and a woman, he also tried to recall their faces, nothing yet. She entertained his stare until the platform was left behind, until his neck couldn’t turn anymore to watch her.

Seemed there were actually two sad atlanteans that day.

EARS

Once, the worst part of his birthdays was his mother, not herself. Not her caring, soft hands, or her hugs, or kisses. Not her smile. Not her blue eyes. Not the blond hair swinging in the entire room in pretty waves. Her absence. The first year without her presence was disturbing, the second was awful, and the third was fading. It was a shame to say, Orm didn’t remember her that well, now. Some years had passed, along memories, and longing. Sometimes he was ashamed to say he didn’t think of her that much, the grieving had a funny way with him, he was locked away in his own room for days, yet no tears. His father had kept the secret until the very last moment, he didn’t know what was happening until the trench was close enough, besides the entire kingdom knowing, he was oblivious, seemed his father had even funnier ways to mess with him.

Forced to look, forced to watch, and fight against his own mother being sacrificed, she had shouted for him, and Orm had yelled back, but his father was stronger, he was right there, holding him still, hands on his biceps, face on his ears, like a spirit from the past, he felt the lips on his earlobe. A bastard. He stopped immediately, shocked, body failing to keep fighting. The bastard. His senses numbed as she was slowly disappearing from his sight. She had a half-breed, treason.

For months, he didn’t know if he was grieving his mother, or her secret. A powerful queen like herself, to subjugate, accept, cohabit with a human… She had lost her mind, yet the more he thought about it, the more he lost his. The thin line of love, and obeying was starting to fade. The King’s speeches were beginning to make sense, the new ideas of a different future were settling right inside his brain, almost able to recite them one by one, the strongest was the King’s wish to make Orm Marius the best yet. The whole attention, devotion and energy should be spent on his training, on his lessons, on Atlantis that had been suffering with the surface for decades. It was showing then, Orm was becoming the man his father wanted him to be, who took pride on the pure-blood son one day not being only a great king, but a dangerous threat to his enemies.

That year was even decided there was no party, Orm needed to train, needed to study; the only thing it happening was people bringing gifts. He didn’t want that neither, but the King said this costum couldn’t stop, it was necessary. They needed to be spoiled, they needed to be known, to be superior. Vulko was on his right, while the King was on the throne, he was just floating in the warm water in the room, his hands together in front of his torso that was getting bigger, a shape of broad shoulders. He wasn’t small anymore, maybe still young, but not that young, not that innocent. If anything, Orm’s blue bright eyes had a colder shine, the traces on his skin starting to look more like his father than his mother.

“And this is the family of Y/L/N,” Vulko’s voice was distance, low, only for him to hear. “Their ancestors served the crown once, before the second war, they were habitating in Xebel, but decided to come back to Atlantis now the patriarch is dead.”

A woman and a girl were swimming close, stopping to greet. Who he judge as the mother was carrying a box with an aquamarine as lock, the attire of same shade, silver bracelets and a kind smile.

She was placing in front of him with the pile of many others, but he never saw her doing so, instead, he was intrigued by the weapon the daughter was holding, dark grey, utterly curvy on the edges which were five, the handle adorned by arabesques circulating until the extremes along the battle marks, seemed old, however powerful. The girl held it with a straight posture, a warrior. Different from what he reminded, but it was her, he was sure. Purple dressed her too well. The hair had four or six braids floating around her face, much like a halo, adorning the cheekbones, the still rigid jawline, and still hard lips. Her eyebrows were up high, pearls on top of them, matching the color of her eyes. And this time, the purple was tight, admitting both of them had grown up, the cleavage was revealing her popping clavicules, the extra skin of her breasts, the curves continuing to her waist, and hips. Almost a completely woman. An attractive woman.

“You bear a trident,” he stated to her, blankly, forgetting to thank for the gift. His face with no emotions, but it didn’t mean the shiver he felt in his spine wasn’t there, a trickling feeling on his skin that Orm couldn’t name it. It was somehow disrespectful, like a question, taking off her right to carry it.

Her left eyebrow lifted even higher, pearls sparkling along in shades of green, purple and yellow, the trident suffered a whirl, and a thug on the ground, sound echoing, “it belonged to my great grandfather, he fought in the war, died for Atlantis.”

The voice match her looks, daring, a reckon, the water danced on her tone, which meant she was not intimidated by him, ready to prove she was worthy of carrying it. A strong presence with a strong sound, even she was smaller than him, not passing his chest for a fact. All the lessons of reading the opponent was handy in a moment like this, her body language was of someone always alert, someone confident, her breathing was calm, indeed not caring who she was facing. The Prince Of Atlantis. She’d be a good adversary.

“Were you trained with it?” the question now didn’t have any second intentions, rather just curiosity. His face finally moved, just a curl of lips, a blink of lashes, and the feeling stopped by his neck, where his hair was standing on the ends.

“By my own father who had it before me,” she said, noticing his icy eyes were staring down at her, a little movement of her feet, floating higher to fix it. They were on the same level, in an uncomfortable silence, if any noticed, the others accompanying them were alert.

“Good,” Orm said, with a nod of his head. “One day may Atlantis need you as a soldier.”

“My honor, Your Highness,” her tongue hit the back of her upper teeth when talking, which he saw slowly, the feeling going down his shoulders, under the armour, to his hands, the tip of his fingers. It didn’t fade until she turned and left the room, legs swinging in the water with her mother by her side.

The day remained boring, nothing pleasing Orm, neither the training later, or the studies, for what his mind couldn’t stop remembering itself of a purple attire, a trident, and a ringing voice.

My honor.

My honor...

Your highness...

NOSE

The passages of his life were made of deaths, every critical decision, every choice given, every chance made only after losing a life. Queen Atlanna had been sacrificed, only then he was able to decide who he wanted to be, a traitor like his mother or a powerful king like his father, he decided to be none, to be better, to be the best in every way he could. Accomplished. The King Orvax had died, only then he was able to rise to his purpose, finally giving him the freedom of being just a Prince; the chance of serving his people, of succeeding his plans for the future. For what, Orm wanted to great, a legend perhaps, there was no insecurities for the throne, no doubts of himself, he knew he could, he knew he would, Atlantis wouldn’t know a better King.

Sometimes, Orm would even forget he was a man of needs. Yet the truth always found a way to slap his face, shouting to be recognize, yelling louder than he ever could.

It wasn’t a subject his father spoke with him about, he was just given a wife and nothing else. Mera, the xebelian. It was a deal, an arrange, and Orm had grown up with her for far too long to know he wasn’t able to love her, he could respect, offer his loyalty, be a good husband, but never love. She was beautiful, he knew, he always did, since they were kids in the adventures through the oceans, when the lights hit her just right, her long red hair waving, she was pleasing to look at, but something was lacking, something was off. Love wasn’t made of attractive faces or colorful hairs. Indeed, Orm believed he wasn’t capable of love. His biggest duty was to Atlantis, to its preservation, to its protection.

Mera felt the same, he knew. She would never love him. They had consideration for each other, it was even good on a side to have her as a future wife, he wouldn’t pretend to be somebody to gain her admiration, she wouldn’t force herself into a unhappy marriage with somebody else. At least, they were friends when young, and time only could help them to have an heir, as he hoped. Because it was issue he decided to mind after the marriage, after the ceremony, when it in fact happened, not now when they are only betrothed: touching her. She didn’t excite him. He didn’t fantasized about her. Rarely were the times he actually fantasize about a woman, even when it happened, his body curling in his bed, the water dense on his torso, thick on his lungs, and the spasms asking for it, there was not a face, or a body, it was just the feeling. Sometimes he would close his eyes and think of purple. Sometimes he would force himself to fight the feeling away.

Vulko tried to talk to him about that subject, voice taken back, an apprehension on how to approach such matters. Orm stopped him, noticing what that was about. “I am not an animal, this alone should be enough for your concerns.”

It did had a toll on him lately, when his young years were gone, and Orm was what others would call proper age. His body at its peak, his physical appearance established, and the looks it brought to him. The servants passing by, their pupils heavy under the lashes, not reaching his own gaze because that would be reaching, but piercing through the armours, on his neck, and lips. They would be intense when it was time to train, when his body was left to feel the water without barriers, they usually had his armour on hands, or food, or bars when it was time for a new lesson. His feet felt the ground under, his torso circulated in cold water, fighting. The muscles lines were changing according to his moviments, too many of them, back, abdomen, arms, chest, all the stares on him. Orm felt he was giving a show, not training. When it was time to try the bars, the servant came with a bowed body, delicate hands offering the new instruments of battle, and his hand lingered against hers to get it. She moved her head to him, the hair moving in the way, able to cover her entire face but an eye. Desire.

That night had been hard to get through, he wanted it. He needed it. Skin twisting in his bed, the water gaining a new temperature his body failed to adjust to, his neck couldn’t even shallow it properly. It was the first time desire won against him, he thought about searching for her, but what humiliation would be for a Prince around hallways, impulsing himself to seek a servant for satisfaction. He couldn’t sleep, the pain on his lower abdomen asking for release, for the torture he putted himself through, his mind didn’t focus on any other matters besides an atlantean’s body.

His journey through this path had been somewhat disturbing after that, women knowledge his presence, his beauty, his appeal of a sleek blond hair with big, blue eyes, a straight nose and a rigid jawline. He discovered what he liked as well, what made him ask for more, not many times, maybe just three or four, enough for him to be satisfied for months, or years, they were usually high-borns, discreeted, not interested in stealing him for his duty, rather having a night with Prince Orm while they could. He always felt bad after, dressing himself and his mind going for Mera, felt like a betraying act. Guilt overcame pleasure easily after.

But the ironies of life were much deeper than his oceans, even with his future wife by his side, so close to him, sensing the water running through her mouth, nose, and lungs, he couldn’t control the desire when it drowned him, it started as an impulse in the back of neck, growing into a itching on his palms, to a tightness on his stomach. The surprise made him lean forward, eyes wide, a predator watching.

She came dashing in whirls, the bubbles forming a tail behind her feet, the tip of her trident ripping the water, and she stopped, arms opening, trident rising on top of her head, the armour was composed of hard golden scales on the shoulders falling through her breasts and hips, her feet had the protection boots coming to her knees, under of course, as usual, the purple hugging her curves. The braids on her hair this time were the ones for war, from the roots of her forehead to the back where they were loose, no helmet, but a huge choker on her neck, with pointed ends curling out of her face. She shouted with the crowd, they cheered for her, they loved their champion. To savour her congratulations, the body swag around the platforms, trident in circles, everybody had their hands up, and she was rising. Until she stopped again, higher, close to the Royals.

Orm regretted missing the battles, he had better matters to attend to, but his presence in the deliver of the medal to the champion was important, only he could deliver it, when his vizier said the champion that year was a she, he never thought that she was the one, he should have known, all his years and she was the only he could recall who had a trident, and was willing to take it to battle. Also, he regretted not participating that year, he would be very pleased to fight against her, test to see what she was capable of. Of course much, for what she had won.

Closer, it was easier to see the scratches on her armour, only a glove on her right hand, the left with blood floating in tiny bubbles, the bruise on her cheek, a line of red between purple and green, but she was fenomenal, the posture straight, not losing the high class, her beauty had grow older just as his. The traces of her nose and lips were softer, those are a shade of red almost purple, and her eyes batted against the top of her cheeks in long, thick curtains of lashes, the height hasn’t improved though, still smaller, and Orm couldn’t describe exactly what he felt when she entered the platform, pushing herself to the ground, kneeling with her entire being, trident resting on both hands, and hair in waves. It was desire, so much desire the water around him became heavy, a pressure on his shoulder he hadn’t ever felt before.

“Your Highness,” she greeted still bowing for him, fulfilling his memories of her voice, Orm had dreamt of it once, or twice, perhaps more times he wanted to admit, and the electricity inside his veins almost choked his voice out to answer.

Mera or Vulko none existed by his side, or the crowd, or the cheering. Only the atlantean kneeling for her King, offering him her trident, paying her respects. Orm held the medal high, swinging his legs to stop by her front.

“My champion,” his voice was raw, and she looked up to his cold eyes, an abyss of darkness, her lips twisted, but in what he identificate as his effect on the opposite sex, and Orm knew right away he could touch her face and she would let him, but he didn’t, not because he didn’t want to, but because she had the right to obtain what she came for. His hands switched quickly and the pearls around the medal fell from her head into her neck, until it rested between the choker and the armour. “Congratulations.”

She finally stood up, and Orm had been so close, the threads of her hair waved close to his face on the movement, almost a caress on his nose, she smelled of the deep currents when they pass the lava and the texture of both were meet in the fire and water, of fresh seaweed in the old city, sweet like battle, like duty. He was private, he was against any public touch, yet the King himself drowned in that smelled and wished to take her right there, uncover her curves, learn about her flesh, and listen to the graceful music her sounds would be on the water. He didn’t fantasize, yet he was, flashing question of what she liked, of how she was once nude, if she had another men in her bed, lost in the color of her eyes, in the halo of her hair, in the fierce beauty. Behind her glory class, he also saw the imagination flowing, of him, his lips, his hands, his body.

“I must know your name,” his upper lip, slightly meatier than the lower, moved and caught her gazing. For the Gods, Orm wanted her.

“Y/N, I—” she whispered slowly, fixed on the mouth, but was interrupted by Vulko, carried the King’s trident to him, Orm woke up from the tantalizing moment when the cane was presented.

“It was one of the best battles I've ever seen,” he said, cheerful, letting the heaviness of the trident fall on Orm’s hands.

“Thank you,” she bowed again, and Orm wished she didn’t, not for anybody else, only himself.

“Go present Atlantis your medal, champion,” he sent her away with good intentions. Go feel your glory. To what she nodded, with a last look at her handsome King, heavy lids, heavy heart, then Orm smiled, a malicious manner, corner of his lips rising, no teeth, superior to all.

Y/N circulated in the ocean, the trident shining, the crowd cheering even more with the medal adorning her neck, and Orm was left with his vizier, with his betrothed, and the unspoken understatement, both knew what it meant, and it was enough. She would come back for him, he just had to wait.

That night, desired had won, and Orm didn’t fight against it, closing his lids and thinking of the smell of her hair.

MOUTH

Orm would never forget the first time he laid his lips on hers, Y/N had a tight grip on his golden armour, nails crawling up between the scales to find any piece of skin she could, it was more a press than a kiss, strong for what both wanted to feel for too long, desperated. They were soft, so soft, and so eager for him, there was no space for anything else as he held her head with his both hands, prisioning the hair between his gloves, pulling her closer if possible. But Orm wanted more, always.

His life was made of conquering, of ruling, they were his first extinct. The times in the past when the shivers in his spine passed through when seeing her were nothing compared to the hammering urge to own her. To be owned by her.

Y/N had parted the lips, her tongue advertising between in hunger, licking his mouth, and inviting his own to taste it. Her flavour was of warm waters, of longing, of desire, and pleasure. Of betrayal, of treason, of unloyalty, and guilt. A perfect mixture of everything Orm had been craving for his life. They kissed as two creatures, humming into each other as battling for more, for survival, knowing they didn’t have time to go slow, to take it somewhere. They only had that moment, and it had to be enough. His teeth came for her lips, crashing down on the lower one as his hands pulled her head back, wanting to both have her and destroy her.

I am not an animal, he had said to his vizier. But the lines of desires were blurred, Orm couldn’t recognize himself when his teeth bit into her neck, the flesh gently bending over, the veins pumping blood under his mercy, and she moaned, body pressing on his armour, pushing her into his torso. Orm lost it then. The first sound of her was the same as winning, the thrill of it. He was addicted to that, to devour her. He knew he whispered something into her ear as his hands helped her to strip himself from the armour, from the crown, groaning when her fingers ran on the muscles on his back, unplugging the attire, that fell on water and then the ground. Her purple attire was torn before she could have the chance to undress herself to him, Orm had grabbed the sides and pulled hard, for he couldn’t wait to touch her skin.

The curves were a sight to touch, the rough hands squeezing her being with want, too fast to remember, enough to feel, they filled with her breasts, then her hips, and his mouth joined, kissing and biting the way down. He had her laid on his own bed, the King’s bed. Almost a Queen. He drowned under her, on the edge of the bed, his tongue discovering her real taste as she wished. Orm could stay there forever, watching her swishing her hips harder on his face, the warrior strength forcing him deeper. Her moans were delicious, outraged, feeling his tongue entering, her eyes had searched for him, watching his tongue licking all the way from the crack, to the entrance to the point of pleasure. Orm sucked her intimacy with his opened, and was also able to watch the effect it had on her face, the eyebrows high, the flashing of color on the cheeks, and the pearls adorning their bones, sparkling. His thumbs seeked into her, opening the lower lips for more. He wanted more. He wanted everything.

The orgasm took a time, showing Orm both she had been done this before and she was not shy. Her feet stopped on his back, the jewelry on her ankles scratching his muscles, serving the support to thrust her hips toward him, and she rolled them many times, moaning his name, sucking water, loud and needy. Orm ate her up, helped her to the limit, took her there and admired the beauty in an atlantean’s cry. Her back curling, hands messing the bed and chest expanding His arms held her entirely, thighs, waist, ass, the skin hot, delicious. Y/N grabbed him immediately by the shoulders, eyes blinded by carnal thoughts, and kissed his lips, impulsing herself into his lap. They were sitting the floor then, and she cried again, the suffocating stretch for her King. He was big, thick, pulsing. Clutching into her back as the groan left his throat, she was tight, and wet; different from the sea, dense, heavenly.

No rhythm, no nice and easy pace. Orm groaned on her lips as rode, hands squeezing her back, pulling her hair, eating her moans, and cries like he had been starving. The breasts rubbed on his chests, the nipples hard, the thighs hitting against his own, and tides of water circulating them. At some point, he took control on the moviments, stiffening her body still, thrusting up into her. Y/N had let go then, nails digging behind on his knees, and back curled in the way her breasts followed his control. A hand came for her neck. Orm gave it a light thug to make it noticed, and didn’t know who enjoyed it more. Him, feeling her veins and the shape of it, or her, rolling her eyes and crying for her King.

Beg for me. He managed to let out, between all the mixture of emotions, all the creatures actions. Beg. And before she could, his feet pushed the floor, they ended on the wall, Y/N was turned and her head rested there. Give me the pleasure again, Your Majesty. She said, overwhelmed by him, their legs circulated together and they held on the glass. The sea outside with the purple and pink lights, gardens of seaweeds, corals, and Y/N inside offered herself to him, a tilt of waist. Make me worthy. Orm invaded her again with power, hitting her hips on the glass with a sound overflowing the room. He held her neck, disappearing his face into her hair, smelling the freshness, the sweetness, taking her from behind with the same strength he used to fight with. She accepted, she wanted it, she could take it. Muffed pushes into the wall with their many others noises, the fleshes of both collapsing into each other, easily mistaken as they could become one, and Orm never felt like that before. Fulfilled. Her lips caught him in ways he had never been kissed before, her body engulfed him in ways he had never been touched before; she was a beast of domination, and the track of who was the one in control faded, of course he gave orders and she listened, however how could he be sure she wasn’t exactly doing what she needed to do to make him follow the path she wanted?

They had each other for hours, and hours, Y/N had been bending for him in every position, and Orm had worn himself out in her arms. Their bodies floated around the room, back to his bed, Y/N on her knees and elbows, on the table with holographic lights that reflect on her skin in colorful maps and letters as she once again managed to get on top, terrifyingly holding his neck, laying on water, on the ceiling, soaring on the sides, clapping on the white material. He had come undone four times with her that night, stamina dripping from the pores, dancing between them in the drift, and Y/N wasn’t done, not yet. Laid on his chest, kissed his muscles and let his fingers entry her core, there was nothing left to do, but watch the perfection of how luxury stripped on her face. It was the moment he saw the future of wanting it again, searching for her again. And for the first time in a night of betrayal, Orm didn’t feel guilty. Instead, he felt peace, closed his lids and explored dreamlands.

Many were the nights Orm passed through the guards on the palace and dived into the dark, using the ruins of the Old City to arrive at her home, more times than he would like to admit. His emotions were always the same, every time seemed the first time. Y/N would greet him into her chambers, they would kiss and succumb into each other greatly, like warriors waiting for battles. She would wear purple, blue and even white; some nights the pearls on her face were on top of her cheekbones, highlighting the sea, some nights on the back of her hand, embellished into the dress, some nights her hair was braided from the roots, not letting him touch it, some nights she would wear diademas of precious stones, and gold. And some nights Orm wasn’t a creature, neither was she. Some nights he would trace her features with his finger tips before a kiss, some nights he would talk, of the throne, of Atlantis, of destiny, of her.

She was far more interesting than he could imagine. Her family came from a line of high borns since before the Great Fall, her great grandfather became one of the King’s vizier at his lifetime, but died in the second war, the trident was a gift passing through generations, her descendants were always proud of it, making the tradition of every heir being trained, guided to, when the Crown needed, they would fight by again. Her mother was from Xebel Royalty, what could and would explain when her fingers moved in circles creating bubbles and weak currents, however not always, she was quite unsure of it. Y/N was trained and educated there, coming to Atlantis when her father died, and her mother insisted she finished her training where he finished his own. His last words were be brave, and never ashamed. Before that, the only time she had been to Atlantis was on the celebration, the parade, many years ago when Orm remembered as the first time he saw her, sadness locked on her lips. He enjoyed the opportunity to ask why then, and her words trailed off, confessing she had an older brother, who by right, would be the one trained with the trident, and he was until he decided to swim too close to the surface, and never came back, Orm remembered his mother for a second, and it faded. Y/N was filling his space when the trident were passed to her, at the beginning, never seemed good, her father pushed to much, compared too much, she preferred the spells, preferred learning about the water, plants; after his death was the moment she stopped practicing the gifts from her mother, to honor him, it was her passion now. That night, they didn’t have any intimacy, Orm slept on her chest with her fingers curling his blond hair, most of his armour still on. A feeling easily to get addicted to.

“13,” her voice was quiet, as if telling a secret, the ringing a massage on his ears, he turned his face and felt her soft lips touching his cheek, they formed a smile. The fingers on his rib cage were gently tracing a scar there, the skin was rough unlike the rest of his torso, the muscles flexed in a shiver when only the long nail finished the drawing, obviously she referred to it. “I counted, you have 13.”

Silence.

It had been one of those night, where just lay together was enough, the warmth of somebody else’s body to press against was what he craved. He was nude for what Y/N had took his armour off piece by piece, unplugged his attire from behind and left a trace of kisses his spine. Orm floated on her silky sheets and she sat by the edge, admiring his bare beauty.

“Kiss me,” Orm said, his tone the same husky, grave, intimidating kind he used to give orders to General Murk, on his eyes, there was an abyss of coldness, the blue not transmitting any emotion, however his upper lip curled, asking for hers, and Y/N trailed off to accomplish, wondering if it was the closer her King ever got to ask for something.

She sealed his mouth with a first peck, then a second, and a third when the ends of her hair decided to play along his cheeks, until Orm had with her games, the tip of his tongue coming to line the shape of her bottom lip, calmly entering between the teeth, licking the inside inviting her to follow, and Melissa did, kissed him like promising to break him into pieces.

MIND

The yells came from outside, not perceived exactly what, seemed more of roars of sea beasts, and soon, knocks on the walls, loud thugs happening closer and closer to the entrance, then guns, the shots took always echoed of metal on the end causing everybody in the room alarmed into a group of protection, the guards pointing and waiting for the riot reach them while Murk and Vulko impulsed into a barrier for their King, who, for the sake of his own good, wielded his trident, and floated in a higher level, the black cape hem waving in water, covering the vision of Atlantis behind the huge glass. A final thug when the last guard outside bumped into the ground unconscious and, with the body light, stopped into the water, arms opened.

When she came, which he expected her to, she wasn't the type to be tamed down, her trident came first, the five edges crushing the fiber the door was, her body seen finally, the curves wrapped up in a gray suit, the boots had the famous scales of an armour, in the same of shade of white she cared on the scales of her shoulders, her hair whipped with the strength her arms up her head, the fingers were interlaced holding the weapon on the middle; the usual pearls where forgotten in the bubbles, disconnecting from the skin, her jawline was a rigid line along the lips, showing the ranger of her teeth, and the eyes… Oh, her eyes were revenge, demanding blood, they were never this insane before. Her biceps recoiled with the trident, and from her throat, they all heard her roaring, when in a first succeed try, the prongs breached the fiber isolation.

“Do not let her pass!” Murk shouted, sword ready to be used, but before the guards could follow, the trident entered the hole, twisted into a straight line and pulled back, having both of their heads bumped against the walls by the necks on the cane. The general was about to attack when, the last three remained noticed the same eyes asking for war were red, and bubbles of tears formed in the threads of her calm path to the middle where they were found.

Y/N stared at him, trident ceasing by the side, loose on her palm. She stared at his blond hair free in the water with the crown of a King, at his rosy lips that had no smiles for that specific moment, at the broad shoulders carrying the whole kingdom upon, and at the blue eyes, where she found nothing, no care, no compassion, no pity, no empathy, just a freezing immensity the Seven Seas could envy its depth. His posture was unbreakable, risen up above her, taller, stronger, with no mercy.

Orm saw on her face the confusion going through her ideas of to say, he knew when she was thinking, her lids blinked fast, he saw her sucking of water through the mouth, she was also out of herself. It wouldn’t be easy to invade a royal ship, all the degrees to finally reach him would cause even exhaustion on the most praised soldier, what was impossible in fact for her was just another task. He had to admit though, he expected her to come to him alone, somehow in private, not that way, not in an one atlantean crusade.

Her hand unlocked a plug from her silver belt, throwing it at his feet, the object a red flashing message. It had been sent last night, at her home, right at her by a soldier who didn’t identify as anybody, simply leaving it and going away.

“A year,” she started, voice trembling in both anger, and sadness, minding not at all Vulko or Murk glaring at her. “A full year and can’t my King at least deliver the news himself with me?”

There were seconds of anticipation, and waiting, when Orm spoke, it was in a misery. “I do not wish to see your face no more. Wasn’t I clear?”

“Orm…” she pleaded, intimacy wearing off in her, the old, caring way she’d greet him at her chambers, waiting for talks, waiting for kisses.

“Your Majesty!” she was corrected by Murk, who snarled with the scar on his face twisting in disgust.

Y/N left a single sick laugh, from the redness of her eyes, bubbles kept falling. “Of course, Your Majesty. I demand an explanation.”

“Leave,” Orm commanded, tone higher, mouth opened in anger, the teeth rangering, and his trident touched the ground under his feet in a warning. The shock on her eyes was not mistaken, she was about to pronounce herself again, but he stopped her, “Leave!”

It was her turn to impulse herself up, eyes on the same level as his, separated only by the vizier and the sword pointed at her waist, and her trident gave the same thug on the floor, for now her face were only anger. “I will not!”

Orm swimmed through the barrier of the two in a motion of arms and floated by her front, close enough he could see there were only three pearls left on top of one eyebrow, and only one on the other, the shine of her cheeks, the beauty of her traces which were harsh at glaring back at him, and could almost feel the softness of her lips. He was glad she came this way, it was easier to send her away in front of others.

The edge of his weapon trinkled in the movement of elapsing it to her neck, a real threat.

“It was an order,” his tongue clicked in every word, unforgiving, the voice raw and collected again.

Y/N blinked slowly, looking down at the edges on her trough, not being able to hold the strong posture any longer, when her pupils stared back, defeated, she whispered. “What was I to you?”

Orm didn’t expect it, there was not something he had prepared for before, his lungs had a tighter grip on their own, the water was too thick for the second, and he gulped, not answering.

Everything.

It was the real reason he had to leave, not for the lack of interest, or for what she could possible think of, no. Not at all. By the Gods, Orm didn’t wish for it. But, six nights ago, when he found himself between her arms and legs, gaining her comfort, he longed for what he didn’t know what.

A lie, he did. Orm longed of her eyes every morning, staring back at him on his bed, longed of her voice calling his name in the afternoon, longed of her smell when he was sitting on his throne, longed of her lips, kissing him at nights. He longed for her profoundly, feeling home only into her arms, feeling freedom only when she was close. It was new, the seconds counted to meet her, to lost himself into her, the way his body begged for her in the nights he was away. In that same moment, Orm thought for a minimum amount of time of a life with her, of how could be to have her as his Queen, present her as his, and valued as hers. Fantasized about not only for that, but much more. Showing her the other kingdoms she didn’t know, allowing her study knowledgement  available only for a Queen, swimming the rest of the seas together, helping Atlantis to grow.

The day next to when it happened, Mera and her father had been with him for a mere hour, to discuss matters of Xebel. Her red hair coloring a guilt, a mirror Orm saw his own reflection as his mother. Treason, he repeated at himself. Traitor, he accused himself. Because he was ready to break the deal with the King Nereus, for his own sake, forget the huge plans he had for his people, for their future, he did not wish a betrothed, and he was ready to put his own kingdom at risk for it. Then he knew he had to leave Y/N before doing so, even if in the back of his mind, the vision of his father and mother fighting each other flashed non stop.

What was worst? A loveless marriage or two kingdoms splitting to fail the Rise of Atlantis?

Loveless.

Orm thought he was not able to, he thought it would never come to him, however there were her, the prove. He didn’t know sadness like that until she gave up, trident floating by itself in front of him and left, swimming away. In his chest, a heart he had dedicated only for Atlantis, arching.

His life had never been the same since then, but a Great King would never let life distract him from the duty.

HEART

“Orm,” his mother called, the long hair a whole wave of blond in the very clean room, her voice sweet and delicate. It felt strange in the beginning, it seemed more of a mirage, a memory lost in years, the point between dreams and sleeping where it was blurry to tell the difference, until her hands came in a gentle touch, to hold and hug, it was when the point of real reached higher than dreams and she was there. There. Alive and well.

He was quiet, not for ignorance, but for the animal on the other side of the glass, the small turtle was the first to appear that week, it was the season of year the higher water changed the temperature and fishes were claiming for the warmth, traveling from another part of the sea. It was utterly tiny, and it swang in a circle, legs clapping bubbles, definitely showing off to him for what he was close, the fingertips touched where the turtle was, in an attempt to reach it somehow. A small sound to communicate with him, and it spinned again. There was envy spreading inside his chest when seeing it, floating free beyond those clear walls where he was trapped with only a bed to rest, and a view to mourgue.

“Orm,” she called again, still calmly, noticing what had happened. Months had gone by since the last time he was able to swim in open sea and of course, he would miss it. Her son turned his head, ears in her direction, but not the eyes, still locked with the friendly turtle, one of the only companion he had in days.

Of course,  Atlanna would come almost everyday to see him, informing when she would be gone for more than two days, she didn’t say the reason, yet it was obvious it had to do with the human on the surface. Mera came twice only, said very little, for what her eyes had a sense of shyness when seeing his state, then she had come to say sorry, and was asked to never come again, pity was not something he wanted to hear. Vulko came after a long time, both not having any words for each other, it was out of consideration for before, when he was young and knew better. Arthur never came.

“Yes, mother?” Orm profered, quietly. Hand falling at his side, and feet switched in, slow, almost not moving, small inches above the floor. The boots he wore were black, a special shade reflecting the coral lights, and on the ends by his calves, a detail in blue contrasting with the white suit adorning his body, no hardness of armour, no jewelry on the shoulders, the ordinary kind, the ones that, when the light hit right, sprinkled baby blue on the scales texture.

“I took liberty to go into your bedroom,” she started, cautiously, making him turn complete at her over his shoulders, the once rough features of his face were nothing more than plain now, emotionless like the last months had dragged the life out of them, they were still ever so breathtaking, just lacking even the slight feeling to prove he was not dead inside.

As a mother, she wanted to find something, could be anger, could be pain, could be failure, anything she could use to help him heal, would be easier to know what Orm was thinking and feeling when she wanted to talk, but he was a barrier, one of the strongest, like the bridge outside Atlantis, surviving decades with no moving, in the ruins of once a empire. She had heard stories of Orm as a King, not about the war against the surface, the other ones, how he helped the technological advance in their soldiers, the study of the new plants presented in the capital, and news philosophies for their culture, the people had an enormous respect for him, an intimate relationship for what he was always watching his kingdom close. His ideas of change, of growth was supported by them all, Atlantis joined him in the attack on the Brine without second thoughts, and there were the whispers around.

King Orm. King Orm. The real King Orm. He still had support, for what Arthur had the Atlan’s trident, however was oblivious in a degree to Atlantis, to the people, and the costumes, for what Orm had grown up in those waters, under the kingdom’s eyes, won championships with them as a crowd, built new places, expanded the homes and knowledges, and gave a hope of saving their children, once for all. She wondered if Orm knew he was forgiven, not by the Fishermen, but by Atlantis and Xebel, and by his brother. Wondered if he knew the agitations presented in the few last weeks outside his cell was not just guards yelling at each other by another prisoner’s fault, it was in fact a failed attempt of freeing him.

Little they knew, Orm didn’t wish to be rescued, at least that Atlanna knew, because when she brought him some spare suits and some holograms to read through, he dismissed, saying he was just like any other in those prisoners cells, then shouldn’t be treated specially. The only favor he accepted was the window to the depth of the sea, to remember, to still have the contact with the land he was trying to protect. And to remember, that part of him who failed, lost his throne, hundreds of soldiers, his betrothed, and his glory.

“Mother, I told you I do not want special treatment,” he said, the last bit of hoping of making her understand, he wasn’t rude, however definitely bold.  

“I found the trident, Orm,” Atlanna stood from the bed, body hovering up in the middle of the room, the crown on her head rather small than he remanded from his young years, when she would play with him, and put it on his head, promising he would be great. From the way she spoke, she knew somehow, though Vulko, the only one present in that room who didn’t die or vanished, Murk was gone, never came back from the surface, and he didn’t tell.

Actually, it was a part of the beginning of his reign, Orm kept locked deep inside the back of his mind to never remember again, a hard task he had fulfilled like any other until months ago. It began with a struggle, when his hand closed around the trident left behind, the silence of the room sucked him into an abyss of despair, there was no need to excuse himself, Orm left right away, feeling the bubbles of her impulses breaking on his cheeks for she had been in the same path not long ago, but he went straight to the palace, two tridents and only one heir; he knocked her weapon down under his attires, under the studies on the tables, where no one could see, cracked the wall and hid there, the only vestige of its existence was a scratch on the material being taken off and placed back again. It hunted him like a spirit in nights, when his body arched for her, painfully, and he still felt the taste of her mouth on his, nightmares invaded his sleep, the weapon shaking the cabinet, shining through, it would break it at some point, align on his neck and take his life, Orm always woke almost drowning. He had missed her in the morning, for when he had opened his eyes for her smile, the curve of her lips an enchantment of their own, he had missed her in the afternoons, her voice of talks, of stories about her life, of Xebel, of her mother and father, and gone brother, how many details she could give when describing what she thought Atlantis could improve. He had missed her, completely, even losing in rare occasion the control of himself, opening the crack on the wall and staring at her trident. He doubted it was capable of calling her into the Seven Seas, calling her back home. He never tried, pulling the wall back into place and scolded himself to never even think of doing it.

And love didn’t fade like that, he grieved her for her death to him, and suffered quiet when he saw pearls, when he saw purple. Tried twice harder, and harder to forget her, focusing on his kingdom that was worth the sacrifice, for only years later, he was able to push her back into the darkness his brain made just for her to dwell, a coffin of black arabesques and red scales, her name adorned on the visior. Yet, Orm, with an extend acquaintance in atlantean behavior, should had know that kind of happiness simply wouldn’t be replaced like that, didn’t matter how much he succeed in his duties, that kind of happiness not even Atlantis could bring back.

The irony was the sacrifice he offered to the Gods passed by as nothing, for there he was with nothing left on his palms. Nothing.

Atlanna saw what that did to her son, saw the eyebrows falling, the lower lip curling, the pupils longing into the ground, and an awful sigh leaving his mouth. What did on his body, sinking into the floor with heaviness, the broad shoulders falling in an inferior posture. The first feeling coming from him. It was sorrow.

“Please, mother,” he begged, trembling. “Leave.”

She didn’t, instead went for him, staring at the ghost of a warrior who had no strength, she smiled in grace, empathy, denying with her head. “The writtens on it allowed me to find its owner. She is back in Atlantis, my son.”

Orm widened his eyes, heart skipping a beat with the revelation. “No, please, mother…”

“Yes,” Atlanna nodded then, careful with the words, whispering into his cheeks, the same ones her hands came to hold, to not let him shatter across that depressing cell. “Do you wish to see her?”

The mere thought of her in front of him, seeing his state, what he came was a shame of its own. Gods, the things she must heard of him already, the fallen, miserable thing he had become, locked away in a prison, no crown, the humiliation it brought to Orm was a reason to never leave there again.

He finally broke, shattered around, his blue eyes red of insanity, pushing his own mother’s arms away, impulsing himself into the ceiling, where his back hit with a loud thug, the roar leaving his throat was enough for the whole building to hear, if not, outside too. No! He impulsed to the glass then, hitting with his left shoulder in a chance to escape that room, go to the Trench himself and be gone, there was no way to bear the emptiness the news created inside. Orm wanted to disappear.

Atlanna yelled in his behalf, trying to get him, calm him down when he tried to divide the glass again, shouting with all his being. The guards outside were moving already, to contain him. Orm didn’t care, he kept trying, again, and again. Until he stopped all of the sudden, his senses captured the attack seconds before, and his body shifted to dodge it. It was no plasma, no shot, just five curved edges piercing the glass. He was definitely drowning when his neck betrayed his commands and followed from where it came from.

As the sun that long ago shined through Atlantis, Y/N was found by the entrance of his cell, hovering like a goddess ascending, if years had any affect on her beautiful traces, the only difference able to be shown would be her hair, longer than before, a big halo around the face, her own crown of braids dancing between the threads. The attire was purple, scales trickling green and blue, defining the curves of a body he knew like the lines on the palm of his hand in the past. Her wrists contained silver bracelets, a match to the silver boots up high on her thighs, where the ends branched gills. And, as the memories, on top of her high eyebrows there were the pearls, the biggest one between them, and the smallests following the shapes, her pupils under the thick lashes were harsh, the same superior posture she had when she was gifting in his birthday, the lips in burgundy color. She didn’t seem happier, neither sad. Neutral.

Orm was speechless, stuck. Emotions he had buried deep down forcing their way up against the barrier he built to protect himself, the water in his lungs missed the automatic suck and felt like he wasn’t breathing at all, he was drowning in everything she was and represented. How lower he had to reach to be enough?

“Orm,” she called his name as a firm song from the Fishermen, tenting to a side, speeding to enter the cell and hovering by this presence. It was a clue for every guard and Atlanna withdraw for privacy. He still couldn’t believe she was in his front, judging his defeat as the rest of his people was, the  disgrace he had fallen into, the strongest burden any could carry.

He retracted without noticing, to the corner, head low, his voice tried to get out, ask her if she had any pity left for him, she would leave. Melancholy, his legs curled, and he knelt on the floor, cheek resting on the surface, not capable of looking into her direction. Her shadow engulfed his being demonstrating she was not leaving, her soft hands came soon later, to his face, the palms pulling gently his cheek back. When Orm felt the scales of her attire on his face, realised it was true, relived the nights and nights her chambers were an escape, and before he knew, his eyes closed in a sob, his hands implored around her, grasped her hips, clutching closer, supporting his weight on her stomach, where he ultimately cried, tears mixing in the ocean.

Y/N hugged his head, caring, letting him lament all his lost, to assume him that, in the end, there was still hope.

[eliniei]

Those Hard Days - Chapter 14

Summary: Rae’s brother always made sure she was tough as nails. But when her father flips her world upside down, will she find that there’s a limit on how strong she can be?

Warnings: Rape/Non-con (non-graphic, fade-to-black), child abuse, underage drinking, underage smoking, drug use, violence, major character death

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I hope that my descriptions of clothes don’t suck XD I finally have a final chapter count. This fic will be, in total: 46 chapters! Good luck, and I hope you enjoy it.

AO3: here Fanfiction.net: here

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Chapter 14 - Dance

That afternoon, Rae and Two-Bit walked Ponyboy home from school. When they got to the house, Tim and Curly Shepard were sitting on the front steps. Tim had a smile on his face and was making fun of his younger brother. The second he saw the trio approaching, he stopped and stood up.

"Uh, hey guys," Ponyboy said when they reached the steps. "You guys could’ve gone in, ya know." Tim shrugged and looked over at his brother, an expectant look on his face. Curly had his hands stuffed in his pockets, trying not to make eye contact with any of them, looking completely put-out and annoyed. Tim gripped his brother’s arm and hoisted him to his feet.

"Stop bein’ shy," Tim ordered and pushed Curly towards Rae. Curly shrugged out of his brother’s grip.

“Gimme a minute. Jesus.”

“Curly, shy?” Rae asked, an amused smile tugging at her lips. “You gotta be kiddin’ me.”

“I never shoulda told ‘im,” he mumbled as turned towards his girlfriend. “So, there’s this dance at your school this weekend...I guess it’s the homecomin’ dance or some shit...” Tim crossed his arms over his chest. “And I, uh-”

"Get to the point," Tim said, impatiently. “We have places to be.” Curly rolled his eyes, scowling. His ears were turning red.

"Well, I was, uh, wonderin' if you'd like to, uh..." He looked down at the ground and cleared his throat. “To go with me?” Rae’s face turned a bright red. Two-Bit, who was very obviously trying to make himself otherwise engaged, took one look at her face and burst into a fit of laughter. Ponyboy stood nearby, eyes wide, not even trying to hide his surprise and embarrassment for the situation. "This is stupid. If you don't wanna to go-" Curly went to turn back to his brother.

"No!," she interrupted, forcefully. He paused and faced her again. She tucked her hair behind an ear and noddded. “No, I wanna go.”

"Really?" She smiled and nodded.

“Why not?” He smiled as well, and then looked around at the rest of the guys watching them.

"Show’s over now, assholes." They all looked away in unison.

The night before the dance, Two-Bit dropped her off at the newly opened mall in town. Carrie met them at the entrance. This place made her nervous. It seemed a little on the rich side, if you asked her.

“Alright,” he said. “Meet me back here in an hour.” Rae nodded her understanding as her friend leaned into the open window.

“Hey, Two-Bit,” she said.

“Hey, kid,” he answered with a nod. Carrie looked at Rae.

“Ready? Got your money?”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Rae answered and opened the car door. They headed inside.

“Any specific color?” Carrie asked while they browsed clothing racks full of dresses. Rae had asked her to come- she always preferred to wear jeans over skirts, but Carrie wore dresses often.

“No idea,” she answered. “I ain’t good at all this-” Rae waved her arms, motioning in the direction of the rack. “-girly shit.” When she looked at her friend again, she noticed Carrie wasn’t paying attention. The other girl was staring right past her, a thoughtful look on her face. Rae turned to find out what she was looking at. She frowned.

“Don’t you think that’s a little...fancy for someone like me?” A sly smile crept over Carrie’s face, wide enough to show her teeth. For a second, Rae thought she was looking at the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.

“No way. I think it’s perfect,” her friend said as she pushed past her to grab the dress. “And I know exactly how I’m gonna do your hair.”

On the night of the dance, Curly offered Rae his arm as they got out of the truck they borrowed from Tim. She felt incredibly uncomfortable in the dress that Carrie had chosen for her, but she had to admit- she looked pretty choice.

Carrie had draped her in a...what had she called it? A deep purple swing dress with a full skirt and a… a boat neck? It was pulled in tightly around her middle with a tied bow in the back and she wore black kitten heels on her feet. Half of her long hair had been swept up into a small beehive, the rest cascading down her neck and shoulders in soft curls. She had thick, black eyeliner drawn around her eyes, matched with purple and black shadow, her lips painted a dark plum.

Curly’s shirt matched the deep purple of her dress and he had his signature leather jacket on overtop with black dress slacks and his regular pair of black leather boots.  

Darry, pulled into the spot next to them, smiled at the two and waited for Pony and Johnny to get out of the bed.

“Ya’ll behave,” he ordered, eyeing his little brother pretty hard. “And call if anything happens.” Usually, a dance wasn’t a greaser scene, but Darry insisted the other two go- just in case. Johnny and Ponyboy didn't have dates but they figured there might be a girl or two in the same situation. Two-Bit said he might show up too- probably with a beer in hand, but when was he not drinking? “I don’t wanna get a call from the school tellin’ me about some stupid prank ya pulled.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pony mumbled under his breath.

"We’ll see ya later," Curly said. Darry nodded and drove off. They walked up to a lady seated at a desk right outside the gym.

"Tickets?" she asked. Her voice was polite, but she looked them all up and down, eyes fill of disdain. Curly frowned, but handed her all four tickets without saying anything. Once inside, they met Carrie and her date at a table they had claimed.

Her blonde friend wore a powder blue, off-shoulder swing dress with a sheer tulle overlay that glittered under the lights and belted in the front, her hair pinned back in a high, curly ponytail.

When they’d dropped off their jackets and things, Curly held out his hand, an unasked question in his eyes. Rae smiled, softly, and let him lead her onto the dance floor.

He pulled her close, his hold on her waist firm, but gentle. She rested her arms loosely around his shoulders.

“You look really…,” he started and cleared his throat. She looked down, her cheeks filling with color. “Really beautiful.”

“You keep talkin’ like that, you’re brother’s gonna have you committed,” she laughed.

“What, I ain’t allowed to compliment my own girlfriend?”

Before she could answer, Two-bit came up behind them and slapped Curly on the back, a big loony smile on his face and a can of beer wrapped in a brown paper bag in his hand. The impact caused Curly to pitch forward, stepping on Rae’s foot. She sucked in a breath at the pain. He righted them both and turned to glare at their friend.

“Sorry, R-”

“Would ya put that away?” Rae hissed, ignoring Curly’s apology. “You’re gonna get us kicked outta here. Shoulda seen the look we got comin’ in” Her friend rolled his eyes, but chugged his drink and wandered off to find a trash can. Once he was gone, she focused her attention back on Curly.

"Thanks for comin' tonight," she said as they swayed in each other’s arms.

"I think I’d do anythin’ for ya," he said, a small smile creeping to his lips. Rae felt her cheeks heat up a bit. When the first slow dance ended, Two-Bit was stalking back over to them.

“Pony and Johnny are sittin’ over there like sad lil’ puppies with no dates. Hard to watch,” he said, and looked at Rae. “Wanna dance with your ole pal, Two-Bit?” She looked at Curly, who stepped aside and let the other boy in. He went to meet up with Pony and Johnny, who were standing against the wall, sipping punch.

The next song started and Two-Bit took Rae's waist.

'You look real pretty tonight. Carrie pick the dress?" he asked. She huffed a laugh and nodded.

“She did the hair and makeup too.” She shrugged. “I don’t hate it. Should’a seen Curly’s face when he pulled up earlier. I thought his jaw was gonna fall off his skull. I’m gonna sleep over at her place soon and she’s gonna teach me. Maybe I’ll start wearin’ dresses more often.”

“Man, you’re such a liar.” She laughed again.

“You’re prob’ly right about that.” They swayed in silence for a few seconds. The dance floor was filling up with other couples.

“Have you thought anymore about what we talked about? About who attacked you?” Rae looked down and sighed.

"Yeah- I don’t remember seein’ her face," she started, thinking back now that her head wasn’t pounding. “But I think I know who the voice belongs to.”

“Curly’s here alright, but he’s asleep. Don’t know if ya heard, but he got into a fight with some Brumly brutes over one thing or another.” A soft laugh over the phone receiver. “He’ll prob’ly be out for the rest of the night but you can call back later and see-”

“Surprise, bitch.”

"That's good," Two-Bit said, with a sad smile. It faded slowly into a straight line. "When are ya gonna to tell him?”

"Soon. Maybe tonight." He nodded and left it alone. They danced the rest of the song in silence.

When their dance ended, they joined the other boys. They stood against the wall for a while, laughing and messing around, as they watched the Socs dance. Some of them stared back at the group, incredulously. Rae thought she saw Carrie and her dark-haired date dancing amongst the elite.

“You wanna go join ‘em?” Curly asked, getting close to her ear so she could hear him over the noise. He held out his hand. She smiled and took it. As he led her over, she grabbed onto Pony’s sleeve and dragged him with them. Johnny followed as well.

“Hey!” Carrie yelled over the music, her face lighting up at the sight of them. “Join us!” She separated from her partner and grabbed on to Rae’s arm. Soon, all of them were swaying in a circle.

Chrissy eventually barrelled in with a shining black shift dress, hair piled on top of her head and stiff with hairspray, complaining loudly about her date showing up drunk as hell and abandoning her to hang with the “boys” and get high. Rae laughed when she spied her trying to get close to Ponyboy. She leaned into Carrie and whispered. Her friend looked towards Chrissy and burst out laughing.

It was contagious and Rae found herself laughing, too, until she heard some commotion behind them.

“Come on, Bob.” Cherry’s sugar-laced voice filtered through the crowd. “Stop drinking and spend some time with me,” she begged.

Before she could even roll her eyes, a body collided with her and Carrie’s backs, forcing them forward. Rae fell, her knees knocking on the hard tile floor of the gym. She glanced to the side, where Bob had rolled after knocking her over, drunkenly giggling to himself, an expensive silver flask in his hand. Cherry let out a frustrated growl.

“Randy, help him up,” she sighed. Curly bent down to help her up. She let him lift her from the ground. At the same time, Randy was also helping his drunk friend off the floor, and he put his foot down on the skirt of her dress. As she stood up, Rae heard a ripping sound and froze.

“Oh, shit,” she heard Cherry whisper. Bob burst out laughing again. When Rae was finally on her feet, she checked out the hem of her skirt. Part of it was torn from the skirt, hanging to the ground. She ground her teeth, the rage roiling in her stomach. Cherry’s mouth opened in the form of an apology. Anger gurgled up her throat, hot and sour.

"Don't worry about it,” Rae bit out and shoved her way through the crowd toward the table her friends had left their jackets. Carrie was on her heels and Curly followed her.

“We can get my mom to fix it- she’s real good at sewin’,” her blonde friend offfered when they finally reached the table. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she snapped but stopped and took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. “Sorry, Carrie. I think I just want to go home. Those assholes always have to ruin everything.”

“It’s alright,” Carrie said quietly, as Curly came forward to grab their stuff and follow her towards the exit.

Rae burst through the doors to the gym. The cold air hit her face and the heat inside her started to die down. She inhaled through her nose and a sigh escaped her mouth. Curly laid his leather jacket across her shoulders.

“You sure you want to go home already? It’s still early. We could go somewhere-” Rae shook her head. He put his hand on the small of her back and led her down the steps outside the building while digging in his pocket for the keys to his brother’s truck.

“Could we walk? ”

“Oh-yeah, sure.” They started heading towards the Curtis house. “What about Pony and Johnny?”

“They’re old enough to find their own way home,” she retorted. Curly lit up a smoke as they walked. Rae took a steadying breath. This was as good a time as any, she supposed. "Besides, I have something to tell you."

"What is it?"

"Remember when I got beat up?” she asked, motioning to the back of her head. “Knocked me clean out?”

"Yeah, course. Socs, right?" He lifted the cigarette to his mouth.

"No," she started. He looked down to her, pausing his drag.

"What? Then who?" She chewed on the inside of her mouth for a second before answering.

"I-I think it was Angela."

[sinto-hell]

boys n fashion

i have uuuuuh very specific ways to imagine how the boys look because i’m never satisfied with canon and i Cannot Fucking Draw™ and i scream a lot about fashion so (mostly because what the fuck is fashion sense in otome i’m looking at u dmmd what the FUCK were those yellow socks and that jacket AN ALSO NOIZ’S ENTIRE FUCKING OUTFIT IM SO ANGRY) anyway this got a bit out of hand lmao i love clothes

nathaniel

LOTS OF SWEATERS

wears a shirt under his sweater with the collar poping out

“preppy” but not frat boy preppy. like comfy casual pretty. soft n warm like marshmallow. he looks soft but he could easily deck u into next week

lots warm cardigans 

lots of light wash jeans. doesn’t really wear black or dark colored jeans. also always cuff his jeans

white adidas are the shoes he usually wears to school

he fucking despises flannels they’re the ugliest thing in his opinion

owns a lot of scarves; never wear any of them

he knows he looks good in stripes so he has a lot of stripped shirt

hoodies are for lazy days

one (1) pair of black ripped knees jeans. usually pair them with a creme sweater

also tries to make his hair behave but he just. can’t. so he tries to make it fashionably disheveled.

owns one of those jacket thats like denim but the sleeves and the inside are like a regular sweater and theres a hood god i want one of those

probably has glasses he wears to read

(i remember i saw an artist that basically drew him dressed like this but i cant remember their name so there’s that)

castiel

boi is a punk 

his wardrobe is 90% band shirt, they’re literally almost all he wears

owns 4 my chemical romance shirt

he has two denim jacket: one black with various pins and small patch on it and one light wash with a big ass misfits patch on the back

also probably found his leather jacket in a thrift store

unironically buys those bad translation shirt that says shit like “try my delicious salt beef” or “way the bridge i burn high the way” credit to @mclfutarinotamashi for that one 

90% of his band shirts are really worn out because he wears them so much

owns a pair of og black converse and red doc martens

usually always has his roots showing and has taken a liking in tying his hair in a half bun. sorta. but he mostly live in his natural bedhead

lys once braided his hair and he didn’t like it on him but he thought it was really relaxing

has a fuckton of spiked bracelet and rubber band bracelets, but only wears one or two at a time nowadays. he used to wear a lot more. like. a lot.

black jeans all the way

also ripped jeans

also own two or three big sweater, and one of them his hands just. disappear when he wear it.

lysander

don’t get me wrong i love the victorian fashion but;; it aint realistic

peg leg trousers. google it. he’d wear the heck out of that.

owns a lot of fancy black pants 

he has those weird pants i’ve been looking for, they’re high waisted and really flowy and they’re called culottes. his are black with white stripes and he owns a black only version

he totally owns a green velvet skirt fight me on this

has a lot of scarves and wears them all

has a simple but very nice pair of brown boots for casual days and fucking 5 inches new rocks platform shoes with buckles all over for when he’s extra

a true Goth™

lots of turtlenecks and long sleeve black shirts. did i mention turtlenecks

he totally owns this sweater in green and black

he loves high waisted pants

plays a bit on androgyny, as he knows he’s pretty tall, but also very delicate so skirt  are the fucking shit on him

owns a trench-like coat. with a hood. also long cardigans

sometimes when he’s extra he’ll play a bit into the steam punk territory

experiment a bit with makeup, but only on his eyes, he still shy away from lipstick

he braid his hair to sleep so it has nice waves the next day. cares a lot about his hair actually 

also basically how @veroww dresses him what a babe

armin

oh boi what a mess

lots and lots of hoodies and generally clothes with hoods so he can hide in them and sleep

literally owns this and that (i have that one and it makes me look like a jedi, so another reason why he’d wear it)

nerd shirts. you know the type.

like he has 3 pokemon shirts and 4 marvel. alexy will not let him go out of the house wearing those. the only one hes allowed to be seen with in public is his star wars one

and fucking memes shirt

like he probably has a white shirt with a shiba inu on it

got that shirt that says “why be racist, sexist, homophobic and transphobic when you could just be quiet” with alexy so they match

one of these guys that only wears black skinny jeans or sweatpants

 basically nerdy emo

has like. 2 pair of shoes. really dirty vans that he wear everywhere and a nice pair of boots for like. ass kicking purpose. kidding alex probably made him buy them

“vans or converse?” “vans what the fuck am i an animal”

probably owns a trasher hoodie (ok now thats me projecting bc i headcanon the only sport he can kind of do is skating so) (beside SK8ER BOI ARMIN AM I RIGHT)

also yes, a lot of beanies

anything comfortable, really; doesn’t really own a lot of fancy or statement pieces he wears regularly. 

kentin

alex is right ok the military pants looks great and he probably has a great ass in it but jesus boy please change up ur game 

i actually haven’t thought a lot about his fashion sense probs because i dont write him as often as the twins or cas or do i thirst over lys

but @ne-neptune has drawn him with glasses and a big jacket today and im lov

probably owns a carhatt jacket thats a bit too big on him

rolls up his sleeves. always. wether his shirts are long sleeves or short sleeves. he. rolls them up. sip sip THEM ARMS THO

wears a concerning amount of beige and green. 

LIKES KNITTED SWEATERS OK. HE IS SOFT™

has a camo jacket

wears a lot of baggy pants but is also warmin up to more slim jeans, (not skinny bc its too tight and he doesn’t understand how armin and castiel do it) bc he knows his ass looks gr8

finally bought himself a new pair of fancy glasses he think he look ok with. hint: he’s both cute & fucking hot with them and everyone is thirsty.

combat boots all the way. he does own a pair of old converse that are seriously starting to be worn out, but he still wears them sometimes

alexy because i fucking can

now that’s my B O I

Thriftshop Fashionista™

seriously this boy love thrifstores. he once fucking found gucci shit in there. he’s lucky.

vintage/90s clothes aesthestic. 

lightwash jeans with a big belt, weird dad shirt tucked into his jeans

HE TUCKS HIS SHIRT IN HIS JEANS

AND ALSO CUFF THEM WHAT A FASHION ICON

probably also own some peg leg trousers like lysander

his favourite pair of jeans is one he found in a really sketchy store, theres hole at the knees and the bottom of the legs are ripped and there are flower patches going down the entire left side (fun fact: one of my friend has these exact pant he found in a thriftsore and every time he wears them i’m just like. vogue is shook. what a fucking look. fashion icon.)

also probably owns a sweater with roses embroidery

has like 4 denim jacket, each very different; one with patches all over it, one with a giant gay flag on the back, one black with rips in it, and one plain light wash

has one of those weird flashy colored 90s jacket that’s like baby blue and bright orange. it was his mom’s. he stole it from his mom. she let him keep and re question her fashion choices every time he wears it.

weird 90s and dad shirt are his shit. also really big sweaters. weird colors. this boy own a purple knitted sweater with a yellow wolf patch on the back. rosalya hates it. he probably bought it out of spite.

also owns vans. and a pair of combat boots. and a pair of converse. and one pair of black high heels. and orange sneakers. and brown fancy leather boots. and-

he probably steals armin’s trasher hoodie for the aesthetic

also steals his beanies bc what he has like 10

loves embroidered clothes or things with patches or weird flower designs on them

also big ass red sunglasses worn ironically.

vogue is fucking shook by this boy

and that’s all folks