#dread going off the rails

[0vergrowngraveyard]

i think seeing that "sonic prime: THe sHow nO OnE rEmEbeRs" video has resparked my love for prime ten fold. i adore all the goofy goobers that show gave us

[fil3t]

Lavellan in the Fade

And the old Dalish curse Means something new to me Take me as well, oh, Fen'harel Like my hand and vallaslin

~ Lavellan's Lament by @dreadhallatavern

WIP-ish

[trashcanwithsprinkles]

Do you have any Zhongli/Zhongchi fic recs? I haven’t found any that are nearly as good as yours 😔😔

funnily enough someone already asked this, but it was quite a while ago and tumblr is a mess to search old shit thru so here, this is the post this was asked during the ao3 crisis of- .......last year? i can't remember. either way, the post starts w me saying i don't have all the names and links but dw, after ao3 came back up i edited the post so you should see all authors and links in the recs.

i have to admit that for reasons unrelated to the fandom i haven't been reading many zhongchi fics as of late? so like- bear in mind i don't have an updated mental picture of any of the recs after the post was made. so if one went off the rails or if one of the WIPs finished, i'm not aware;; i also mention in the post that i'd add more recs if i had access to ao3 (which i didn't at the time bc it was down), and while that is true, it's been so long since i read any of them that i wouldn't be able to confidently reccomend them outside of 'i somewhat remember the plot and i remember liking it'. also i don't remember half of their names. so uh- yeah that's the list i think

[yaboisoph]

Being caught out by very bad seasonal depression and flinging coping methods at the wall to see what sticks

Hey brain, you want to go for a walk??? See friends??? Yoga??? Lie in bed for one full day playing video games??? Nap??? Take supplements??? Go bouldering??? Do some productive work???? Do some journalling??? Play with cats???

So far none are making much difference, but tomorrow I have been invited to go and dig some weeds up, so maybe making a hole in the earth will fix me.

[bigbangbuffer]

fucked up how you pay through the nose for car insurance you are legally required to have, but ideally do not use, only for you to have to carefully weigh whether to use it when you finally actually need it and not really know if it’s the right choice, bc if you DO use it your monthly payments will become even more exorbitant but you don’t know by how much until it is too late 😰

at least I am here to bitch about car insurance on the internet tho. totally could’ve died today so 😅

[darkestrellar]

Giving Svern a bunch of different verses has helped me round out my understanding of him a lot because it's provided different points of reference other than just mainverse Svern

I'm understanding that not only does the shadow crystal give him something to fixate on and make him "happy", as well as bring out and make more tangible the vague feelings he'd had beforehand, in a way it also makes his persona more real. Like I said before a lot of the time when he acts excitable or wild he's putting on that behaviour in the moment to a) project that impression to others and b) essentially play pretend for his own benefit. Getting immersed in the act while simultaneously being aware it's just an act and detached from how he really feels is one of his coping mechanisms

What happens with the shadow crystal and how he gets excited about that is that it syncs up the kind of behaviour that he would normally be faking with an actual feeling, and the more gets lost in it the thinner that line becomes, and he prefers it that way

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Hooking your Readers

Hook—The first line, lines, or paragraph meant to grab the reader’s attention

For most people, a night out at the movies includes sitting through the coming attractions. We watch these short bursts of scenes that scare us, intrigue us, make us laugh, and sometimes nearly bring us to tears. No matter the preview, though, if it looks good, we want to go see the movie. An effective “hook” in your story works the same way. You want to grab your reader right away and compel them to continue reading.

Some common strategies for creating a hook & examples:

Anecdote: My hands shook and beads of sweat rolled down my face. I double-checked the directions before assembling my tools and turning up the heat. Making lasagna shouldn’t have been this stressful, but in my grandmother’s kitchen, the stakes were a little higher. 

Direct quote: “Be open and use the world around you.” Toni Morrison gives this advice about the craft of writing, but I find that it applies to most areas of my life.

General statement or truth: Every child, no matter how sheltered or well-adjusted, will experience fear. Whether they are scared of the monster under the bed or the neighbor’s barking dog, children experience fear as a normal and healthy part of childhood.

History: On Wednesday, August 28, 1963, thousands traveled to Washington D.C. by road, rail, and air. There were demonstrators of all races, creeds, and genders. Unafraid of the intimidation and violence they faced, they demonstrated for the rights of all. Known as The Great March on Washington, this day marked an important turning point in the Civil Rights Movement in the United States.

Metaphor: Stretched out in a sunbeam, my cat may seem timid, but really, she’s a lion. She will stealthily stalk her prey, attack without mercy, and leave a trail of blood and guts in her wake. Afterward, as she grooms her luxurious mane, she shows no remorse.

Scene or illustration: Shadows stretch across the pavement as jack-o-lanterns flicker in windows. Little trick-or-treaters scamper from porch to porch, filling their bags with various forms of sugar. It is the day dentists dread most: Halloween.

Sensory description: The stale smell of cigarettes engulfed me as I stepped into the dim, silent apartment. The heat had been turned off, so I could see my breath fog in front of me as I carefully stepped over the old pizza boxes, overturned cups, and random pieces of paper strewn across the floor.

Startling statistic or statement: Teenage drivers crash their cars at nearly ten times the rate of older drivers.

More: Writing Notes & References

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time The Heater Broke On Christmas”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: frenemies to lovers, tooth rotting fluff, mutual pinning

Word Count: 2.44k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Christmas is always a hectic time of year, and after spending the last week in an utter state of chaos trying to get all of your friend’s and family’s gifts ordered and in the mail on time, cookies baked and hidden away from your ravenous roommate Sukuna who swears up and down that he doesn’t even like sweets but the ones you make just taste so much better, and staying up until midnight haphazardly taping in messily folded wrapping paper and scribbled “to and from” tags on countless presents, you were more than ready to flop onto your living room couch and pass out.

But you’re just not allowed to have nice things, it seems.

The apartment is freezing cold when you walk in the front door, cool air pinching your skin and the groan of annoyance escaping your throat leaving a puff of white air in its wake. Sukuna left shortly after you did this morning to spend the day with his brothers, and as you rush your way over to the thermostat to turn the heat back on you can’t even begin to fathom why he would bother turning the air off when you were both only gone for the day. Sure, the bills can get expensive, but he’s not seriously that broke… you hope.

But as you push the buttons on the thermostat and the little screen informs you that the air in fact is on, dread rushes through you. A quick call to the landlord ends exactly how you expected it to, sent to voicemail with a cheery little message mentioning that no one will be available until after the holidays.

You may as well just die in here, you think as you sit down on the couch. The cool leather is almost painfully cold, making you flinch when it hits your skin. Silently you contemplate going back to where you spent the whole day; even if there were tons of people and you ended up leaving early because you were dying for some peace, at least it was nice and warm there.

But you push that idea aside, getting back on the train would be a pain, you’d have to trek through the snow again on your way back to the station, you could come up with a million excuses but in the back of your mind there’s this little nagging feeling that you don’t want to admit is the real reason you would rather stay home. You haven’t seen Sukuna all day.

It’s stupid. You know it’s stupid, but you’ve been so busy and even though the two of you live together it feels like you haven’t been able to see him for almost the entire week. And even though you spent the whole day around people you love, you couldn’t wait to come back home to your dickhead roommate.

Obviously you’d rather die than admit that to him, already picturing that trademarked smirk plastered on his tattooed face, but you can’t deny that something about him is charming. He’s smug and sarcastic and cocky and annoying and- you could really go all day to be honest; but then he has those moments where he can take the air right out of your lungs. Sweet, kind little gestures where this big scary bad guy acts like a total gentleman and it makes your heart race.

You doubt you’ll ever understand how he has that hold over you.

The sound of the door creaking open is your only warning before Sukuna steps into the freezing apartment, pink bangs damp and disheveled falling over his forehead and snow clinging to his black leather boots. He shrugs off his coat with a fluid motion, tossing it onto the stair rail as he fixes you with a sharp grin, flashing his canines mischievously.

“Didn’t think you’d actually beat me back here,” he drawls, a sarcastic lilt in his tone, “Guess you couldn’t go a day without missing my charming personality.”

You roll your eyes, breath puffing out in a faint cloud as you speak, “Missed that loud mouth, you mean.”

“Cute.” Although the word is borderline dripping in sarcasm, you still manage to catch the way a smile subtly tugs at the corner of his lips.

“I don’t suppose you’re any good with fixing heaters?” You ask hopefully, Trying to suppress a shiver as you motion toward the uncooperative thermostat.

He raises a brow, kicking off his boots and stepping into the living room, “The fuck do I look like, an HVAC guy? Just call the landlord.”

“I did,” You flop back against the couch with a defeated thump, tossing an arm over your face, “No one can come out ’til tomorrow, holidays or whatever.”

Sukuna could literally hear the frustration in your voice as he plops down next to you on the cold leather couch, “Tragic.” His tone is teasing, but his crimson eyes linger on your shivering form; with an over dramatized huff puffing an icy cloud in the air he muses, “Guess you’ll freeze.”

You briskly rub your hands up and down your arms, a futile attempt to warm yourself up, “And you won't?”

He peers down at you, posture completely relaxed despite the icy air and an unimpressed frown on his face, “I don’t get cold.”

You can’t help but let out a snort at his audacity, “Yeah?” You prop yourself up on your elbows to grin up at him, “Same way you don’t get sick?”

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, letting his back sink into the cool leather cushions of the couch, “That was a fluke.”

“Such a big fat liar,” You tease, elbowing his arm. But the playful jab shifts into curiosity when you notice that his skin is actually warm against your frozen fingers. Without hesitation, you wrap your hand around his tattooed wrist, making him flinch and hiss dramatically

“Fucking christ-”

“You were actually serious?” You interrupt, scrambling upright to press your freezing hands into his arms.

“Yes, I was- fuck, stop touching me holy shit.” He swats your hands away, goosebumps forming on his skin, “How the hell have you not died of frostbite? You a fuckin’ reptile or some shit?”

“Are you a living space heater?” You scoot closer to him, grabbing at his forearms in a desperate attempt to warm yourself up.

“Quit grabbin’ me you fucking weirdo,” He stands abruptly, nearly having to yank his arm out of your desperate grip, rolling his eyes at the pitiful groan of disappointment that escapes your throat, “Just- give me a second, hold on.”

You watch pitifully as he jogs up the stairs, the already freezing cold room feeling so much colder without him sitting next to you, even in the mere seconds that he’s gone. It’s almost embarrassing how you came home early to see him, have missed him and his attitude so much, and then god forbid he walks away this cramped little apartment just feels empty. But within less than a minute you can hear his footsteps thumping down the wooden stairs, a large dark red comforter slung over his arm.

He can’t help but chuckle when he sees your eyes light up, gently shaking his head as he tosses the comforter over your head and watches you scramble to wrap yourself up in it, “How long were you home without considering a fuckin’ blanket?”

“Fuck off.” You mumble as you clutch the blanket in your shaking hands; it isn’t exactly warm, still cool to the touch from sitting on his cold bed, but it’s better than nothing. Shivers still run over your skin as you wrap your arms around yourself.

You can feel the cushions shift under Sukuna’s weight when he sits down on the couch. His eyes peer down to your shivering form laying up against his thigh, silently watching you for a moment as if he’s contemplating something. Without saying a word he squeezes up behind you, wedging himself behind you and pressing his chest against your back. His arm snakes over your torso, pulling you flush against him.

Your body grows stiff in surprise, a pink blush rushing to your cheeks, “What… are you doing?”

“What?” he mumbles, resting his chin on top of your head as if this was the most natural thing in the world, “Not allowed to do something nice? Quit complaining.”

You can hear that signature smirk in his voice even without seeing his face, but the warmth radiating from him is undeniable. His arm tightens around your waist to anchor you to him and you could swear that he had heat radiating off of his chest, flooding into your cold skin and seeping through the blanket to chase away the chill that so stubbornly clings to your skin.

Hopefully he can’t hear the way your heart is pounding.

And although you’re grateful for the comforter wrapped around you, you’re silently cursing it for putting a barrier between you and Sukuna. You need more, need him impossibly closer to you, to wrap yourself up in his embrace and tighten your arms around him. You squirm in his grasp to try and free your arms, and an empty cold immediately strikes you when he releases you within a millisecond, parting himself from you and shoving his back into the cushions of the couch.

“Shit, I’m-”

You unintentionally cut him off when you turn around to face him, slinging the deep red comforter over his tensed up body. From this angle you can see his face and he looks… surprised? For the briefest moment you could catch a look of panic in his eyes before he settled, eyes widened and his mouth dropped open into a small oh. As if he wasn’t the one who started this, but he’s silent as his apology is caught in his throat.

You tilt your head down and grip your fingers onto his waist, attempting to pull him back to you, “Why are you all the way over there? Come back.”

It takes him a moment, like he's trying to process what you'd said, before he shifts closer to press his body firmly against yours. You bury your head into the warmth of his chest where you can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and your thigh finds a comfortable space to slot between his legs. His arms wrap around you again, but this time he holds you closer like he's trying to keep you locked against him, caging you against his strong torso in a way that feels almost possessive.

But it's so nice, the protective hold in his arms feels so warm and comfortable; and not just because of the temperature difference. You'd be lying if you said you'd never imagined yourself wrapped up with him, but never in any of your guilty daydreams did it ever feel so intimate. You and Sukuna have never been quite this close to each other, usually sharing nothing more than passive aggressive elbow jabs while trying to share the bathroom sink in the mornings, or maybe the occasional moment where he'll grab your hand in his when he sees you're about to trip and his touch lingers just a little too long.

But now you’re wrapped up in him, the smell of cologne on his neck embracing your senses with a warm woody scent, the heat of his body dripping onto your skin until your shivers finally come to a stop. Your racing heart slows to a steady pace and you let your eyes fall shut for a while, enjoying the peaceful quiet sounds of his breathing and his steady heartbeat.

The two of you stay like that for what feels like an eternity, the silence broken only by the occasional creak of the old apartment and the distant hum of wind outside. Sukuna’s warmth envelops you completely, seeping into your chilled bones in a way that no blanket ever could.

“Better now?” His voice is low, almost a rumble in his chest, and you feel the vibrations against your cheek where it rests against him.

“Much.” You admit quietly, your breath tickling his neck.

“Good. Maybe now you won’t freeze to death.” He mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. His tone is softer, almost fond, and his hand begins to draw lazy circles over your back.

You glance up at him, his face just inches from yours. His crimson eyes are half-lidded, his usual smirk softened into something gentler. You rarely see him like this, but lately you’ve been witnessing it more and more; he’s relaxed, unguarded. It’s a side of him that’s both unfamiliar and heart-achingly endearing.

“You’re awfully cozy for someone who didn’t want to be touched.” You tease, tilting your head slightly to study his reaction.

He scoffs, his cheeks darkening just enough to make you wonder if he’s blushing, “Yeah, well, I didn’t think you’d be this pathetic about it. Consider it a favor.”

“A favor?” You raise a brow, unable to hide your amused grin.

“Yeah. Don’t get used to it,” he grumbles, though his arm tightens around you ever so slightly.

Despite his words, you can feel the contradiction in the way he holds you, his grip firm and unyielding as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. And you can’t help but wrap your arms around him tighter, hoping this so called favor doesn’t have to end.

“You’re warm.” You mumble, almost to yourself.

“Don’t get all sentimental on me,” His voice is a low warning, but it lacks any real edge.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, and for a moment, neither of you says a word. The air feels heavy, charged with something unspoken yet undeniable. His eyes flicker down to your lips for the briefest second, and your breath catches in your throat.

“You’re staring.” He mumbles, but he doesn’t look away.

“So are you.” You whisper softly.

The tension between you grows, fragile yet electric, until finally, he huffs and shifts his gaze away, breaking the spell, “Go to sleep, idiot. You’ll need it for when the landlord shows up tomorrow.”

Despite the abrupt shift, his tone carries no real harshness, and the arm around your waist stays securely in place. You press your cheek against his chest once more, unable to resist a small smile.

“Fine.” You whisper, closing your eyes and letting yourself relax fully into his warmth.

He doesn’t say anything, but the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear is answer enough. Whatever this moment between the two of you is, you’ll take it for now, tucked in his arms as the cold world outside fades away.

A/N: Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!! And thank you to everyone who has been so kind and supportive and patient with me during my writers block <3 I don’t think I’m fully back quite yet but I’ve made massive progress and I’m hopeful that I’ll be writing regularly again soon :) Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

[daisymbin]

hi!! may i request 39(angst prompt) with wonwoo but with a happy ending please🥺💖

of course lovely!!! 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // wonwoo's m.list

angst prompt #39: "why are you pushing me away?"

wonwoo’s been watching you from across the room, his fingers curled tightly around the edge of his drink. your laugh rings out, light and sweet, but it doesn’t reach him. it hasn’t reached him in weeks.

he doesn’t know when it started. the distance between you. the hesitance in your smile when you see him. the way you pull away from his touch like it burns. it’s suffocating, the way it all sits heavy on his chest, and he feels like if he doesn’t say something now, he might never get the chance.

so he crosses the room.

you notice him too late. he sees the way your shoulders stiffen, the way your expression flickers between surprise and something that looks like dread.

“can we talk?” he asks, his voice quiet, but firm.

“now?” you glance at your friends, at mingyu who’s watching the two of you with an expression that’s too knowing.

“yeah.”

you don’t argue. you never do, and that’s the part that kills him the most.

he leads you outside, to the quiet balcony where the noise of the party fades into the background. the cold air bites at his skin, but it does nothing to numb the ache in his chest.

“wonwoo, if this is about—”

“why are you pushing me away?” he cuts you off, his voice trembling despite himself.

your mouth opens, then closes. your eyes dart to the ground, and you wrap your arms around yourself like you’re trying to shield yourself from him.

“i’m not,” you say finally, but the words sound hollow even to you.

“you are,” he presses, stepping closer. “and i don’t—I don’t understand why. did i do something? say something? because if i did, just tell me, and i’ll fix it.”

“it’s not that simple, wonwoo.”

“then make it simple,” he says, his voice breaking at the edges. “please. i can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not. not when it feels like you’re already halfway out the door.”

your breath hitches, and he sees the way your hands tremble as you grip the railing.

“i’m not good for you,” you whisper, and the words hit him like a punch to the gut. “you deserve someone who’s... better. someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

“what are you talking about?” his voice cracks, but he doesn’t care. “you think you don’t love me enough? you think you’re not enough? where are you getting this? where is this even coming from?”

you turn away, and it takes everything in him not to reach out and pull you back.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” you admit, your voice barely audible. “and i feel like that’s all i ever do.”

“you don’t,” he says immediately, but you shake your head like you don’t believe him.

“i do, wonwoo. i see it. in the way you look at me, like you’re scared i’m gonna disappear. and i—” your voice wavers. “i don’t want to be the reason you’re unhappy.”

he takes a shaky breath, his hands clenching at his sides.

“you’re not,” he says firmly, stepping closer again. “you’re the opposite of that. every time you smile, every time you laugh, even if it’s not at me, it’s enough to make my day. you’re the one thing in my life that feels like home, and you think you’re hurting me?”

you turn to look at him then, your eyes wide and glassy, and it shatters something in him.

“if i’m scared, it’s because i don’t want to lose you,” he continues, his voice softer now, pleading. “but if you push me away, that’s what’s going to hurt. not being with you—that’s what’ll break me.”

he watches as your defenses crumble, piece by piece, until you’re standing there with tears streaming down your cheeks and an expression so raw it makes his chest ache.

“i’m scared, too,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

“then let’s be scared together,” he says, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles. “we’ll figure it out. i don’t care how long it takes or how hard it gets. i just—i just want to be with you.”

you let out a shaky laugh, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand.

“you make it sound so easy.”

“because it is,” he says, stepping closer until he’s right in front of you. “as long as we’re together, it is.”

you let out a breath, one that sounds like it’s been trapped in your chest for far too long, and then you’re closing the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his chest.

he freezes for a moment, like he’s afraid this is some kind of cruel dream, but then his arms come up around you, holding you tightly against him.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble against his sweater.

“don’t be,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “just stay.”

you nod, and he feels your arms tighten around him.

he doesn’t know what the future holds, but in this moment, with you in his arms and your walls finally coming down, he thinks maybe—just maybe—it’s going to be okay.

[thedropsofblood]

So glad to see that your requests are open <3 love all your fics(especially general one..... what a man.....). Can I request a pirate/yandere x merman/siren reader? 👁👁👁👁👁👁👁

The moon is beautiful tonight, isn't it?

Warnings: human x siren relationship, dom reader (?) but technically you're a switch, siren male reader, blood drinking, making out underwater, hand job (reader giving), GN but made with male reader in mind.

Summary: A pirate got too curious and almost became your meal.

It is said that meeting a siren in the middle of the sea is a pirate's worst nightmare, yet it felt like the opposite to him.

Him and his crew were celebrating a successful heist, the thick smell of alcohol filled the board, but instead of focusing on the music, he was distracted by the sight of you underneath the water. He rested his elbows on the wooden railings of the ship, looking down intently on the water. He knew he wasn't hallucinating you, there's no way he was, he was a criminal but he wasn't crazy.

Instead of brushing it off as nothing, he kept his gaze on the water underneath, almost mesmerized by his own curiosity. He only snapped out of his own thoughts when one of his crew members placed a firm grip on his shoulder. He excused himself out and back into his room, yet, he couldn't keep his mind off of your silhouette. There's something about you that's strangely mesmerising to him, it felt like he had seen you once before.

Laying on his head, he found himself sleepless despite his tiredness. His hand moving up to brush his hair out of his face out of frustration. He knew he shouldn't try and investigate you further, but he couldn't help it. There's something about you that just, draws him in, and he doesn't know if he likes it or not.

He clicked his tongue, lighting up his lantern before setting off towards the main dock where he spotted you earlier. The night was so much colder than he expected but he held on, before he could get onto the dock, his body tensed up completely at the sound of someone singing. The sound sends a shiver through his spine, making him swallow a lump in his throat nervously.

He carefully sets down his lantern somewhere safe before going over to where he previously stood. He scanned the surrounding water as much as he could with the moonlight, and his previous suspicions were correct. He wasn't drunk, he wasn't hallucinating, no, he did see a siren, and a beautiful one at that.

He couldn't even find the strength to breath as he's mesmerized by the sight of you, humming a song, looking up directly at him with a smile. And suddenly his knees felt like jelly, he knelt down onto the wooden floor as he leaned over to look at you. The way the moonlight shines on your face, that way the water dropped down from your hair, it felt magical.

So imagine how scared he was when you disappeared back into the ocean. And in a moment of panic, he found himself jumping down along with you. He tried searching for even a singular hint of you, for that similar face, for that siren tail, for your hypnotic voice, yet there was nothing but silence. The sense of dread that filled him in that moment was undescribable. He had always hated being in deep water for this reason, what if the figure he saw in the corner of his eye was a shark? What if you're just a hallucination and he's currently drowning right now? Worse, what if you're real and you just wanted to lure him to his death?...

That is, until he felt something pressed against his lips. And he frantically blinked to clear his vision, his gaze softening at the sight of your eyes. His hands moved to grip onto your waist, his other hand pushing the back of your neck towards him, as if wanting to trap you in this kiss forever, despite knowing how unreachable that goal is.

If anyone's trapped, it's him, both mentally and physically. He didn't want to leave you, and even if he wanted to, your tail wrapping the lower half of his body surely wouldn't let him go. This was dangerous, he knew it, yet he couldn't care any less. The water around his body only felt like a warm hug from you, and the kindness of you to transfer him air with your mouth? If you were a human, he's sure he'd have your hand in marriage by now.

He struggled to get out of the water and gasped for air when you bit down on his neck, licking off the blood mark. You had the decency to not pull him back down into the water right afterwards, instead, pushing him onto a nearby rock and continued your barrage on his neck. His hand gripped onto your hair as he grits his teeth, breathless gasps escaping his throat.

How lightheaded he was when your hands went to unbuckle his belt, the feeling of your thumb brushing over the tip of his dick, the gentle strokes that made him leak precum onto your hand and down onto the cold surface underneath. You were going to be the death of him one day, and he was completely content with that.

His hand gripped harshly on your hair to force your head back, stealing the breaths right out of your mouth and encapsulating you in a kiss, not even giving you a chance to catch your breath. He wanted to devour you whole, to make it so you'll never sing for anyone else but him, to make it so the only pirate you will ever eat is him and him alone, even if he had to die for it.

He bit down on your lips, tasting the irony of your blood in his mouth. You tasted like the finest meal he had ever had the luxury of getting his hands on, your cold touches were surprisingly comforting in the freezing night, the way you had him in the palm of your hand-

His vision went all white, he almost bit down on his tongue as his ears rang a loud noise. He pulled you off his lips, looking at your swollen ones and down on your cum stained hand. Shit, even his outfit was ruined beyond recognition because of the water earlier. He wasn't worried about being scolded by the other crew members later, he was more worried about not being able to see you again after this.

He was quickly proven wrong though, when you pulled him towards you and into the water, your arms wrapped around his neck and pulling him into a deep kiss, a stupid smile on your lips. If you want him to be addicted to you this badly, then he'll gladly cooperate.

As expected, he was brutally scolded by the other members for sleep walking out of the ship (you lured him), ending up with horrible cuts and bruises (you bit his neck and shoulders beyond recognition), and a nasty fever (also your fault for keeping him underwater for so long).

Despite that, he didn't seem upset at the punishments like he usually was. Hell, he even seemed happier than usual, to the shock of the other members. Some crew members even thought he went crazy or got possessed after hearing him speaking to himself in his room.

That is, until they peeked through the creek of his bedroom door and caught sight of him talking to you through the window, even feeding you spare shrimps and fishes he caught earlier today. They wanted to interfere until they saw him place a kiss on your forehead, causing them to halt and quickly scatter back to their duty. They didn't know what to be more worried about, the fact that their captain had managed to befriend a siren or the fact that you left your marks on him.

A/N: Thank you sm for loving my fics you don't know how much it means to me. I love that fic too ngl, I'm so sad past me did him a little dirty, I'm thinking of rewriting him just bc of it 😭🙏 Sorry your request took a while btw, I had to rewrite it 3 times bc tumblr kept rejecting to save the draft + I wasn't satisfied with one of them.

[jacy-gir1]

Heyyy, NSFW alphabet featuring shinsou. Obviously 18+

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He is the kind of guy to be instantly tired, he wants to hold you, lazily kiss you, cuddle you as you fall asleep after sex. He doesn’t mind if there’s a little mess and your both naked he just wants you in his arms.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Thighs absolutely no questions asked. He wants to kiss them, touch them, squeeze them, put his head in between them, you name it. There’s no better way to relax after a long day of work then to lay down in your pillowy thighs.

C = Cum (Where does he want to cum?)

Back to the last one, thighs definitely. If they aren’t available then stomach, back, or tits. There’s just something about seeing himself sprayed on your body it’s like an animal marking there territory.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Actually really into dominantrics (idk how to spell that just go with it) but would never tell you because he’s super embarrassed. He secretly would enjoy being bossed around, told how to please you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s watched a fair share of porno but was a virgin before he met you, surprisingly he was a natural in bed, a quick learner you’d call him.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary, some may say it’s boring but it gets all the right spots, he can kiss you while rearranging your guts, easy access to your clit and curves, and best of all your neck is so so easy to grab.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Very serious, so serious it’s goofy

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Carpet matches the drapes, purple stubble

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Less romantic then you’d expect, he’s a fan of hard kinky sex, not the type of stuff you’d call “making love” but it’s romantic in his own way.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

A lot, If he’s horny and your not available his hand is on his cock. He jacks off to pictures of you in a swimsuit. He has jerked off next to you in bed while you were sleeping multiple times, he dreads you waking up but also gets off on it

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

About the level of kinky as you’d expect, he’s into shibari, putting you in collars (a little pet play), and using his quirk on you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bed, it’s the most comfortable for both of you and you don’t have to worry about it not working for his favorite positions.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Mostly you teasing him but sometimes he just gets random boners. If you really want to get him going then strip tease when he’s not expecting it.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Role play, he hates thinking about fucking anyone but you. Other then that he’s super open to whatever you want to try; my man does not kink shame

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Not very good at giving but lovvvvves receiving, it’s his favorite way to cum, with your mouth wrapped around him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Very rough and fast paced, this man rails the shit of you it is not gentle. However if you feel like it’s to much he becomes more gentle with you, your pleasure comes before him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not a fan of quickies, he prefers longs nights where you can do multiple rounds and fall asleep after

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Loves to push yours and his own boundaries, he’s not Risky in the sense of doing it in public though

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

About 4, you’ll know when he’s tired out

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

It’s hit or miss with toys but he loves putting you in collars and using controlled toys to tease and edge you with

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

His version of foreplay is teasing the shit out of you, but after that he just wants to get lost in you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s a grunter and whimperer definitely, loud in a quiet way if that makes any sense.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Reads cringy smut fanfiction and imagines you as main characters

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Like 6inches, not enough to be painful for you but big enough to make you feel like he’s in your stomach

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Depends, it’s like seasonal with this man, super horny during winter, super chill during summer.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Two fucking seconds after he cums he’s snoring while holding you tight, more cuddles the better

[valentine-cafe]

˖⁺. "hush, darling." : 

﹙ naga literature uni student boyfriend x fem reader ﹚.𖹭 ݁

﹙naga ˖ grim reaper ˖ poet character﹚. . . talisen 781 x fem reader !! 🍓 :

 seems your bratty behaviour led to you getting railed by your boyfriend in the back of the threatre while there's a class next door 

﹙ cws ﹚: penerative sex ˖ semi-public sex ˖ degradation ˖ praise ˖ rough sex ˖ multiple orgasms ˖ riding ˖ desperate sex ˖ talisen is soooo mean | wc : 1.6k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: an old piece done up but we need people to release just how mean this man can be omnggg

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

"Yeah that is it — come on, bend your knees baobei fuck — that is it.”

Talisen’s husky breath pants against your ear, sends shivers down your spine. Plummeting straight to your core and boiling away at the arousal that rises every minute.

Your pussy quivers each time your boyfriend’s large cock thrusts forward and hits that specific bundle of nerves that leaves a desperate urge to moan behind. The thing is just,

You can’t.

Of course, you deserve it. Acting a brat earlier, but it was cruel of him to keep you quiet in the theatre hall specifically because there was a class in the other room.

What you dread more is that someone comes backstage and catches the two of you. The poet fucking you up against some of the props, though you doubt he’d care much. It made your tummy twist with excitement at the same time.

You gasp out when a calloused thumb presses down against your bud, swirling your arousal around your clit before applying more pressure to rub away at the sensitive bud, while he pounds you mercilessly. His thrusts shallow and painfully slow.

A moan is about to bounce off of the walls, join the wet sounds of your sopping cunt taking its favourite cock so greedily. Milking it. Like the slut you are. But a hand slaps against your mouth and a quiet hiss interrupts the blissful erotic noises your bodies make together.

“Uh-huh - ah ah, shh quiet, do not want to disturb the class, do we?"

A pair of long and slim digits press down on your lips to silence the cries and moans that emanate from your throat and beg for their freedom let out every time his hips piston up into you.

Maroon eyes narrow as they focus on the way your ass ripples every time he begins to slowly speed up the pace. The way your walls flutter to welcome him back in whenever he pulls out until the only thing left inside of you is his flaring tip.

“Ah, but truly,” he tuts

“You must enjoy this hm? A whore is very aware of her actions after all.” he sighs contently against your ear, you hate him. The grin in his voice. You can hear it and you hate him for it.

“J—Just want-te-gnhgh!” you attempt, only to end up having drool running down your chin as his fingers press past your lips and put weight on your tongue. It is getting very hard to be quiet when he is pulling tricks like these out. Your lungs are burning with the need to just let your noises out, along with your heavy breaths and pants.

“Shhhh. There we go, quiet. Like the soft serene silence of the day outside. Good girl.” He chuckles, satisfied with the cross-eyed expression he pulls from you as he begins thrusting harder, the feel of them shallow still. Yet faster. Finally.

Soft and quiet chokes cough out from your mouth, along with whines that you try to deafen as much as possible. Might as well listen to him, because he will not listen to you. Nor your nonsense. You don’t mind much either, this is exactly what you had aimed for earlier.

A bet with yourself, to see how much you can rile his arousal up.

Clenching and letting out a scattered moan, your legs shake at the feeling of him pulling out and delivering a harsh slap against your sore cunt.

His fingers pull out of your mouth, and you are turned over another prop. Put into a prone bone, and gasping at the feel of his cock fucking in and out of you over and over.

“T-Tal— ta-aha- ta- t-ahnghhh!” you stutter, tummy looping and flipping all of the right ways, while you feel your orgasm nearing. Pussy fluttering and throbbing more than previously. God, you can’t take it anymore. You just want release.

He sees it, oh he will make you scream his name as loud as possible.

With a grin his pace speeds once again, while his hands grip away at your waist. Pressing you down against the prop with his weight and keeping you in place.

The erratic thrusts brings the both of you to absolute bliss, your head reels around. Thoughts or shame gone and mind only full of him when you moan out his name and allow the slew of moans and cries that have wished so dearly to be spilt for the past few minutes.

But then you realised what you had done, and quickly, you shut your mouth and looked up at him with wide eyes. Only for them to narrow in confusion at the content smile on his face.

With a hand brushing away strands of hair out of your face. He presses a kiss to your lips and slowly begins thrusting in and out of you again. Starting out with a slow grind as usual.

“You know. If there truly was a class, baobei. Many would be in here pulling props out.” he chuckles. The deceit! You widen your eyes, only to moan loudly when he shoves you down on his cock and grind you down on him

“Y-You!” is all that you can pant, before moaning. A mewl breaking out of your throat as his hands move up to grope at your breasts through your shirt. Playing around with the nipples, before his left hand moves up to your lips and presses against them with his fingers and willing them to open for him.

The taste of your juices hits your tongue quick, leaving you squeezing and clenching around him mindlessly. Panting and whining.

“You’re so meean!” the muffled cried from you leaves him groaning.

Alongside with the vice grip your pussy always has on him, your words and whines are what really get to him. He can’t get enough of it. The contact of skin combined with all of your beautiful noises, good everything - he is depraved. He will admit to that happily.

Even as he fucks you into the pillows of one of the couch props after switching around and pushing you up on top of him, bouncing you onto him like a pretty doll. Or making you ride him just to watch you beg for him to take over again.

The way you take all of him, goodness. You could milk him dry but he is sure he’d still be leaking and willing after a few hours had passed. He adored all of you.

You were to be worshipped, each and every part of you. Truly, you are art.

The room echoed with the noises of pleasure and love all the way out to the theatre hall. Creating a symphony, the thrusts the drums, the moans the song, their skin against skin the violins the orchestra. All of it.

“can you take one more for me my dear? Jus-just one more?” the rough rasp in his voice and the quiver that is ever so evident easily steals away a slew of cusses from your lips as your juices squirt all over his cock.

You have made a clear ring around his base by now. A mixture of his cum and yours, the smell of sex, the sensual feel of his tongue moving across your skin. It twists all sorts of emotions inside of you.

Leaves you dizzy and light-headed, but you stay awake and grip onto him. So eager for more.

“Y-Yes— yes!” you whimper into his ear and swallow hard as his hips take on a sloppy and quick, desperate pace. No longer is there a rhythm, but instead a deep-rooted desperation to be closer. Have all of one another.

“I love you.” he whimpers quietly, gods. His whimpers send you to zenith, straight into the sky and heavens of bliss.

“G-Gege!” is all he gets in response. He doesn’t need more than that either. Your hips bucking into his, lips pressing to his messily, while you hold onto one another and enjoy the contrast between a warm and cold body is enough for him to know you’d say it back if it wasn’t for him fucking you full and into oblivion.

A snap of hips and a loud whine from you. He pulls your last orgasm out of you and himself. Fucking you full over and over again with the last drops of cum he has.

A back arches and cold hands move across the canvas below them. So beautiful, covered in a sheen layer of sweat that leaves you glistening.

“You are so very beautiful. The most ethereal of souls to walk this very earth my dear.” he whispers against your lips, pressing a few kisses against them before gently pulling himself out of you and lifting you into his arms. Massaging away at any aches that he may have caused from the rough to desperate lovemaking.

With gentle aid in dressing you up again, he takes you back home to his dorm and showers you. Assuring that you are taken well care of and fed.

Oh to love a poet is to find yourself in places you never would have. Such a creative mind taking you across the planes.

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[oneforthemunny]

🧸🥣🌀

modern!eddie, angst, proposal/wedding. i feel like i might get attacked for this one sorry.

"Hey," Eddie's voice came from behind you, still in his grey suit but the jacket and the tie had been shed, the boutonniere upside down and smushed from the reception.

"Lost you in there." Eddie grinned, eyes a little red rimmed from the beer he'd been downing at the open bar.

You didn't respond, fingers drumming against your champagne flute, looking out at the venue strung in lights. "You alright?" Eddie's brows pinched, moving beside you.

"Yeah," Your voice was tighter than you liked, swallowing a lump that seemed to only grow, choking you more and more. "Just... needed some air."

"Yeah, it is a little hot in there. The smoke machine is a killer. Feels like I'm at prom again." Eddie snorted lightly. "My hair's gonna look like Hagrid's by the end of the night."

Normally you would've smiled, grinned with narrowed eyes and retorted with something that teetered on playful and snarky. Instead, your gaze was held, distant as you looked over the rolling hills.

"Hey, okay," Eddie leaned against the railing, looking up at you. "What's going on?"

"Nothing-"

"-Nah, don't give me that." Eddie shook his head. "What's going on? You were fine earlier, and then you left."

Your nose burned, fiery with emotion that threatened to bubble out, to spill over. "Baby," Eddie cooed, his hand brushing over yours. "What's wrong?"

You hesitated, contemplating shaking him off and going back inside, back to the table where he couldn't confront you. Back to the table that was the same reason you had left.

"I just... You know, everyone kept asking if we were next." You muttered, refusing to look at him, eyes trained on your glass. "When we'd finally get married."

Eddie paused, lips twitching the way they did when he was uncomfortable. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," You looked at him.

"Did you tell them we didn't want to get married?" Eddie pressed lightly, his own fingers beginning to drum on the concrete of the balcony.

"No," You bit, a raging burst of fury shooting through your system. "I told them you didn't want to get married."

"Baby," Eddie's face fell, a sigh accompanying his words. "Can we- Can we not do this here? Please?"

We've already talked about this.

You know how I feel.

It's just a piece of paper. We're already basically married. Why does it matter?

I don't want to get married. Never wanted it, and I'm not changing my mind. Doesn't mean I don't love you.

All the words he didn't say now but still lingered from times before. The rejection, the bitter sting of your dreams shattered. You thought someone as affectionate as Eddie was would jump at the first mention of marriage.

Here, watching Jeff and his bride dance, laugh and cry at the alter, pouring out promises and oaths to the other, it was hard not to feel bitter. The widened glances that came your way with the dreaded question, the twitching of lips when you'd reply. Every Facebook post you'd see of another classmate from high school getting married, engaged, honeymooning. It made you rage with jealous frustration.

"C'mon, let's just go back in and have fun. Please? I don't want to fight about this right now." Eddie pleaded, eyes rounding sweetly enough that it made your heart pang with affection, maybe with aching hurt.

You didn't respond, jaw clenched in what you hoped was a neutral expression- one that would pass for the resting bitch face you were known for, and not a tear filled one.

[uhohdad]

HIS

Stalker!Konig x Reader Fic

Summary: It makes him sick to think of the man he used to be. Who he was before you reduced him to an obsessive, jealous monster.

You ruined his life.

Word Count: 10k AO3

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, No use of y/n, AFAB & Feminine Reader, Unreliable Narrator, Non-Consenual Voyeurism, Stalking, Breaking and Entering, Abusive Relationships, Depictions of: Non-Con Sex, Choking, Hair-Pulling, Spanking, Slut-Shaming, Bad German, Orgasm Torture, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Smoking, Konig has a Love/Hate Relationship with Reader, Implications of Ghost x Reader, hopefully the reader isn’t too out of character for y’all, unfortunately this one had to be more detail oriented, you will be making an uncharacteristic amount of phone calls i’ll tell you that much

Continuation of this, but can be enjoyed stand-alone

He dreamt of you last night.

You were ethereal, liebe. A true angel - floating down to him in his dark isolation, basking him in your elegant golden light. He finally had your attention. The pleasure of having your gaze fixed on him, nothing but adoration in your sparkling eyes. Your hand extended gracefully out to him, delicate fingers cupping the side of his face, thumb stroking his cheek. A gesture of appreciation for the hours he poured into you, an acceptance of his protection. An apology, for denying him the ownership that he had earned over and over again.

An ownership he was overdue for.

A chill wrapped its fingers around Konig’s spine, unforgiving frost spreading from his core to his fingertips. Your expression had changed without transition, eyes suddenly pooled with malice, lips tightened in disgust. A growl thick with hatred reverberated through him when the thrust of your arm plunged a sword through his heart.

Frantic callused hands scramble to the wound, relieved to find only a shirt drenched in sweat as Konig shook the haze of sleep. Relieved to know you hadn’t seen him for what he really was, that you hadn’t rejected him so cruelly.

He was beginning to resent you for the sleep deprivation. He knew you were going to let him sleep in today. Every Saturday, after a long week of watching over you, you thank him with an opportunity to sleep in.

You ruined it.

Taunting him in his dreams - fooling him even after everything he’s sacrificed, letting him taste a moment where his fantasy comes true, only to rip it away from him so brutally.

Konig soothed himself by lying back, easing himself into the first half of his dream. He replayed the vivid image of you stroking his cheek, looking at him in astonishment after learning about everything he’s done for you.

Maybe he could forgive you for tearing open his chest. For letting him feel true bliss, even for a moment. To let him know what it would feel like to have you.

It’s the least you could do.

Konig doesn’t even recognize himself anymore. He’s entirely off the rails, fully succumb to his depraved behavior, helpless to the urges you’ve scraped to the surface. It makes him sick to think of the man he used to be. Who he was before you reduced him to an obsessive, jealous monster.

You ruined his life.

His passions, his dreams, his reputation - it all pales in comparison to you. Nothing he cared about before matters now. He feels like an addict, powerless to his addiction and chasing the high. He revolves around you, the center of his universe. He’s sure you’re the reason he’s alive. You consume every waking moment of his day, and now his dreams.

And you can’t even be bothered to look at him.

Ungrateful little brat.

You had a late start to the day, making Konig wait for you to sleep off last night’s drinks. It was well into the afternoon when you left your quarters, wearing your civilian clothes and attention glued to your phone as you navigated the paths of the base.

It was a breath of fresh air to see your face again. He’d been drowning, choking on his pitiful existence when you were apart. Dread eats him alive from the inside out, a swarm of maggots and flies deteriorating the meat of his flesh and organs. He doesn’t know how much longer he can stand without being with you every moment of the day.

But here you are, his light, his warmth. He can feel you coursing through his veins - another hit of the drug he couldn’t get enough of.

You looked perfect in your jeans and t-shirt. It’s nice to see you out of the drab and ill-fitting clothes the military forces on you. The denim hugs the curve of your ass and meld tight to perfect hips and thighs. He thinks of the show you gave him last night, the way your ass looked in the thin fabric of your panties. He knows what’s underneath those jeans. You can hide it from the rest of the world, but not from him.

You’re not paying attention, liebe. Fingers pecking away at your phone, only glancing up to make sure you didn’t bump into anyone.

It’s dangerous to be alone like this, even more so to be unaware of your surroundings.

You always do this.

How could you be so careless?

This is why he has to sacrifice everything to protect you. To keep prying eyes and itchy fingers away from you while your guard is down.

Your brows pinch as you focus on your phone, lips silently reading the text that fills your screen.

Who is so important that you must risk your safety to return their message?

He wants to sprint up to you, close enough that he can look over your shoulder to read your messages. It takes strength for him to restrain himself, to wait until you’re far enough away before standing from his bench, his boots following in your wake.

Konig’s longed to get his hands on your phone for some time. He knows that phone contains secrets about you he could only dare to dream about. It’s the key to knowing your inner desires, to put him in the position to serve you as best he can. Your intimate messages, browser history, photos.

He wonders if you have nudes on your phone. The very thought sends his blood rushing.

Swiping through your dirty pictures, a collection of obscene poses from his muse. One of you arching your back and pushing your tits out for the camera. Another with you sticking out your tongue, begging to taste him and ready to choke on his cock. On your back, thighs spread, displaying a wet cunt ripe for tasting. On your knees, ass up and waiting impatiently for him to pound you ruthlessly from behind.

His fantasy is tainted by the sharp and scorching realization that if you did have nudes on your phone - you’ve sent them to someone. The thought of another man daring to lay his unworthy eyes on you has his eye twitching, a searing heat already peeling his skin.

Why would you give yourself away, like you’re worth nothing?

He forces a deep breath, redirecting his focus to his pace, strides nearly double the length of yours. He hates having to follow you from so far away. He wants to walk beside you. Towering next to you - he wants everyone to know who you belong to, the mountain they would have to conquer if they wanted to get to you.

He didn’t take his eyes off you the entire journey to your destination, delightfully surprised when you step into the mall. He was worried that you were foolish enough to go somewhere unsavory all by yourself. It’s even better that you were going somewhere with plenty of people around, enough for him to blend in the crowd. Such a wide-open building, perfect for him to keep a watchful eye on you even from a distance.

Maybe today you’ll make it easy for him.

He’s getting tired of you being difficult.

When you duck into a clothing store, Konig can’t help the smile that creeps on his face.

Going to pick out new clothes to model for him?

Oh, you really were being a good girl today.

He’s eager to see what you buy, heart rate accelerating as he imagines the possibilities. He’s already dressing you up in his mind like his little doll.

He settles at a table in the food court with a perfect view. You seemed to be in a rush - not wasting time as you scrape hangers across the metal clothing racks. Eyebrows pinched in concentration, jaw slightly cocked as you pressed your tongue to your teeth. You look cute when you’re focused.

Konig’s brow perks when you stop in your tracks, attention caught by a dress on the end display. Your face relaxes when you lay eyes on it, delicate hands running over its fabric. It was beautiful - a soft pastel blue, intricate azure and yellow flowers blooming on its pattern, a thin white lace stitched along the neckline. It was a dress fit for a princess, fit for his wife. He dives headfirst into a daydream about you wearing it once he’s domesticated you, hem dancing when you greet him with a kiss after a long day. His hands would find your waist when you stand on tippy toes to give him his welcome home kiss.

You flip the price tag before moving on, and his smile falls flat.

That’s the one. That’s the dress you’re meant to wear.

You like it, don’t you?

You stop every so often to check the time on your phone, pulling a face when you do so. Running late to something, he’s sure. Where are you supposed to be? And what’s so important that you needed a new outfit?

He watches you pull a hanger free, a black dress you hold up high enough to obscure his view of you.

No, liebe.

Don’t even think about it.

He can tell from his spot across the walkways that it’s too revealing. It would cut short at your mid-thigh, neckline that’s designed to show off your cleavage. Skin tight and would leave nothing to the imagination.

The kind of dress that would attract the attention of the wrong people.

Of course you would do this.

Dressing yourself like the slut you are.

A scowl smears across his face as he watches you walk up to the cashier.

So you were going to be difficult today.

Just when he thinks you’re finally cutting him some slack, you go out of your way to misbehave.

You’re quick to leave, whorish dress packed away in a white plastic bag and resting on the crease of your arm. Your hands find your phone again, a slight wince at something on your screen.

He’s too disappointed with your clear lack of judgment to think about what’s on your phone that’s stealing your attention.

He has to close his eyes, a few deep breaths to calm himself before he loses control, before he gives in and teaches you a lesson that you so desperately need.

His fists stay tight at his sides, knuckles splotched white on tight fists as he follows you out of the mall in haste.

With a hitch of his breath the rage carried on tensed shoulders lifts.

It’s the sun shining on your hair that grounds him this time. Locks shimmering, revealing their true color to him as the breeze makes your soft tufts dance. Your skin glows in the sun’s warmth - it takes him right back to the euphoria of his dream. Your light, liebe - he can see it.

Your pace slows when you reach behind you, pulling your phone from the sheath of your jean pocket. He can’t see your face, but he watches from behind as you bring it to your ear.

He seized his opportunity to close ground, enough that he can hear your side of the conversation. He normally wouldn’t get so close to you, but you seem to be extra distracted today, and Konig is too curious to miss out on your phone call.

“I know! I know, I’m sorry. I’m almost at the subway. I’ll be there in 20.”

Hearing your voice makes his heart skip a beat. He missed that beautiful voice, silky smooth and goes down like honey.

Especially when you sound so apologetic.

Is this what it’ll be like when you finally own up to the grief you’ve put him through?

There’s a pause before you speak again, a small laugh escaping you.

“He can wait.”

He?

Konig’s thoughts race before you had even finished your sentence, his moment of enamor shattering like rose-colored glasses.

Who’s he?

Is ‘he’ who you picked out that promiscuous dress of yours for?

Anyone who would be okay with that dress doesn’t have your best interests in mind, liebe. Konig knows what’s best for you, and it’s getting harder to watch from the sidelines as you make mistakes time and time again. He’s ready to interfere, to take control away from you, since you’re clearly not responsible enough to do it yourself. Someone needs to put their foot down. You’re begging for him to step in, to discipline you until you can demonstrate you’re capable of behaving.

“Uh,” You trail off in a hum before you respond, “I don’t know about that. You didn’t say anything, did you?”

“I don’t know.” You say with a whine, “This is already a lot for me. I don’t… this really isn’t my thing.”

“No!” You squeak out, followed by a forced casual, “No.” You’re suddenly flustered, stopping in your tracks when a nervous laugh escapes you. You make a quarter turn and Konig flinches when he sees your face, searching around for a quick escape.

“Just because I talk about him a lot doesn’t mean I like him.”

Konig’s eye twitches at ‘him.’ Who are you talking about so often that you’re being accused of crushing on someone?

Maybe you were talking about Konig.

He doubts it, but the idea dulls the edge of the blade you’re slicing him with.

“Because…” You huff, bailing on a sentence you started without thinking through, “Okay, fine. I’ll try. For you.”

What mess were you getting yourself into, liebe? He doesn’t like the sound of this at all.

“Okay, okay. I’m at the station now. See you soon.” Your phone slips back into your pocket.

Going on the subway all by yourself. Look at you, inviting danger in.

He’s locked onto your ass as you make the descent into the underground, hips swaying with each step down the concrete stairs.

If you look this distracting in jeans, what attention do you think you’ll attract in that fucking dress?

You reach for your wallet once you’re down the stairs, the pad of your finger freeing your subway card from its slot.

Shit.

He doesn’t have a subway card.

His gaze flicks to the kiosks before back to you, already swiping your card and pushing through the turnstiles. He scans the crowd before he lands on a pair of cops monitoring the station, ruining his chance to jump the stiles.

He almost drops his wallet as he fumbles for cash, rushing to the kiosk to pay.

He’s pleading under his breath for the machine to process faster. He’s convinced the kiosk could sense his fear, uncooperative to the forceful press of its buttons. Panicked glances over his shoulder reveal you progressing through the station until you’re around the corner and out of sight.

He’s lost track of you by the time he secures his card. The crowd parts for him, his intimidating stature coming in handy as he makes laps around the station before he realizes you’re gone, with no way for him to know where you are headed. A blackhole of dread swallows him whole - sweat escapes the flustered heat that blistered his skin, heart pounding against his ribcage. His hand finds his head, quiet but rigid expletives riding his exhales.

Why do you have to make things so hard for him?

He’s failed you. He’s sorry, liebe. He’s supposed to be your guard. Anything that happens to you tonight will be his fault. He suspects you’re really going to be acting out tonight, going somewhere out of your comfort zone with other men, dressed like a prostitute. Your light on display for anyone to dim.

White hot flashes of grabbing hands, lingering eyes, and cheap compliments invade his thoughts, stomach tightening and threatening to retch.

This is your fault.

You’re just a foolish little girl who doesn’t know what’s good for her. You’ve pushed him to his limit, he can’t let this go on anymore.

If you won’t behave, he’ll just have to show you how a good girl acts.

It takes him too long to realize he’s holding his breath, fist clenched and teeth grit as his rage burns him from the inside out. His eyes pinch shut as he tries to recenter himself, forcing deep breaths through his tightened jaw.

Nothing too extreme.

A gentle nudge.

A push to test the waters, to see if you can handle the expectations that go along with being his. To give you an opportunity to change your indecent behavior before he puts you in your place the hard way.

————————————————————-

Konig’s taken the lives of countless men, a ruthless brute in the heat of the battlefield. He’s been in thousands of life or death circumstances, finding himself on the other end of blades and triggers on a near daily basis. He thrives in danger.

It’s nothing in comparison to the adrenaline coasting through his veins as he picks the lock to your quarters.

He can hear his heartbeat, the rush of his blood deafening him as he crouches in front of your door, head snapping side to side to ensure the coast remains clear. He‘s nauseous with excitement, stomach churning and sweat soaking his clothes.

There’s a part of him, a sliver thin remnant of the respectable man he used to be, that manifests as a weight of guilt in his stomach. He knows what he’s doing is wrong, that he was so far beyond the line he couldn’t even see it anymore. This was a new magnitude of violating your privacy.

He knows that if he got caught, he’d be discharged faster than he could explain himself. He’d lose you, his warmth.

You left him no choice.

If you didn’t want this to happen, you shouldn’t have run from him. You’ve given him the perfect opportunity. He’s got more than enough time to get his fix, and it’s the only substitute he’ll accept for missing an evening without his eyes you.

When the lock finally pops, hands fumbling for the knob, he miscalculates his strength and sends himself tripping into your room. Quickly but quietly shutting the door behind him, clicking your lock back into place before standing straight, hands falling to his side.

The rush of standing in your room crashes over him like a wave, dizzy and disoriented as he takes you in.

He can’t believe he’s here.

In your room.

It doesn’t feel real, an out-of-body experience. A dream. His dream.

He doesn’t dare move for a full minute, breathing heavily as he fidgeted in his spot.

When he finally works up the courage to move, he inches himself towards your captivating things. A gloved finger grazes across your dresser as he inspects the belongings scattered on its surface.

He picks up a perfume, carefully uncapping it and bringing it up to his nose. With a deep inhale, his eyes flutter shut as he takes the scent of you in.

Immediate warmth pools in the pit of his stomach, already straining against the give in his pants. He spritzes into the air, the sun shining through the slats in your blinds catching on the cloud of mist. He’s hoping your scent will linger with him during his stay. He snaps the cap on with a satisfying pop and ensures he places it down exactly where he found it, cautious to leave little indication of his visit.

A shimmer catches his attention, eyes drawn to a dainty necklace. Two fingers lift it in the air, letting its reflection sparkle while he inspects the metal. He wants to put it in his pocket, a little trinket of his visit. Something to remind him that it wasn’t a dream. A piece of you to bring him comfort whenever he’s away from you. A good luck charm.

He resists the urge, placing it back on the dresser in a pile of intricate looped chains.

Your hairbrush is next, shaky fingers wrapping around the handle. His thumb skims over the bristles, watching them through half-lidded eyes as they rhythmically spring back into place. He inspects the glossy stray strands left behind in a tangled mess, imagining you gliding the brush through your gorgeous hair, your fingers following in its wake as you hum a soft tune.

He’s setting all your things down carefully, not only because he doesn’t want to leave evidence behind, but because he knows the worth of your priceless treasures.

He leans down, giving him a closer view of a polaroid taped to the edge of your mirror. You and a friend, eyes crinkled with big cheesy smiles plastered on your faces, arms wrapped around each other in a close embrace. Konig finds himself smiling at the photo, touching the border with the pad of his finger. He wishes that was him next to you, him you were embracing tightly, him you were happy just to sit next to each other on a night out.

He steadily slides a dresser drawer out, mindful to the sound of wood scraping against itself. Inside he finds your pajamas. He pulls his gloves off with his teeth, reaching in to stroke the material with his knuckle.

He grabs the shirt on top, oversized and well-worn. Broken in and softened over hundreds of restful nights. He brings it to his face and takes another inhale, getting high off the smell of your fabric softener and the image of you drowning in the shirt.

Once you’re in his grasp, he’ll make sure you only sleep in his shirts, liebe. Exposed thighs and legs peeking out from beneath his shirt that barely clings to your shoulders. A clear representation of the size difference between you two. A reminder to you of just how small and powerless you are compared to him.

He brushes the fabric against his stubbled jaw to know what it would feel like to rest his head on your shoulder. To bury his face into your chest after a long day. To rest his head on your stomach while you comb your fingers through his hair.

He wants to take it with him. Cut eye holes and replace his hood with it so that he can wear your shirt over his head every day, high off your scent as he inhales you in with each breath he takes.

He gently folds the shirt and puts it back into its place, closing the drawer before moving on to another. He thumbs through the rest of your clothes until he gets to a drawer that makes him freeze, heart stopping and fingers still laced around the handle of your dresser drawer.

Your panties.

His cock is at full attention now, painfully hard and leaking precum. Trembling hands make a slow descent, meticulously choosing his favorite. He holds them up to get a better look, picturing you filling them out, just as you were last night. The lower half of your ass peeking out to tease him. He didn’t think he would ever be jealous over scraps of cotton, but he knows these panties have kissed your perfect cunt and soaked up your arousal, everything he was entitled to.

He can’t help himself this time, liebe.

You have to understand that he can’t just let this opportunity slip through his fingers.

A reward, for all of the hard work he’s poured into you. For everything he’s sacrificed for you.

He stuffs your panties into his underwear, casual and discreet, as if he were stealing them in front of a crowd. He even looks side to side, just to make sure no one was watching over his shoulder. The feeling of your panties pressed up against his cock had him throbbing, staining the fabric a shade darker with precum. With a slight twitch of his hips, the head of his cock forces against the bundled cloth, electricity sparking through his lower half. He swallows hard, mouth turned cotton.

Konig’s getting intoxicated off of you, less gentle when he rummages through your nightstand. His arousal is taking control now, he’s desperate to uncover more of your dirty little secrets.

He holds a sharp breath, lips parting when he uncovers your vibrator. A deep purple and molded into the shape of bunny ears.

There’s a twinge of jealousy, accompanied by a pull of his lips.

Why use a toy when you can have the real thing, liebe? You don’t need a toy when you have him. He’d pleasure your cunt anytime you ask, lapping at your clit until you’re screaming his name. His tongue coercing orgasm after orgasm until you’re begging for him to stop, tears streaming down your face at the overstimulation. He’ll make you regret even asking him to pleasure you.

The jealousy is shelved when he pictures you on your back, legs spread and displaying your perfect pussy for him. Glistening with your arousal, face twisted in euphoria as you sway your hips on the vibrations. Soft moans would spill from your mouth, breathy whispers of Konig’s name on your tongue.

He stumbles backward onto your bed, hand reaching blindly behind him to find the mattress as he studies the soft silicone of your toy.

He can’t help himself anymore. He’s sorry, liebe. His erection borders on painful, balls swollen and cock begging for release.

It’s your fault.

Putting your promiscuous toys and dainty panties on display for anyone to find.

He lies back on your bed that creaks and flexes under his large stature, his head nestling comfortably on your pillow.

He fumbles the button of his pants, sloppily freeing his cock from the restraint of his waistbands. He wraps the jumbled mess of your panties around his shaft, holding the fabric in place as he grasps his base and steadily pumps himself.

You’re straddling him, cunt grinding against him through drenched panties. Biting your lip while you rock your clit on him, looking down at him with eyes glazed with lust.

He’s had enough of your teasing, liebe. He’ll punish you for working him up like this.

Yanking your panties to the side, lubing the tip of his swollen dick on your slicked rim. Tight grip indenting the flesh of your hips as he forces you down on his thick cock, watching your face twist while you strain to work around his girth. The biggest you’ve ever had. He has to train you, stretch out your tight little cunt so you can handle a good pounding. He’ll ruin that cunt, leave you a gaping cum-filled mess for any other man that dares to try. No one else will ever compare once he’s finished with you.

“Konig, I can’t-”

“You will.”

You’re soaking, liebe, just a wet little mess dripping down his pulsing cock.

His fingers slide down to your thighs, nails digging into you once you’re flush with the base of his cock, eyes fluttering shut as you struggle to take him.

“Look at me.”

You obey like the good girl you’re supposed to be, looking to him with pitiful, pleading eyes as he lifts you, a sharp gasp escaping when he buries fully into you.

He holds you in place with a strict grip, hovering inches above him while he thrusts up, mercilessly fucking your hole like the cock sleeve you are.

Choking on your moans, overstimulated by a mixture of pain and pleasure that has you squeezing around him.

“Take it like a braves Mädchen.”

A sob leaves you as he pounds into you, limply doubling over before he catches your upper arms, propping you up like a rag doll.

“Alle meine. You understand me, brat? All mine.”

A raw cry scratches the back of your throat, tits bouncing relentlessly against your ribs as he tortures your g-spot. An involuntary whimper rhythmically with each thrust, arms sore from Konig’s harsh grasp.

He forces you forward, bending you at your core so he can catch one of your nipples in his mouth with a tight suck. He doesn’t waver from his strict plunges into your cunt as his tongue eagerly circles the sensitive bud. The pleasure amplifies under the stimulation, he can tell by the roll of your eyes and the way you collapse in his arms, hypnotized by his power and stuttering out his name with broken breath. Giving yourself to him.

A brain dead, cock drunk little slut.

His hand snakes around the back of your head to grab a fist full of hair, a stiff yank forcing your neck to crane and pulling him off your tit with a pop. His spit turns cool over your nipple, tightening the pink flesh with a chill down your spine. Nails scratching desperately into his glistened chest, begging for mercy.

You won’t get any from him, little girl.

You’re his.

A toy to dump his cum into, a wet hole for him to ruin, a doll to control.

The clapping of slicked flesh on flesh fills the room, tugging your hair down to keep you from wiggling away from the ruthless fucking. Your swollen clit slaps against his mound with each bottom out, intertwining with the unforgiving pleasure of your abused g-spot and knitting into a cruel euphoria.

“Listen to your pathetic moans. Everyone will know who you belong to.”

The hand gripping your hair releases suddenly, repositioning to clench around your throat, silencing your moans with a threatening squeeze.

Your eyes snap open, an intoxicating fear spread on your features as your eyes beg for release. Pointlessly clawing at his grip, fighting for your stolen breath. He’s addicted to the way your horror steadily builds with each passing second he doesn’t let go.

He waits until your expression loosens, until your eyes cross and you’re seeing double. When he morphs into a blurry figure, floating farther and farther away from you, and the only thing you can possibly focus on is the brutal pounding of your cunt.

He lets you go seconds before you faint, cunt squeezing down on him with each desperate cough for breath. He grabs onto two fistfuls of ass, spreading you apart. Opening that cunt, making sure to fill you to the brim with each slam into you.

“Ko- gn’na cum!”

“Beg for it.”

A desperate, breathless cry tears your throat.

“Please, Konig! Please!”

A hand winds back, full palm returning to give a harsh smack to your ass. When you gasp in surprise, his grip tightens threateningly, voice lowered to a vicious growl.

“Address me properly.”

“Pl-” You’re briefly distracted by the rhythmic pounding, trailing off before he leaves another imprint of his hand on your ass.

“Please, Colonel! I-” The words get stuck in your throat, but your desperation pushes them through, so raw and pleading it doesn’t register to you as your own voice. You let off on a whine, eyes screwing shut while your body is degradingly shaken under the powerful bucks of his hips.

“Do it, brat. Cum.”

He watches your face contort, mouth fully gaped, suddenly radio silent as you convulse on his cock. He doesn’t let up on you, taking advantage of your walls tightening around him.

When your voice returns, you’re squeaking out anguished whimpers, squirming away from the progression into overstimulation.

He doesn’t let up. Your pleasure is nothing but collateral, liebe. He’ll use you until he’s finished. Bully you with his fat cock, ignoring your weak begging and futile attempts to pry yourself from his grasp.

It’s the harsh ripples of his orgasm - the warm droplets of his cum landing on his stomach, the sound of him choking on a hitched breath in the dead silence of your bedroom - that shocks him back into his pathetic reality.

Tensed muscles relax seconds after he’s milked the last of his intense finish, his sweat and shame wrapping him in a suffocating blanket.

He’s defiled you, liebe. A slimy creep, breaking into your sacred space and getting off in your bed. Where you lay your head after a long day, hiding from the world under these cozy covers. He’s tainted the sanctity of an angel’s hollow.

A disgusting, selfish pervert.

He buries his face into your pillow, breathing you in as he catches his breath and wipes away his mess with your panties.

“Tut mir leid.” He whispers into your silken pillowcases. He’s sorry, liebe. He didn’t mean to lose control like this. To let him get this close to you, close enough his depravity bleeds into your personal life. He meant to keep his distance, to keep you safe from him and his degenerative sickness.

But here he is, in your bed, pretending that you’ve welcomed him here. That he was giving you a fucking fit for a whore.

He feels dirty, he wants to shed his skin, to get a fresh start. A life where he never even met you. Where he never gave you full control over him. Where he never succumbed to his atrocious urges.

It’s too late.

You ruined his life.

His best course of action was a shower, to wash away the evidence of his sin and maybe feel clean again. To feel worthy of you again.

To bathe in your scent and take it with him.

To steal just a sliver of your light and wear it proudly.

The warm water soothes his aching muscles, always sore after a long week of strenuous work. He lets the water take him away, calming himself as much as he was capable under the circumstances.

He wonders what you’re up to. Where you’re at, what mess you’ve gotten yourself into without his supervision. Probably in that slutty dress and giving your attention to undeserving men. Flirting with them like a common whore.

The scent of your shampoo wafting in the hot steam eases his racing thoughts, closing his eyes while he massages his hair.

He imagines you’re in the shower with him, insisting to scrub him. He has to lean over so you can reach his head. Gently scratching his scalp, giving him a tingling sensation as you wash him clean from your tiptoes.

You’d scrub his body next, making a careful loop around his neck. Gently soaping his chest, lingering around his strong biceps. Feeling the strength that protects you every day. You’ll slide down to his stomach, attention on his tight abdominal muscles.

It’s his cock you pay the most attention to, stoking him clean, your other hand massaging bubbles onto his balls.

Such a good girl, liebe.

Taking care of him after a hard day.

When you’re done with him, he’d scrub you down, rough hands squeezing soft soapy tits.

He’d take his time with you, making sure to give every inch of you the care it deserves before flipping you around and fucking you ruthlessly against the shower wall, water clapping obnoxiously as he clashes into your thighs.

Such a good girl, liebe.

Taking care of him after a hard day.

Konig finishes his shower, wiping himself down with one of your towels before wrapping it around his waist.

He spends some time poking around your bathroom cabinets, curiously reading the labels on bottles of medicines. Helping himself to your Q-tips, your skin care, your deodorant.

He’s getting closer to the perfect mixture of your scent, liebe. He’ll carry it with him as long as he can, surrounding himself in a cloud of you.

When he’s done drying off & redressing himself, he carefully folds his towel and tucks it into the middle of your stack of clean towels. He bites his lip at the thought of you using the same towel that dried him.

Once he leaves the bathroom, he’s ready to poke through the rest of your things. He starts with the three sliding drawers that support the right side of your desk.

Pens, highlighters, chargers, scissors, tape.

A notebook?

He prays it’s a diary, a glimpse into your internal dialogue. He runs a finger down the thin metal coil of the spiral edge before flipping the cover.

He’s enamored with your handwriting, unique and flawed in its own wonderful way. It crafts inked scribblings documenting your time in training. Meticulously written notes on the processes of your position. He skims through the pages, filled to the brim with dry information.

You’re brilliant, liebe. The amount of knowledge that it takes to fill your shoes speaks to how intelligent you are.

He stops on a page with doodles in the corner, touching the hint of you peeking through dull instructional pages.

When he’s satisfied he plops the notebook back into its drawer and continues his search.

Batteries, a flashlight, a spool of thread.

A book.

He stops to read its spine, running his fingers over the raised title on the cover.

A romance novel?

A dark romance novel.

His heart skips a beat as he flips the book over and reads the summary.

You’re just as filthy and deviant as him, aren’t you liebe?

This is what you wanted, isn’t it?

You want him to follow you, to control you, to dominate you. You want him, don’t you?

He settles onto your bed, back flush with the covers as he nestles into your pillow. He peels the cover back, swiping through the introductory pages with his thumb, eyes attentively soaking in the words of the first chapter.

He’s determined to figure out your ideal man, your perfect idea of romance. This is his guide, he’s sure. Exactly how he should treat you to earn your affection.

The first chapter details a young woman who had finally built her perfect little life. Engaged to a supportive, loving, and devoted fiancé and settled into a cozy home in the suburbs surrounding the city where she worked. Working her dream career, it doesn’t pay much - but isn’t she oh so happy?

The first chapter lulls him, losing interest during the wholesome exposition.

He sets the open book on his chest, arm propping behind his head as he memorizes your room. He closes his eyes, absentmindedly stroking your cozy blankets. Giving a pleased hum as he nuzzles his head further into your pillow.

He wonders what it would be like to fall asleep next to you. To have you nestled into the crook of his arm, cheek pressed to his chest, arm draped over his torso. Flat on your back, his head on your chest as he listens to your heartbeat and soft snoring. Curled on your side, your ass pressed into his cock in a spoon, letting him grind into you as you drift off.

It’s the rattling of your lock that wakes him, his eyes snapping open in a panic and finding your window, sun no longer shining through the gaps in your blinds. He can hear your muffled voice through the door, belongings brushing against the wood as you struggle with your keys. He can’t believe he’s let the time slip through his fingers.

It’s your fault.

He hasn’t gotten a full night's rest in weeks.

It’s an intense scramble to clean up after himself, hands fumbling for your displaced book, vibrator, and soiled panties. He stumbles over his feet in a last ditch attempt to have you avoid spotting him, hoping the sound of your wardrobe door sliding closed is quiet enough to be concealed by the sound of your entrance.

He’s dead-still in his cramped position, terrified he’ll rattle the hangers that held your day clothes surrounding him. You flick on the lamp, a line of light casts a vertical strip on his face, pupil dilating as he peers through the gap in the closet’s doors. His heart is pounding in his chest, loud enough that he’s sure you can hear it.

He has never been this close to you before.

“Look, I know I’m usually chill about shit like this but that was not cool, dude.” You’re talking into your phone, pinched between your raised shoulder and cheek. “You can’t just bail like that without saying anything, my clothes were at your place.”

You take a deep breath, setting your wallet and keys down before kicking off your uncomfortable shoes. Konig’s leering gaze finds your ass as you bend over, one hand gripping the wood of the dresser to steady yourself. You do look good in that dress, liebe. Plump full thighs on display for him, skin tight cut teasing every inviting curve.

Your voice is softened when you speak again, “I’m worried about you, okay? I didn’t like that guy’s vibe. Just, let me know you’re…”

You trail off as you turn around, freezing in your place.

Your attention was caught by the soft blue dress with the intricate azure and yellow flowers, displayed on a hanger Konig had hung on your bedpost.

His gentle nudge.

Shit.

You freeze for a suffocating four seconds, face stone cold as you process the sight. Konig can see your gears turning, his face pinched in hot regret.

“…okay. Call me back.” You whisper, tone no longer strict with annoyance.

You quickly end your call before blindly placing your phone on the dresser behind you, stare locked on to the dress.

“Did I…?” You mumble under your breath, slowly stepping forward and reaching a careful hand out to touch the dress. Your brows furrowed, features drenched in confusion.

You look over your shoulder, and Konig swallows hard. This is it, you’re going to search for the intruder and find him. He’s in for a world of trouble- and that’s only if you don’t kill him first.

Your head turns back to the dress, now holding it with two hands, hem lifting off the floor.

Put it on, liebe.

The fabric slides through your finger as you let it fall into place, returning to your phone and swiping at its screen.

You raise the phone to your ear again, free hand rubbing your fingers together in a fidget. You sway in your spot, eyes darting nervously around the room while waiting through a painfully long set of rings.

“Hey - uh, Lieutenant.” You nervously clear your throat, “Sorry to bother you on the weekend- something kind of weird happened and I uh- I just have a question for you.” You let out a small nervous laugh, “Sorry. Bye.”

You quickly hang up, cheeks flushed as you press the side of your phone to your forehead in a clenched fist. Cringing at yourself for your awkward voicemail with a curse under your breath.

Why is Ghost always the first person you call at the first sign of trouble?

Konig is supposed to be the one who protects you, who keeps you safe.

He has to force his jaw open to keep his teeth from grinding.

You’re fucking him, aren’t you?

It’s all making sense now. Of course Konig hasn’t been able to catch you two in the act, the only way you’d be able to get away with it is by keeping it a secret. If anyone found out about your affair you’d both be discharged. Sneaking around and being intimate when no one’s watching, getting off on the forbidden love of a subordinate and a superior.

Konig can fulfill that fantasy too, y’know.

Konig can see your mind racing from your cramped wardrobe, pacing in your spot while you fidget with your nails. There is just enough doubt on your features, just enough doubt that he thinks he might get away with it. Gaslight you into thinking maybe you did buy the dress. Maybe you made a trip back home in between the mall and the subway. Maybe ‘bad vibe guy’ spiked your drink and made you lose a chunk of your evening.

As soon as Konig’s thighs start to burn from the contorted half-squat he’s in to fit in your wardrobe, there’s a knock on the door. You take a sharp breath, head harshly turning towards the sound. You freeze again, lips parted and eyes squinted in unease.

Another rap at the door, followed by your name spoken in a familiar voice. “You in?”

Ghost.

Got your message and came running to your rescue. Tricking you into accepting him as your knight in shining armor.

His face twitches at the way your shoulders relax when you hear his voice, holding back a smile as you rush to open the door.

“Lieutenant.”

Untelling eyes look you up and down, and you follow his gaze to your outfit, almost surprised that you are still wearing that filthy dress you‘ve been parading yourself in.

That’s why you bought it, isn’t it? You picked it out to show your curves off to him, the professor to your little schoolgirl crush.

“Oh, fuck. Sorry Lieutenant. I-”You let out a nervous laugh as you look over his unreadable face. “I didn’t know you were going to, um, stop by.”

Liar.

“Nice dress.” He says, impossible to tell if he’s being genuine or making fun of you. Konig’s not sure which he prefers, but his jaw shakes at the very sound of his voice.

“I just got back from a night out.” You explain, words pouring quickly in a desperate attempt to save character.

“I can tell.” He says, flat and gravely. He gives you grace by changing the subject, eyes peering over you and scanning your room, “Got your message.”

“Oh, yeah. No, it’s uh, it’s probably fine. Sorry to put you out.”

“It was quite the journey from across the hall.”

Your voice raises an octave when you try to sound forced casual, “You didn’t go in my room, did you? It’s just, you’re the only one with a key.”

The thought of Ghost having a key to your place makes him sick to his stomach. He’s probably already been here, already dug through your things to get his filthy hands all over your belongings.

He could sneak into your room at any moment, liebe. Inviting him to break in and take advantage of you.

An eyebrow raises, the extent of his expression, “No.”

Your fingers rub together again, “Are the guys- are they hazing me or something? I mean, it’s fine if they are. I get it, new guy and all- but I just need to know before I lose my mind.”

“What’s going on?” He asks, cutting straight to the chase when he hears the distress creeping in on your rambled words.

You clear your throat, looking over your shoulder, “That dress.” You say, looking to it and trailing off.

“Pretty.” He says, not straying from his uninterested tone.

Konig’s face twitches when Ghost compliments the dress.

It’s not for him.

“Yes- it is.”

“Having a fashion show?”

“No,” You give another timid laugh before your nerves make your face slink. “I didn’t buy it?” You finish on a high, unsure note, “The dress wasn’t here when I left, right? And then I come home - and here’s the dress.”

“An unusual form of hazing.”

“No, no- that’s not the weirdest part.” You point to it again, “I went shopping today, and that dress - I saw the dress, I stopped to look at it. That exact dress. I didn’t buy it, at least- I think I didn’t buy it.” You clench a hand into a fist, “I’m sure I didn’t buy it. I just got home and there it was.”

Ghost doesn’t speak, just looks down his nose at you.

Your hand flops dramatically to your side, head turning away, “You think I’m crazy.”

He says the first thing all night you can tell he means.

“I believe you.”

Your eyes perk up, looking up at him with stars in your eyes. The same way you had looked to Konig in his dream. The same spark of appreciation that Konig was entitled to.

And you’re giving it to Simon fucking Riley for doing the bare minimum.

Konig’s the one who got you the dress, liebe.

Ghost doesn’t give you gifts, Ghost doesn’t love you like Konig does.

He shifts in your doorway, arms crossing and head slightly tilted to the side. “You think someone broke into your quarters?”

“I… guess? I’m more worried that I am losing it. That I did buy it and I just, I just forgot.”

He takes a moment to analyze you, skimming over your nightclub attire before finding your face again, “You drinking?”

You hold a hand out, almost like you’re physically stopping his train of thought, “I know what you’re thinking, I only had two. I’m a lightweight, but, c’mon. Not enough to forget.”

He doesn’t say anything, making his silent judgments through half-lidded eyes.

Your tightly pressed fingers raise to touch your lip.

“Oh, I’m losing it, aren’t I?” You say with a whine, hand falling dejectedly to your side.

“You’re not losing it, soldier.”

“I’m losing it.”

“No. Listen to me.” He uncrosses his arms to hold a finger in your direction, “You’re not losing it.”

Konig can’t believe he’s talking to you like this. Stern, strict, and commanding you like Konig should be doing. Squashing the doubt that would safeguard his plan.

“The boys are probably just fucking with you. I’ll talk to them, yeah?”

You nod, slow at first but then more assuredly, “Yes, yeah.” You close your eyes, words relaxing with a sigh, “You’re right. Sorry, again, for bothering you.”

“No bother.” His head tilts again, “You alright?”

“All-left, apparently.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“I don’t want to take your time. I’m okay.”

“I don’t mind.”

Don’t give in, liebe. He’s just looking for an excuse to leer at you in that dress. To come into your sacred room, to get a look at your precious things.

Your eyes flick to the floor before back to him, “Ah, okay. Sure.”

“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” You ask when you turn away from him, giving him space to come in.

You’re always so thoughtful. Ghost doesn’t deserve you.

“No.” Ghost steps in while carefully eyeing your room. He inspects your window, nonchalantly checking over the locks before tugging at it to make sure it’s secured.

“No fun Saturday night plans, Lieutenant?” You asked with a cheeky smile, smoothing out your blanket to sit on your bed, feet dangling off the side.

“Not as fun as yours.” He says, eyes falling on your dress and lingering there a little too long for Konig’s liking. Ghost straightens out, leaning against your dresser to face you.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, adjusting the sleeve of your shoulder, “A friend dragged me on a night out.” You move to stand, moving towards the dresser Ghost blocked, “Not my usual getup. I’ll change.”

“Don’t feel obligated on my account.” He says dryly.

He doesn’t have your modesty in mind, liebe. Looking at you like you’re a piece of meat. He just wants you on display for him, a trophy.

You look at him, briefly attempting to decipher an underlying meaning of his statement. You glance to the guarded drawers before backing up to your spot on the bed. You tug the bottom of your dress down, eyes fixed on the ceiling as a stiff silence falls over you three.

“My friend, uh, set me up on a blind date.” You say after a clear of your throat, desperate to rid the awkward pause. You give him a small laugh, “It was terrible.”

“That so?”

You kick your foot, smiling at the ground, “Yeah, a friend of this guy she’s really into. All he talked about was basketball, and he didn’t ask me a single question about myself. I don’t think he even knew what my name was.” You roll your eyes, “And a bit too touchy-feely if you ask me.”

Konig’s sorry, liebe. That he wasn’t there to protect you. The thought of you being all alone on a terrible date makes him sick to his stomach. He’s sorry he’s allowed this to happen. He gave you too much slack on your leash, he should have kept you reined in.

“Must be difficult to gauge a woman’s comfort level when NC State is doing so poorly this season.”

You snort, happy to lighten the tension, “They’re actually doing pretty well. 4-1, apparently.” You say with a roll of your eyes.

Ghost gives an amused scoff, the closest thing to a laugh you’ve ever gotten from him. It catches your attention, and to his dismay Konig watches you purse your lips to hide a pleased smile.

Kick him out already.

“My friend ditched me, so I had to sit through all of the strategies the Celtics should have implemented last year, and she never even came back.”

“Mm, abandoned the buddy system. No good.”

“No good! Thank you. I had to walk home in stupid shoes I borrowed that don’t fit.”

“Now that’s just torture. Maybe we should start implementing that in boot camp.”

You deliver the laugh drenched in sarcasm, “Hah hah.”

“Next time, call me. We’ll do a full EVAC.”

That was Konig’s job.

You roll your eyes again, “I can handle myself.”

He gives a shrug and a shake of his head, “Don’t count out the buddy system.”

You pull your legs up on the bed next to you, thighs pressed together and bent almost underneath you. You look like you’re on a fucking casting couch, peering up at Ghost through thick eyelashes with those doe eyes, just begging for him to pin you down and expose what little of you was hidden under that dress.

“You really don’t have to stay.”

His eyes find the blue dress, still hanging on the bedpost, before he looks back to you, “I’ll leave if you want me to.”

The faintest blush spreads on your face, hesitating in your response.

“Smoke?” He asks after a few seconds, much to your relief.

“God, yes. Let me change quick.” You commit to shooing him from your dresser this time, pulling out the first shirt on top. The shirt Konig had touched to his cheek hours before, the unknowing and indirect touch filling him with a satisfying thrill. You grab a pair of sweatpants and disappear into the bathroom, leaving Konig to keep a close watch on Ghost through the crack in his wardrobe.

He starts eyeing your possessions, unworthy eyes befouling your priceless things.

Konig has to close his eyes to rid the sight. Stifling the urge to reveal himself and snap Ghost’s spine over his knee. He hates him, hates how he’s always coercing you from Konig’s safety, sneaking you away for the chance to get his hands on you. He’s never loathed someone more.

You’re just an empty-headed bimbo who bats her eyes and whores herself out for any man who pays attention to you. You’re too stupid to realize just how slimy he is.

Konig opens his eyes with the scrape of your bathroom door, watching Ghost follow you out to the hall.

Konig sighs a long breath once you’re both out of sight, he doesn’t know how long he’s been holding it. His fingers grip your things like he's trying to destroy them.

Fucking Ghost.

At least you changed out of that dress. The way Ghost’s attention drew to your chest and legs at every opportunity left him tensed in a seething rage.

Konig finally moves, taking his chance to stuff your cum-soaked panties and vibrator into his waistband, flexing the fingers that cramped up from his awkwardly clasped hands. He sets the book at his feet, popping his knuckles and stretching his legs while he considers the choice he has to make.

Does he sneak out now? You hadn’t suspected the wardrobe, now that you’ve changed you shouldn’t be digging in your closet until morning. He’s sure he’s sufficiently camouflaged, but there’s still the risk you’ll find him. This is his window to escape without consequence. He’d be able to supervise your smoke break, but he wouldn’t be able to sneak back in to watch the rest of your evening.

It’s the thought that Ghost might follow you back into your room, that he might try to take advantage of you in your vulnerable state, that keeps him in his spot.

Dread pools in his stomach when he’s away from you, knowing you’re under a predator’s stare. He’s probably got his hands all over you right now. He’s seen your thighs that beg for touch, your tits popping out of that dress that invites groping, a waist asking for a strong grip. Flirting desperately and using that charm that comes naturally to invite him to take you.

He’s stealing the attention Konig was owed. Basking in your light and adoration while he has to hide in the shade, longing for your soft warmth instead of this heat of irritability that boils under his skin. He pushes your day clothes from him in frustration, face twitching as he sifts through all of the worst case scenarios.

It takes you too long to return, Konig’s blackhole of obsessive thoughts intensifying with each minute you’re tangled in Ghost’s web.

“I hope not.” You say as you return, the smell of smoked tobacco clouding the room and singeing Konig’s nose.

“Here.”

Konig’s face pulls when Ghost takes the dress from you, manhandling and wrinkling the delicate fabric. It’s nauseating to watch him lay hands on Konig’s gift.

You’re supposed to wear his dress, liebe. Burn that slutty black dress, and accept the guidance you need. Give him even the slightest bit of control from you.

The rejection stings, turning him weak in the knees as the blood drains from his face. It tears his chest wide open watching you give his gift away like it was nothing. His face burns with humiliation, the prick of betrayal drying the back of his throat.

This is what he gets for going out of his way for you? For giving you a token of his affection? For the love and care he’s poured into you?

Fuck you.

You don’t get to make him feel this way. You don’t get to run from him when he knows what’s best for you.

“You want this back when I’m done?”

“Uhm,” You stare at it for a moment, the corner of your lip perking up ever so slightly, “Sure, yeah. It’s uh, it really is pretty.”

Konig swallows, eyebrows pinching and elated grin immediately plastered on his face.

You do like it?

Oh, liebe. He’s sorry he doubted you.

You do want him.

You can be a good girl for him, accept Konig’s redirection. You want to wear his dress for him, you want Konig to own you and teach you how to behave.

He can’t wait to see you in it.

“Will do.”

“Thanks for uh, y’know.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Night Lt.”

“Goodnight.”

When the door snaps shut behind you, Ghost sent packing, and Konig’s grin spreads.

You crawl into your bed, the same bed Konig had defiled hours earlier.

For thirty minutes you scroll on your phone, but Konig is happy just to watch your facial expressions as you react to the things on your screen. You watch silly videos, occasionally giggling at the content.

This part is just for him.

It sounds so wonderful to hear your laugh, liebe. He imagines it’s him making you giggle, a blush and coy smile as a result of a joke he made.

This is his favorite part of the day, when you settle in and he can watch you be your genuine self. It’s comforting to be with you while you unwind, he knows this is what it will be like once he has you, how you’d spend the evenings once you’re together.

And he gets to have his good girl all to himself.

The shower is the hardest part.

In addition to praying the evidence of his shower has fully drained, he knows you’re just a few feet away, completely naked and soaking wet. His cock twitches at the thought, still sensitive from his orgasm.

You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?

Teasing him like this.

He wants to follow you into the shower, see if he can peek at you from over the shower curtain. Offer to scrub you down, groping you like you’ve been asking for. Fuck you, how you deserve to be fucked.

His brow quirks when he spots your phone resting on the nightstand, charging after a long day out.

He waits until the sounds of the water hitting the ceramic loses rhythm, droplets now flowing down your body instead of raining on the tub.

He’s got time.

He takes a deep inhale before working open the wardrobe doors as stealthily as he can, cursing the creak of the wood under his shifting weight.

Mindful footsteps get him to your nightstand, shaking hands picking up your phone. With a push of your lock button the screen is illuminated, and his breath catches. He can’t believe you’ve left your secrets unattended for anyone to steal. How careless of you.

Your background is adorable, he can’t help but smile at the glimpse into an expression of your personality.

He swipes at the screen and his smile falls flat at the demand for a passcode.

Why do you always have to make things so difficult for him?

He huffs in frustration before he locks your device, using the dark screen and light from the lamp to search for fingerprints.

There’s a bunch towards the bottom, evidence of your fingers typing precious messages to your loved ones.

He needed those messages.

Konig thinks he can tell which smudges are your passcode. He’s got 6 possible numbers for a 4-digit code, and no way to tell which order.

He curses under his breath. He’s looking for a pattern. A birthday, a year, a sequence.

He’s got nothing.

You couldn’t have made it 1234?

He returns your phone to its spot. He’ll figure out your passcode, liebe. He’ll wait until he’s close enough to watch you enter it, get his fingers on it when you’re inevitably acting careless.

You don’t get to hide things from him anymore, liebe.

He’s earned it. You’ve lost the privilege of privacy.

This is a new level of immoral behavior, and now that he’s this close - he refuses to distance himself from you.

A rush so thrilling he can’t ignore it, a newly conquered high he’s never dared to risk, without the willpower to walk away from it.

It’s too late for you, liebe. He’s bleeding into you now, his sickness spreading into your life and infecting you like ink on cloth.

You’re his.

You just didn’t know it yet.

His (Part One)

Somethings Borrowed - Another Stalker!Konig Fic

The Girl Who Conquered the Mountain [Hunger Games AU] - Outcast!König x Reader

Meine Perle - Octo!Konig

Masterlist

[vivwritesfics]

Smooth Seas Don't Make Good Sailors

Summary: Mermaids. They're not real. At least Jake Seresin, future advisor to the future king, doesn't think so. But then two girls wash up on the beach and change his life (well, one changes his life, one changes Bradleys)

Jake Seresin X Reader - Little Mermaid AU

9.6K

Warnings: smut, fingering, oral (fem!receiving)

(banner by @nurse-floyd)

Jake Seresin stood on the balcony. The view of the sun setting over the ocean was always incredible at this time of day. The clouds were that mesmerising shade of orange and the horizon was lit up like a beacon. He had dreams, fantastic dreams of man one day being able to chase the sunset. 

From behind him, Pete cleared his throat. Pete Mitchell, advisor and closest confident to the king. Well, that was before the king had met his untimely end, sailing through that storm. The queen had taken up the mantle, but a heart can only survive so long without its other half. It was sickness that had claimed her, leaving behind the teenaged prince. 

Bradley wasn't yet king, couldn't be king until he was married. He was still the ruler of the kingdom, but all decisions were made between him and Pete. It wasn't always that way, though. There was a time where Pete had gone gallivanting across the continent, bedding a new girl in every kingdom. Tom Kazansky, another advisor and old friend of the kings, had been by Bradley's side at that time. The kingdom had flourished with the two of them working together. But then Tom had caught the sickness that had taken the queen, and it had taken him, too. 

Pete had returned to the kingdom the moment the news of Tom Kazansky had reached him. After his disappearance, it had taken Bradley a long while to begin trusting his fathers oldest friend again. They still weren't all the way there, but had some to some sort of truce. Bradley didn't fight him on every decision, like he had when Pete had first returned. Once again, the kingdom was beginning to thrive. 

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Pete said as he stepped up beside Jake. Jake, who would one day be in Pete's position when Bradley became king. He was dreading the day. If it was up to Jake, Bradley would have been a perpetual bachelor, never marrying, never forcing Jake to grow up with him. 

That was the way it was supposed to be, the two of them having fun and doing whatever the fuck they'd wanted, forever. Before Tom had died, he'd tried his best to introduce Bradley to several lovely young ladies. Princesses, the daughters of Lords and Dukes. Bradley had danced with each of them once, but it had never gone much further than that. 

Most prince's were married by the time they were Bradley's age. Most of them were kings, with families already. But not Bradley. 

"Yeah," Jake said, leaning forward. "It's really somethin'." 

His eyes moved to the docks, to Bradley's ship. It had been King Nicholas's before, the construction on it not yet finished before he died. That was how they were spending Bradley's birthday. 

"I need you to warn him of something," Pete said, his voice low. Jake let his eyes move to the side, but he kept his gaze pointed forward. "Bradley is getting too old to remain Prince," he said, leaning forward against the balcony railings. "The other advisors have suggested giving until the week after his birthday before they arrange a marriage."

The alarm bells immediately sounded in Jake's mind. Bradley getting married. That would mean Jake settling down, too. Because, really, what fun was he to have on his own? He'd be an advisor, too. There'd certainly be no time for fun. No, he'd have to follow in Bradley's footsteps, settle down and start a family. 

He swallowed, his mouth dry. "I'll warn him," he said and pushed away from the balcony. No more words were exchanged between them as Jake headed to his quarters. 

In just a few hours, the party would begin. The celebration to kick off Bradley's thirty-sixth birthday. Everybody was going to be there, everybody that Bradley cared about. Well, that was a very select group of people. Jake took a swig of the whisky he kept in his desk drawer, grabbed the gift he had gotten for Bradley, and headed out. 

The rest of their friends were waiting in the kitchen. "Does he have any idea what's going on?" Mickey asked as one of the cooks placed a plate in front of him. He immediately dug in. 

Robert, or Bob, as everybody called him, shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know how he couldn't," he answered from his place leaning against the wall. He was dreading this party. Not because he didn't love his friends, not because he didn't want to celebrate with Bradley, but because he knew that the moment they began drinking, he'd be the one responsible for all of them. 

Jake's chair scraped against the floor as he pulled it away from the grubby kitchen table. It wasn't the table for royalty, but the kitchens had become something of a safe haven for Bradley and his friends. "Nat's been keeping him busy," he said as he sat down and leaned back, boots hitting the table as he put his feet up. He looked at the clock on the wall. Any minute now and Natasha and Bradley would be walking through the door. 

Natasha was nothing if not punctual. The minute the clock struck six, Natasha dragged Bradley through the swinging kitchen doors. She clapped her hands together as she looked at the boys before her. "Shall we?"

"Shall we what?" Asked Bradley.

Bob couldn't help but laugh. He pushed away from the wall as Mickey and Jake stood up. Natasha strode forward, leading Bradley, Jake, Mickey, Rueben, Bob, and Javy out of the kitchens. They went out the back door and down the steps that led to the beach.

The sky was still lit up with the setting sun as the seven of them boarded the Queen Carole, the ship King Nicholas had made in honour of his wife. Bradley touched the railings as he boarded, following Natasha towards the captain. 

They set sail with no real destination in mind. The moment they set sail, Natasha was handing out the alcohol, filling the tankards with ale and passing them to her friends, to all of them but Bob.

The band started playing as soon as they were far enough away from the land that it was just a speck in the distance. Almost immediately, the dancing began. Javy twirled Natasha and Mickey moved his body without a care in the world. It really was a sight to behold, but Jake and Bradley weren't watching. 

"I don't imagine you'll get to sail much when you're king," Jake said as he sipped his drink. He looked down at the waves as they crashed against the hull of the Queen Carole. The ocean held so many mysteries, mysteries he'd tried to uncover with Bradley. There would be no time for that when he was married.

Bradley let out a scoff and wiped the traces of ale from his moustache. "Who says I'm going to become king?" He asked and drained his tankard. 

The breath Jake sucked in was so sharp, it had Bradley staring at him over the top of his empty tankard. "Your advisors," he began and moved his attention to the amber liquid in his own tankard. It was cowardly, the way he couldn't look at Bradley as he spoke. "In a week your advisors are going to arrange a marriage for you. Pete wanted me to warn you; I think he wants you to have a chance to find someone."

The scowl Bradley wore was vicious as he turned away from the waves. "So I'm just to find the love of my life in a week?" He muttered something under his breath, something Jake couldn't hear from the noise of the music and the waves, and strode off

***

It was fascinating, the way ships cut through the water. Even from beneath the waves, it was fascinating. 

The two mermaids watched from underneath as the ship moved above them. It was big, bigger than anything the two of them had ever seen before. 

"Shall we get a closer look?" Asked the youngest of the two. 

Her older sister shook her head. "No way," she said and turned to swim away. "You know what's going to be on that ship? Humans. They'd spot us and capture us in their fish nets and do who knows what with us."

Before she could swim away, the youngest mermaid grabbed her arm. "C'mon. It's dark enough that they won't see us if we remain beneath the waves," she reasoned. 

"No." But she didn't much fight when her sister began to pull her towards the grand ship. 

They'd played this game before, knew how the story ended. They'd get close enough to spark both of their curiosities and then they'd be unable to stop themselves from trying to gaze at the faces of the sailors. The youngest mermaid had always had a soft spot for humans. Her sister, though, just wanted to keep her safe. 

The lanterns illuminating the ship showed the mermaids little of the revelry taking place. Six of the many humans on the ship were dancing to the music, the vibrations of which could be heard beneath the waves. There was one, though, his face forlorn as he stared down at the waves. 

The younger of the two mermaids gasped as she looked at him. "Have you ever seen something so..." 

Her sister stared at the human. He was handsome, that wasn't up for debate. But he was human. If he knew the nature of the creatures currently watching him, he would have been brandishing the fishing nets and trying to catch them. 

She hated that she found humans so damn fascinating. But they were. The way they walked on two legs, the way they didn't need to be in water so sustain themselves. Air, it was a necessity for humans. She looked at the other humans, the ones dancing on the deck. Whatever was going on, it seemed to be a joyous celebration for everybody but the man with the moustache. 

Another man came to join him. Now this one the older mermaid could appreciate as beautiful. His hair was shorter, lighter, than the man with the moustache and his green eyes sparkled, even in the dark of the night. 

Any closer and they'd surely be seen. But the older mermaid didn't seem to care as she swam. Not very far, just enough to get a better look. She suddenly understood what her sister saw in humans. 

The mermaids watched as the men spoke. It had seemed light at first, some smiles, some small laughs. But it hadn't taken long for it to turn sour. The smiles faded from their faces, brows furrowed and gestures angry until they were brawling. 

It wasn't clear what either man wanted the outcome of this brawl to be. Not to the others on the ship of the mermaids in the ocean. What the outcome would be, was clear to all. 

The moustached man gave the green eyed one a particularly hard shove. Before he could go tumbling overboard, he grabbed the shirts of the moustached man, pulling him into the waves with him. 

As soon as the men hit the water, the two mermaids vanished, the only evidence that they were ever their being the few bubbles created when they swam for it. But they didn't go very far, just down to where it was darker. The two men couldn't see them, but they could see the two men. 

“Coral,” the older mermaid whispered, using the nickname she'd given her sister as children. “Look.” She pointed up, pointed at the men. 

With the way they were moving their limbs, they should have easily been swimming for the surface. But something was dragging them down, pulling them further away from the air they so desperately needed. It didn't make any sense. Their clothes weren't heavy and there didn't seem to be anything on their person to weigh them down. 

The mermaids watched as the ship dropped two much smaller rowing boats. Good, somebody was coming back for the men. They'd jump in and pull them to the surface, taking them back to the ship to dry off. 

But the rowing boat went right past them. It was in that moment that the mermaids realised the men were too far away. The other humans would never find them at this rate and… 

Their oxygen supply had to be running low. The mermaids sprang into action. Coral grabbed the moustached man while her sister grabbed the man with the green eyes. They brought them up, up, up out of the dark depths of the water, towards the rowing boats. Close enough for sets of hands to reach out and pull them onboard. 

“Do you think they're okay, Pearl?” Asked Coral, using her sisters nickname since childhood as the boat took the men back to the ship. 

Pearl couldn't look away. Even when they got the men up onto the ship and they headed home, she couldn't look away. 

Coral had a new obsession. That night, her sister had no doubt that Coral went to bed dreaming of the man with the moustache. But she couldn't say much, not when she couldn't stop thinking about the man with the green eyes? What had happened between him and the moustached man that had them tumbling into the ocean? Why weren't they able to swim to the surface?

It was these questions that had Pearl following her sister to the surface. They weren't supposed to get this close to the surface. If the humans saw them, they weren't making it out alive. 

Hidden behind rocks, Coral let her eyes scan across the big building, searching for the man with the moustache. "There!" She said suddenly, grabbing her sisters hand. "There he is!"

There he was, with the man with the green eyes. 

That evening, the Pearl couldn't find Coral. She searched where she could, in the old wrecks further out in the ocean, between the rocks that they used to keep themselves sheilded from the humans on the surface. But Coral was nowhere to be seen. 

But then she saw her, sitting on the beach, eyes closed, content. 

But that wasn't right. It wasn't possible for her to be sitting on the beach, legs stretched out in front of her. Human legs stretched out in front of her. She hummed to herself as the water splashed over her brand new toes. 

"Coral!" She gasped and readied herself to swim forward. 

Suddenly, fingers wrapped around her arms, stilling her. "Gorgeous, isn't she?" Came a terrifyingly beautiful voice. Black nails dug into her skin, hard enough to pull a whimper from Pearl's lips. Or, it would have if she wasn't so damn scared. "Darling little thing came to me just a few hours ago, just begging me to turn her into a human."

With a gasp, she turned to face the creature that had a hold of her. The Sea Witch was so damn beautiful, but there was something about her. Smile too wide, skin too pale, eyes too vibrant. It was so unnerving, but Pearl couldn't pull away. "I've watched you both," the Sea Witch confessed to her. "I watched when the two of you saved those humans, I watched  the two of you swim to the surface to try and see them again. It isn't just your sister." She tightened her grip on her arm. "It's you too, isn't it?"

A bubble appeared, showing the face of the green eyed man. But Pearl waved it away. "No," she said quickly, shaking her head. "I don't want you to turn me human! I just want my sister back!" She cried, finally trying to pull away from the Sea Witch.

A cackle erupted from the Sea Witch's lips. “There is one way to get your sister back now!” She shouted and snapped her fingers. The pain began almost immediately. “She has thirty days to convince a man to fall in love with her or she's mine.”

The water was suddenly suffocating and her tail split in two. No, not tail. Legs. Feet, toes and ankles were all forming. Blue scales were shedding, giving way for skin. She tried to breath, but water flooded into her legs. Panic seized her as her new limbs 

Something pulled her to the surface. Strong arms grabbed her own and pulled her out of the water. The moment the fresh air kissed her skin, she breathed in deep before coughing up what water she had swallowed. 

“Holy shit.”

***

Jake stared down at the girl in the rowboat. Naked as the day she was born and coughing up enough sea water to sink the boat. She was gorgeous, but that wasn't what he cared about at that moment. 

Immediately, Jake shrugged off the coat around his shoulders. Thank God the day was overcast, he thought as he placed the coat around her. “Are you okay?” He asked as he helped her to sit up. “Were you shipwrecked, too?”

But she was just starting at him, her expression so damn fearful. Jake ran a hand over his face. Just the day before something unexplainable had saved him from the water, and he'd repaid the favour. “Let me get you back to shore.”

While he rowed, she stared at him, one hand keeping his coat closed around her body and the other feeling her legs. “There's another girl at the beach,” he said, never keeping his green eyes on her for longer than a few seconds. “Her ship went down and she swam to the shore,” he mumbled. 

She didn't say anything. “Can you tell me your name?” Asked Jake. Once the rowboat touched the surf, he climbed out, grabbed the rope and pulled it up onto the sand. 

For whatever reason, she stayed sitting in the rowboat. “You coming?” He asked, gesturing with a nod of his head. 

Gripping the sides of the rowboat, she tried to push herself up, tried to get to her feet. But her legs wobbled like a newborn fawn and she went tumbling, straight into Jake's chest. 

A gasp sounded from her lips when he wrapped his arms around her. “It's okay,” he said gently, green eyes searching her face for any sign of discomfort. But it wasn't there. “I've got you,” he said and pulled her away from the boat. 

There was no doubt in his mind that she had been shipwrecked, just like the girl standing with Bradley.

“I'm gonna take you to my friend,” he said and took a step. She tried to do the same, feet dragging only slightly. “He should be able to help.” He didn't say that Bradley was the Prince. No, that only would have freaked her out more. 

"Thank you," she finally said, struggling to find her footing. "I'm-"

"Pearl!" 

She whipped her head around, staring across the beach at the girl standing beside Bradley. "Pearl?" Jake asked, watching her expression go from surprised to sour. "Is that your name?"

"No," she said quickly and took a step. Jake got the hint and walked her towards Bradley and the girl who had told them to call her Coral. She gave him her real name, but Jake shook his head. 

"Pearl," he said again. "It's real pretty darlin'." He grinned, pretty much keeping her held up as they finally made it to Bradley and Coral.

The two girls stared at each other. Coral couldn't help but look shy as Pearl stared down at her. She sucked in a breath, expression furious. "What the hell were you thinking, C? Swimming off like that, you had me so worried!"

Jake and Bradley looked at each other over the girls heads. "Were you shipwrecked together?" Bradley asked, his hand still on Coral's back. She turned to him, eyes shining as she nodded. "She's my sister," she said and Pearl raised her chin, standing as tall and proud as she possibly could. 

Before Pearl could start again, Jake spoke up. "We'll take you guys back to the castle," he said and Bradley nodded in agreement. "Get you some clothes and something to eat."

***

Clothes were terribly uncomfortable. Big skirts, heavy skirts and corsets that were far too tight. 

There the mermaids sat, plates of food in front of them. For just a moment they studied Jake and Bradley as they ate, watched the way they did things, the way they used their forks and things like that. And then the girls tried it for themselves. 

Using a fork for the first time wasn't the easiest thing in the world. But one taste of the food and they were digging in like animals. Jake and Bradley watched on with wide eyes as they ate with little decorum. But that shouldn't have been a surprise.

Jake cleared his throat. "Where did your ship leave from?" He asked as he sat back in his seat and looked at them.

The girls looked at each other. Coral fiddled with her thick skirts, leaving her sister to answer everything. Which would have been fine, if she knew the names of any of the surrounding kingdoms. Swallowing thickly, she looked between Jake and Bradley. "Uh, we've been on the water for so long that I don't remember." Please, please, please let them believe that. 

From the looks on their faces, it was unclear whether they believed her story or not. She heard a thud as Jake crossed one boot over the other and laced his fingers together, placing them on his stomach. "You girls should come to Bradley's ball," he said, making it sound like it was nothing more than a passing comment.

It was not a passing comment, not with the way Bradley was looking at him. But he simply grinned and turned his attention back to the girls before him. 

"Ball?" Coral asked, leaning forward with her elbows on the table. If Jake's mother was there, she would have been chiding Coral, but just stayed quiet. 

"Yeah," he said, nodding slowly. "This guy needs to look for a wife before he has one picked for him."

But still, the two girls looked confused. 

The light hearted demeanour left Jake. He didn't mean for it to, but he couldn't help it. Something was just so off; it had him slightly uneasy. He sat up a little straighter, but he tried to keep his smile on his face. "You know, a ball. Dancing and bubbly drinks and god awful music."

The girls looked at each other again. Pearl shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "What's dancing?"

***

Jake couldn't sleep. He laid awake, staring at his ceiling. His sword rested against his bedpost. It was beautiful, and had yet to be used. Jake just hoped he could keep it that way; it was simply too pretty to be used.

It had been a whirlwind of a day and he hadn't yet been able to sort his thoughts. Two girls washing up on the beach. It was something Bradley had been hoping for since his father died, for him to either wash up on the beach or appear on another ship, looking haggard but still alive. Jake remembered being a kid, watching the beach with him, riding down to the docks with him.

And now people had washed up. It didn't feel real, but it had happened and they were here in the castle. Pearl and Coral. Those weren't their real names, he knew, but they suited them. They were pretty, and Coral was pretty much putty in his and Bradley's hands. But not Pearl. She hadn't melted into anything he said, and it damn near had Jake trailing after her like a puppy.

Footsteps. Just outside of his door. Jake sat up and threw his blankets away from him. He grabbed his sword and headed towards the door.

The hall was dark, lit by nothing than a lonely candle. Keeping his sword held out in front of him, Jake looked around.

"Gahh!"

"Pearl!" The pointed tip of his sword was against her chest. Swallowing, Jake lowered his sword and rubbed at his eyes. "What're you doing out of bed?"

She wore nothing but a nightdress. Jake sucked in a breath but tried to keep his composure as he took in the long skirts, falling to her bare feet, and the long sleeves that would have stretched past her fingers if she hadn't rolled them back.

"I..." She looked at him, looked at the sword he held down by his side. If she'd been standing any closer to him, she would have been dead. "I just wanted something to drink."

Releasing a breath, Jake quickly placed his sword back into his bedroom and turned to Pearl. "Come on," he said and hooked his fingers around her sleeve. She didn't fight as he pulled her down the hall. Maybe she was too tired to pull against him.

The halls were empty, aside from a few silent guards posted in alcoves. Jake took things slowly, his touch sometimes keeping her upright as she willed her unsteady legs to cooperate. 

That was what happened when you spent most of your life on the sea, he supposed. He'd never been on a ship for more than a few weeks at a time. All he could do was remain patient with her. But he was more than happy to do so. 

The kitchens were the emptiest part of the castle. He let his eyes move to the back door. Key twisted in the lock and the two bolts securely shut. "Right," he said, hands on his hips as he looked at the cupboards in front of him. "Let's get you some water."

Jake looked at the cupboards and the counters. The kitchen wasn't his area of expertise. "Uhm," he said, pulling open the first cupboard. It was stacked high with bowls and chipped searching dishes, but there were no glasses in sight. He moved onto the next. And then the next, until he found what he was looking for. A rather triumphant Aha! left his lips as he grabbed the glass from the cupboard and filled it with water. "One glass of water, coming right up."

He passed her the glass and she quietly thanked him. 

Jake's hand was on her back, leading her out of the kitchen. "So, did you and your sister never leave the ship when you docked?" He asked as he steered her back in the direction of her bedroom. 

"No," she answered, both hands holding her glass. "Never."

He made a noise, a quiet laugh that wasn't really a laugh. "I'm gonna have to teach you to dance before Bradley's ball," he said when they got to her door. Jake pushed the door open and she stepped inside. "Wanna give it a go?"

She placed her water down on the vanity to the right of her door. "Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" She asked, returning to the door to lean against it. But she held it open, waited for Jake's response.

Shrugging his shoulders, he took a step inside of the room. "I'm not sleeping," he said and reached for her hand. 

Placing her hand into his, she let the door fall closed. "When I step back, you step forward. When I step forward, you step back," he said and pulled her into the middle of the room. 

His green eyes stared into hers. He squeezed her hand and placed her free one on his shoulder. The hand that wasn't in hers settled on her waist and he moved his left leg forward. She moved her right one back. Letting her gaze drop to her feet, she tried to copy his every move. It didn't go very well, but she was trying her best. "This would probably be better with music," he said with a little chuckle.

"Yeah?" She asked, nearly stumbling. But Jake stopped moving, and she stopped, too. He raised the hand he was holding up, holding it above her head. Using the hand on her waist, he slowly spun her. Thank God it was slow, or she would have been stumbling into him. 

"There ya go, sweets," he said, hand returning to her waist. "You're getting it now."

Heat warmed her cheeks as she let go of Jake and stepped away from him. "I should get some sleep," she mumbled and turned around to grab a hold of her water. 

"Oh," Jake said. For just a second he watched her, watched as she took large gulps of her water. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said and walked out of her bedroom.

*** 

She sat opposite her sister in the carriage, the both of them unable to look away from the windows as the scenery in the kingdom went by. "It's beautiful," gasped Coral as she turned back to Bradley. "And it's all yours?"

Sitting back in her seat, Pearl watched as Bradley nodded. "All of it," he said, arm stretching across the back of the seat. 

Jake leaned forward, his attention on the landscape just a little ways past the road. "Except this," he said, pointing at a large manor house just past the wheat fields. "That is my parent's place. Lord and Lady Seresin," he said and sat back, his smile smug. 

"Wanna stop in and say hello?" Bradley offered. He had always been a fan of Lord and Lady Seresin. They acted as stand-in parents for him when his parents had died. Even before that, Lady Seresin had been a friend to Queen Carole, had desperately tried to pull her out of depression. It hadn't worked, but Lady Seresin had still been there for her. 

Jake shook his head. "Later," he said and they passed the turning for the Seresin estate. "I'll speak to them later, after the ball."

"When is the ball?" Pearl asked, sparing a look at Jake. The way she was looking at him, there was something more she wanted to say, something she wasn't saying. 

"Three days time," Bradley answered, but his gaze was fully fixed on Coral.

Three days. That ate into the time they had on land. the fact that she didn't know the ins and outs of her sisters deal with the sea witch was so damn terrifying. 

The carriage kept moving, the sounds of the metal horse shoes hitting the road oddly melodic. Jake's fingers tapped her shoulder and gestured for her to lean across him and look at the view. "Oh, wow," she whispered as she looked at the sea, the reflexion of the sun making it sparkle. Beneath the waves, she'd never seen her true home look so pretty.

The carriage took them into a built up area of the kingdom. Houses and shops crowded the streets. Market stalls were set up around a pristine, well cared for fountain. On top of the fountain was a stone statue, the late king and queen standing together. 

The carriage stopped, and Bradley pushed open the door. He stepped out, and offered his hand to Coral. With a beaming smile, she took it and used Bradley's help to step down onto solid ground. Bradley stayed where he was, ready to help Pearl step out of the carriage, but Jake grabbed his hand. 

"Thank's, dear," he said and stepped down from the carriage in much the same Coral had just done. 

Bradley pulled a face and quickly pulled his hand away from Jake. It had the other man laughing as he walked around to the horses that had pulled them from the castle to the town. As he did, Bradley held out his hand again and helped Pearl to step down.

"Come on, sweets," said Jake, throwing his arm around her and pulling her after Coral and Bradley. 

He could see it, cold see how hard Coral was working for Bradley's attention. Poor girl, she didn't stand a chance. If they'd washed up a year earlier, Bradley would have been all over her, no questions asked. But now he had to seriously look for a wife; he had no time for flirting or flings. 

Pearl pushed Jake's arm from around her shoulders. "Where to first?" She asked as she looked around. There was so much going on that she didn't know where to look first. Sights and sounds and smells assulted her senses, but she loved all of it. 

Jake and Bradley showed the girls everything the little town had to offer. They discovered everything, the fine silk dresses in shop windows, sweet treats from the bakery. Some people bowed to Bradley, and several girls batted their eyelashes at Jake. But the men ignored it, pulling Pearl and Coral along to see something new. 

There was music playing in the town. It was soft and melodic, and had Pearl searching for the source. It went unnoticed by Coral and Bradley, but not by Jake. "C'mon," he said and offered her his hand. "Let's put these new dancing skills to good use."

She looked into his eyes for only a minute before allowing herself to be pulled into the square. There were other couples dancing, moving to the beat of the music. 

The dancing they'd done the night before was slower than what Jake had taught her the night before. "Just go with it," he said and stepped. Pearl sucked in a breath and moved with him. It wasn't a choreographed dance, not by any means. It was fun, it had her grinning from ear to ear. Just like the night before, Jake lifted her hand and spun her, just a little faster than last night. 

"You're gonna be a natural by the time the ball starts," he said and stepped again. She stepped with him, growing more and more enthusiastic by the minute. 

"You think so?" She replied. She'd been stumbling the entire time, but Jake's body was so solid against her own that he made it all look like a dance. She didn't look ready to topple over at any minute, not with how Jake was leading her. 

He grinned, green eyes seeming to sparkle in the midday sun. He really did have a pretty face, but she'd known that the moment she'd laid her eyes on him. "I know so," he answered. "All you need now is a pretty dress to match."

When a whistle cut across the square, Jake stopped moving, halting her against him. Their faces were so close, all she had to do was lean her face up. But Jake turned away from her, looking across the square. "What?" He called to the future king. Nobody else could be this familiar with him, a privilege reserved for Jake and Jake alone.

"We're going to get something to eat in Penny's!" 

His hand fell away from her hips and she tried not to let disappointment show on her face. "You hungry?" He asked as he pulled her out of the square.

***

The next two days were incredibly busy for Jake and Bradley. Pete gave them no reprieve from their duties. Jake was the unlucky chump who got saddled with making arrangements for the ball. He didn't know what he was doing, not in the slightest, but (with help from Javy and logistical help from Bob) he was going to throw the best damned ball for miles. 

It was his idea to get the seamstress to tailor a dress for Pearl and her sister. The clothes they'd been wearing since they arrived was borrowed. From where, Jake didn't know, but he wanted them to have something of their own for the ball. 

A day went by and the girls only saw Jake and Bradley during dinner. But it was short lived before they had to rush off again to get their work done. 

On the second day, the seamstress brought in two plain dress. They fit Pearl and Coral, but they weren't tailored, hanging off their bodies like rags. But that was what the seamstress was there to fix. 

In the afternoon, Pearl lost her sister. She'd gone for a walk through the castle, gone to get herself a glass of water. By the time she'd returned, Coral had disappeared. 

With her eyebrows furrowed, she walked through the castle, searching for her sister. She searched, called her name, but Coral was nowhere to be seen. She looked in the library one last time, called her sister's name one last time, and made her way back to her bedroom.

The halls were so damn empty. She knew there were more people in the castle, foreign dignitaries there for the ball. But still, it was empty, quiet. The only noise was her shoes against the floor as she walked.

But she didn't make it back to her room. She only glanced outside, towards the balcony. Stopping, she pushed open the doors and stepped out into the cool afternoon air. 

Jake didn't notice her as she stepped towards him. She placed her hands on the balcony railing and tried to see what he was looking at. Two people on the beach, chasing each other into the ocean. She couldn't see who they were, but they were having fun. That much was clear.

His hand was on top of hers. "You okay? She asked, stepping closer to him.

Jake didn't answer. He turned away from the couple on the beach, insteading choosing to look at her. "Pearl," he whispered, giving his hand up her arm and onto her shoulder. "Bradley is going to be king soon," he said, still staring into her eyes. It was so damn intense, but she couldn't look away. "He's going to be king and I'm going to be stuck being his advisor."

"And you don't want that."

His smile was kinder than she'd ever seen it. "That's right," he said and took a step closer to her. The space between them was so damn small, but it was still too much for the two of them.

She swallowed. "What do you want?"

His hand lifted from her shoulder, finger brushing over her cheek. He pushed her hair behind her ear and closed the gap between them, but he wasn't yet kissing her. "I don't know, Pearl," he whispered and held her chin. "Right now, I want you."

He leaned forward and kissed her. She was frozen against him, unable to move her lips with his. She watched as his eyes closed, but he started to furrow his brow and pull away. 

The moment she felt him pull away, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him back. She kissed him back with just as much hunger as him. It was a mess of clashing teeth and tongues, stealing the air from their lungs. Jake pushed her back against the balcony, hands on her hips. Seeming not to think, he lifted her up and sat her on the balcony railings. "Fuck, Pearl," he hissed against her hips as he tried to step between her legs. 

But her skirts got in his way, stopping him in his tracks. Still holding her, he pulled his lips away from her own and pressed his forehead to hers. "Come with me to the ball," he whispered and leaned in to peck her again. 

She made a noise, as if she was going to respond to him. But, before she could say anything, Jake pecked her lips again, effectively cutting her off. She wore a glare as she pulled him in once more. Jake pushed her back more, tried to push her against something solid. 

Except there was nothing solid behind her. Nothing but air. 

He realised it just in time. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her off of the balcony railings and held her close. "Oops," he said and she smacked his chest.

"I'll do it," she said, still against him. Jake went to release her from his hold, but she grabbed his arms, stopping him. "I'll go to the ball with you."

Jake kissed her again. 

***

The day of the ball was utter chaos. The seamstress dropped off their dresses and the castle staff spent the day getting them ready. 

Coral allowed Queen Caroles old lady's maid to pull her towards the tub. 

The staff member assigned to Pearl sat her in the scented bath, full of bubbled and flower petals. She massaged the shampoo into her scalp with such determination that it had her moaning. It really was quite pleasant. 

Being in the water like this was something she hadn't gotten used to since taking her first steps on land. Every time she touched the water, she was taken back to when the Sea Witch transformed her, leaving her unable to breathe underwater for the first time in her life. 

Water was thrown over her head, washing out the bubbles. Her body was thoroughly scrubbed and more water was thrown over her. 

At last, she was pulled from the tub and a towel was wrapped around her body. It was a little forceful, how she was pulled about the room and sat at the vanity. The maid grabbed another towel and moved it through her hair. 

This wasn't nearly as relaxing as the bath and been. But she didn't complain as the maid got her ready, styling her hair once it was dry and decorating her face with makeup. 

She looked a little like a party clown when she looked at herself in the vanity mirror. But if this was how the other women at the ball were going to look, so be it. 

But the maid frowned. “This just won’t do,” she said and scrubbed her face clean. She tried again, something a little cleaner, a little more natural. The makeup was still there, but it was there to enhance her natural features more than cover them up. 

With just enough time to spare, she was helped into the dress. “That Lord Seresin had this designed for you, you know,” said the maid as she pulled it up over her hips. “Spoke to the seamstress and told him exactly what he wanted.”

When she looked at the dress she let out a panicked gasp. He had to know what she was, this dress told her so. 

The bodice was where the scale design started, where her belly button would be. It moved down, over the skirt, parting in the middle. Where the scales weren't the fabric became white, the change soft and subtle. The sleeves were more soft, mesh fabric that wrapped around her arms than anything else. 

It truly was gorgeous, and it terrified her. 

“Shoes, girl,” said the maid, pulling her over to the slippers. She broke herself out of her stupor and stepped into her shoes. 

The maid stepped back to admire her handiwork. She'd done an incredible job, the woman stood before her a far cry from the woman that had appeared on the beach just days before. 

Jake was going to lose his mind, that was for sure. 

A knock sounded at the door, and the maid pulled it open. “Ingrid,” Jake said, greeting her by placing a kiss on the back of her hand. He was always sweet and kind to the women that worked in the castle. 

But he looked past Ingrid, and his breath caught in his throat. Yeah, the dress had been his idea, but he didn't expect it to come out this beautiful. “Holy shit,” he gasped and Ingrid tutted him. 

He stepped around her and walked into the room. “You look…” But he couldn't find the words. Why couldn't he just tell her that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on?

“D'you like it?” She asked, picking up the skirts. 

He swallowed, mouth dry as he nodded. But then he let a small frown cross his face. “There's just one thing I want to change.”

When he began pulling the pins from her hair, Ingrid protested. But he didn't much care as he watched her hair fall from the too tight, too neat updo. 

“Jake!” She cried and tried to save her hair. 

But he grabbed her hands and held them, letting him get a proper look at her. “You're gorgeous, sweets,” he said and leaned in to kiss her. 

But Ingrid was still there, still watching them. She cleared her throat, making her presence known.

Standing up straighter, Jake cleared his throat and offered her his arm. “M'lady, will you allow me the honour of escorting you to Prince Bradley's ball?” He asked, waiting for Ingrid to give an approving nod. 

As soon as she did, Jake was leading her out of the bedroom. He kept his arm looped through hers until they were well past Ingrid. Only then did he loop his arm around her waist and press a kiss to the side of her head. 

“Do you like the dress?” He asked sincerely as they followed the sound of music. 

She looked down at herself. It really was beautiful. “I love it,” she said and pulled him to a stop. The kiss they shared was just quick, the two of them walking towards the ballroom far too soon. 

That was fine, Jake would have her in his arms soon enough. Holding her close as they danced around the room. 

The moment they entered the ballroom, she looked for her sister. There was Coral, stood beside Bradley as he tried to decide which eligible young lady to dance with. 

As soon as Jake began moving her on the dance floor, she lost sight of her sister. But that was okay, because there was something much more important to concentrate on. The man in front of her moved her slowly and gently, caging her between his arms. His every move led her in time to the music. 

“You and Coral should stay here,” he said, thumb stroking over her waist as he gently moved her. 

Panic overtook her features, but she tried to school it. “I-”

“I know you guys probably have to find your home, have to find your family. But I'd really love it if you guys stayed. I know Bradley would, too.” 

She sucked in a breath and rested her head against his chest. “I want to stay,” she confessed, reaching up to run her hands through his hair. “Here, with you, Jake. But I don't know what the future is going to hold.”

His touch was so damn comforting. “I know that,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I just want you to know you have the option of staying, and you have somebody who wants you here.”

He wore a barely there grin as he spun her around. But her body collided with another and she went tumbling back into Jake. 

His hands steadied her and he looked at the person that had knocked into her. Bradley and Coral. Together on the dance floor. They looked good together, Jake could admit. Maybe he'd  convince the council to let him court her before he became king. 

Through the night, Bradley danced with almost everybody. He danced with Natasha once and Coral several times. But Jake stayed dancing with Pearl. God, she looked so right, with his hands on her hips. He wanted to get her out of the ballroom, wanted to get her back to his bed. 

Soon, not right now.

He left her standing with his sister while he got them something to drink. “You two look good together,” Coral said to her, her fingers continuously moving over the bodice of her dress. 

“Thanks,” she replied, heat rising to her cheeks. “You've danced with Bradley more than any other girl in the room,” she said and Coral beamed. 

But then Jake was back, handing her something to drink and pulling her onto the dance floor. 

One more dance. His grip was so tight, lips constantly on her. Nobody cared about what they were doing, not when Prince Bradley was supposed to be choosing a wife. Nobody cared that she and Jake exchanged the sweetest kisses as he moved her. 

They kept it sweet, though, didn't push it any further. That was for the end of this dance. 

When the dance ended, Jake grabbed her hands. “Let me take you back to my room,” he whispered in her ear. 

She had no concept of what Jake wanted to happen in his room. Just the thought of being alone with him had her nodding her head and followed him through the group of people. He took her out into the halls. 

“Fuck,” he whispered and pushed her against the wall once they'd escaped any prying eyes. “I've wanted to do this since I first saw you in that dress.” His knee was between her legs, lips trailing down her neck. 

The breath she released was a gasp and then a moan. Taking her hand once again, Jake pulled her through the halls until they got to his bedroom. He rather unceremoniously threw open the door and led her inside. 

He was so damn gentle as he sat her down onto the bed and got to his knees in front of her. He pulled off her shoes and pushed her back until she was laying down. With his body on top of hers, he kissed her. It was just as sweet as it had been in the ballroom. 

But then he was moving his lips across her cheek and down to her neck. “Is this okay?” He mumbled against her lips. When her only response was a desperate moan, he pulled away to stare at her with those gorgeous green eyes. “Talk to me, sweets.”

“Yes,” she gasped out, fingers pulling at his hair. Grinning, Jake returned to his assault on her neck. He kissed and sucked and nibbled before he moved onto her chest. 

All the while his fingers worked to pull up the delicate skirt of her dress. His lips kissed every exposed inch of her skin as he did so. She'd never felt something like this before, never felt anything from between her legs. Well, she had, and it was always because of Jake. 

He grabbed the straps of her underwear and slowly pulled them down, watching for her reaction the entire time. She watched him, too, watched exactly what he was doing. 

“God,” he said when he got a glimpse beneath her skirt. “You're gorgeous.” His hands were on her, touching her thighs, touching just where she needed him, even if she didn't know it. 

His fingers ghosted over her folds and she sank her teeth into her bottom lip. “Jake,” she tried as he moved his fingers again. He parted her folds and touched her clit. 

Her entire body jolted. “Like that, sweets?” He asked and pressed a kiss to her chest. 

Her noises were so damn desperate as she nodded. “Yes, Jake,” she cried, tugging on his hair. “Yes!” 

One finger dipped into her hole. She gasped, entire body shaking. Jake used just one finger to fuck her on his hand, thumb pressed against her clit. 

She came so quickly, she would have been embarrassed. But Jake gave her no reason to feel embarrassed as he sucked his fingers between his lips, licking off everything she gave to him. “Shit, sweets,” he moaned as he withdrew his fingers. 

He leaned down to kiss her, his tongue exploring her mouth. Her fingers explored his chest, fiddling with the buttons. 

With a laugh, Jake pulled away. “I got you,” he said and started to unbutton his shirt. He opened his shirt and she blatantly admired his chest. 

But then a pained cry left her lips. Head thrown back she let out a gut wrenching scream. “Sweets,” Jake cried as he rushed back towards her. “What's wrong? Tell me!” 

He tried to look at her, tried to look for the source of her pain, but she kept a hold of his face. “Don't,” she said between her screams. “Don't look.” 

But whatever had her in so much pain was taking it out of her. Her grip on his face, on his shirt was so weak. Jake couldn't stop himself from looking towards her legs. 

Her legs weren't there. 

In their place was a tail. A blue, scaled tail. It was beautiful, but it didn't belong on his bed. Jake wanted to touch it, he wanted to reach out and feel her scales, but he couldn't. 

His hand held her against his chest. “Talk to me, sweets,” he said, concentrating on her face. “What do you need?”

“Get me to the water,” she whispered. 

Jake kissed her. He pressed his lips to her own as he slipped his arms beneath her tail and beneath her back, lifting her into his arms. The fact that he was still kissing her, even seeing what she was, had tears in her eyes as he carried her. 

He practically ran through the halls of the castle with her into his arms, avoiding other people at any cost. He burst into the empty kitchen and took out of the back door, down the steps and out to the beach. 

Her breath had become wheezy as he ran across the sand. Even running, he was slow, being so careful not to drop her on the sand. Even when he reached the water, he walked into it, ignoring the cold as he hit his skin. 

He still held her, even when the water hit his chest, splashing over her. Her arms were still around his neck. “Pearl,” he whispered as her tail flexed in his hold. “Pearl, you're a-”

“I know.” She dropped her forehead against her own, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Trust me, Jake, I know.” 

He let go of her tail in favour of holding her waist. “You're beautiful,” he whispered, desperate to keep her against him. 

She kissed him. Just as sweetly as before. If not, moreso. She kissed him like she was never going to see him again. It was the kind of kiss that had Jake panicking. 

But then she pulled away. “I need to go, Jake,” she whispered. 

He tightened his grip on her, a No leaving his lips. 

“You need to let me go.” 

Reluctantly, Jake released her. He stood in the water and watched as she swam away, dress still on her body, tail moving oh so elegantly as she swam away from him. 

The rain started to fall as Jake stood there, eyes searching the water for any sign of the girl he loved. 

***

Pearl swam like hell until she reached her sister. Coral had already shed her own dress, letting it disappear beneath the waves. 

“What happened?” Pearl asked, taking her sister into her arms. “Why… why aren't we human anymore?” She'd tried to be gentle with her words, but heartbreak laced her voice. 

Coral turned away from her, arms crossed over her chest. “He kissed someone. At the ball, he kissed a daughter of a Lord.” 

Was that really all it took for the spell to be broken? 

“Coral-” 

“The Sea Witch warned me. She warned me the risks of falling for a human. She told me if he did anything with anybody else, if he wasn't in love with me, if he broke my heart, we'd become mermaids again.” 

Furiously, Coral swam away. She hated him, she hated Bradley. He'd broken her heart, she was going to hate him. But Pearl had never seen her sister so bitter before. 

She might have loved Bradley, but she didn't have what she had with Jake. He loved her too, wanted her to stay with him. Sobs left her lips as she pulled off her dress. 

Holding it in her arms, she took a slow swim back towards the kingdom. Her eyes were trained on the surface, looking for any sign of Jake. 

There he still stood, in the water. She could see as his eyes searched for her and, as much as she wanted to reveal himself, she couldn't. 

Letting go of her dress, she let it float towards him and swam away. 

Hiding herself behind a rock, she watched as Jake grabbed the dress from the water. He held it up and let his eyes search the water. “PEARL!” He shouted, desperation marring his voice. “Pearl.” 

And then he broke down. 

That wasn't the last time she saw Jake. No, she saw him often. Every time he was on the beach, she was watching. She watched on the days he came back to search for her, watched as he took a ship out to look for her. 

Years went by, and she still saw him. There wasn't a moment she didn't think of him. She watched as he got older, as he took on his role as advisor. Watched as he fell in love, watched as he got married, watched as he had children. 

Each and every day, Jake Seresin looked towards the sea. He told his children stories of a gorgeous mermaid who had turned human. The king's advisor fell in love with the gorgeous mermaid in these stories. Sometimes, it ended happily. Sometimes it ended with the mermaid remaining human and marrying the advisor. 

But that was a rarity. The end of his stories to his children usually had the mermaid returning to the sea, leaving the advisor heartbroken. 

[zaine-m]

first responders arcane AU.

they get a call about a man about to jump off a bridge.

The paramedics arrived first Viktor immediately gets on the ledge with him and tries to talk to him about his mental state. Jayce is shitting his pants with fear, what if Viktor falls, what if this guy pushes Viktor off. The rest of the first responders don't know what to do and are just preparing possible rescue if he jumps but he gets mad when anyone else tries to come close.

After a bit of talking the man still decides he wants to die and Viktor offers his hand saying "you wouldn't want to die alone, would you?". Jayce is running in circles trying to find something to do to stop this.

The man looks at Viktor and asks "why would you do that?", "nobody should be forced to go through these troubles alone". He finally turns around and begins to climb back onto the bridge.

Jayce runs to Viktor full sprint and lifts him over the railing, "oh my god, never do that again. There are procedures. You could have died", "eh, this method has never failed me before" "...what do you mean before?"

Jayce finds Viktor later that night smoking, "you shouldn't be doing that, you know with your lungs and all"

"eh cancer would take at least 5 years to develop then another year for it to kill me and by that time... I'd already be gone"

Jayce pauses and looks deep into Viktor's eyes, staring off into the night.

Viktor continues "I... yeah... don't tell Heimderdinger. He only let me take this job because I told him my health was improving"

"god, I'm so sorry. I had no idea"

Viktor puts out the cigarette on the pavement "no point ruining your lungs too... I wasn't worried today because I knew it didn't matter. I die on some bridge or I die in a hospital, either way i died without making any impact on this world, nothing for people to remember me by"

"Viktor, what you do every day matters. All those people will remember you"

"I spend half of my time assessing colds and checking in on old people"

"And the other half you spend being there for people on their worst days. They might not remember your name but they'll remember seeing your face and knowing that someone was fighting for them to live. And I'll... I'll make sure your name is remembered" Jayce places a hand on Viktor's cheek, "I'll never forget your name Viktor"

"Thank you, Jayce" Viktor closes his eyes softly as he sees Jayce begin to lean into his face. The kiss they share is soft and gentle in a way that makes Viktor forget the dread of his diagnosis and want to stay in that moment forever