#i've purposely been trying to keep these casual and not put too much pressure on myself like i usually do with art

[cosmos-constellations]

Did you think they would stop? No. Just taking a holiday. Wooloo Wednesday be upon you.

(Description in alt)

[profundcherrylady]

SINGLE DAD!SAE ITOSHI

Exclusive interview with Sae Itoshi!

A/N: I had this in mind while writing the last scenario. This one was so short y'all, promise next one will be a little longer but I've been busy. Also I posted this waaaaay too early before I had finished it omg I wanna kms

Warnings: None this time, y'all are safe.

Contents: Sae being a loving father and lots of fluff; MAY be ooc but be fr I'm convinced Sae would be the sweetest if he had kids.

Description: Exclusive interview! After having won another very successful match, the media takes advantage of the fact that Sae Itoshi can't shut up about his daughter to actually interview him.

He didn't even flinch at the countless flashes of the cameras directed towards his eyes, the news photographers and paparazzi fighting to get a good picture of the still sweaty Sae Itoshi. As usual, his performance on the field was remarkable and the victory of his team undeniable. This was normal to him, of course, but this day wasn't just some ordinary match; his daughter was watching him today. Like, in person, on the stands! It wasn't a common occurrence, and not because she didn't want to but because Sae would almost always say no. After all, he couldn't really keep an eye on her while playing and he felt a little conflicted about just leaving Mao by herself. However, this time she just wouldn't stop insisting, so he had no choice.

It was almost comical to see the little girl sitting among the other serious people in the VIP section, but she was someone important as well. Important to him, at least.

When his team ended up winning thanks to his last goal, he could see her enthusiastic expression and hear her voice cheering for him. She was practically bouncing on her seat, waving her hand trying to get Sae to notice her.

"Papa, that was amazing! Papa, look! Papa, I'm over here!" her screams, of course, reached his ears, and he waved back casually on her direction, an almost unnoticeable smile on his face. "Hi, papa!!"

As much as he would've wanted to go to his daughter immediately, he was unable to avoid the interview, so she would have to wait a little.

"Amazing performance today, Sae." she'd say, and he'd try to ignore so he could go to his daughter, but his efforts were useless as she just kept getting on his way on purpose with the microphone pointing at him and the camaraman following closely. "Any words you want to share with us about it? How did you feel while you were out there?"

"Mhm." that wasn't even an answer; he just wanted to get out of there and get his daughter. But the interviewer was NOT about to let Sae Itoshi walk away from this, so she had to use her last resource.

"Can you tell us more about your daughter being here today?" Sae perked up inmediately, but he wasn't stupid, he knew what she was doing, so he tried to keep his answer short.

"She said she wanted to see this match in person so I brought her."

"Would you say she's a fan of the sport?"

"I'd say she's a fan of me." and just like that he's drifting off. "She does ask to play with me sometimes, but my guess is she just wants to ask for something she knows I'll say yes to; she plays it safe."

"Aww, she asks to play with her dad? Do you think she's good? Maybe we have another Itoshi soccer prodigy in the making!"

"No, don't get me wrong." his voice was sharp and direct, cutting off the enthusiasm off the interviewer's voice. "Weather or not she decides to follow the same career path as me is entirely her decision. I encourage her to do what she likes and find out what she wants to do with her life by following her own passions. I wouldn't put that kind of pressure on her."

"I-I see..." she was a little embarrassed by the way she was cut off, but she was getting answers! "So, what kind of things does she like to do?"

"Mao is a very calm kid, most of the time. She has lots of energy but she's still very quiet when she's at school. So she likes basic things, like drawing, playing with dolls and stuff. Oh, but she has this bunny plushie that she absolutely adores; that's the one she carries everywhere. It was a gift from one of my trips, I don't remember which one, but I gave it to her and she would die if something happened to it. Seriously, there was this one time when she lost it at the park so I had to drive all the way-"

He paused.

Goddamnit, they got him.

He was supposed to end this quick and go get Mao, not stay and ramble about her! When has anyone ever seen Sae Itoshi ramble??? He just gets to the point and leaves??? What is happening to him???

"And what happened?" the interviewer neared the microphone to him, trying to get him to continue. Well, not this time. He cleared his throat before responding, casually gaining back his usual nonchalant expression.

"End of the interview, goodbye."

"What?! Um, w-wait! I have more questions! Uh... how does your daughter see herself in the future?"

"She's six."

"Dang it." she almost bit her tongue while she went through the questions on her head. "W-Well, I mean... what does she want to be when she grows up? Has she told you?"

"I... don't think she has." weird, maybe he should ask after all. "I'll go now. My daughter isn't the most patient person."

"Wait, so, is there nothing she's good at?"

"I didn't say that." he almost got offended. HIS daughter, talentless? Hell no. "She seems to enjoy dancing, and she's pretty good at it. Well, for her age, at least I think it's impressive. I suppose it requires an amount of agility and footwork similar to soccer."

"She must've got it from you then."

"If not me, who? Her mom... is... terrible at dancing..." he drifted again, this time at the thought of his late wife. But NO. He was NOT about to have a moment and cry infront of the media; he had to lock in. "She... was... terrible at dancing." he finally corrected. "So... she must've gotten it from me. Or perhaps is a talent of her own; I don't have to take credit for everything she does."

"But is she good at soccer?" then it finally clicked in his head. WHY was he even answering this questions?

"How is any of this relevant for the interview?"

"Um.. w-we just want to know if... well... your performance on the field was so impressive today! And your daughter is here so... would you say you say you put in a little extra effort for her?"

"Are you implying I don't put in effort normally?"

"No! I just... no, no, no!" they should really give this woman a raise for putting up with this and improvising her questions. "Y-You're such an amazing player, you make it seem effortless..."

"Sure..."

"Would you say your daughter is a big inspiration for you?" he knew the answer to that question; it was yes. Everything he did was for his daughter ever since he became a father, and yeah, he loved the kid, so what? He did like to show off infront of her a little so she could brag about him at school (which he knew she did with frequency). He'd hear from teachers and other parents about his daughter's constant rambling about how cool his dad is, and whenever he did his chest would fill a bit with pride. Ironically, he had millions of people who admired him but the only one he really cared about was that little girl who also asks him to take the crust off her sandwiches and cut it into little star shapes because that's how she likes them, he guesses. And he's tried to tell her is the same thing but she insists they taste different.

"I can say I'm happy to have her. I find myself feeling a bit proud about every little thing she does."

"Any big accomplishments lately?"

"She learned how to count backwards, from ten to one. She can also help me in the kitchen sometimes; with supervision of course, but she tries her best. And she-"

"Papa!" he flinched when he heard Mao's familiar voice nearby, and he saw her running around and getting herself among the crowd trying to reach him. She was carrying that same bunny he talked about earlier and Sae was quick to get her in his arms once she was in arm-length reach. His instincts then kicked in at the first sound of a camera taking a photo as he inmediately hid her face against his chest.

"That's enough now, no photos." in some aspects the media was somewhat the same as a child. You tell them 'no' and they take it as a reason to do it anyways, because the camera flashes grew more frequent and intense.

"Wait! Just one more question!"

"Sae, over here!"

"Look over here!"

"Can we take a look at the kid?"

"Let her answer a question with you!"

"Enough with the cameras." his voice was low, yet firm enough to cease all the commotion. Poor Mao was all fussy with all of those bright flashes and sudden sounds. "Let's go home." he said, his arms now holding a more secure hold on her to walk through the crowd of reporters.

"Papa, you were amazing!"

"I know. I'm always amazing." she giggled, and the sound made him smile as he walked through the crowd of reporters who were still fighting to get his attention. "Are you hungry? I took longer than I expected."

"A little. Papa, can I play soccer too with you?"

"If you want to, sure." he would lie if he said he wasn't tired after the match, but how could he say no to his little girl asking to spend quality time with him? "Let's play when we get home."

"Can I have ice-cream, papa?"

"Why do you want ice-cream suddenly?"

"Because it's yummy!"

"I guess it is." he should really learn how to tell her no. "Sure thing, we'll buy ice-cream on our way back."

"Yay!"

[beatrixst0nehill]

"Another twenty-five pounds in just a month. I'm starting to bloat up so fast I can't keep up. Thank you all for the donations! And yes, my parents are overjoyed that I'm getting so fat. I never knew how popular it was for a girl to get so obese and unhealthy but here we are! I was stuck as a nerdy gamer girl streaming five days a week with only like a hundred subs and a thousand Instagram followers for what felt like forever. Then one day my mom brings me a big plate of pasta and garlic bread and just looking at it makes me blush. I joke about her trying to get me fat and she just laughs, telling me 'you never know, your audience might like that, honey.'

Sure enough like half of my chat erupted into people asking me to start gaining, to fatten up and stuff my face all stream long. I was stunned. Never even considered doing fetish content, but then I looked at all the most popular female streamers and they were either serial surrogates who tried to maintain a giant pregnant belly, girls popping breast growth pills like Skittles, sexy trans girls detransitioning more and more as their subcounts and donations grow, and the most popular by far..... girls getting extremely fat on purpose. I was stunned to see that every one of them started out tiny, fit, busty, really hot! Only to become so fat they can't get up on their own, or straight up immobile, casually chatting about diabetes, high blood pressure, cholesterol increases, and heart attack signs like it was the sexiest banter imaginable, their chats raving about their spiraling health, clearly very aroused by it.

Now, I have put on 140lbs in eight months, going from 110lbs to 250lbs, and yeah, I have noticed myself already getting very out of shape, my heart beat getting faster, but I don't think I'll get THAT big, like..... do you really all want to see me hit 800lbs on a breathing tube seductively chatting about getting a heart attack in a few years? I don't know.... Maybe if you guys really, really want to see it. My mom and dad already told me they definitely want to see me get to 500lbs. I think I can do that and we can go from there! I'll already be incredibly fat and unhealthy by then and my body will be ruined! I look at my figure now and it's almost a shame to destroy it by getting fatter. I'm so sexy right now, and I love being this size, never got so many random guys touching me and asking to fuck me. I love it! But I know I have to ruin my figure and keep growing. That's why it's hot, isn't it? Letting my sexy body go, not being able to stop, getting bigger and bigger and bigger until I don't even resemble this hot, sexy, curvy girl I am now. I become an undesirable blob who just sits around eating and eating, everyone teasing me about becoming immobile, being a pig, having zero willpower, jerking off as you all wonder how long my heart can keep it up, knowing every bite of food brings me a little closer to what you all secretly cum thinking about.

Sorry, is that too dark? I guess I've been watching too many ssbbw streaming girls discuss how they got so big and it's kind of turning me on. I'll get to 500lbs first and see if it's still turning me on as much as you guys, and my parents.... but who knows. Maybe I am destined to hit 800lbs or maybe even bigger...."

[deltas-writing-corner]

Courtship (4): The Gargoyle Graveyard

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland (Malleus x GN!reader)

Author note: Again, thank you all for being patient with me and I apologize for having a very inconsistent writing schedule. I'm going to make it my goal to update on a bi weekly basis instead of leaving you all in silent limbo. Also a reminder I suck at figuring out which warnings to put so if there's something that needs to be forewarned that I failed to disclose please lmk!

Warnings: Mentions of heavy bodily injuries | childhood trauma/neglect | discussions/mentions of discrimination | mentions of virginity/sexual history

Previous chapter | Next Chapter

AO3 version

Clay. Stone. Porcelain. Plaster. Metal. There are even gargoyles carved entirely of wood! Some statues are stand-alone works of art while others are part of a clear collection or series of similar inspiration. They even come in all sorts of shapes and sizes; as small as an apple or a towering height to rival Malleus himself. No matter what, each grotesque has been crafted with the utmost consideration, by well seasoned and knowing hands. Even the ones that have clear defects and cannot serve their intended purpose are free of overabundant ivy, weeds, or dust. There’s a clear degree of love and care the family who makes these statues has for their craft that makes him feel less alone in his interest in an uncherished form of art.

“It should be around here somewhere,” you muse aloud. Ever since he expressed interest in seeing more sculptures made with non-traditional materials, you’ve been keeping your eye out for a particular one that would fulfill his yearning. You eventually find it and eagerly point to it. “There it is!”

Malleus watches as you approach a massive-sized statue covered with a thick and half-wet tarp. He helps you remove the cover, revealing a winged and slightly humanoid canine. There are many more grotesques with a similar design, but what makes this one stand out the most is the material it’s made out of.

“Amazing!” Malleus awes. “I’ve never seen a grotesque of this size made entirely of glass! They’ve even managed to maintain their attention to detail despite such an abnormal material choice.”

“You can even see the inner channel where the water would flow in and redirect out of its mouth,” you notice.

“They even went out of their way to make it functional despite it being unfit for actual installation?” Malleus inquires with disbelief. “Such a shame.”

“If you’re looking to buy anything here, I’m afraid it's a lost cause. One of the first warnings the grandfather gave me is that none of these are for sale.”

“What was his second warning?”

“If we damage anything, even as small as a scratch, he’ll kill us.”

“How charming,” he chuckles. “I cannot blame him. These statues must take weeks to complete. Time is a human’s greatest enemy.”

“For some, sure. But when I went to visit the family and talked to the old man, he was lunging around all this heavy equipment like he was still in his prime,” you recall. “He lives for his craft. If there’s anything humans are at risk of their entire lives, it’s a lack of motivation and reason to live.”

“I suppose that’s true, but the lifespan of humans and the inevitable effects of aging is difficult to live with, especially once it begins to hinder one’s ability to do what one could previously do without issue. ”

“You’re not wrong,” you acknowledge. “But I think I’d rather live a short life with fulfillment than a dull, long-as-shit life.”

To show that he’s entirely on your side, Gunter lets out a guttural bark while his tail rapidly wags and thumps the damp ground, coating the ends of his bushy tail in specs of dirt and dirtied, remnant snow of the north that has managed to stay frozen on the isles warmer south end.

“You’re only agreeing with them because you’ve been promised food,” Malleus chastises. “Don’t think I didn’t pick up on your grumbling stomach.”

“And don't think I didn't pick up on your stomach rumbling either your highness," you quip back at him. "The family has a small cottage nearby we can use. We'll settle down for a bit and eat before sightseeing some more."

Before you turn and walk in the direction towards the aforementioned lodgings, you reach your hand out for Malleus to take and he latches onto you with restrained enthusiasm. He's taller than you, but he takes care not to take his normal strides as to not leave you struggling to keep up with him. Gunter doesn't know the way, so he trots beside you every step of the way up until the destination is in plain view. The cottage is small but well-attended. There’s a rustic flair to its construction that makes it feel familiar and safe despite never stepping foot in it before.

"Those gargoyles were something, huh?" you remark to him while you tap and shake off the gunk wedged into the soles of your heavy boots against the frame of the door.

"Indeed," he nods, taking your cloak off for you and hanging it on the wooden rack nearby. "I don't think I've ever seen that many gargoyles in one day. Just when my eyes land upon an intriguing one, there's several more that catch my attention."

The way he gets all wide-eyed is outright adorable. It makes you grin just as enthusiastically too. "I bet your club is going to have a field day once you tell them about this!"

His child-like smile turns into one of disappointment. "I'm certain they would, if I wasn't the sole member that is."

Your hands halt from pulling out and setting down all the premade food out of your pack. "Seriously? You're the only one?"

When he nods his head, you feel a twinge of hurt in your heart. Poor guy. You can only imagine how disappointing it must be to go through all those lengths to start a club (you would know since you're technically a staff member of the school and have been given a rundown on some of the school's functions and regulations) only for no one to show interest. Of course, you completely understand that gargoyles aren't exactly all the rage within the minds of teenage boys. Still! He goes through so much effort to build relationships with his peers but they always cower away, either due to his status or even because of the way he looks. You won’t deny that he does come off as rather intimidating at first glance, but he's a sweet guy once you give him the chance to speak.

But to expect teenagers going through social pressures and demanding academics to be as understanding and willing to understand someone like Malleus is an impossible demand. Given that everyone in the school can be a bunch of self-centered and easily agitated bunch of pricks, it's understandable that most of the student body isn't keen on trying to take into consideration the proper etiquette one needs to consider in the presence of a young and noble fae. Deuce has met and talked briefly with Malleus on one occasion, but even he visibly shakes whenever his name is mentioned, even in casual passing.

Wait until they found out who you've gone and gotten buddy-buddy with behind their back. They probably think they're slick or that their intentions are well swept under the rug, but it's clear they feel some semblance of responsibility for your well-being, as both a magicless individual as well as a close, albeit older, friend. You dread the day people begin to make the connections between Malleus and you, but you still can’t help but wonder what their reactions might be. You also dread the high probability those two idiots are going to find out and embarrass the living hell out of you, which you know you do not have the patience or tolerance for.

Gunter jumps up and sits himself down in one of the wooden dining chairs, pushing the small ceramic plate towards you with his nose, as if telling you "Alright, I’ve done what I said I'd do, now feed me what I'm owed." You tell him that you'll give him what he's well earned after you get a small fire started in the brick fireplace. Just because it's warmer near the southern half of the island and not as heavily blanketed with snow, doesn't mean the cold has completely vanished, Winter is still winter after all.

"Where did these scars come from?"

Malleus' unexpected question and closeness nearly make you drop the iron rod you've been using to stoke the growing fire. You've since taken off your boots and rolled up the bottoms of your pants just above your knee as the room starts to warm up enough for a thin layer of perspiration to accumulate and roll down your skin. The scars he's referring to are the ones on your right leg, both side by side at an awkward angle and discolored. You have a lot more scars than these, some much more gruesome in appearance than these two. Malleus has never asked about your scars, but sometimes you catch him looking in the general area of some that peak through your clothes. He likely keeps quiet about their existence out of courtesy.

Yet out of all the markings on your body, why did these two stand out enough that he'd finally ask about them?

"It's a long story," you say in an effort to stall the topic. "Sit. I'll feed you two once the fire is stable."

He doesn’t push you for an answer, instead simply doing as you say and lets you poke at the burning logs until they're properly aflame on their own. You made mostly some of your morning favorites; Creamy and thick potato stew with diced carrots and peas and some eggs, ham, and crispy hash browns sandwich between homemade halved croissants. You teased him about having picky taste buds earlier, but Malleus is content to eat anything you serve him so long as it is not comparable to the likes of Lilia's atrocious cooking.

(Seriously, how does a man as old as Lilia not know the basic fundamentals of cooking? And why does everything he makes end up burnt and tasting like something rotten? You will never understand.)

"Don't eat too quickly," you warn Gunter as you pour a bit of light-colored soup onto his designated plate. Your words are ignored, as the equally marred wolf sloppily slurps and munches on the few bits of potatoes and vegetables you generously scraped out of the thermos. His food is gone as quickly as it’s put in front of him and he looks at you expecting more.

"No. The rest is mine," you scold. "And don't beg Malleus for some either! I know you do it behind my back, you little shit!"

He turns to look at Malleus with an accusatory glare, thinking that he ratted him out to you. Malleus’s response towards the silent imputation is to turn and look out the window as if something caught his interest all of a sudden, cup raised to his lips as he politely sips away at his meal without an air of calmness. You have to slap a hand over your mouth to hide the amusement that overtakes your senses.

"Malleus, stop that!"

"Stop what?" he innocently asks.

"Stop making me want to laugh!"

He sets his cup down onto its matching serving dish. "It's not my fault you have an easily satiable sense of humor."

"Wow!" you say incredulously and put your arms up in offense. "And here I was thinking we were friends!"

His distant demeanor breaks and you both devolve into a fit of laughter together. Gunter unfortunately takes advantage of your joint distraction and slips away with a warm sandwich between his jaw, your sandwich in particular.

"That damn wolf!" you curse. "I knew I should have trusted my gut and pack extras.”

Malleus pities your distress before moving over to sit closer. "Worry not. I'll split mine in half with you,” he reassures.

"No, it's fine," you immediately dismiss his offer. "Have it for yourself."

"I'm not taking no for an answer," he firmly states. “Don’t be stubborn. It’s far too early for that.”

"I thought you liked it when I was stubborn?” you pout.

He shakes his head with a smile. “I would be lying if I said I didn’t”

"At least someone likes my attitude,” you say after chewing and swallowing a mouthful of soup. “Sebek certainly doesn’t."

"The boy is stubborn as well. When two equally stubborn individuals cross paths, you will witness nothing but discord between the two."

"Add the fact I'm human into the mix, and we'll be exchanging fists instead of words sooner or later," you scoff. "I get that some faes don't like humans, but what's his deal with acting like he’s got a vendetta against me?"

"Sebek doesn't hate humans for the reasons you might think," Malleus admits. "It’s more like he finds them difficult to think that highly of. Did you know that he is half-human?"

You nearly choke on your own breath over the sudden revelation. "Really?"

"Indeed," Malleus finds amusement at your disbelief. "Have you ever wondered why his ears aren't pointed like Silver, but his eyes are like mine and Lilia’s?"

"Damn,” you scratch the back of your head with embarrassment. “Now I feel stupid.”

"You aren't. Given the way he speaks, not many would assume he had human blood in his veins. His mother was highly regarded within her social circle, but her marriage to a human man tarnished her reputation a great deal. She's happy and does not seem to care what others think of her these days. However, when Sebek set out to be a knight, his mother's marriage and his lineage were often brought up as a way to scrutinize his character and capabilities rather than any of his actual shortcomings as an individual."

"Poor kid," you sigh. "Lilia told me those sorts of things still happen in The Valley, but it sounds so outlandish that I couldn’t take it that seriously."

"Many faes hold old traditions above all else, to a degree that the purity of one's blood stands above all other merits." His eyebrows pressed together in annoyance. "Even my grandmother thinks it's archaic, but as the reigning queen she has to embody a persona of neutrality between the social divide."

"It sounds like you have your work cut out for you in the future," you say, almost apologetically. "What do you plan to do about it once you're the king?"

There's a brief flash of surprise over your question, but Malleus easily answers it as usual. "I think my first course of action as king would be to properly knight Sebek and Silver."

"Bet my rifle that Sebek is going to cry the entire ceremony!" you remark with certainty. "That's all he ever goes on about, being a knight and all."

"He's devoted countless hours and efforts since he was a child. If there's anyone who deserves to join the knighthood, it's him."

"Definitely," you nod to further cement your agreement with him. "He could stand to lower his voice a bit. He'll give you tinnitus before long.”

"At least we won't have to worry about losing him in a crowd," Malleus jests.

"That's to say we'll lose sight of him to begin with," you remark. "He'll gladly lose me in a crowd. You? You'd be lucky to get out of arm's length."

"You underestimate me, dearest," Malleus smirks. "Ever since I've met you, I've perfected the art of avoiding Sebek's insistent searches."

"Have you now?" you razz back. "Don't let him catch onto the fact. He'll have my head."

He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Each second his skin touches yours makes you tingle. Time slows down ever so briefly if only to savor the small instance of physical connection for as long as possible. "What of your aunts?" he inquires. "Are they as overprotective of you as Sebek is of myself?"

"They’re a trio of mama bears," you proudly admit. "I'm old enough to drink and well equipped to fend for myself, but in their minds, I'll always be the little tyke that couldn't even eat their meals without looking at them for approval. Especially my aunt Gia."

You have three aunts. There's your aunt Marisol, the mother of most of your cousins and the main caretaker of the household. Your second aunt Lucia was well into her studies at university when you came to live with them, but her stress and long hours of mulling over her course materials paid off in the long run. Your gardening skills wouldn't be what they are now without her expertise in agricultural botany.

Then there's your aunt Gia. Oldest of the three. An absolute tank of a woman. No spouse. No kids of her own. She lived off the land like an absolute titan. The woman raised you as if she was the one that carried you for nine months and not your actual birth mother.

How would you describe your parents? If your parents were told to list out their priorities in life, their careers would be at the top of the list and you would be put at the very bottom. Why they carried you to term is beyond your understanding. You later learned that Gia had even offered to take you under her care well before your birth, knowing that your parents might not be well-suited to take care of you in the way she thinks would be beneficial for you. It was a convenient offer that would have saved everyone the trouble years down the line when you had your accident. They worked in a cutthroat industry and were constantly moving up the executive echelons. They had no time for you, yet their pride as a pair of young, successful business magnates made them incapable of seeing past the reality of the situation. That left you mostly in the care of last-minute caretakers and your aunts, but only if they had time from their own busy and preoccupied lives to come out into the city and visit.

You were eight years old when things started to get better, but it was upstarted in the worst possible way. Your parents had to go away for the upcoming weekend for work and left you in the care of a babysitter as per the norm. The babysitter never showed up however and your parents apparently couldn’t be bothered to check up on you even once the entire trip. Their silence wasn’t surprising. You just went on about your business for the next three days on your own like nothing was wrong. Your aunt Gia had even called at one point to check up on you, but you didn’t bother to tell her that your parents had left you to fend for yourself. She would have exploded if you did, but not as much as she did when you woke up in the hospital after falling down the stairs and lying helplessly on the ground for several hours with a dislocated shoulder and a compound-fractured leg. You were lulling in and out of consciousness due to all the medication pumped into you, but what little you do remember seeing and hearing when you regained consciousness will forever stick with you for the rest of your life.

If people think your level of swearing is bad, they should have heard your aunt that day. She swore so viciously that it could set an innocent bystander's eardrums on fire. What will forever stand out the most to you was the fact that your parents didn’t even look the least bit apologetic or regretful. They didn’t even approach you once your aunt was done giving them a piece of her mind to check up on you. They simply talked with the awaiting social worker and doctors and then left. It was for the better, but the small part of you that continued to hold onto the desperate belief that your parents would come around one day sent you into a thrashing frenzy and you had to be sedated before you could hurt yourself anymore.

The next year was spent recovering from your injuries, meeting regularly with your caseworker, and going through therapists like a pack of cigarettes. By the time you were back on your feet and the legal proceedings of your custody case were concluded, all you wanted was to move on with it all. Nearly a decade of neglect left you this unattentive, uncertain husk of a person who couldn’t take a single step forward without looking for some sort of guidance or assurance. Your family was exhausted by the entire ordeal and over speaking with third parties. Your aunts took it upon themselves to help you regain your sense of self in the comfort of your new home, no matter how difficult or demanding it was going to be.

“It took some time, but eventually it clicked in my mind that I was in a better place and I started to get better. As for my parents, I have no clue what they’re up to these days.” You lean back into your chair and let out a shaking yawn. “I like to think they’re getting on well like I am.”

“I don’t understand.” Malleus looks at you with unbelievable confusion. “Your parents treated you poorly, yet you don’t sound the least bit resentful. Why is that?”

You shrug your shoulders. “What’s the point? I'm in a better place now, so I've let bygones be bygones. 'Doesn't mean I don't harbor any anger against them anymore. I do, but getting upset won't change what's happened to me."

Gunter, having sensed your discomfort over the matter, trots over and rests his head on your lap. You gratefully rub the top of his head, carding your hands through his thick, coarse hair. "I'm just glad they let me go without a fuss. Family court was hell for my family.” Your eyebrows knit together. “Expensive too.”

Crackling wood fills the momentary silence that befalls the small cottage. What you've recollected to Malleus is a lot to take in, and if you're being quite honest you'd prefer if he just dropped the subject and talked about literally anything else right now. You hope he doesn't say he's sorry or any other type of apologetic comment. That's all you were ever told that entire year it all happened, during court proceedings, your rehabilitation, by both strangers and distant family members alike.

"I'm so sorry. What happened to you was unfortunate. You didn't deserve it."

No shit you didn't deserve any of that. You were a kid. You don’t need one pity party after another to realize that what took place then had fucked you forever. But as you said earlier, you're in a better place now, with a loving and supportive family that's moved on alongside you. A family you need to get back to as soon as possible.

"I love you."

Well, if he was hoping to take your mind off the past. that certainly did it. How can it not? It came out of nowhere and as good as you are at holding your composure when need be, you're sure you look no less like a gaping fish when warm and plush softness presses right against the corner of your lips. A kiss. His kiss.

"What's wrong?" Your voice sounds shaky. You’re nervous.

"Nothing," he smiles reassuringly. "I simply said what I felt needed to be said."

"Fair enough" you concede easily. He was going to say it sooner or later. He already has actually, now that you think about it. Yet here you are trying to process his words like it’s rocket science.

"Am I going about this too fast perhaps?" he genuinely asks. His hands that have been busy massaging your calves that have settled across his lap somewhere during your long retelling gradually slow down, but his hands never go completely still. "This is my first time experiencing something like this."

"What?" You sit up a bit straighter. "A relationship?"

"Yes."

Your head tilts to the side. "Really?"

He nods hesitantly "Yes?"

For a moment, you go completely quiet. "I don't believe you,” you doubtfully say, head shaking to further showcase your refusal to believe him.

He must not have liked your remark, frowning with clear offense in his eyes. When he dislikes something, the vertical slits in his eyes contract into a thin line. "I cannot lie, yet you still doubt me?"

"I know you can't lie, but I find it hard to believe you haven't been with anyone else before," you explain. Before you can consider the appropriateness that was your newfound curiosity about Malleus's apparently non-existent love life, you blurt out, "Are you still a virgin?"

You slap your hand over your mouth the moment those words come out of it. He's equally caught off guard and nearly drops his warm cup of coffee. Even Gunter is surprised by your question, olive-colored eyes looking at you as if you've lost your mind. It's an invasive question, inappropriate even. You and Malleus have been dating for a little over two days. A question like that is way too early to bring up just yet.

"You don't have to answer that," you tell him behind your palm. "I shouldn't have even asked it. Forget I ever brought it up-”

"I'm not," he interrupts you, leaving you even more shocked than you already are. You’re practically gaping like a fish by now. "I'm not a virgin,” he further insinuates.

A deafening silence, but it’s eventually broken by yourself. “I still don’t believe you.”

Malleus gets further annoyed at your refusal to accept his truth. "I'm not lying!" he insists.

"Bullshit!"

"Do you want me to recount my history to you?" he asks, exasperated as you are at the shift the conversation is taking. "Will that satisfy your doubts?"

"You know what? It will!" you loudly declare. "Who'd you sleep with?"

"He was a young page at the time,” he reminisced. “It happened before I was a century old.”

Your eyebrows raise with intrigue. "Was he cute?"

"Yes," he hushedly agrees. The disconcerting admittance paints his face a pinkish-red glow. "But that's not why I bedded him."

"But surely his looks are what made you interested in the first place?” you make blatant regard of the fact.

“You’re not wrong,” he acknowledges, expertly avoiding agreeing with you outright. “But his looks aren't the sole reason I was drawn to him. He was bright-eyed and ambitious, to the point you’d think him insane given his position in the court. It was also the first time I ever truly met with a group of humans, and my young mind was eager to get a more accurate perspective of humans that wasn’t through the lens of my tutors.”

“An ‘accurate perspective’?” You make playful air quotes, eyebrows wiggling because you know the fact that he knows what you’re implying. The playful comment is met with a sharp pinch on your leg that makes you jump and shriek out in pain. Did he have to dig his nails into you? Apparently so, and now you have small crescent indents on your skin. “I bet Lilia had a good laugh when he found out.”

“He doesn’t know, actually,” he admits to you with what is obviously a proud smile.

“Now I know you’re lying to me,” you scoff. “Nothing escapes the old man’s radar.”

His hands begin to rub out the marks he’s left on you as a form of apology. “Lilia is sharp, but he had lost most of his vigor by the time I was born.”

You go wide-eyed again. “You mean his hearing and eyesight was better than it is now?”

He nods affirmatively. “From what I’ve been told, terrifyingly so.”

Lilia is already frightening as is. His short stature and boyish looks make him perfectly unassuming to those who don’t know any better. You once watched him beat up a couple of bulky, twice-his-height students from Savanaclaw without breaking a sweat, yet moments before he was jokingly scolding himself for dozing off so easily. You never once thought he was ever out of his elements. A cold chill runs down your spine thinking how much more perceptive the older fae may have been back during his prime years.

“Wonder what Lilia’s gonna think,” you ponder out loud in a quick effort to banish out the skin-prickling mental imagery your mind was invoking. “About us, I mean.”

Malleus seems surprised that you would change the topic to that of all things, but his initial shock goes away as quickly as it came. “As you may have guessed, he’s an open-minded individual, but he’s also very realistic and unafraid to say what’s on his mind.”

“So what does that mean for you and me?” you question with a bit of hesitation.

“Well,” he trails off and ponders for a moment. “He’ll surely like the scandal our relationship would invoke. However, as my caretaker and mentor, he won’t hesitate to put an end to it if he feels it necessary.”

Had it been anyone else sitting beside you, you’d have found that comment way too extreme and outright ridiculous. However, you are not speaking to anyone ordinary. You are not sitting before someone normal. It doesn't matter how well you get along with him. It sure as hell doesn't matter how deeply in love you are with him, and him of you. The moment you have been deemed a shortcoming, the outings, the closeness, it all stops. All of it will come crashing down and both you and him will be left wondering what could have been done differently.

Malleus is truly your best friend, because already he can tell that your mind is beginning to spiral even when you go quiet. He calls for your attention by gripping his hand around your bare ankle and carefully tugging the end of your limb. “Don’t fret over it too much,” he soothes, yet also sounding like he’s scolding you for letting your mind wander off so negatively. “Lilia is an exceptional judge of character. From what I’ve gathered, you’ve well exceeded all his marks. He trusts you, and to gain such a thing from someone as old and wise as him is an extraordinary feat.”

You brew over the attempted compliment he tried to pay to you. Unfortunately, it doesn’t snub out all these festering thoughts in your head. It doesn’t even give you temporary relief. Perhaps it would have brought you a sense of peace a few months ago, but with everything that has happened thus far, you doubt even Malleus can alleviate the storm that rattles inside you, even if what he speaks is without a doubt nothing but the truth.

Surely he can see that you are still having some hangups. When you lift his hand and plant a chaste kiss on the back of his hand, you hope he can decipher the gesture as a pitiful request for his forgiveness for dampening the once energetic mood. He is not at fault for your loss and inability to think optimistically at the moment and you need to make sure he knows it.

Today is about him, not you. Even if it’s just for today, you’ll put on a pleasant facade and worry about the rest at a later date. It’s just you and him, and for now, that’s enough.

You do a mental countdown starting from three, before finally giving him a late response to the three words he uttered in confidence to you earlier. “I love you too, by the way.”

You love him. You love him. You love him. That’s all his mind can think of for the rest of the day. He replays your reciprocation over and over like it’s sacred and all-powerful.

He had planned to return to his dorm before the sun began to set, but he found the mere idea of detaching from you deeply unwanted and made the last-minute decision to spend the evening at the Ramshackle dorm. He already has a few articles of clothing and personal essentials set up in one of the many empty rooms, so neither Lilia nor you had any objections at his sudden request.

“Don’t worry!” You shout across the room so that Lilia can hear you over his phone. “I’ll make sure he gets to bed on time!”

“You have my gratitude!” Lilia’s muffled voice responds gratefully. “Don’t cause too much trouble now, you two.”

“No promises~” you sing in jest before Malleus hangs up. Once the call ends Johnny, Benji, Franky, and you turn their attention back to their ongoing game of poker. Malleus watches and occasionally laughs to himself over the friendly banter shared between the quartet. At the end of every round, the winner is assaulted with colorful profanities whilst they take their newly won gambling chips with ebullience. Yet with each new dealing of cards, the animosity goes away and they’re all back to being friendly. He finds your interactions with your incorporeal roommates more entertaining than the book he’s been reading to pass the time.

“Hey, fairy boy,” Franky informally calls out toward him. “Don’t be a stranger now. Play a few rounds with us.”

“I’m afraid I’m not well versed in card games,” he admits, yet he still finds himself setting his literature aside and moving over to join them.

“Don’t worry,” you give him a reassuring smile. “They’ll go easy on you.”

“For how long?” he knowingly asks.

You give him an impressed smirk at his quick uptake. “I give it three rounds before they start to pull back their sleeves.”

Malleus is well-adjusted to the need to quickly learn a new topic and the expectation for him to fully comprehend it in full. None of them are harsh on him for his minor mistakes like some of the tutors he’s had in the past. Answers that he believes may be obvious or not as complicated as he thinks they are being answered with enthusiastic patience. The smallest achievements he makes are met with a proud response. When he makes a surprise turnabout and wins his first game, he’s rewarded with an encouraging round of applause by everyone.

“Not bad,” Benji praises as he shuffles the deck of cards. “You’re a fast learner.”

“So I’ve been told,” he humbly replies. “Is this the part where you all stop going easy on me now?”

“Don’t provoke them,” you half-heartedly warn. “Otherwise we’ll be up all night duking it out otherwise.”

Franky sets his glass of iced liquor down on the edge of the table. “Don’t you little lovebirds worry. We won’t take up too much of your well-needed time together.”

Annoyed at the clear jab at his relationship with you, you throw one of your chips towards his head. It passes through his body and clatters on the floor behind him. Your fawn Blossom jumps down from their spot on the couch and goes to sniff it, thinking it to be food, but walks away with a disappointed strut when he realizes it isn’t anything edible.

“I didn’t tell them a damn thing,” you defensively clarify. “It was so obvious what was going on between us that they figured it all out before we made it official.”

He lets out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s...I can’t say I’m too pleased to hear about that.”

“We won’t say anything,” Franky reassures. “Just make sure to put a sock on the door whenever you guys want some alone time.”

“Franky!” you hiss at him. “What the hell?!”

“What?” he looks at you, unbothered by your clear embarrassment. “Do you honestly expect us to think you guys went out just to look at a bunch of statues?”

“Oh, I’m sure they were looking at something,” Johnny smirks. “It wasn’t made of stone though.”

“I hate you guys,” you growl out, arms crossing and leaning back into your seat with an angry huff. You don’t mean it. He can see the tremble of your lips as you try to contain the urge to grin. “Even if we did end up rolling around in the sheets, I wouldn’t be yapping about it for all to hear, much less you guys!”

“What happens in the gargoyle graveyard stays in the gargoyle graveyard, eh?” Franky winks at both Malleus and you, nudging you with his elbow.

“Exactly!” you affirm, batting the large ghost away from you for some much-needed distance. “Now stop being so damn nosy.”

They cackle one last time and everyone seamlessly goes back to their ongoing game. Conversations like the one that just concluded are commonplace in your dormitory. Even if he contributed next to nothing to the discussion, he enjoys watching them interact. You come from a world where ghosts are hardly as overt as the ones in this world. Ghosts are said to entertain themselves by picking on the living, to the point that it can be fatal. Your ability to come up with witticisms at a moment's notice is something he enjoys seeing in action. He feels great satisfaction not only knowing that he has secured your love but to also see you in a state of tranquility and within your elements.

As Benji and you have a hushed conversation on the sidelines, he reaches over and places his hand on your knee beneath the table. You quietly reach over and put your hand over his, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb like it’s instinctual. Unfortunately, the heart-fluttering moment is ruined by the sudden buzzing of his phone. He has half a mind to ignore it, but when he gives the screen a glance he realizes ignoring the caller is not an option.

“I’ll be out for a moment,” he excuses himself once he sets his hand down and stands himself upright. “This shouldn’t take that long, hopefully.”

They all stop to look up at him inquisitively for half a second. In unison, they ask, “Sebek?”

“Sebek,” he affirms.

There are simultaneous displays of annoyance, pity, and silent wishes of good luck directed at him. He’s tempted to ask where all this contempt for the boy comes from, but then he remembers the many times Sebek barges his way into their dorm at the worst possible moments. It is either when everyone is beginning to settle down after a long day or in the middle of an important house project, the former more so than the latter now that the dorm is much more stable and in need of less restoration. Malleus learned the hard way how ill you and the ghosts will react when your peace is unwantedly interrupted and your space invaded by an unwanted guest.

Sebek is also quick to scrutinize whatever he sees out loud without a filter. You never seem to mind half of the time, merely rolling your eyes and moving past Sebek’s ill-meaning remarks as if you never heard them. As you are someone Malleus highly regards and holds close to his bosom, he hopes Sebek can one day set aside his strife with humankind and give you the due diligence you deserve.

...Though, he completely understands that reaching that point will take time. While you can endure Sebek to a certain degree, there are times where he, unfortunately, pushes you past that threshold and, without flinching, you will tell him to “Shut the fuck up”. Your words, not his.

“Young master!” Sebek's transmitted voice peaks and he has to half pull it away to give his pained eardrums some relief. “I was informed by Lord Lilia that you will be spending the night over at the Human’s dorm. Have you all your accommodations at their estate? If not, I will swiftly-”

“That won’t be necessary,” he half laughs at his enthusiasm over such a small task. “I have enough to keep me comfortable and well for a few days. Your offer is still very much appreciated.”

“Y-Yes, of course,” he stutters. “If there’s anything you should ever find a need for, please inform me at once! I will fulfill your every wishes no matter the hour!”

He’s enthusiastic and ready to act at a moment’s notice, even during the middle of a cold and dark hour. Malleus doesn’t necessarily dislike this part of Sebek, but he’s starting to understand why someone like you would find such subservience difficult to deal with. At any moment, Malleus could ask Sebek to grab some insignificant item of his and tread through the thick snow to deliver it to him, and the boy would do so with jubilation and utmost timeliness. You on the other hand wouldn’t be caught dead ordering someone to do something on your behalf when you believe you are well and capable of doing it yourself.

You don’t put expectations onto the backs of others, choosing to trust yourself first before anyone else. He knows now that it’s a result of the one instance where you expected something from someone, only to be thoroughly let down and left wondering if it was you who did something wrong.

Malleus cannot make up for the pain you’ve been subjected to, but he hopes that he can become the outlier in your life that surpasses any preconceived notions you may hold onto others. He hopes...No, he absolutely will be the one who brings you your well-earned and deserved joy and repose, just as you have done for him and continue to do so.

You love him, and he will ensure he is worthy of every last drop of your fidelity.

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

chapter - one | beautiful disaster

Full Masterlist

Beautiful Disaster Masterlist

═════════⚠═════════

I watch the door, awaiting his arrival.

Cardan struts into the building with his eyes fixed on his phone. He looks as unimpressed with everything around him as the last time I saw him. His clothes are ironed to perfection, the crisp collar of the black shirt barely covering most of his tattoo, save for the serpent's head that peeks out from beneath it. I'm convinced his outfit alone is worth more than the annual salary I receive from Balekin.

He looks up at me and the force of my hatred hits me like a brick to the face, all my plans feeling impossible now.

"Shouldn't you be somewhere else, licking Balekin's boots, pleasing him and all, Jude?" he sneers. There's so much disdain between us, it feels impossible that it would ever be otherwise.

I will myself to ignore his barb. I'm used to much worse insults, and to retort might increase my chances at failure. But I'm drunk on my resentment at his position; he has everything I ever wanted, and yet he laments about it. His presence makes me reckless, makes me want to do things I shouldn't do.

"At least I'm capable of pleasing him." I tell him with a small smirk.

His rage is prominent on his face now, the mask of boredom gone. He looks so heartbreakingly beautiful even when he's angry, it seems unfair. I try to dredge up some pity for him. He has a brother who is hell-bent on making him a copy of himself, another brother who hates him, an indifferent father and a scheming harlot for a mother.

Yet, did Madoc not raise me to become a mirror of himself? Surely, he can't resent me for something I do not have.

But he does. I see it in his eyes everytime he looks at me, how unworthy he thinks me of everything. The feeling is mutual, the hatred between us as intense as it is unreasonable. It's for Dain, and for the gang I belong to, that I bother to look at him, to earn his trust.

I step forward, deliberately putting pressure on the heel of my left foot. The near broken sandal gives out, and I fall into Cardan's arms.

His coal black eyes burn into mine with an intensity I do not expect. I am so sure that he'll drop me, but his grip remains firm as ever. His phone falls onto the ground with a loud thud but he pays it no mind. For a moment, all his attention is directed on me.

It feels as wonderful as it's scary.

When I pull away, my heart pounds loudly against my chest. "Balekin wants you to see him as soon as you arrive."

"Of course he does," he mumbles something else, then walks off.

Cardan's phone lies on the floor, right where it fell earlier. I allow myself a small, triumphant smile. I am quick to retrieve it, limping away with one show broken and remind myself to find an extra pair to change into before I arrive at Dain's mansion.

I find Lilliver the first thing when I enter. "Unlock this one for me, then bring it over; you have thirty minutes."

Dain is neck deep in paperwork when I knock on the open door.

"Ah, Jude," he looks up with a grin, "one of these days, you should listen when I tell you to walk right in, don't knock."

His eyes move over my body, expression morphing into concern as he assesses me. To save him the question, I say, "I'm fine, he didn't suspect a thing. Should I be offended you don't trust your own second-in-command's abilities?"

I slide into the chair across from him. He still looks unsure, so I add: "He may loathe me, but he is no murderer."

Dain's expression darkens a little, the goofy grin vanishing from his face. "He was still raised to be ruthless and cruel. Forgive me if I worry about you, Jude," The words sound like a lament, and his voice is softer when he continues, "It's such an inconvenience to be worried you might get hurt because of me."

"I appreciate that," I tell him, lips twitching up in amusement, "but if it came down to it, I could kick his ass."

"I know you can." Dain talks with so much conviction, it's impossible not to feel as if I'm invincible, though I'm not.

He clears the space in front of him of all files, then looks at me expectantly. Rolling my eyes, I climb atop the desk, legs resting on either side of his chair. He stands between my legs, leaning forward. He presses his lips to my jaw, leaving a trail of kisses down my throat.

"We need to, ah, talk about the—" he nips at a particularly tender spot on my neck. My body archs into his touch, giving him better access. I can't supress my moan, more grateful for the soundproof walls than ever—"Oh, Dain—aboutthe shipment we're..." The rest of my words dissolve into a loud moan when he nips at the spot with his teeth, his hands sliding up my thighs, hovering over my jeans' waistband.

"I'd rather not talk about it," he simply tells me, hands roaming everywhere but at the spot where I want them.

"What do you, ahhh, want to talk about then?" I ask him, knowing the answer.

His lips hover inches away from mine, curled into a fiendish grin. "I don't want to talk at—" he is interrupted by the sound of something crashing on the ground and a muffled curse.

I pull away immediately, feeling as embarassed as Van looks, if not more. "I'm sorry, I thought you'd want to—ah, it was urgent, I didn't think you'd, ahem, I don't..." His words grow more garbled with each moment that passes.

Taking pity on him, Liliver interrupts, "Bad timing? We can come back later."

"No, we'll have a look now—unless Jude wants otherwise?" All eyes turn on me, still on the desk with my legs parted, hair mussed and a flushed look on my face. I'm sure there's a hickey on my neck, adding to my embarassment.

Dain looks amused at my condition and I know he did it on purpose. I want to slap him on the face for it. His eyes shine with mirth when he looks at me. "Jude, love, will you mind terribly if I ask you to sit on a chair for a few? Though of course, my lap is available—"

I scramble off the desk and slide a chair towards him, taking a seat before he can continue. Liliver gives us a knowing look, and I have no doubt my face has turned scarlet. It's one thing to have everyone know you have a 'friends with benefits' thing going with your boss; it's another to be caught doing it.

Van slides the phone I stole towards Dain, who passes it to me. "Take whatever information you can find, and have someone drop you off—"

"That's not necessary," I assure him and take my leave, rifling through the contents in his phone.

As predicted, Cardan isn't as given to secrecy. I transfer all the files with ease, have the phone locked and ready to be returned and still a half hour to spare. I'm not surprised by how much Balekin keeps his brother in the loop, or by Cardan's disinterest in all of it. What does surprise me is the business acumen he seems to have. He is clever with his words, creative with his ideas and efficient in their execution. If I wasn't dead set against him, I'd have been impressed.

I wait until I know he'll be outside his office to come with his phone, and I am surprised to find Madoc with him. I hesitate for a moment, but decide to charge through. I can't wait too long to return it, lest I draw suspicion.

He looks surprised to see me outside, but then he blinks and the expression is replaced with one of casual boredom.

Madoc regards me with suspicion, eyes narrowed and a small crease between his eyebrows. He says, "Jude, what are you doing here? It's an off day—"

"—I know," I tell him, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. "But if he had his way, I'd have an off day for the whole year. I wanted to see if there's something around here I could do."

Madoc throws a cautious look towards Cardan, as if to make sure he's not displeased my casual censure of his brother. I could care less what Balekin thinks of me, he has never liked me much after all. I have no idea what I did to deserve his scorn but it's always been that way, and if I wasn't his loyal second-in-command's daughter, he won't have me here at all. He doesn't trust me very much.

And with good reason, I suppose. I've been spying on him almost ever since I joined, after all.

Cardan only raises a groomed eyebrow at me, as if to ask why I'm here. He must be in better spirits, because his expression is lacking the usual bite to it, though he looks impatient to leave. That might be more because of Madoc than me. Madoc has made no secret of his dislike towards the youngest of the Greenbriar brothers.

"Your phone," I extend it towards him. "It fell down this morning, when I tripped." I ignore Madoc's questioning look.

Cardan accepts his phone with a little shrug, but then there's a furrow between his eyebrows and I'm scared he has figured out that I stole information from it. I hold my breath, willing my hands not to tremble as he turns his assessing gaze on me. When he looks up at me, I feel like he can see every terrible thing I did, and it makes me more vulnerable than anything else.

He steps closer, forcing me to take a step back and repeats the process until I'm backed up against the glass wall of the building.

His hand comes to rest around my throat—a threat and a warning. "I know what you did, Jude. And there will be consequences for it." I can feel his breath in my ear, and blood rushes up to my face. There's nothing human in his expression. I'm afraid of his grip on my throat, the vile creature reflected in his black eyes but most of all, I'm afraid of the warmth I feel where his skin brushes against mine.

"I-I don't know what you're-what you're talking about," I stammer out.

"Don't you, Jude?" It seems impossible that he could be any closer, but he presses in anyway, and his grip tightens. His body presses against mine and all thoughts fly out of my head.

I shut my eyes close, and when I open them again, I realise it was imagination.

Cardan is looking at his phone still, but Madoc gives me a strange look. His eyes fix on the lovebite on my neck. I curse myself for not hiding it before.

My father's gaze travels from me to Cardan and back; it takes everything in me not to shout that it's not what he thinks at all. I bristle under his disapproving glare, choosing to ignore it too. Let him believe what he does. His assumptions are a thousand times less explosive than the truth. What would Madoc do if he found out where I spend my off days, which gang I work for? I shiver at the thought, distracted enough that I don't notice Cardan's gaze until he clears his throat.

"Thank you," he tells me, but somehow, he manages to make it sound like an insult. Before I can reply, he stalks off.

I hate how intoxicating his presence is, how he makes me writhe and tremble and crave for his attention, but hate it when he gives it. I have to remind myself I'm the predator, not him. This is my game, and I'm the one pulling all the reins. I hold all the power here. The repeated thoughts do nothing to erase the vision in my head, of his eyes, cruel and gleaming with hatred, and his grip on my throat, warm and painful and restricting my lungs and that tone; god, the mere thought of that chilling, ice cold gaze sends shivers down my body.

But this is my game, and by the time I'm done with him, the tables will turn.

═════════⚠═════════

tags:

@courtofjurdan // @thesirenwashere // @nightbringer // @queenofgreenbriar // @jurdanhell // @sweetlyvillainous //@clockworkgraystairs // @blog-lady-vi // @the-dark-swan //@storiesandschemes // @fangirltrash74 // @augustintodarkness // @queen-of-glass // @jurdan7 // @aesthetics-11 // @mijaldraws // @hades-flame // @sensitivehighlord // @annejulianneh111 // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @doingmyrainbow // @curlyredqueen06 // @chaotic-fae-queen // @thewickedkings // @thesurielships //@df3ndyr // @clouds-and-peonies // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @thefolkofthefic // @st00pid231 // @iminsanenotobsessed

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged. Also, I'm trying new things: first person pov, a little touch of smut, and a new writing style. Feedback is invaluable rn, through anon asks or comments or whatever way you feel comfortable!

[topherfoxtrot]

Ice cold eyes❄️

❄️Anders Cain smut yeahh. Don't worry you don't need to watch the movie, just keep in mind he's a hockey player with daddy and anger issues.

✨As usual reader is first person and neutral. The dialogue is fun but the text gets super explicit at the end. Be advised. TWs include sex obviously, daddy calling, feet kissing and cum swallow.

🙏Don't forget to like, reblog or comment anything if you enjoyed this piece of moral depravity ^^

Being Anders' neighbor was weird. Some days I could listen to him screaming at the tv or at the cellphone. Some nights I could hear his bed moving around while he had sex. Sometimes his apartment would stay in absolute silence for almost a month. Other times I could listen to him crying in the dark. Those usually came after he had a phone call with his dad.

Tonight was one of those nights. I have a really good hearing so I could always hear his cellphone's ringtone. I paused the Netflix show I was watching and silently walked towards the wall so I could hear him better. Anders' 'hey dad' was kinda of shy. There was some silence. He tried to speak but his father on the other end of the call interrupted him. Anders listened to whatever his dad was saying in silence, except for an occasional deep sigh. He tried to speak again but was interrupted once more. Anders finished the call with a "yes sir".

I knew what was coming but I couldn't take myself away from the wall. I listened to the few dragged footsteps Anders made before collapsing on what I assumed was his couch. Anders cried as silently as he could, I never saw his tears but I could listen to the sniffs. At this point a huge part of me had already decided going to his house so I could help him in some way. I had to wait for the next stage though.

Anders got up and growled. Like a feral animal he approached his punching bag and started to beat the shit out of it. After living next to Anders for more than a year I could actually pinpoint when he was casually training and when he was having one of those anger releasing moments. I walked around my house trying to come up with an excuse to pay him a visit while the punching continued.

There was not a cup of sugar or borrowed plastic pot or any favor to return. We barely ever talked to each other apart from the eventual good mornings and good evenings we would say to each other when we crossed on the hall. Hell I only knew his name because I heard some of his friends saying it in own of those boys nights they have.

I pressed my lips and frowned in disappointment before walking back to the wall. The punching had stoped. I took a deep breath while gathering the courage to actually go talk to him. I left my apartament and walked towards his door still minding my steps as if I was doing something imoral (like invading his privacy). It took me a couple moments to actually knock on his door. I heard him moving around, he clearly wasn't expecting anyone.

When Anders opened the door the first thing I noticed was the bandaid on his nose and the little wound on his left eyebrow. And of course his eyes were bloated due to the recent crying. We were both wearing the same clothes: sweatpants and an old t-shirt. He sniffled hard before talking softly.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm gonna be honest with you." I switched the weight on my feet, "I know you have been crying."

Anders looked at me like I've just caught him completely naked. His eyes traveled to my bare feet and up to my head real fast. They crossed the hall and then stopped at my eyes. It felt like there was more than one sentence forming inside his head at the same time. I purposefully passed my hands on my arms and elbows. He blinked a couple times before inviting me to come in as I knew he would.

The punching bag felt familiar even though I've never actually seen it. I spotted the couch too and the tv. His apartment had the same blueprint than mine and yet it looked really different. I could tell that some of the furniture was too expansive to be there. And the whole place smelled like the cleaning products I couldn't afford to buy. In an instant I remembered all the occasions I would hear the broom and the vacuum working at his apartment. Anders' voice took me out of my own thoughts.

"I'm sorry you heard me." He came from the kitchen holding a glass of water.

"You don't need to!" I reassured him.

"No." Anders shook his head, "I shouldn't cry like that. I'm a grown up. I can take it."

I actually chuckled upon hearing that. He looked offended so I quickly grabbed the glass of water to assert some kindness.

"I'm sorry! It's just that... that's not what being an adult is about. At all! Besides my relationship with my dad is also not good so I can definitely relate."

"You heard the call too?"

"Come on Anders we've been living next to each other for over a year man!" I almost spit the water when I realized what the silence he made actually meant. He never told me his name. I chuckled again, embarrassed this time, "Sorry, I heard your friends calling you that."

He quickly looked at the wall as if trying to see through into my apartment.

"My hearing is above average good, I guess." I smiled akwardly, "And the walls are super thin."

"Actually now that I think about it." Anders looked at me again, from head to toe like he did at the door, "I've heard you to."

Hearing that made my spine freeze. I replayed all my days in my mind. I work from home so I basically stay indoors 24/7. I often listen to music but never loud enough to disturb anyone. I also listen to podcasts while cooking and always end up crying with Netflix shows not targeted to my age. What has he heard??

"what have you heard?"

Anders actually smiled. He walked to the kitchen and came back with a bottle of expensive wine and two cups.

"Are you in a hurry?"

***

We spend some good forty minutes talking on his couch while drinking wine and eating sunflower seeds. Anders said it was about the gains. 'Sunflower seeds are for the winners!', on his words.

We exchanged cooking recipes and cleaning techniques. We also talked about how hard (yet good) it was to live alone. I talked about my work at the computer and he talked about his hockey games and how he would sometimes travel to play far away leagues, which explained his occasional absence.

As the alcohol made it's magic we started to talk about more silly stuff. He said that I had a really bad taste in music, which I agreed. I said that once I found out his name and heard his friends using all this sport vocabulary I googled 'Anders + hockey' to figure out who he was. And I was actually quite surprised he was considerably famous even though I had no idea who he was. I almost considered selling his address to crazy fans. That made him laugh

"How are they like?" I poured more wine into both our glasses, "The fans I mean."

"Eh, you know." Anders shrugged, "Some of them want to drink a beer with you. Some of them want to kiss you. And some of them want to kidnap you."

"And have you ever been kidnapped?"

"Only on purpose." Anders winked at me. That made me smile. His beard was not really my thing but looking closely he was indeed quite attractive. Or maybe that was just the wine talking.

"I mean, I'm at your house and you're drunk. I could very much kidnap you right now couldn't I?" without putting any thoughts into it I raised my feet to the couch because they're so so damn cold. Anders grabbed my feet softly and placed them on his lap.

"You're also drunk. Do you think you can keep me here?"

"At this point we both know that you can only get kidnapped if you're willing to. So the question is: do you want me to kidnap you, Anders Cain?"

He looked at me with those bright blue eyes of his while gently caressing my feet. Slowly and without taking his eyes off me Anders brought my left foot closer to him and kissed it. No one has ever done that to me. And very few people have looked at at me the way he was looking.

"How much do you think you father would pay for your rescue?"

"Honestly? Not much..." Anders placed my foot on his lap again and for a few seconds he looked away from me. I bit my lip in frustration.

"Let's put it this way then." I placed my almost empty glass of wine on the expansive mat, "What about you being daddy tonight?"

The look on Anders' face made it clear that no one has ever offered him such position before. And I was so glad I could be the first to help him explore such profanity. His hands moved from my feet to my ankles. I got closer to him and grabbed his glass of wine to placed it on the mat as well. From this distance I could see a little bit of gray in his eyes. We kissed.

At first softly. His beard felt weird against my cheeks and chin, but not for long. I could taste the wine on his lips and mouth. Once his tongue came into play I felt his hands on my thighs. That made me kiss him even harder. It's been more than a month since the last time I had sex, I definitely missed the touch. I tried to jump on his lap but he grunted in pain and quickly asked me to back away.

"What is it?" I asked worried.

"Hockey stuff." He briefly explained before taking off his shirt to reveal the wounds around his ribs and shoulders. In the heat of the moment that only made me desire Anders even more. I took my shirt off and got up to get closer to him. I gently placed my hands on his waist before kissing him again.

"Don't worry." I whispered, "I'll be gentle daddy."

That made Anders hyperventilate briefly, which of course only made me proud of myself. I kissed his big hands. Then I kissed his forearms and biceps. His shoulders were broad and strong and yet lean. I kissed his shoulders and back being careful not to put too much pressure of the wounds. He flinched slightly but didn't ask me to stop.

Facing Anders again I grabbed the sweatpants and lowered them slowly. His eyes followed mine like that scene from karate kid. That made me feel powerful but I promised 'daddy' I would be kind. I would bring him to orgasm. I would bring him to forget his problems for a while. I would bring him to relax.

I grabbed Anders' dick in order to pull him into his room, but he didn't move. Instead he pulled me closer and kissed my neck. His bite made electricity run through my whole body. When we parted he looked at me with such predator eyes. Blue as ice. Sharp as a knife. Terrifying is not the best word to describe it but it's the first one that comes to mind.

Suddenly I remembered all those videos I digged up online of Anders beating the shit out of other hockey players. Did he look at them the same way he was looking at me? Did they like it as much as I am? Unfiltered duo to the alcohol I whispered.

"You're crazy."

"You like it." He whispered back.

It felt like we should smile but we didn't. Our eyes kept locked in a horny stare. I grabbed his dick again and pulled him into his room without taking my eyes off his. Same blueprint. The thing that catch my attention was the daisy flowers on Anders' bedstand. They seemed out of place for some reason. Or maybe I just didn't know him well enough.

I made him sit on the bed, back on the headboard. He made himself comfortable and I got naked in front of him. He looked at me from head to toe for the third time that night. I licked my own lips in anticipation. His dick was rock hard. Inviting me.

I crawled towards Anders. My hands caressing his ankles and thighs. I kissed him in the mouth again before kissing his neck. He grunted with my weight on him, but only slightly. I then proceeded to kiss his chest and nipples. With my mouth I followed his blonde treasure trail. I kissed his balls testing their sensitivity. Then licked his dick from base to head. When I finally put his cock inside my mouth Anders shivered a little.

His dick was not too long or thick. It was avarage but it only made it easier for me to do my thing. I absolutely took my time. I payed attention to every moan and slight movement Anders made. Slowly deciphering what he liked best.

When I felt like he was approaching climax I went faster for the final prize. He started to moan louder like I've heard from my apartment. I recognized it. I knew it was time. I swallowed his dick into my throat until I felt my nose touching his pubes. He cummed hard into my mouth. I closed my eyes and moaned loudly as I swallowed spunk after spunk of his delicious cum.

After his orgasm I kept sucking his dick until it became soft again. Anders kept moving his finger toes around and grunting in pleasure as I finished my job. When I eventually got satisfied I moved to get off the bed but Anders pulled me back to a kiss. His eyes were still as blue as ice but they looked at me with much more kindness now. We both took a deep breath before kissing again.

***

I didn't like to sleep in the house of the people I had sex with but my apartment was literally a few steps away so I didn't mind. Anders and I took a shower together. We were more sober at the time and talked drowned in the kind of intimacy only an orgasm can grant you, even if temporarily. I slept on his bed with him. We woke up a few times because I would accidentally put my weight on one his hockey wounds.

In the next morning he left to train and I left to my apartment for working. He spend a couple days away and I caught myself checking the hockey leagues every now and then. We had sex some other times after that. I don't know if we consider ourselves friends but one thing is for sure: at this point we know each other better than anyone.

[k-knightt-blog]

Co-star - Tom Hiddleston One-shot

Request: Hello darlin! I really love your posts and I was hoping you would do a one shot where Tom is on set and the reader is his love interest in the movie and they hook up after a few months of liking each other. Thank you darlin!!

Wordcount: 1,700+

Warnings: A tad NSFW

“I can’t believe this!” You rummage through your handbag and your array of jackets hanging off hooks as you come into your trailer. You had just exited a lovely warm shower, and now your mood was ruined. “Y/n for the love of god please tell me you didn’t leave your phone with him!” You throw your bag on the couch and sit down on it as well, sulking. You go through the day, or the last few hours of the day, to try and remember where you might have left your iPhone. Hoping it wasn’t in Tom’s trailer. It comes to you within seconds. You and Tom had a close up scene where your characters were confessing your feelings for each other. Tom offered to keep your phone in his pocket because your 50s inspired dress didn’t have any pockets, in which you had replied, “Why on earth is the fifties unable to give women pockets?” Since none of your character’s outfits had them. Tom had laughed at this as he slipped the phone on his deep blue slacks.

You had forgotten to collect it from him after the shooting had wrapped earlier this evening. You two had even been out for dinner with some other cast mates, and he had failed to mention that he still had your phone. “He can be such an arse sometimes!” You say in an annoyed voice. Always when you’re stressed or frustrated you talk to yourself, a habit you hated and tried to unlearn. But Tom thought it very useful because he quote unquote wouldn’t be able to figure out what you were thinking if you didn’t have a running commentary on it.

You figured that’s why he looked so smug at the restaurant, he knew you had forgotten all about the whereabouts of the phone. He knew you’d have to come knocking on his trailer late in the evening. What was he planning? Warmth spread to your cheeks. You had to admit that there’s been some tension between the two of you, perhaps sexual tension or perhaps just a simple attraction. He was a charming man, and you found him attractive even before you had met him.

You had heard from several people that he was quite lonely, but that it was his choice. A lot of people could call him their friend but a very few numbers could say that they really knew him. As for the women in his life, there weren’t any of the romantic sorts. They came and went, but nobody got close. That scared you, that scared you a lot. Because it was hard not to fall for him, you two had so much in common. You had also studied classics, but not at Cambridge like near noble Tom had. You spent the spare time in each other’s company, discussing Greek mythology, the Illiad and more modern written works by Shakespeare and the Brontë sisters. What if he would just discard of you after some months together? You weren’t up for getting your heart broken. That wasn’t a good combination with your fast-paced life in London.

You sensed that he wanted you, he was always touching you in one way or another. While you walk together he ghosted his hand on your waist. When you groaned because your aching shoulder was acting up, he would massage it for you. He would put strands of hair behind your ears. You noticed that when your characters had kissing scenes he would be more intense, he wouldn’t use the kissing method actors used. He’d kiss you for real, tugging at your hair and clothes. You had kissed your fair share of handsome actors and none of them had kissed you like this like they weren’t acting. He was being slightly unprofessional, which you had also heard wasn’t like him. You weren't exactly innocent either, you would tease him in all the ways you could.

You need your phone, it was your alarm clock and all around entertainment for the night to come. You groan as you stand up, you flatten skirt of your basic dress, put on a jacket, your shoes and walk out the trailer. It’s grown colder, you could see your breath in front of you. A few minutes later you arrive at Mr Hiddleston’s trailer and you’re irritated now, but there’s excitement bubbling in your stomach. The lights are on, it’s not that late, it’s only 10 pm. With a silent prayer, said hastily under your breath you knock on the door. It opens nearly straight away, and it reviles a newly showered Tom. His hair was still damp, his cheekbones nearly glittering in the light. You unconsciously bite your lower lip. “And to what do I owe the pleasure darling?” He draws out the darling in a sensual way, and you huff, wishing he would stop smirking. “You’re holding my phone hostage.” You simply say as you pass him in the doorway, inviting yourself in and out of the cold. “Good to know you’re not a vampire.” He chuckles and closes the door behind you. “Very witty today, aren’t we Hiddleston,” You say as you face him, provoked that he had lured you to his trailer. “Phone please,” You reach out your hand awaiting its return. “Why the rush Y/n?” He moves past you into the small kitchenette, but not before gracing his hand against your side. Damn this man. “Fancy a whiskey? I’ve got the one you like, the non-smokey one.” You roll your eyes at him and sit down on the sofa, “Might as well.” He grins at you like he’s achieved a small victory of sorts.

He walks towards you with two glasses with ice and a generous amount of whiskey in them. “You know, I really thought you would remember that you left your phone with me,” He gives you the glass, clinking his with yours, “But I’m glad you didn’t, I’m always happy to have you alone.” He takes a sip of his whiskey, “You had this planned didn’t you,” You give him a smirk, and he blushes slightly, looks down at his glass and then back up at you. Confidence rises in you like the sea, “You’re supposed to be a gentleman, and not use my forgetfulness against me.” You also take a sip from the glass, the amber liquid burning your throat, but in a good way. ”I’m always a gentleman, Y/n.” He’s sitting close to you now, you could smell his cologne. Sandalwood, white musk. You raise an eyebrow, “I have a hard time believing that, darling.” You mock his posh accent and he laughs.

It’s nearly 12 when you reach for your phone to check the time. The two of you had been drinking whisky and talking for almost two hours. The flirting was always evident in your conversation, but now it was the sole purpose of the talk between you. You were discussing Tom’s style, how he would look so good in rounded glasses. “Don’t get me wrong, you look good in those,” You point to his face, he chuckles, “But think how good you’d look in round Tom Ford ones. Think Daniel Radcliffe in Kill Your Darlings.” You quickly reach for your phone and show him what you mean. “You’re right, I really like those.” He says as he rolls his wrist, sloshing the amber liquid around in his hand. “Did I nudge Tom Hiddleston into changing his much loved visual image?” You eye him up, and for effect, you sway your hand over his silhouette. Tom lets out a laugh at your display of sass. “You know you’ve got me wrapped around your finger, I've basically got your name written on the bottom of my shoe.” He moves closer, you felt his hot breath against your lips, “Darling,” Your eyes flicker to his lips, and your thoughts get invaded by how soft they look, how soft you know they are. You want him, but you didn’t want to show him that he was making you like this. You weren’t one to just fall at a guy's feet like this. He’ll only hurt you.

Tom’s hand snake around your neck, softly caressing the warm skin he found there. He’s looking at you with want, his pupils dilated with lust. You suspect yours are just as reviling. His large hand move its way to the side of your face. It feels so good to be wanted like this, your heart is beating fast in your chest. As his other hand ghosts at your side. Tom leans closer than before, “You’re overthinking,” Your eyes flash towards him, “I-,” You can’t spill your fears now, it’ll ruin the mode. You just shake your head, trying to convince him that you weren’t doing what he had accused you of. You let it slip anyway, “I don’t want to be a one night stand, I-“ He cuts you off and demands you to look up at him, he looks sad and a little caught off guard. 

“Y/n, I don’t do casual, I never have. I didn’t plan this situation because I was going to have my wicked way with you,-“ You cut him off, “I don’t understand, don’t you want to?” He laughs a little and it confuses you even more, of course, he notices. “Of course I do, I have every intention of ravishing you tonight. But this,” He points at himself and then at you, “Isn’t just about sex,” Your lip quivers, “What is it about then?” He offers you a gentle smile, which coaxes a smile from you as well. ”I would like to think that this is about love,” He shakes his head, “I’ve tried to make you see how I feel, I feel like a scared teenager right now,” You laugh at this because it was exactly what you were feeling. “You’re everything I want.” He says this with such honesty that there isn’t any part of you that doesn’t believe him. You smile at him, “You’re,” You hesitate, sharing your feelings have never been your strong suit. But playing out your characters’ feelings seems the most natural thing to you. Tom’s hand is playing with your hair, patiently waiting for you to finish your sentence, “You’re everything I want too.” He grins, “Can I kiss you?” Words fail you and you simply nod. He smiles against your lips, adding pressure as his mouth cover yours. The kiss deepens and you slip your hands up his neck, one settling in his now dry hair.