#but at least i still have these nice pictures from this shoot

[winterlilyarts]

More Samza Mizuki for their birthday! This photoshoot was so fun and I love all the photos from it!

Photos done by mangobread.photography on Instagram!

[fluentmoviequoter]

Tim Bradford's Princess

Part 3 of Bradford's Princess

Pairing: Tim Bradford x younger(24-26y/o)!fem!reader

Summary: Being Tim's princess is the best position you've ever held, and the last one you'll ever want. Every little thing he does proves it, even if it means tearing himself apart.

Warnings: the briefest of brief angst, fluff, domestically dominant Tim, makeout sesh, hickeys, Tim offers to ignore a Dodgers game for you

Word Count: 2.7k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Rules

“Do you like my ring?” Lucy asks.

Tim looks away from the road just long enough to see the simple rose-colored ring on her index finger. He lifts his brows rather than replying.

“You buy any new jewelry recently?” she inquires.

“What are you doing?” he counters.

“Just making conversation.”

“Well, stop.”

“Tim,” she sighs. “We’re in a shop together all day. Give me something.”

“I did. A request for you to stop.”

“Did you propose on Valentine’s Day?”

“No,” Tim answers, more out of surprise at the sudden question than a genuine interest in discussing his personal life. “Not that it’s your business.”

“But you’re going to propose soon, right?” Lucy continues.

“Chen,” Tim says sternly. “Drop it.”

Lucy nods, murmurs something about popping a question, and turns her attention to the radio as dispatch alerts of a nearby carjacking. Tim hits the lights and sirens, attempting to rid his mind of the image of you wearing a ring he put on your finger.

“How’s whipped life treating you?” Aaron inquires as Tim exits the locker room.

Tim stops and turns toward Aaron. He sees Lucy, Nyla, Angela, and Nolan approaching. Sighing, he spreads his arms.

“What is it that you’re all so interested in knowing?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Nyla answers. “Just curious about how everything is going.”

“And that involves using quite possible the least subtle hints about engagement rings?”

“Lucy,” Angela chides.

“How’d you know it was me?” she exclaims. “Nolan could have said something!”

“I’m actually the only one here with a healthy respect for Bradford,” he interjects.

“Well?” Nyla asks, turning back toward Tim. “Are you proposing any time soon? You’re not getting any younger and clearly you’re obsessed with this girl.”

“Which I can’t blame you for,” Angela adds. “It’s nice to see you happy, and if a woman as sweet and beautiful as her wants to be with you despite the age difference, you should do everything you can to keep her close.”

“Whoa,” Aaron says while Nyla grips Angela’s arm, and Lucy’s eyes widen comically.

“You’ve met her?” Nolan questions.

“I ran into them while they were on a date, remember?” Angela replies.

“You didn’t say you met her!” Nyla argues. “Just that you bumped into Tim.��

“I want to see her!” Lucy says.

“Me too,” Aaron agrees. “Tim? You got a picture?”

“Or a free night where we could all get dinner?” Nolan suggests.

“No,” Tim responds.

“You have to give us something,” Nyla says.

“Something about what?” Wade inquires, approaching Tim’s side.

“He won’t show them a picture of the girl who has him wrapped around his finger,” Angela explains, ignoring Tim as he shoots daggers with his gaze.

“I wouldn’t show Aaron, either,” Wade murmurs.

“You’ve seen her too?” Lucy asks.

“Get out of here while you still can,” Wade whispers to Tim. “The rest of you, I’ve got a question about the call in Hancock Park.”

The quiet murmur of the television and soft, glowing candles greet Tim as he walks into his home. He smiles when he sees you on the couch. You look up when the door closes and smile brightly. Tossing your Kindle beside you, you stand on the cushion.

“I missed you,” you say, reaching for Tim’s shoulders.

“You’re going to fall one of these days,” he replies, setting a bag on the floor before he lifts his arms to hold your waist and steady you.

“You won’t let that happen.”

Tim shakes his head in silent admiration of your trust in him.

“I love you,” you say.

“I love you,” he promises.

“How was your day?”

Tim answers you, giving a brief overview of his day. His shoe bumps against the bag, and he stops talking. You always seem more excited to see him than anything he may have with him. He’s come to you with flowers, expensive makeup, concert tickets, and a dress you’d been eyeing for weeks, but you’ve always seen him. That won’t make him stop getting you gifts, though, because every little thing Tim can do for you saves a piece of him, healing from the inside out.

“I have a question,” Tim says, sliding his hands down to your hips.

“I have an answer,” you reply.

Tim waits until you lower onto the back of the couch, sitting with your arms around his shoulders. He pulls the bag up and offers it to you.

The bouquet inside has white roses and baby’s breath, and a blue ribbon circles the trimmed stems. An envelope attached to it bears your name and the Los Angeles Dodgers logo.

“They’re beautiful,” you say.

“I’ve been going to opening day at Dodgers Stadium for years,” Tim explains. His hands run along your sides and down your thighs as he speaks. “I bought tickets: two seats in my usual section. If you wanted to sit somewhere else though, we could. It’s a tradition, and I want you to come with me.”

You remain quiet, watching Tim’s face as you admire his excitement. After dating Tim for as long as you have, it’s no surprise that a moment in the baseball season could mean so much to him, but seeing the joy and anticipation in his eyes makes you happy. Tim has dealt with things you can’t imagine, yet this tradition holds a special place in his life. Now, he’s inviting you into it.

“You don’t have to go,” Tim murmurs. “I don’t even have to go. We can do something else if you want.”

You shake your head adamantly, pressing your hands against Tim’s chest. “You do have to go,” you reply. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t quiet because I don’t want to, you’re just really cute when you’re excited.”

Tim narrows his eyes at you, but you don’t let him speak.

“I’d love to go with you,” you answer. “I really appreciate you inviting me to part of your tradition.”

Tim brushes his right hand over the ends of your hair before he cups the back of your head. “You’re part of a lot more than that,” he whispers.

After he parks, Tim hurries around the front of his truck to open your door. His gentlemanly actions and princess treatment of you are nothing new, but you still smile and thank him softly. Tim’s fingers slot comfortably between yours as he leads you into the stadium and to your seats. His preferred section has a great view, and as you sit beside Tim, you briefly wonder how you got so lucky.

“C’mere,” Tim says, tapping your shoulder where his hand rests.

You shift in your seat, and Tim carefully removes your Dodgers hat. Your hair falls onto your neck, and you frown when you realize your hair tie has broken. Tim runs his fingers on the underside of your hair as he pulls it back where it was. You feel another band tighten around it before he carefully pulls your restyled hair through the back of your hat.

“There you go,” he says.

You raise one hand to check it, then smile and take Tim’s hand. “Thank you.”

Tim shakes his head as if it’s no big deal that he just fixed your hair in a stadium full of people. Then, you realize that the black band he wears on his left wrist is gone. He’s offered you hair ties, bobby pins, and lip gloss, but it usually comes from his truck. The fact that Tim carries things you may need is just another in the long list of reasons you love him, and can clearly see he feels the same.

When the game begins, you flip your joined hands so that Tim can stand and cheer as he desires. He pulls your hand off the stadium seat and into his lap, and you realize within a few minutes that you stand with him more often than not. Although Tim treats tonight like a date, it’s his tradition, and you want him to enjoy the night and the game.

“You need anything?” Tim asks after cheering for a good pitch.

Shaking your head, you answer, “We’re here for the World Champs, remember?”

“I think they’d understand,” he replies.

Tim kisses your forehead and takes your hand in his again.

You look up at the blue and white fireworks in awe. Tim wraps his arm around your shoulders, and you lean against him as the night continues.

“You want a picture?” he asks.

You turn toward him, and he gestures to the field, where a large photo of the team is projected as they celebrate their win. Nodding, you open the camera app on your phone and try to get a good angle. Tim removes his arm from your shoulders, bends slightly to circle your hips, and lifts you onto his shoulder. He holds your outfit in place with his free hand as you take the perfect photo. When you’re back on the ground, you put your phone away and smile at Tim.

“Thank you,” you say.

“Any time,” he promises.

When you’re back home, changed out of your jerseys, and preparing to go to bed, Tim traces his finger along your collarbone and then spreads his fingers gently over your throat.

“Thank you for tonight,” he murmurs. “For being part of my life.”

“Thank you for letting me,” you reply. “There’s nothing in this world I want more.”

Tim uses his hand, still on your neck, to turn your jaw toward him before he kisses you. As the city continues to celebrate the opening night win, you have much more to celebrate and be thankful for.

The day after opening night, the Dodgers are playing again. This game is different, however, because it’s also the night of the World Series Ring Ceremony. You run your finger along a page while Tim watches the television, pursing your lips as you attempt to understand what you’re reading.

“Do you want help?” Tim asks.

You look up, smile, and shake your head. He nods, then looks back to the TV as he pets Kojo.

“Which color should I use?” you ask.

“Do you have white?” he inquires, leaning to the side to look at the supplies you’ve spread across the table.

“Yes,” you answer. “This one: Marshmallow.”

“I like it.”

The game comes back on, and you thank Tim for his input as you prepare to do the next step. Tim ordered you a nail art kit after you mentioned one in passing, but he found one that was bigger and better. Now, as you spend time together while enjoying different things, you wonder why you didn’t start doing your nails yourself months ago. When Tim’s hands wander to your shoulders, and his warm palms run along your exposed upper back, you decide that no salon will ever compete with this.

“It’s too much,” you say, pouting.

“It’s not,” Tim replies. “You’re the one that said it was the best flavor.”

You stare at the family-sized cheesecake. It is the best flavor the bakery has, but you expected Tim to buy one slice for you to share, two if he thought it looked really good. Not an entire cheesecake.

“How much does that weigh?” you ask.

“Fourteen pounds.”

“Tim!”

Tim chuckles as he lifts the lid. “We don’t have to eat it all tonight. Want your own piece?”

You shake your head vehemently, ignoring Tim’s continued laughter. When you accept a fork and taste the cheesecake, your protests are forgotten.

“Maybe you should’ve gotten two,” you say after offering Tim the last bite.

“Wesley mentioned a dessert tour a while back,” Tim replies. “Would you want to do that sometime?”

“Yeah, that sounds fun.”

You watch Tim’s back as he puts the rest of the cheesecake in the fridge. He dressed up for your date tonight, and you’re convinced he gets more attractive every day. When he turns back to you with his brows raised, you blink to refocus.

“Did you ask me something?” you inquire.

“If you’re free Friday,” Tim answers, looking as if he’s hiding a smile and aware that you are staring at him rather than listening.

“I’ll have to check my calendar,” you muse with a sigh.

Tim returns to your side and agrees, “Of course. Have your people let me know.”

Smiling, you tug the bottom of Tim’s shirt. “You are my people.”

“Oh. Should be a short phone call then.”

Tim takes your hand and pulls you toward the couch. Kojo is asleep in his bed, and you laugh as you collapse onto the cushions.

“You look beautiful,” Tim compliments.

“You look handsome,” you reply.

Tim kisses you quickly, then immediately leans in for another longer kiss. He holds your jaw carefully, sliding his fingers into your hair.

“Stunning,” he says, moving to kiss your jaw.

“That’s all you,” you breathe.

“Perfect,” he continues, kissing toward your ear.

“Tim,” you whisper, holding his shoulders.

He pulls back enough to look into your eyes, and you smile. As you shift to place your leg over his, you kiss Tim again. He lowers his hands from your face to your waist. When your hands slide down his chest and dip under the hem of his shirt, Tim pulls you closer. His left hand returns to your jaw, his thumb running reverently beneath your cheekbone. You push your hands up his torso until you reach his bare chest. Tim deepens the kiss as you roam, attempting to memorize Tim’s skin through touch alone.

Every kiss with you is memorable, but moments like this, makeout sessions that simply happen and don’t have to lead to anything more, hold a power that Tim will never be able to describe. Your hands on him, your acceptance of his scars – both seen and invisible, and the way you want to be as close as physically possible make Tim fall even deeper in love with you. Tim is your everything, and when you lose yourself in moments like this, being held by the man you love as if he never wants to let you go, everything else fades. You’d spend an eternity in this moment, and that’s part of how you know that Tim Bradford is the one. He’s your forever.

It's unusual for Tim to be home before the sun sets. Today, his shift was changed at the last minute. He was called to the station before 3 a.m. and now has the entire afternoon to spend with you. The early start was worth it, he thinks. Your homemade dinner bakes in the oven as Tim enjoys quality time with you.

“So,” you begin, sitting on the counter. “Last time we made out in here was after your friends called you whipped.”

“Yeah,” he replies, not taking his attention away from his current task.

“Have they said anymore about your treatment of me?”

Tim’s hands tighten around your waist as he stops what he’s doing long enough to say, “My relationships are none of their business.”

You hum, running your fingers through the short hair at the nape of his neck. “But you have relationships with them too… If you’re ashamed of me, just say so,” you joke.

Tim hums against your collarbone. He’d pulled you into a kiss the moment he came through the door, but after you prepared dinner, Tim opted to let you relax while he did the heavy lifting. Hence, the new hickeys. And the work in progress, which Tim reminds you of by running his teeth over the sensitive skin just beneath your collarbone.

“I don’t need to match the bruises you get at work, you know.”

Tim separates himself from your skin and replies, “And you don’t need to meet the people who think I treat you better than them.”

You move your hands to Tim’s shoulders, encouraging him to meet your eyes. He sighs as he straightens to look into your eyes.

“I understand the separation,” you begin. “But don’t split yourself into two sides to the point that it hurts. If there’s not room for me and everyone else you care about-”

“Stop,” Tim interrupts softly. “I’ll introduce you when the time is right. I promise.”

You nod, accepting his promise and trusting that he’ll do what’s right. He drops his chin and kisses your jaw. When his second kiss lands open-mouthed, you laugh and pull him up for an actual kiss. He runs his fingers over the darkening mark on your collarbone as his hands rise slowly toward your hair, and you decide that being Bradford’s princess is the best position you could ever hold and the only one you want for the rest of your life.

[shoukokus]

After chapter 6 I just love the sound of Vil aggressively giving Yuu a signed autographed picture of himself. Yuu is neutral on it but Vil pushes so hard they feel like they have to take it from him.

Yuu: maybe the real autographed picture is the friends we made along the way

prefect/vil schoenheit

Vil never liked to leave a favor unpaid. After Styx where he was admittedly saved, he had a debt. With Rook and Epel, it was simple. He was able to see them regularly, and swoop in when an opportunity presented itself. The Prefect however, was proving to be a challenge.

Every thing he came up with didn't seem right. Simply helping them with schoolwork, the group effort everyone put into Ramshackle, inviting them to dine at Pomefiore... None of it was the correct way in Vil's opinion. It had to be something real, something the Prefect could always see and think of him. In a completely platonic way, of course. Not in a, I'm starting to see you and I like it, way. Obviously...

He hums to himself as an idea begins to form in his mind.

The next day after classes, Vil finds the Prefect in the courtyard with their circle of friends. It was quite impressive, he has to admit, that they found such companionship despite the circumstances. Even Epel, of his own dorm, found solace with the magicless Prefect.

Vil approaches elegantly, standing directly in front of his target as the others watched with baited breath. "Come with me for a moment."

Standing stiffly, they follow, even as a chorus of "oohs" and "they're in trouble," sounded behind them. Turning corners, Vil leads them to a quieter hallway, and finally presents the perfect way to repay the debt.

"Uh," the Prefect takes it, looking a lot less ecstatic than Vil would have thought. "Thank you... what is it?"

That question nearly shatters Vil's perfectly crafted image, but he grits his teeth. They're from another world... they just didn't understand the significance yet. "It is an autographed photo of myself," Vil explains with pride. "From one of my most exclusive magazine shoots. This particular picture wasn't used in the edition, but I kept it, because I look so stunning."

"Yeah..." The Prefect nods as they examine the photo, looking much too confused still. "It's nice."

"N..Nice?" Vil is starting to look a little scary. "That photo alone is worth thousands of thaumarks. With the autograph, maybe triple!"

Something finally seemed to click in their eyes as they looked down at the picture, then back up to Vil. Mouth slightly agape, Vil feels like he's finally gotten through. Until they speak.

"You know I'll help you out anytime, right?"

"You... what?" Vil was flabbergasted at that response.

The Prefect smiles. A dazzling smile so disarming that even he can see the raw charm they possessed. "I don't need anything from you, Vil. I wanted to go to Styx to help, not to..." They gently wave the photo. "Get things from you guys."

This time, Vil was well and truly speechless. They truly were an interesting, little one...

"So, here," they try to hand the picture back. "I don't need a prize for doing what's right."

"Absolutely not." Vil crosses his arms. "Keep it, I insist."

A small pout forms on their lips, and Vil tries not to think of how cute it looks. "Take it, Vil."

Turning his nose away, the Pomefiore dorm leader doubles down. "You are keeping it."

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes, you are."

The back and forth continues, and will probably stay that way for the foreseeable future. At least until Vil find the perfect way to tell them the real reason he wants a picture of himself with them at all times.

[specialgradefckr]

nerd!gojo is so cute! please give him a kiss on the cheek for me.

you stare at the note you found in your locker. it's written in glittery purple ink, which only adds to the insult.

gojo, "cute"??? give him a kiss on the cheek???

like an ill omen summoned by its name, a terrible presence looms over your shoulder, "watcha got there?"

"hate mail." you say dispassionately as you quickly shove gojo away.

when you face him, you see gojo's face change - smooth features and rounded eyes hardening into anger.

"hate mail?" gojo frowns, "in your locker? who would send that?!"

"you want a list?" comes geto's snarky voice. "she's kind of a bitch."

you shoot him a glare, but gojo speaks before you can.

"don't talk about her like that."

the room feels a little bit colder. since when did gojo sound so... mean?

"i'm just saying," geto says, shrugging, "you'd know better than anyone, she's always on your ass."

"yeah, my ass," gojo turns to you, a pout on his face, "you're not bullying other people, are you? i don't have any other bullies."

only satoru gojo could get into an argument this stupid.

"no," you drone, "your drain on my time and attention is uncontested."

rather than being ashamed of this, gojo looks absolutely tickled.

even when you punch him in the shoulder, his good mood is undampened.

"nerd," you grouse, stalking off to your next class, which gojo naturally follows.

it sucked being in the same classes as him, but at least it meant you could get his help. he really is a huge nerd. all those hours you put into it, and he seems to understand everything effortlessly.

the class feels like it takes hours. you pay diligent attention, take so many notes, and somehow, gojo comes out of it completely chipper.

you're left in peace for a few blessed minutes afterwards as he bolts out of the room for some reason or another.

is he finally starting to fear you as his bully? took him long enough -

"here!" pressed into your hands, your favorite snack from the campus vending machine.

gojo smiles at you, that big, boyish smile that makes him look extra stupid. "sorry i messed up last time."

you don't know what comes over you. maybe it's pure delirium brought on by hunger. or the joy from having something nice to eat.

maybe it's a new form of torture, humiliating him by making him endure a kiss from his bully.

it's just a kiss on the cheek. it's whatever.

he stands there, still, face completely red, blue eyes wide in shock. gojo looks even dumber than usual, which shouldn't even be possible.

you fan your face for a moment as you turn to leave.

"come on, you idiot. we've got a test to study for."

gojo whistles some unbelievably stupid tune, practically skipping the whole way to the library.

"i can't believe it! she kissed me on the cheek!!! a real kiss!" "uh-huh." "don't uh-huh me, suguru, it was REAL! anyways, it all makes sense now. she was just hangry. no wonder she shoved me into a locker. it's my fault for not taking better care of her..." "would you listen to me if i reminded you that you're not dating and this is all pure delusion?" "not dating yet." "so a no, then," suguru says, rolling his eyes as he returns to his work. satoru's already finished with the homework and scrolling through his text message history with you, no doubt spamming you again with memes or pictures or just remarks. but you haven't blocked him yet, have you? suguru smiles to himself, closing his notebook, tucking away a shimmering violet pen.

[gorgeys]

post-crash jackie taylor who's depressed and starving, but fights for her survival because her only thoughts are of seeing you, her girlfriend she left behind.

jackie who lays awake at night, shivering despite three layers of blankets, with her glossy eyes fixed to the ceiling.  memories of you play behind her eyes, specifically watching you sleep on a lazy sunday morning.

if she thinks really hard, she can see you in her bed, lying face-to-face with her.  she can see your peaceful features and the slow breaths leaving and entering you nose.  she can nearly feel you reach out in your sleep, your arm encircling her waist or your head burying itself in the crook of her neck.  her heart melts just thinking about it.

she didn't realize how well she slept beside you until her many sleepless nights after the crash.  she would give anything to hear you softly snoring beside her again.

jackie who collects little pieces of nature that remind her of you.  a perfectly shaped leaf floats down from a tree and lands on her head.  she finds an unusually smooth rock by the lake.  she smiles at whatever it is, a sign from nature that you're still out there waiting for her, and keeps it in her personal collection.

jackie who purposefully doesn't wear the shirt she stole from your closet the day before she left so that it still smells like you.  every night, without fail, she brings the shirt to her nose and inhales like her life depends on it.  when she notices the scent starting to fade, silent tears stream down her cheeks.  she's losing you.

jackie who does, however, wear your cheer bow in her ponytail.  you had given it to her for nationals as a good luck charm, and now she feels like she has a part of you with her wherever she goes.  when one of the girls teases her for wearing it, she shoots them a glare so deadly they instantly seal their lips.

jackie who speaks aloud to you when no one's around, looking up to the sky for you.

"god, i wish you could've seen the look on misty's face!  it was hilarious.  you would've laughed so hard, you probably would've peed a little," she laughs, sitting with her back against a tree trunk, her fingers twiddling with your bow.

"do you still think about me?" she pauses for your response.  "d-do you think i'm dead?" pause.  "well, i'm not.  at least i don't think so." longer pause. "are you...moving on?  you better not." pause.  "she better not be prettier than me."

"i miss you.  so much."

jackie who can't even talk to anyone about how she's feeling because your relationship was never public.  it was always sneaky glances from across the hall and shared moments behind closed doors.  now, thousands of miles away from you, she regrets not loving you like she should have.  she promises to love you harder than anyone ever has if when you're reunited.

jackie who could spend hours staring at the polaroid she took of you.  it's a random one of you doing homework on her bed, your brows knit in adorable concentration.  it's the only one she has with her.  she keeps it in the back pocket of her jeans wherever she goes.

one time she loses it and runs outside, frantically digging around in the dirt on hands and knees to find where she dropped it.  in reality, she misplaced it on the kitchen counter where shauna finds it and recognizes the polaroid as coming from jackie's camera.  she asks jackie about it, who's still knee-deep in dirt, and jackie suddenly bursts into tears, confessing everything like word vomit.

although she nearly went into shock from losing your picture, it does feel nice to share her feelings for you with someone.  she feels a little less alone.

jackie who loves sleep, although it seems to elude her many nights, because it means seeing your face in her dreams.  it doesn't matter if it's a good dream or a nightmare, as long as she can see you again.  when she wakes up she keeps her eyes glued shut, greedily hoping she can fall back asleep and see you once more.

she ends up being the last up and first to bed.  the other girls think she's not pulling her weight, but how could anyone blame little lovesick jackie taylor ☹️

jackie who hated some of your favorite songs back home, but now finds herself humming them while doing daily chores.  she smiles remembering lying on your bed, watching you dance and sing along to them around your room.  she always told you to "turn that shit off and play some real music," but now she loves those songs because they represent you.

jackie who realizes how utterly devoted to you she is.  it wasn't as clear back home with so many distractions, but now that she's alone with her thoughts almost all the time, the only thing she can think about is you.  nothing else really matters to her or motivates her besides you.  it only took a plane crash for her to realize that.

jackie who looks up to the sky and promises both you and herself that she won't die before she sees you again.

jackie who is rescued (because she doesn't die, idk what you guys are talking about) and keeps that promise.

jackie who can't believe her eyes when she sees you for the first time.  for a second, she thinks she's dreaming.  she's had a recurring dream of this exact moment after all.  but, when you start running toward her, she snaps back to reality and it hits her: it's really you.

she instantly bursts into tears as your arms wrap around her, the warmth of your embrace striking her like a train and grounding her at the same time.  she squeezes you so tight you might break a rib, her head burrowing into your shoulder.  she deeply inhales your scent and lets her tears trickle onto your skin.

jackie who doesn't let you pull away or say anything before she pulls you into a bruising kiss.  she doesn't care if the two of you are alone or in a crowded room, nothing matters to her except showing you just how much she missed you.

she pecks your lips repeatedly, whispering an "i love you" in between each kiss like it's her mantra.  it's heaven on earth.

jackie who sleeps beside you that night for the first time in nearly two years.  she holds you to her chest like a teddy bear as you whisper sweet nothings into each other's ears until you fall asleep.  it's the best sleep she's ever had.

she wakes up the next morning and the first thing she sees is your peaceful face.  she watches the slow breaths leave and enter you nose and finds silent tears slipping down her cheeks.

jackie who knows the sleepless nights, insatiable hunger, and depressive episodes were worth it just to come back to you.

i love you lovesick!jackie please come save meeeeeee also jackie x cheerleader!reader 🤭

[saltylemontears]

.jpg || ln4

summary: lando.jpg has posted...some interesting stuff warnings: none, just lots of fluff a/n: had to take a break from my george fic because i accidentally made it sad lol, this is very short, just a word vomit tbh

fuel my creativity here!

click!

the first time, lando doesn't notice. he's way too focused on his engineers explaining the race strategy to hear the camera shutter. you squint a little, trying to get the perfect angle.

you were not a photographer. far from that, actually. the camera feels a bit too heavy and unnatural in your hands and you need to do multiple takes every time, because it just doesn't look right. but god, it is fun. you can see why lando enjoys it.

click!

lando's sitting in his car already, sharing some thoughts with an engineer before the race, helmet already on, gaze focused, burning with that passionate look you fell in love with.

you crouch behind a mechanic and quickly snap a few pictures, fiddling with the focus of the camera until it centers on lando's eyes, capturing his look in detail.

you hide the camera when he looks at you for the last time before going on the track and smile to yourself when he waves at you.

click!

your arms begin to hurt after a few minutes of standing beside the track with the camera. this being your fourth attempt at taking a cool shot of lando's mclaren speeding past you, you start becoming slightly impatient.

the car goes into frame and you press the button like crazy, trying to get at least one decent photo in that speed, trying to capture the incredible atmosphere of the singapore gp.

and, fourth time really is the charm, because it comes out perfect.

click!

tears stream down your cheeks and you can't see anything, let alone the camera, so you blindly press the button, not even focusing on centering the shot.

lando's standing on the podium, in first place, and you've seen this before, but you'll never get tired of the sight of him on the top step, seeing the passion and happiness in his eyes as he holds up the trophy.

when he looks down at you, aiming the champagne bottle at you, you manage to raise the camera once more and photograph the way he looks at you with so much pride.

for once, you don't mind having champagne in your hair.

click!

it's way after midnight when you come back to your hotel, both pleasantly drunk off of victory and questionable alcohol, the loud music still echoing in your head. lando looks at his trophy again and you can't help but smile.

he always savors his wins so much, with so much gratitude, and god, you love him so much.

you take a picture when he turns his back to you to put the trophy on the small table in the hotel room, but this time there's no loud noises to cover the shutter.

lando shoots you a pointed look. "the fuck was that?"

"nothing, an accident. sorry!"

you kiss him to distract him, switching the mood.

+click!

this time, lando knows.

he's sitting beside you, smile brighter than ever, and you're taking a selfie of the two of you with the camera. in the next, he's pressing a kiss to your cheek.

you smile to yourself looking at the pics. your plan's slowly coming together.

with the help of your hand running through his curls, lando falls asleep in your arms, giving you time to finish what you started.

you import the shots into your laptop, logging in to instagram.

lando's never hidden anything from you - not even his instagram passwords, and that's how you find yourself uploading the shots on his lando.jpg account.

you take some time to think of a caption, but eventually, you figure it out.

"through my eyes. love, y/n."

you hit send, leaning your head against lando's. he'll have a nice surprise to wake up to.

[littlechivalry]

Wedding Bell Blues

(no Upside Down AU, meet-ugly, Baker!Steve/wedding singer!Eddie)

--

Eddie is a wedding musician and it's pretty great actually. It's not the rock star life he dreamed of but it's a damned sight better than most people including him expected of Al Munson's little boy.

Eddie gets to play music. For a living. And he does pretty well. He gets to dress up a little snazzy. He gets free fancy food and a couple of drinks. And he gets to shoot his shot with anybody that looks like fun.

He's good at it too. That's the best part. His younger years spent being a low level drug dealer and a high level weirdo mean he can read a room in an instant. He gets the playlist from the bride usually, presses for some other song ideas, and he can tell who to take requests from at six paces. And who to ignore from across the room.

It's a good time.

Unfortunately not all ceremonies can be winners and based on the tension Eddie has felt from almost everyone involved in today's wedding it was going to be a tough gig.

Everything starts in an hour but Eddie isn't on until the reception so he has plenty of time to grab a smoke before soundcheck. He knows the venue pretty well and there's an alcove next to the vendor loading area. Nice flowers, a decent bench, and it's nowhere near the dumpsters.

This venue butts up against a small patch of woodland and Eddie wonders if he might have time to check it out, see if there's anything inspiring. He doesn't hike but he does enjoy a walk in nature.

Before he gets the chance a baby blue van with 'Steve's Sweets' painted across the side pulls up, blocking his sight line.

He mourns the loss of his view right up until the driver pops the door open and climbs out.

Oh, the beauties nature provides.

Acid wash jeans which under any other circumstances Eddie would laugh at are lovingly hugging possibly the finest ass he has ever had the pleasure of seeing.

The rest of the picture - when he can drag his attention away - is pretty choice too. A soft looking pink sweater, sleeves pushed up to expose sun bronzed skin making Eddie idly wonder if the man is that tan all over.

The crowning glory is a gorgeous head of hair framing a face that Eddie can only describe as pretty.

Eddie tries to turn his attention back to his cigarette. Admiring someone is one thing, leering like a creep is entirely different.

He takes a last drag and drops the filter on the gravel, grinding it out under his feet. Mentally he says farewell to the handsome stranger and turns to go back inside.

Eddie takes two steps before a suit clad man comes out of the building and pushes past him in a rush.

"Steven."

The man's not yelling, but his voice is the kind of loud that demands to be heard.

Eddie turns to watch as the man approaches the van and the other guy, Steve apparently, standing in front of it.

"What the hell are you doing here dressed like that."

Eddie should go inside. This isn't his business. But one of the perks of working weddings was the drama and this was very promising.

He stays where he is, standing just in front of the door. In case either man looks in his direction Eddie actually mimes patting at his jacket like he is looking for his smokes.

"I'm delivering a cake, Dick. And if it wasn't for Diana I wouldn't even be doing that much. She deserves to get something good out of this day."

Eddie bites back a smile, lowering his head a little so he can still watch what was happening ideally without being noticed.

"You will refer to me as father. I believe I have earned at least that much respect."

Eddie feels his eyebrows rise. This kind of drama was another part of why he likes weddings. Better than the soap operas he watches with Uncle Wayne.

"Sure," Steve snorts. "Tell you what, I'll compromise," and he continues, "Riiichaaaard."

"Grow up, Steven. You were invited here as a guest. You had better have a tuxedo in that stupid truck of yours, the ceremony starts in an hour."

"I was hired to bake a cake. Part of my fee includes delivery. That is literally the only reason I'm here. You and the future ex-Mrs Harrington will have to celebrate without me. Try not to cry yourself to sleep about it."

"You little asshole," Richard snarls. "You think you're better than me. You think I wanted you here? You owe me your presence. I have important people coming to this wedding and I need them to see my dutiful son at my side."

The baker laughs, a low nasty chuckle that sends a perverse shiver down Eddie's back.

"Tell you what, Dick, I'm booked up today but I'll come to your next wedding." Eddie looks up to see Steve is grinning, bright and as sharp as a knife. "I'll even get you a toaster."

Eddie lurches in place as he sees Richard lunge towards Steve. He is too far away to stop the man but he has to do something.

Before he takes a step the door swings open again and a petite woman comes rushing out.

"Richard?"

Eddie watches as she runs forward tugging at the satin bathrobe she is wrapped in. She freezes a few feet away from what had been brewing into a nasty fight.

"Steve? You're here-- oh, but your suit! Richard? What's going on?"

The older man doesn't turn around, doesn't seem to notice her at all but Eddie watches Steve gingerly move until he is standing between his father and the woman.

"Hey Diana," he says softly. "Sorry you had to see this, dad and me just have a difference of opinion. Everything's fine."

Eddie feels something in him clench. He is very familiar with the tone in Steve's voice. He had heard it from his uncle Wayne to his dad when he was a little kid. It is soft but firm, implacable. Eddie isn't sure exactly what is coming but he can tell Steve knew and that it would be bad.

The venue usually had at least two security patrolling the grounds, more if the reception was expected to be contentious. Eddie doesn't know where they are right now but hopefully not far.

"See what you've done Steven? God, you're useless."

"Richard, don't say that," Diana says, her voice rising.

The older man is turning from pink to red and Eddie can see Steve moving slowly, shifting his father's attention to him.

"That's me, Richard. Useless Steve. Flunked out of college and he bakes cookies like some kind of fairy. You sure you want to parade your failure of a son in front of the hoi polloi?"

Eddie hears Diana's gasp from where he's standing. "Steve, what are you talking about? Richard what's going on?"

Richard turns his glare on her and Eddie feels himself moving forward almost against his own will. He's not sure what he'll do when he gets there but he's never been the bystander type.

Steve just laughs. Bright and angry. "I'm not sure what my father told you about our relationship but we don't have one."

"No," she says. "Your father-- he told me-- "

When Eddie met her a few weeks ago he had seen a confident, charming woman that knew exactly what she wanted and was excited to be married. Now she looks confused, maybe even scared.

Eddie has gotten closer to this whole altercation than he wanted to be but since he is there and it looks like Steve and Richard are busy trying to glare holes in each other Eddie steps up to Diana and lightly grasps her elbow.

She startles and turns to face him. Her eyes are wide, wet and staring.

"Mr. Munson," she asks, softly.

Eddie tries to smile. "Mr. Munson is my uncle, ma'am. It's Eddie. Let's get you out of here, okay? Back inside."

Eddie is able to gently guide her a few steps away. He hates turning his back on the other two men but he needs to get Diana out of reach for whatever is about to happen.

"I dont understand," the bride mutters. "Steve used to be such a sweet boy. Mr. Harrin-- Richard. Oh, I'm so silly. Richard. He said-- this is so embarassing."

Her voice is pitched and tight and if she isn't crying yet she would be soon. Eddie resolves to get her inside and into the arms of literally any friendly face.

"Hey," Eddie says. "Let's just--" he scrambles for a name. Anna? Annie? "Amy, right? Your maid of honor? Let's get you to her, okay. You can sit down."

Diana nods.

Behind him he can hear Richard and Steve hissing noxious words back and forth. There is no shouting but the air is heavy and hot with anger. Even though he was outside Eddie feels like he can't breathe.

Eddie gets Diana to the door, hadn't realized how close they really were, maybe 30 feet if that. It's open, anxious faces framed in weathered oak. He hands Diana off to her Maid of Honor who quickly sweeps the woman deeper into the hall and then he nods to Patricia Abernathy, the event space manager.

"Think we're gonna have a cancellation," he says, nodding towards the departing woman.

She rolls her eyes. "Can't say I'm surprised. I had a bad feeling about this one."

Eddie scoffs. "You have a bad feeling about all of them."

He turns to face where the two men are still in a stand off in front of the van. "You're not wrong though, I think. At least I hope they cancel."

Patricia snorts. "We got the deposits locked down and the contract is airtight so if they cancel we still get fifty percent of the remaining fee. I'll take that for the rest of the day off."

"You got a date, Patty? And it's not me? You're breaking my heart."

"Ha," she says flatly. "That pretty boy is more your type and from the way he's talking you're in with a chance. Now you keep an eye on those two. Security is on their way, we'll see if they can get here before these guys start really butting heads."

Eddie nods. It isn't the first time he had been called on to help manage fractious families.

He turns back in time to see Richard take a swing at Steve. The younger guy steps back out of the way and Eddie can hear his mocking laugh as far away as the door.

He moves closer to the two of them. Eddie isn't going to get in the middle of the fight but maybe if he reminds them there are other people around that might be enough to calm them down.

He watches Richard lunge forward and swing again. This time Steve can't move away fast enough and the blow glances off of his cheek.

"Hey," Eddie calls, now jogging towards them. "Hey, knock it off! You wanna fight take it somewhere else!"

Steve turns to face Eddie, opening his mouth as if he was going to say something but all that comes out is a low grunt as Richard hits him in the shoulder and shoves him to the ground.

Eddie throws himself forward, pushing Richard away. "What do you think you're doing," he shouts in the man's face but Richard doesn't seem to hear, pressing back against Eddie.

"You little bastard," Richard shouts at his son. "You're worthless! I don't know why I bothered."

"Go to hell," Steve replies.

That seems to make Richard even angrier which Eddie hadn't thought was possible. He isn't sure he will be able to hold him off much longer.

"Hey, what's going on here," a low even voice calls. It is the venue security guard, his partner just behind him with a hand on his radio.

Eddie feels himself relax and then stumbles back as Richard pushes him aside to fall on his son again.

Eddie turns to see both guards trying to pull the older man away as he continues to hit his son, screaming obscenities.

Not sure how to help, Eddie stands by. When he sees an opening he lunges forward and takes hold of Steve's shoulders, pulling him back and away.

The younger man fights against him at first, eyes closed and arms up in front of his face.  Eddie figures he probably didn't know whose hands are on him.

"Hey. Hey. It's me, Eddie. Shit. I work here. You're safe, security has your dad. You're safe."

Eddie steps back, loosening his grip on Steve but still keeping one hand on his shoulder, trying to sooth him.

A few feet away Richard is still twisting, trying to get free and attack his son again, but Eddie can see the guards have a good hold on him and it doesn't look like they will be letting go any time soon.

As Steve calms down Eddie lets go of his shoulder, instead crouching next to him. "You doing okay? I saw you had you hands up but he got a few hits in."

Steve lowers his arms and sits upright. He twists his neck back and forth and shifts his shoulders before opening his eyes and looking up at Eddie. "I'm okay. I'm fine. God, it's a soap opera isn't it? Fuck."

Eddie lets himself drop into a seat next to the other man. They both watch in silence as the guards march Steve's father around the corner to the front of the event hall.

"You know the bride? Diana," the guy asks. "She was my babysitter. When I was eleven."

"Oof," Eddie says. "So she was--"

"Seventeen then, and now it's been twenty years for her and about three wives for him."

"Scandalous," Eddie murmurs. He sees Steve smile and feels relieved. "What will people say. The 'hoi polloi' I believe you called them?"

Steve snorts. "A crowd of empty suits that exist solely to tell my dad how respected he is. Will he get arrested?"

"Maybe," Eddie says. "I think that might be up to you. It's assault at least."

"Ugh," Steve says, rubbing his face. "That's all I need. I'm trying to get him out of my life."

"Well," Eddie says. "I can attest that jail is very good at keeping deadbeat dads out of your life."

Steve starts laughing and then winces, wrapping an arm around his stomach.

"Shit, you are hurt," Eddie says, scrambling to his feet. "Do you need an ambulance? Patty probably called 911 by now."

Steve waves him off. "I'm fine. This is not my first fight and my old man hits-- well, I was gonna say 'like a girl' but then my best friend would kick my ass and I'm way more scared of her," Steve says, laughing softly.

He looks up at Eddie and holds out his free hand. "You gonna help me up? Or is chivalry dead?"

"Chivalry," Eddie repeats. "You a damsel in distress?"

"I might as well be," Steve says. "Now come on."

Eddie laughs and reaches down, gently guiding Steve back to his feet. He feels the man's weight leaning on him for a few seconds and despite the circumstances Eddie has to admit Steve feels good in his arms.

Once he is steady Steve steps back and Eddie lets him go.

Steve moves to the van and leans up against the metal surface. Eddie walks over to join him.

"So," Steve says. "What next?"

Eddie shakes his head. "I honestly don't know. The wedding is canceled, for sure. For today at least."

"Just for today? You think she'll marry him still?"

Eddie shrugs. "I have no idea. I wouldn't but then I wouldn't have said yes in the first place."

Steve leans back, tapping his head against the van a few times before he turns back to Eddie. "You know the worst part? This was my last delivery. Now, I have to deal with this stupid cake. Three tiers of lemon and raspberry." He laughs. "Do you think a homeless shelter will take a wedding cake?"

Eddie grins. "I don't see why not. At least something good will come out of today."

Steve looks up towards the hall. "I feel like I should say something-- to Diana, I mean. She was always really nice to me, she deserved better than this."

"I have found that good or bad people rarely get what they deserve. You don't really owe her anything but I can't fault the impulse." Turning towards the hall, Eddie gestures for Steve to follow him. "Just-- just don't apologize for him? Okay?"

Steve walks in silence for a few steps before he coughs roughly. His voice is thick and choked and he coughs again. "I, uh, I stopped apologizing for him a long time ago. His faults are his own. I just wish I didn't get dragged into it."

Eddie laughs. "I know that song."

"Yeah," Steve asks.

Eddie nods. They are at the door and he pulls it open for the other man, gesturing him in with a bow.

Steve stops in the doorway as Eddie stands up again. He is framed by the light inside and the scent of hothouse roses comes drifting out into the open air. Eddie can picture him suddenly in that moment standing at a balcony limned by moonlight.

"Hey Sunshine," Eddie says softly. "Buy me a drink and we can trade stories?"

Steve smiles. "Yeah," he says, with a small laugh. "Sure, why not." He holds up his hands, still dirty and scraped from the asphalt. "Help me get cleaned up and let me say something to Diana. Then we can talk."

Eddie nods, reaches out, and places his hands gently over Steve's. "Sounds good to me."

[ichorai]

chiropterology — birthday boy.

drabble synopsis ; damian wayne turns nine! warnings ; none!

series masterlist.

“Mother!” Damian called, alerting your attention from the gifts table, where you were arranging the various different boxes in a somewhat presentable manner (you made sure to put yours front and center). “Please shoot me with this crossbow so I do not have to put up with one more minute of his camera shoved in my face.”

“Oh, you’re being so dramatic,” you said with a light tone, pinching the boy’s cheeks and straightening the party hat on his head. “It’s not every day you turn nine. And look at you, you look so handsome in this suit!” Though, with a sharp look at Dick, you said, “Let the kid breathe!”

“Sorry, they just—” Dick paused to sniffle and wipe away an imaginary tear. “They grow up so fast!”

“Can we just cut the cake and get it over with?” Damian huffed, crossing his arms, growing incredibly impatient. 

Barbara, who had been on the phone with Bruce, shot you an OK sign. “They were able to secure the you-know-what!”

“Mm. Took them long enough…” you muttered. “They’re over an hour late.”

Damian surveyed the pile of gifts on the table, his mouth twisted down into a frown. “Stupid tradition for stupid children…”

“Oh, really?” you said, drumming your fingers along your wrapped gift. “So, say that I’ve spent the past few weeks making a super cool shrink ray that works maybe ninety-percent of the time and is completely yours to add to your arsenal of weapons, given you use it ethically… would it still be a stupid tradition? Because in that case, maybe I should just… take this back to the lab with me…” 

This practically made Damian’s ears perk up. You began to drag the present closer to you when, eye twitching with irritation, he exclaimed, “Stop!” Damian inhaled sharply. “Hypothetically, if a shrink ray were to be inside that box, it would be a waste for me not to accept it as a gift.”

Dick ruffled Damian’s hair, sending his party hat askew once more. The younger of the two batted away Dick’s hands like an overstimulated cat. “You know, Damian, normally you’re supposed to say thank you.”

Damian clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, glaring at his brother. Nonetheless, he drew his eyes to the ground and murmured, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you quipped, bouncing on the balls of your feet, glad that Damian at least liked the idea of your gift. Bruce certainly wasn’t going to be happy with Damian having yet another weapon to torment his brothers with, but since when did you let that stop you?

Finally, after another fifteen minutes of dawdling, the front door of the manor swung open, Jason in the lead with Bruce and Cass right behind him. “Look at him in the suit and tie!” Jason exclaimed upon seeing Damian. “Who did this to you? Babs? Alfred? Mom?” 

You gasped in mock-offense. “A suit would be the very last thing I’d force him into. If it were up to me, Damian would be in the invisibility cloak I made for him last year, but, hey, we can’t get everything we want.”

“It was a very nice cloak, mother,” Damian admitted.

“Awh, thanks, hon.” You straightened his party hat again.

Cass strode into the living room holding Damian’s most anticipated gift—what he’d been forced to wait hours for.

“What did you bring me?” Damian demanded, eyeing his father suspiciously.

“Happy birthday, son. Sorry I’m late,” Bruce said, kneeling down to the height of his son. He could feel your piercing glare at the side of his head, and winced knowing he was going to get an earful later that night. 

Turning his head to the side, Damian retorted, “You’re always late.”

At this, Bruce met your eyes, which had softened considerably, then looked back to the birthday boy. “Did you have a nice time with your mother, Barbara and Dick? How was the museum?”

“Yeah, it was… adequate,” said Damian, scratching the back of his neck, suddenly bashful. “Dick would not stop taking pictures.”

Bruce smiled when Dick waved from the table full of sweets Alfred had whipped up, holding up a camera and snapping a picture of Jason with Barbara.

“I wasn’t sure what to get you,” Bruce told his son, “but Dick and Cassandra had a really good suggestion. It was their idea, but I went to the adoption agency to meet the—”

A loud yip sounded from the blanket-covered carrier Cass was holding. She uncovered it with a grin, and a small brown dog came barreling out, barking with excitement as he dashed straight towards Bruce. 

“A puppy?” said Damian, eyes wide with wonder.

“Sure is.” Bruce held out the frenzied pup to his son. “And he’s all yours.”

You could’ve sworn you saw Damian’s pupils dilate. You stuck your fist out to Dick, who immediately gave you a fist-bump. “You might just have me beat on the gift-giving front.”

“What can I say? I’m Damian’s favorite brother.”

Your expression turned incredulous. “Oh, don’t let him hear you say that.”

Typically, Damian with his sharp hearing would have turned and made a snippy comment, but he was completely distracted, enamoured by his new puppy.

“Mother—” he glanced up at you, “—my other mother never let me have a pet. She always said attachments to living things made you weak.”

Bruce placed his hands on his son’s shoulders. “And you’re one of the strongest people I know, Damian.”

“Well? What are you naming him?” asked Jason.

Without hesitation, Damian grinned and commanded his puppy, “Sit, Murder King, sit!” The puppy, to everyone else’s surprise, obeyed immediately. Damian really had a knack for animals.

“You can’t name your dog that,” Barbara deadpanned. 

You clapped with a cheery beam. “Murder King is brilliant! I’ll have that laser-engraved into his collar tag.”

“Happy birthday, Master Damian,” announced Alfred, now coming in with a three-tiered cake, done up with artful frosting, pristine lettering, and nine lit candles. 

After the terribly off-pitch birthday song and Dick popping a confetti wrapper that stuck to everyone’s hair, Damian blew out the candles. “I still think this is a stupid tradition for stupid children.”

You smiled at him. “We love you, Damian.”

“Happy birthday, buddy,” Bruce said. He wrapped an arm around your waist and tugged you closer. Any and all annoyance you harbored towards your husband over the past few hours seemingly evaporated.

Damian scowled at his parents, whose faces were disgustingly close to each other. “Please refrain from kissing each other on my birthday.”

[luciaintheskyainthi]

Thinking about Jason having trouble taking off his head gear and Peter being way too smug about being able to just roll up his mask.

Not quite what you probably envisaged but this is what came to mind hehe:

"Look what I got!"

Jason did not look. His attention was on the building across the street, his entire world narrowed down to the magnified rectangle centred on a revolving door.

Even so, he felt a windswept cool body flop down beside him, swiftly followed by the scent of cinnamon and oil.

"If those are churros, there'd best be at least five there for me," he grunted and held out a hand.

No churros were passed over. Merely impish laughter that almost tore Jason's attention away from the crucial door. But he'd heard word of a certain political figure turning up here not long after several less than savoury figures of the Gotham underground. If he could get pictures of them coming and going, he'd have enough ammunition to blackmail them into finally approving the redevelopment of Park Row Middle School. Something they were single-handedly responsible for the dragging out of. But he needed the perfect shot, and knowing Jason's luck, such a shot would come at the precise moment he looked away.

"Not going to look at me?" Peter asked.

"Kinda busy, Bitsy."

"Hmm. You sure about that?"

The paper bag of heavenly smelling goodness rattled tauntingly right by Jason's ear and he shoved -- or attempted to -- the webbed menace away. All Jason really achieved was hearing more of Peter's laughter.

"Don't fuckin' tease me, you brat."

"How about this?" Peter bargained, still snickering. "You take off the mask and I feed them to you, since you're obviously so busy."

Any other day, any other treat, Jason would have contemplated shoving Peter right off the roof for the suggestion. Really, the cheek of him.

But... churros. Cinnamon sugar and fried dough... To quote Peter, he was 'a slut' for them. And even if he wasn't... Jason was hungry.

Blindly he reached back one handed, fumbling with the clasps. Peter's amusement was palpable but he wisely remained quiet and made no offer to help. The last time Peter'd tried to take off Jason's muzzle, he'd got a nice shock when he'd fucked up with the latch. Jason had nearly been on his knees with laughter because of it, but the moment had been a valuable learning experience for Peter: don't mess with the Red Hood uniform.

Granted, it had also given Peter several of his own ideas about how to booby trap his suit, but Jason was a generous guy. He even showed Peter how he'd wired a taser feature into the symbol of one of his old suits.

Eventually, the mask was off and set carefully on the floor.

"If you say 'here comes the aeroplane', I'm going to shoot you," Jason said the moment he heard Peter's intake of breath.

The night air turned a distinct shade of miffed. He grinned.

"Wasn't gonna," Peter said sulkily.

"Liar."

"Bully. This is bullying."

"Sure it is. Now hurry up and feed me before they go cold."

"Hehehe."

"Don't--"

"Here comes the aero~plane!"

Murder. He was going to murder Peter one day and blame it on Timothy.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Love Town

A piece from a collection of shorts inspired by Junjo Ito. Enjoy.🖤

It felt like she’d truly grown up when you got the call. Just a month ago you celebrated your sister’s graduation, kissing her goodbye, and looking forward to her move from the town her college bordered. Only to find your sister in such an alarming state, that you felt like you would choke. 

“I’m so glad you made it! I really wouldn’t have known what I’d do if you didn’t!”

There she was your baby sister with a more than prominent baby bump, that shocked you to your core. You hugged her and unpacked before you tried recounting the pictures, the dinners, the phone calls; scouring your mind for clues. Scrolling your phone, feeling more unsettled when you find no indication. Drinks in hand, tight-fitted cocktail dresses, and seafood alike there were no real clues that could have warned you. 

But how was this possible?! 

Your sister for lack of a better word was a nerd! She adored the solitude of her own apartment and the small list of girlfriends she had. She dedicated her weekends to studying rather than socializing; only willing to venture out of her comfort zone when you’d come to visit. You thought she’d told you everything and yet…your niece or nephew was scheduled to arrive within a few weeks. While preparing for the nursery you’d hoped to quell this unsettlement in your heart but still it remained. At that point, you just had to ask.

“Oh yeah,” she looks outside her window a weirdly nonchalant smile on her face,” you wouldn’t know.”

She explained that in Eromas, it was a thing that happened. That the intense love of anyone could make you pregnant with no discrimination on age or sex. It sounded bizarre. But when she took you into town she pointed out the young men and other women who all had rounded tummies and smiling faces. It felt so wrong.

“So you can just get pregnant and have no say?”

She chuckled,” I was a little startled by it too but I think it’s sweet! At the very least you know the love they have is real. Usually whoever made it with you reveals themselves and most if not everyone just marries them.”

“So…there is no known father or…mother?”

She placed a hand on her round belly, lovingly stroking it. Your hand was grabbed, guided to rub at the specific place where the movement of the child inside could be felt. It didn’t help the unease you felt…but you smiled at your sister. 

She needed you, supernatural pregnancies aside, you needed to keep it together. For her.

It was only a week. 

Filled with running errands, doing chores, and shopping in her stead before she was ready to pop. Laying nestled in the hospital bed as the countdown began, it was hard to ignore the excited nurses gossiping about potential ‘lovers’ unabashedly squealing when your sister guessed. You once again pushed down that nervousness sitting alongside her as you held her hand, making idle conversation.

“You wore that top Monday, right?”

You continued to trace the lines along her hand, shooting her a spiteful frown.

“It’s called washing things, it’s what you do when you're on a trip.”

She laughed, “I wasn’t trying to insult you! I’m just saying you seemed to have grown a little.”

She is pregnant. She is pregnant. In any other situation you’d give her the tongue-lashing of the century but to keep the peace you give her a tight-lipped smile.

“Wow real nice. Thanks for the compliment. For your information, you’re the one who’s been demanding dishes that need a recipe. Don’t start with me about–”

“I mean, I think you’ve got a baby bump too.”

A needle of fear shot through you. Your eyes dart to the small distending near your stomach. Bloating, over-eating baked goods, and the lack of a proper gym are all valid explanations. Or so you tell yourself before shaking your head at your sister. 

“Nice try but I’ve been here for too short and have talked to too few people. Frankly, it’d be even more bizarre than a healthy pregnancy for 2 whole months.”

You two laughed then. Soon after welcoming your little niece into the world. It was truly a joy to see your sister happily embrace this odd phenomenon for her precious baby. The next two days were hard to get through, sleeping was scarce while you juggled taking care of your sister and her fussy baby. After the second day and a long mid-afternoon nap, you finally had the time to look at yourself in the mirror. Subsequently screaming at the full-body mirror.

“It looks like you’ve got two admirers!” The doctor huffed still keeping his hands on your stomach before returning back to the sonogram machine. Your sister squealed and mimicked a hop as she wiggled the baby in her arms.

“Ohhh twins are great! And twice the love!”

The two of them were giggling and smiling with one another but you couldn’t hear it. You refused to. Like the ringing from a bomb going off you felt like you were going into shock. You were pregnant?! And with twice as many as usual?! You allowed yourself to puke, unable to feel joy at the way it taints the doctor’s joy. You feel her arms around you, in comfort. It’s definitely not because you want anything but this.

“I’ve got to leave.”

You whispered it to your sister, while the doctor was gone. The nurses were smiling through the window, scattering with laughter and cheers as you shooed them away. Your sister finally recognized the severity of your call; laying her baby in her carrier and then grabbing your hands.

“What, why?”

“Maybe if I leave this will stop!”

“But I don’t think it works that way!”

“Unless you’ve tried it, I’d love to give it a try.”

“For your safety and the baby’s safety, it’s best you don’t leave.”

The doctor's words made you both jump. You hadn’t heard the door shut or open. Nor the footsteps from the new pair of shoes void of your breakfast. If the small smile quirking at his lips was any indicator lunch would end up there very soon.

“To monitor your pregnancy we insist you stay in the hospital until delivery. I have a feeling there might be a few more…abnormalities with your pregnancy going forward.”

As if on cue the nurses poured in, holding you firmly as they began to undress you. Happily ignoring your pleas as they draped you in their hospital gown. Your struggles slowed as they shoved a needle into your side, claiming it was to keep you calm for the IV. Looking at the white smooth ceiling with a fading consciousness the tears began to fall. 

Your sister somberly took the chair next to your bedside just as you’d done for her. Holding your limp hand as you dozed off.

“I hope you’re ready, we’ll be expecting visitors.”

Within the next couple of days your stomach…your babies only grew in number. The necessity of your sister and the nurse’s aid only grew, as you grappled with the weight of your rapidly growing children. Throughout their rabid growth, you were visited by many: the store clerk, the baker, the mayor, the neighbor family, the elderly couple, the delinquent high schoolers, and the young teacher. Not including the constant hovering from the doctor and the nurses, all of them switching between staring intensely at your bump and outright letting their hands roam. Your protests meant nothing as you were constantly assured of your desirability. It's easy to become self-conscious about yourself at a time like this so every pregnant person says. As your sister holds your hand, you feel your water break and an indescribable pain overtake your lower half.

It’s then you realize you’ll never truly leave Love Town…not if they have anything to say about it.

←Last | Next →

[belovedcloud]

A Kiss Goodnight | Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Fluff for Leon since he's a cutie. I picture RE2 (after Raccoon City) or RE4 Leon in this but you can choose which ever one you like more.

WC: 1.1K

CW: Leon being a sweetheart? Pet names, kisses (duh), angst/fluff. Mentions of Leon's struggles after RC.

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Working for the government was hard, especially after just getting dragged into it without a choice. Life was hard for Leon ever since that fateful night where he believed he shouldn't have lived. Luck was too kind to him, but the consequences of luck is always regret. Mission after mission, bioweapon after bioweapon Leon was tired. All he could think about was getting back to you. You were his saving grace, his only way to escape the pain. Even if it was only for a second, a minute, a hour, a day. You helped in a way where he was indebted to you for the rest of his life. Driving home, all he could think about was you. How you warmed him up after a hard time shooting and murdering anything that was diseased. He was yours, and you were his.

Leon shortly arrived home, sluggish in his movements as he took off his work boots and coat. His bag thrown into the corner of the doorway as he sighed heavily. Finally, his body could relax. Tense movements slowly turned into tired movements as he brought himself to the bathroom. Seeing a new cut on his face and blood and mud splatted on him. It never really was a nice sight. The house was silent, you were asleep. Something that wasn't unusual as the clock ticked to 3 AM. You never really knew if Leon would come back from his mission, that sense of worry hung low over you. Causing distress as every call you received could be Hunnigan's voice. Informing you of Leon's death, but you were lucky enough to not have that, not yet at least. As you slept peacefully, Leon showered and cleansed himself from his own sin. His murderous intent and sorrow washing down along with the dirt covering his body. The towel gently wrapping around his waist, he walked into your shared bedroom. Where you laid asleep, seeming to be cuddling a pillow in hopes of getting the same satisfaction of Leon having you in his arms.

Leon couldn't help but smile looking at you as he walked past the bed to his dresser, getting a pair of boxers and sweatpants. Quickly changing to soon sink himself to his side of the bed. Soft. Everything was soft around him. The pillow his head laid on, the new sheets and most importantly you. Getting under the covers he felt your bare skin touch his. Your shorts and t-shirt hugging you in a cozy way. Without thought, he wrapped his arms around your body. Nuzzling his face into your neck, there was no intention of waking you up... But it was bound to happen as he gripped you tightly. Giving you no chance to escape you whined as you woke up.

"Sorry baby... You just looked so warm." He mumbled into your neck as he gave a sweet kiss on your skin. Wriggling yourself to at least turn around to face him, you notice the fresh cut on his face. "What happened?" You whispered, still in a half sleepy state. It always worried you seeing him hurt, but Leon always reassured you he was okay. "Just a cut from the mission, nothing to worry about." He softly smiled, you couldn't help but replicate the smile. A gentle kiss on the nose is what Leon felt from your smooth lips. "You okay?" You asked as your hands wandered down his chest, carefully wrapping your arms around him. Ensuring you weren't going to hurt him in the process. "Everything is okay when I'm with you..." He murmured, slowly enveloping you in a sweet kiss. "God.. I missed you so much, you smell so good" He whispered to you in a gentle tone. Much different to the aggression towards the bioweapons he previously fought only hours before.

"I missed you too.. so much." You whispered back, a giggle following short afterwards as you felt him playing with your hair. "I love you." Was all Leon could say as he admired you in his arms, admiring his lover was his favourite thing to do in this situation. "I love you more." You poked at his cheek as you kissed him again. Soft kisses with him were heavenly, otherworldly. The clock ticked 3:30 AM, it really was time to sleep. Mellowed breathing was soon shared between you two as you held each other. Enjoying the comfort of one another as you were glad he returned home. He was glad for everything. Glad to live in a lifetime with you in it - he would protect you no matter the cost.

"Can't sleep?" You slowly opened your eyes, still feeling him stare at you. "No, kinda hard to." He muttered, relapsing the past mission in his mind. "Wanna talk about it?" Rubbing his arm always calmed him down, made him feel safe for once. Safe from the horrors of this world that he swore in his heart nobody else should face or see. That he would be the one to protect people, to save people. Even if that meant him deteriorating his own mental stability. At least others would be saved. But he didn't need to be the hero with you. He could just be Leon. A man who was lost in his own train of thought, still a young boy in his heart yearning for answers to why he was chosen to face dread at every moment of his life. Sadly, beggars can't be choosers. Although he had one choice in his life, and that was you. He would always choose you. Always. "Not right now.. Just wanna have you in my arms." You felt a peck on your forehead, a grin spreading across your face. "Okay. Well I'm always here for you Leon." Reassurance was vital for you and Leon. The slightest amount of praise to Leon was all he needed to crumble into your arms. He could be himself with you. "Thank you Y/N, I really appreciate you. So much." His voice cracked, tears slowly gathering in his eyes. What did he do in his last life to deserve you? Gentle hands caressed his face as he wept, your kisses taking away the pain.

Minutes passed, Leon's cries slowly disappeared as he cuddled you. Staring into each others eyes, you felt yourself slowly slip into a sleepy state. Same with Leon, he couldn't hold his eyes open much longer. Not when you gave him a warm feeling like no-one else did. "I have one request." He hushed out as he rubbed your back with his calloused hands. "Mm?" You murmured out, melting into his touch.

"One more kiss goodnight?"

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! thank u for reading :)

-> masterlist

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Someone tell this man everything is gonna be okay.

[kkai-zen]

Hi! (please ignore this if you if you don’t like it) but if you feel comfortable, could you do childhood friend!ness x fem!reader. The idea is that they’re best friends but when ness joins bastard münchen he meets Kaiser (and because my entire personality is hating on him after chapter 289). He makes him isolate himself from his friends. As you can tell I want something really Angsty but with at least a happy ending. Other than what I said, you can do whatever you want with it and have a nice day. :)

hello!! thank you so much for the request, this one took me a while (ㅠ﹏ㅠ) hopefully ness isn't too ooc since i don't know him too well (guilty of being anime only lol), but i had a lot of fun planning the angst for this one and i hope you enjoy! 𓂃۶ৎ

as it was.

wc: 2.1k + childhood friend!reader x alexis ness + angst + implied happy ending + slight kaiser bashing + sfw

“Get out, you idiot!” 

Slam!

Even as a child, you’d put together the happenings of the house next door. On most nights, you could peer through the kitchen window, standing on your tippy-toes, and watch the front door of the house slam shut. If you squinted, you could see the curled figure of a boy your age hovering by its porch.

He seems so lonely like this, you tilt your head. You wonder what he’s thinking about, what his parents are like, why he lays down on the grassy lawn and draws invisible pictures in the air. 

Breath fogging the glass, you tap at the window loud enough for him to hear, and quietly trace a heart into the condensation. You can’t tell if he sees it.

“Time for bed, honey!” Your mother calls. Shooting a final, curious glance at the boy’s silhouette through your heart, you hop down the stairs to your bedroom. 

It’s only a couple days later when you see him wandering around outside again. He still looks sad, doesn’t he? You pinch your eyebrows together.

“Mama! Can I go outside ’n play?” 

“Sure, just don’t go too far!” 

And before you know it, with some child-like excitement nipping at your heels, you run up to the boy. 

“Hi! Would you like to play soccer with me?” 

His name is Alexis Ness, you learn.

He’s got a wild imagination, even for a child, yapping to you for hours about magic and illusions and now, soccer. You two would spend entire days kicking around a ratty soccer ball in the front lawn of your house, even on the scant few days Ness didn’t get kicked out of his.

Sun, wind, rain, snow—a day didn’t go by without you and Ness laughing and bickering, chasing each other around in the grass stamped flat from months of play. 

It wasn’t long before a year passed. 

“Hey, Ness?” You squint up at the hot afternoon sun, hand shielding your eyes as you lay back on the cool grass. 

“Huh?” 

“Magic is real, isn’t it?” 

“Course it is, dummy.” 

You frown. “How d’ya know?” 

He pauses, toying with the soccer ball in his lap. “Cuz of that feeling I get when I play soccer with you.”

You blink up at him with large eyes. “Feeling?” 

“Yeah,” he states, almost as if it were some obvious, undeniable truth. “Y’know, my chest gets all funny and my heart makes these weird sounds and my cheeks get sore from smiling so much.” Ness squishes his face in his hands, and you giggle. “That’s what magic is to me.” 

“Ness.”

“What?” 

“I think I believe in magic, too.” 

And he smiles at you—a real, wide grin that covers his whole face, and for a moment he shines brighter than the sun rays. 

“Told ya so!” 

The years slipped by quicker than you would’ve liked them to.

Subconsciously, you knew that you and Ness wouldn’t be together like this forever. It was only a matter of when it would happen, the dreaded day that he or you might vanish into adulthood, leaving behind the fond memories of flattened grass and soccer and magic. 

You still remember when he told you, with that childlike sparkle in his eyes, that he would be leaving to join Bastard München’s U-20 team. 

It was a snowy December day when he left, suitcase beside him, and you tried not to let him see the hot tears balancing on your lower lashes. You two were grown, you reminded yourself. You aren’t children anymore. This was always bound to happen. 

So why are you clinging to him, your tears spilling onto his new Bastard München jacket, holding back sobs? 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Ness whispers into your hair, hand on the back of your head and a sad smile on his lips. 

You say nothing, squeezing your eyes shut.

“I won’t be gone forever, you know,” He reprimands gently, pulling your head off his chest. “Besides, won’t it be cool to see me on TV?” His smile is soft, and he wipes the tears from your cheeks with a warm finger. “Y-yeah,” you mumble, unable to meet his eyes. 

Both of you are silent for a moment longer, before Ness tilts your head up to look at him. “Thank you for showing me what magic is.” 

There’s a strange tension, a fire in his eyes, and your breath catches in your throat when he leans forward to press a delicate kiss to your lips. 

And before you know it, he’s gone. 

At first, the loneliness was bearable. You and Ness texted every day, every night, any moment he had a second to spare. It was enough to keep your sadness at bay, but it didn’t last long.

The change was gradual: the slow responses, the messages left on read, and then on delivered. At some point, days passed before a single text back. And one day, there were no more texts back. 

You justified it to yourself over and over. He’s a professional athlete now. This is his career. Of course he’s busy. 

A year ticks by without a single message. 

And when you run into him in the middle of town one day, you feel part of your heart crack open. 

“Ness? Is that you?” 

He’s noticeably taller, face sharper, and his eyes look sunken with that childlike sparkle missing. He was different, as if something had swallowed up his vitality, leaving behind only a porcelain shell that looked down at you with empty eyes. 

“Oh, it’s you.”

Ness barely noticed you. 

“Y-you’re back? In town?” You stand there, heart sinking lower, and lower again when he looks at you, wearing a slender smile that doesn’t match his cold eyes. 

“Yeah, I am, unfortunately.” 

“You could’ve- I mean- just, texted me, at least?” 

Your voice is trembling, and you’re not sure why. This is Ness, isn’t it? The boy you grew up with? Your best friend, and possibly even-

“What, am I your boyfriend or something?” 

His voice is deceivingly gentle for his sharp words, and they hit you like a slap in the face. Your heart breaks a little more.

“It would’ve been nice to at least know. Y’know, as friends?” Your voice still trembles, but this time it’s more out of anger than fear or sadness. 

“Friends?” 

Ness looks at you, quiet smile still on his face, betraying no emotion. “I don’t need friends. I have my team- no, I have him.” 

There’s no doubt in your mind that the him Ness means is Kaiser.

That blue-haired, rose-obsessed freak of a striker on Bastard München. You’ve seen all of Ness’s games multiple times, and you had to admit their chemistry was admirable. But even off the field, they’d been spotted together: after games, after practice, everywhere, with Ness trailing behind Kaiser like a puppy.  

“So- so he means more to you than someone who’s been friends with you for your whole life?” 

You can’t help the hurt and frustration that slips into your voice. But as soon as the words leave your lips, you regret it. 

Ness’s eyes narrow, and chills run up your spine. 

“Watch yourself. A nobody like you shouldn’t be insulting him.” 

And what’s left of your composure splinters apart. 

“Seriously, Ness? After all this time, you- he- ” you scramble for words, desperation and anger and fear gripping your throat. “We’ve been friends for years. Since we were children. Do you seriously not see me as a friend now?” Your hands close into fists. “For fuck’s sake, we grew up together!” 

He stares down at you with that soft cold smile.

“Kaiser was right. You’re a distraction.” 

You didn’t count the number of years that passed since then. 

Life goes on, doesn’t it? But you never realized a life without Ness would be so miserable. Quietly turning off your TV when his games aired, scrolling past news about Bastard München, about anything soccer related—it was too much for you to bear. 

It’s cold today, you quietly think, wrapping your scarf tighter around your neck as soft white petals of snow flutter over you. It doesn’t usually snow this early in the year.

With slow, deliberate steps, you dread the sight of your childhood home in the distance. It only reminds you of him, after all. Why’d you tell your parents you’d visit them? 

But you see a faint silhouette in the distance, a hunched shadow hovering by the porch next door, and a wave of nostalgia drowns you: the foggy window, the heart, and the boy. It feels like a mirage, a trick of the light, but as you approach the house, it’s exactly who you wished yet dreaded to see the most standing there, tattered soccer ball at his feet. 

“Ness?” 

Your voice is faint, as if you’re talking to yourself and not the man standing there. 

He doesn’t look real. Glowing in the cold light of the moon, snow frosts his hair, bags hanging under his eyes. He’s a ghost, an apparition, a figment of your desperate imagination. That’s what you think until he pulls you into a deep hug, and you feel the warmth of his skin on yours. 

You stand there, frozen still, his arms wrapped around you for too long a time before he pulls away. 

“I’m sorry.” 

His voice has the same light, gentle quality it always had, but something about it is different this time.

In all those years, you’d never seen Ness like this. He was a ray of sun, beaming and glowing with warmth, and then he was ice, cold and sharp and crushing your heart into pieces with its vice. 

But he was never this; haunted, trembling, almost as if he was about to splinter into pieces and out of existence. 

“How many years has it been, Ness?” You whisper. He doesn’t answer.

“How many? Since you left me for Kaiser?” There’s no bitterness in your voice, only a silent resignation that’s met with snowflakes and a whistle of wind. 

“I texted you. Every day for that whole year you were gone.” Your voice grows louder. “I watched every single one of your games on TV. I waited for you, every single day, hoping you would respond. And what did you do?” 

What feels like a lifetime’s worth of anger suddenly swells inside you, threatening to overflow, and you jab a finger into his chest. “Nothing! You did fucking nothing, Ness. I- ” you choke.

“You left me, after making those empty promises. Not even a text back? Are you fucking serio-”

“‘I hope you’re doing well, Ness. I loved your assist in that last game, it was amazing.’” 

You freeze.

“‘Take care of yourself, make sure to stay hydrated.’ ‘Look at this article I found! You and Kaiser really make a good pair LOL.’ ” 

Ness takes a breath, and keeps going. 

“‘Eat and sleep well, Ness!’ ‘Just got your jersey in the mail today!’ ‘Your form looks great, excited for your next game.’”

The words spill from his lips as if he’d been waiting his whole life to say them. And it’s several long, word-filled minutes later before he utters,

“‘Miss you lots, Ness. Come home soon.’ ”

You're speechless. “Are those…”

“Texts you’ve sent me. Every single one.” Ness says, his quiet voice hoarse. You say nothing, staring at him with shock. “I read them. All of them, a million times over and then again.” He reaches out to touch your hand. 

“It was hard to respond because of him. Kaiser. Made me feel like you were a distraction, when-” Ness swallows. “When in reality, you were the reason I started playing soccer in the first place.” 

His grip on your hand tightens the slightest bit. “I never forgot you. Not a single time. I only pretended not to because of pride and selfishness and a desire to please the wrong person.” 

You look at him and for a moment, all you see is that lonely boy from a lifetime ago. 

“I hurt you. But I- I promise you-” He clutches your hands to his chest, eyes filling with desperation. “I understand what I did, and it was wrong, and I fucked up, and I just- I regret ignoring you and treating you like that and- just, please, at least let me make it up to you.” 

There are tears sliding down his face now, and your heart lodges in your throat. 

“Will you let me back into your life? Even for just a moment?” 

And you say nothing, quietly stepping back, pulling your hands out of his. You catch the way his breath stops, the way his body freezes, the way dread settles over his face when you pull away. 

But instead of leaving, you bend over to pick up the soccer ball at his feet. 

“Hey Ness?”

“…y-yes? What is it?” 

You hold the worn ball out to him. 

“Will you prove to me that magic exists again?” 

[it-happened-one-fic]

Twisted Weddings: Photoshoot #6 - Illuminating Love - Idia

Summary: Your sixth photoshoot was with Idia. The first and possibly the most unwilling model of the bunch. But even then, you couldn’t deny that he made for a rather marvelous looking groom, with his pretty face and surprisingly steady gaze.

Type: Female reader/ 800 Followers Event/ Series/ sfw/ fluff/

Twisted Weddings Series Masterlist

Word count: 1412

I stumbled slightly, resting my hand on Idia’s shoulder as I mumbled irritatedly about my lengthy skirt, and he glanced back at me. After a brief moment we continued on though, and I followed the tall young man through the darkened room we were having our photoshoot in.

The pairing of the lengthy dress, unfamiliar heels, and the darkness was hardly a good one, though, even if I could understand the thought process behind it all.

With Idia’s hair being the mass of brilliant blue flame it was, the pictures were bound to look amazing in a darkened space like this one. 

As for the dress and heels…. They were just my outfit for this photo shoot.

But, in the same sentence, moving around in a dark room in a full-length wedding dress was hardly something I dreamed of, even if the entire outfit was gorgeous. But by now, I expected that. I’d yet to see an unattractive bridal outfit in Crewel’s line of clothes, and I doubted I was going to at this point.

“You good?” I glanced up at Idia as he spoke. His voice still perfectly disgruntled as he made no effort to hide exactly how displeased he was to be taking part in this photoshoot.

But then, he apparently hadn’t entered himself in the running for modeling in the first place. Apparently, Ortho had done that for him as a means of forcefully expanding upon Idia’s experiences.

Even if Idia himself did not want that.

Rumor had it Crewel had gone to Ignihyde himself to fetch my stand-in groom, who was currently staring glumly at me as I nodded. Silently opting not to mention the fact that Idia actually looked rather nice in his dark suit with his hair down up the way it was. It’d probably just earn me a rather spectacular eye roll from the young man anyway.

“Yeah, I just kicked something,” I scowled slightly down at the ground before continuing forward to where I assumed Idia and I were going to be standing for the pictures.

At least I hadn’t been taken aback by Idia’s appearance the way I had been with some of the other guys. But, to be fair, I'd received a preview of what Idia would look like as a groom back when Eliza had kidnapped him during the entire ghost bride fiasco.

And even if the entire situation with the forced ghostly wedding had been a bit of a nightmare to deal with, there had been no denying that Idia had looked really good.

And the same could be said now.

But then, Idia wasn’t exactly a hideous young man. In fact, he was downright attractive. 

It wouldn’t be hard to argue that he was one of the prettiest classmates I had, and while that might not be much of a statement in many schools, it certainly was at Night Raven, where the student body was virtually flooded with attractive young men of every type.

It was just that Idia usually didn’t dress the part, which always made it more eye-catching when he did.

“Okay, you two. I just want you to stand still and look at one another without making any faces,” Crewel’s voice was blunt and left no room for argument even as the urge to stick my tongue out at Idia rose the very moment we were ordered not to make any faces.

I controlled the urge, though, and faced Idia as Crewel started subtly adjusting my clothes.

Flipping my veil down so that the sheer fabric covered my face and adjusting the way my skirt lay behind me.

And the entire time I could hear Idia mumbling to himself about how he was going to speedrun this mission and be on his way.

And then Crewel gave us his final directions: “Alright, Idia, put your hand here like you're about to flip Y/n’s veil back and then hold that pose. Make sure you look directly at them. Y’m, I want you to look down slightly but not fully close your eyes.”

I pressed my lips together, willing myself not to smile at Crewel’s final, rather sharp directions as Idia not-so-subtly rolled his eyes.

But then he reached over, his gloved fingers barely curving under the edge of my veil as his amber-yellow eyes met mine and then stayed there. Surprisingly steady considering how nervous Idia had been around me when we’d first met.

But quite a bit of time had passed since then. Idia no longer minded ragging on me in his own playful way about not knowing certain things or making a stupid move while we played a game, be it online or at a table. 

He’d even jokingly called me the worst player two he’d ever had, with nothing but fond amusement behind his biting words.

But that was just the way Idia was. And perhaps that was when I felt myself go perfectly still as I looked down, almost like I was too shy to hold his stare. 

I half expected him to say something and snap the weighty atmosphere that now accumulated in the dark space where the only thing that illuminated me and him was the fluttering light from his long hair that was currently bound in a ponytail in an attempt to clean up his appearance just a little bit more.

I swallowed slightly, having to fight to not fidget or lace my gloved fingers together as a distraction for myself. But I held still as the camera clicked before exhaling softly as I heard Crewel and the photographer start discussing the image, our pose, and a myriad of other aspects of the photograph and felt myself relax, looking up at Idia and meeting his gaze almost immediately.

And almost immediately he frowned at me as I held his gaze, quietly pondering the amber colors of his eyes.

“You're staring,” I blinked at Idia’s judgy words that caught me largely off-guard before hurriedly shaking my head.

I frowned at him as I swiftly denied his accusation, even though that was absolutely what I had been doing, “No, I wasn’t. I was just staying posed for the picture in case that one wasn’t good enough.”

He openly grimaced at the thought of having to stand here longer, and I felt myself snort at his displeasure, humor slipping into my voice as I smiled at him, “It’s not that bad. And you can buy a new game with whatever Crewel pays you.”

“That’s the only even slightly good thing about any of this,” His tone was perfectly bitter, and I shook my head at him. Amused by his sulkiness that he didn’t even try to hide.

“Come on, I thought I looked nice at the very least,” I leaned towards him teasingly as I smiled up at him. And it was tempting to flutter my eyelashes at him.

But I didn’t have to in order to get a reaction. He was already rolling his eyes at my teasing and openly snarking back as he gestured to our surroundings, “Oh yeah, because I can see you so well in this lighting.”

I frowned at him playfully before leaning back and smiling at him more genuinely, “Well, you look nice at the very least. Ortho would probably be thrilled to see you in a suit, and I bet the rest of your family would too.”

“More like they’d mock me,” He openly shuddered at the mere thought of his parents seeing him dressed like he was. But then he shook his head, continuing as he looked back, “Normal, comfortable clothes are far better. They tell you more about a person than anything fancy they’ll only wear a single time for a special occasion ever could.”

I blinked at his words, half-startled by them as he eyed me before an almost maniacal grin curved across his face and he snickered, “Besides, it’s not like you picked the dress out anyway.”

I snorted, rolling my eyes as his behavior started catching on, “Such a romantic.”

He just snickered more as Crewel finally glanced over at us, “Alright, looks good. I’m cutting on the lights now.”

“Better make a run for it before he starts prepping for your next photoshoot,” I snorted again at Idia’s half-muttered words. Shaking my head at him as he snickered before walking off. No doubt about to shed his suit as quickly as possible so he could head back to his room.

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[sweetiecakesss]

Black Russian | Boothill (18+)

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ Synopsis: What better way to pass the time on a slow business day than having sex in the bathroom with the universe's known criminal, Boothill.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇Tags: Boothill, Saloon Owner! Reader, Boothill has a cock, Blowjob, Bathroom Sex, Boothill's synthesia beacon isn't broken in this fic, No P n V just P n M, Gunplay.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇Note: Brainrot about Saloon Owner! Reader x Outlaw! Boothill and am creaming my pants---

The business was slow and quiet as you stood behind the counter with a neutral expression on your face, looking around the people that was seated on their respective seats. Some were already drunk to boot while other were still booming with energy as they watched the television as they chug their beers.

"Hey boss," Turning your head to face where the voice came, you raised your brows. "Am gonna get going now, can't let my woman wait." Orion, you're employee let out. You gave him a nod and a smile.

"Tell the misses I said hi." You let out to which Orion nodded, tipping his hat before he left the saloon, leaving you and the other drunkards in your establishment.

Everything was silent, until you heard the familiar ding of the bell by the door. A man---No, A Robot man entering your saloon. White and black hair flowing behind him, his hat covering his features, and with each stem you can hear metal clanking. You kept your eyes on him as he then made his way to the counter, sitting in front of you as he then removed his cowboy hat. Placing it on top of the counter.

As soon as he removed his hat, your eyes squinted at him as you moved your gaze to your left. Eyeing the wanted poster with the man's picture, a smirk creeping its way to your features as you just looked at him.

"A glass of Black Russian for me, sweetcheeks." The man let out, you looked at him as you moved to grab a small alcohol glass, placing it on the counter infront of him as you started pouring and mixing the drink in front of him.

"You got nice taste." You complimented as he took the well mixed drink and taking a sip before he looked at you and chuckling.

"I like em' strong," He let out, pausing as he took another sip. "The name's Boothill. And you are?"

You looked at him with an amused smile as you cleaned the things you needed to make his drink.

"I don't think telling a wanted man my name is a safe move…" You let out, Boothill looked at you surprised and amused as he let out a raspy chuckle as he placed his glass down on the counter, placing his arms on top of it as he leaned forward, tilting his head to the left.

"Don't be like that, Sweetheart. I ain't gonna bite…" He let out as his eyes roamed your features, scanning you from head and downwards before looking back up to meet your gaze. "Anyways, you've got my name already so why donn'cha tell me yours. Unless you want me to call you sweetheart for the rest of my stay here."

You looked at him amused. "It's Y/N." You let out.

He whistled. "Beautiful name. Suits ya'." He let out as he went ahead to take a sip of his drink once more before finally chugging it down and finishing his drink.

"So. Why is a pretty lil' thing like you work in a saloon?" He asked, his attention on yours as he looked at you with his sharp gaze. You looked at him as you raised your brows.

"If calling me pretty and endearments is your way to get free drinks outta me, I'd rather you not. Shit doesn't work on me." You let out. "And I own this saloon." You added to which Boothill let out another low whistle.

"Strong and Independent, yer just my type…How about that?" He let out as he gave you a smirk.

"I ain't interested." You replied, quickly dismissing his further advancements on you to which he just chuckled in response.

“Oh, c’mon.. You’re not gonna give me a single chance?” He then look around, looking around the place as he then lowered his tone of voice. “C’mon, darlin’. I haven’t had a pretty woman on my arm in ages. Least.. least not one that wasn’t tryin’ to shoot me or put me behind bars.”

You looked at him as you then placed the cloth over your shoulders, leaning forward; You placed your arms on the counter as you then tilted your head to the side.

"If you're looking for a prostitute, I ain't interested." you let out with a smirk. "You're a charming fellow but I ain't an easy one to grab, try your luck in a stripper club instead" you added. A low grunt escaped Boothill's lips as he cocked his eyebrow at you.

"I wasn't lookin' to buy yer services." He retorted as he chuckled. "Not yet, anyways."

"I just told you, I ain't a stripper." You let out as you stood back and crossed your arms over your chest, your brows furrowing at him. Boothill let out a raspy laugh as he ran his cold metallic fingers on his hair while looking at you.

"A Strong, Independent, Funny, and Pretty girl? Hah. How are you even Single…" He let out as he gave you a charming smirk. You looked at him intently as you then grabbed a bottle of vodka, pouring it onto his empty glass.

"Men tell me I'm insane that's why." You replied as you then grabbed the glass with vodka, chugging the drink down with one swift move before placing it down on the counter. A lipstick stain evident on the glass.

Boothill looked at the glass, eyeing the lipstick stain before he then grabbed the glass, holding it from the bottom as he then gave the mark you left on his glass a small kiss while his eyes remained on you. Making sure your eyes never left him for just even a second.

You stared at him in amusement as you then looked around, the quiet saloon still oh so quiet. Looking back at him, you dropped the things you were holding.

"It's a slow day…" You let out in a hum. "Meet me in the bathroom after a few…" You let out with a smirk before walking away and out the counter, your footsteps growing faint as you entered the bathroom.

Boothill made sure to eye you as entered the bathroom, looking away he chuckled to himself as he then moved and grabbed his hat before looking around and following pursuit, entering the bathroom.

You stood there with your arms crossed over your chest, across from him with your back against the wall. Boothill then closed the door behind him before locking it as he approached you, his cold hands holding onto your waist as he pulled you close to him.

"Mind telling me why you invited me in the bathroom?" He let out, humming as he moved his free hand up your body before holding onto your chin and making you look at him. Your gaze was on him as you then grabbed his wrist, opening your mouth you then pushed his fingers inside your mouth, lightly bobbing your head as you make eye contact with him.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" You let out murmured as you then let go of his fingers, your small hands placed on his chest as you gently guided him back until his back was finally against the door.

Your touch was enough to make Boothill shiver, his hands letting go of your waist as he lets out a shaky breath, his eyes meeting yours as he then moved his hand and placing them behind your head, intertwining his fingers with your hair before he then pulled you in a for a kiss.

You let out a hum of satisfaction as your lips finally clashed with his, your hands that was once on his chest, moved up as you grabbed tightly onto his collar. Gripping onto his clothes tightly as you chased his lips, the kiss deepening and messy as you made sure to not let him go. Your free hand moving down until it was now on his waist, holding onto him.

Boothill gasped with delight over the way you both kissed. It was rough and intense, both bodies pressed onto each other as he then let out a groan, his hand that was holding onto your hair moved and gripped onto it tightly, eliciting a moan escaping your mouth, making Boothill have access to more of you as he used his tongue, wrestling with yours.

"Gods…you taste so fucking sweet…" He murmured in between the kiss as he continued to chase the high that the two of you were feeling. You then let out a chuckle in between the kiss.

"I'm addicting…I know…" You slurred a reply as you slowly walked back, letting Boothill pushed his body onto you as he then pushed you against the sink. His hand then let's go of your hair before he grabbed onto the back of your thighs, holding onto you before he lifted you up and placed you on top of the counter.

Cold metallic hands holding tightly onto your thighs as you wrapped your legs around Boothill, his hips thrusting forward to feel the warmth in between your legs. Your pussy throbbing as he proceeded to grind his growing bulge onto you.

As the kiss went on, Boothill was too distracted at the feeling of kissing you and the wetness that was gradually forming in between your legs that he didn't notice the lightness of the gun holster on his waist. Briefly pulling away, both you and Boothill looked at each other in a daze before you gave him a smirk as you raised your hand and pointed the gun muzzle under his chin, making him tilt his head up and to the side as he looked at you surprised and a smirk.

"YOu fucking minx…" He let out as he then raised both his hands in the air.

"Must say, for someone who only seems like to be ninety percent human…You're packing.." You let as your free hand moved to cup the aching bulge in his pants as you made sure to look at him.

Boothill let out a grunt as he jolted his hips forward, chasing your touch.

"I was lucky to have them saved my dick, to be honest…" He let out in between groans, his words getting caught in his throat as you continued to palm him through his pants. You let out a chukle.

"Now what? You gonna' shoot me, Doll?" He let out a question while he kept his gaze on you. You let out a hum.

"I was gonna shoot your brains out but since this little fellow is being so charming…" You let out, pausing briefly as you unwrapped your legs around Boothill, your hand letting go of his crotch as you created a gap between you and him as you then stood on your own feet, guiding him against the wall as you then returned the gun in his holster before kneeling down in front of him. "I thought I'd give you a treat…" You added.

Boothill looked down at you with widened eyes as you skillfully unbuckled his pants, pulling it down and revealing his Cock. Despite being a robot, his cock stood lively as you stared at it. Pale in color with a slightly darkened tip.

Looking up at him, you gave his tip a small kiss before opening your mouth wide, taking the head in your mouth before pulling out again with a pop. Boothill groaned as he looked down at you, his hands reaching to hold onto your shoulders as he tried to push you away from his aching and throbbing cock.

"YOu don't want it?" You asked with a feign pout as your hands wrapped around his shaft, slowly moving it up and down as you gave his tip small pecks down to his shaft before finally reaching his hips.

"N-no…It's just that--Fuck…" Boothill let out as he looked at you, his grip on your shoulder tightening as he threw his head back, feeling your lips all over him.

You gave him a smirk as you then bit down on the flesh of his hip, leaving a mark before moving back and slapping his hardened cock on your face while still giving it kisses, giving it the love it deserves.

"Y/N…" Boothill moaned your name as he looked back down. "Jesus fucking christ just suck my cock already…" He groaned impatiently as his other hand moved to grab the back of your head and pulling onto your hair. As he pulled onto your hair, you can't help but let out a whimper as you looked up at him with a smirk.

"Impatient asshole…"You cussed at him as you tightened the grip around his cock, making boothill nearly fall onto the floor as leaned forward, cock throbbing in your hand as he let out shaky breaths of whimper.

Boothill stood up straight again as he glared at you, before he could even say something you just looked at him in amusement before swallowing in his cock, pushing him deep inside your throat. Boothill bit his lip to supress his groans, his entire body shaking from the pleasure.

All he could hear was gagging noises you made before you were pulling away from his cock, coughing as soon as you pulled away. Boothill looked back at you, his cock throbbing even more as he saw your mascara stained cheeks. A mix of his pre and your saliva dirpping down your chin.

"Fuck, so pretty…" He let out as he used his free hand to hold onto your neck, pulling you in for a soft kiss before letting go of you. You hummed as you let out a giggle before taking in his cock in your mouth one more time.

"Yeah, take me like that…" Boothill groaned as you bobbed your head, your moans adding an extra pleasure to him as the vibrations added a sensation of pleasure. His hands guiding you to move faster and deeper on him.

The bathroom was filled with Boothill's groans and grunts along with the sound of you gagging and slobbering all over his cock, at this point you were sure that whoever attempted to use the bathroom could hear what was going on inside.

"Wait--fuck, sweetheart…'m boutta cum…" Boothill let out in between grunts, you could only look up at him through your lashes as you continued to bob your head, your hand going to grip onto his balls, massaging them.

With one final bob of your head, Boothill pressed you down onto him, making you gag around his cock as he spilled all his cum down your throat. Pulling away, Boothill looked down at you.

"Jesus fuck…You look prettier this way, Doll…" He let out. You looked up at him as you stood up and swallowed his cum all while looking at him.

"You should cut down the Alocohol." You let out as you then headed towards the sink, turning on the faucet as you washed your make up and cum stained face. Boothill let out a chuckle as he then headed your way but before he could even hold you a loud knock resonated within the bathroom, grabbing both of your attention.

"Are you both done there!? I need to fucking pee!" A drunk man slurred from the otherside of the door. Turning off the faucet, you headed your way to the door. Opening it.

"Go pee somewhere else, This bathroom's out of order." You let out, staring down the man before slamming the door to his face, locking it as you turned to face Boothill.

Turning around, you started to unbuckle your belt as you then pushed your pants down. You then placed both your hands on the door, bending forward and exposing your dripping cunt to Boothill.

"Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna fuck me senseless?"

[helloalycia]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 [𝐎𝐍𝐄] — 𝐒𝐊𝐘𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

two / three / masterlist / wattpad

summary: when you become friends with Skye Riley and watch her grow into the pop star she is, that unfortunately means you get a front row seat into her demise.

warning/s: mentions of substance abuse, injury and death.

author's note: okay so this took forever and i’m very sorry for the wait! i started writing it but it just kept getting longer so now it's 3 parts 😂

a few things to note - the smile demon thing doesn't exist, it's just a story about her bc why not. Also her friend Gemma (?) also doesn't exist bc i couldn't think of a way to include her in the story lol

okay that's it, enjoy!!

The thing with Skye Riley was she was always so full of hope and passion and optimism for her craft. From the very first day we met, I knew she would become something special to so many people out there. I just never intended for her to become something special to me.

She was just starting out, some rising star doing a performance for a local TV station in the city. I didn't even know who she was, never having heard of nor seen her before. The reason I was at the station was because it was another one of my odd behind-the-scenes photography jobs I'd landed, fresh out of university at twenty-two years old.

I was messing with my camera near the snacks table when I felt a presence and looked up to see her grabbing some grapes from the fruit bowl. She didn't notice me at first, but I definitely did a double take, not knowing she was the talent at first, but thinking how pretty this girl was. She must have felt my gaze as she looked up and flashed me a picture-perfect smile, almost making me melt there and then.

"Hey," she greeted.

I blinked before smiling. "Hi! Sorry, I was just daydreaming."

She chuckled before nodding to my camera. "You work here?"

I glanced down at my camera. "Yeah. Well, kind of. It's only temporary. I'm doing some stills for their website. You?"

She hummed, intrigued. "Nice. I'm performing, so it might be me you're shooting. Do get my good side, please."

It was then that I realised she was Skye Riley, the talent booked for the day. "Shit, you're the guest."

She began to laugh, in a sweet, reserved kind of way. "I am, yeah. I'm Skye."

"My apologies, Skye," I said sheepishly. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Y/N."

"Y/N," she repeated, before smiling softly. "It's all good." She picked at another grape before continuing, "Between you and me, this is my first ever TV appearance and I'm scared shitless."

I realised she wasn't kidding when she didn't smile. Clearing my throat, I tried to reassure her. "I'm sure you'll be great. Clearly you're here for a reason. Just... try not to overthink it. Be yourself."

She glanced out at the stage. "I suppose you're right." Her gaze returned to mine with a half smile. "Thanks."

"At least if the interview goes south, you know you'll get some good photos from it," I joked, lifting my camera in the air playfully.

She laughed wholeheartedly, thankfully not offended. "Gee, thanks. Can't wait to see 'em."

I couldn't help but smile as I said, "I'm kidding. I'm sure you'll be great, Skye."

Before she could respond, someone called her name and she looked out to them before giving me a nervous smile. "I guess that's me. Was nice meeting you, Y/N. Maybe I'll see you around."

"You too," I responded. "And yeah, maybe. Break a leg out there."

She gave me a final smile before leaving to join her manager – who I eventually discovered was her mum – by the stage. I wasn't expecting to see her again, though I was definitely blown away by her talent when she performed that night. And as far as TV appearances went, she nailed it.

I suppose that being the same age in a world of adults and both starting out in our careers at the same time made it easy to talk to her. Especially when I was covering another last-minute paying photography gig at some flashy charity event that she just happened to be at.

It was her who spotted me this time, as I got some shots of the guests dancing around on the dance floor. I felt a tap on my shoulder and straightened up, wondering who it could be.

"Y/N?" her voice called as I turned around, certainly surprised to see her. When she saw me, her smile widened. "Yes, I knew I recognised you. It's me, Skye! Not sure if you remember me from the TV thing last month."

I was surprised to see her, but equally thrilled, returning her smile. "Skye, yes, of course I remember you. I didn't expect to see you again if I'm being honest, let alone so soon."

She chuckled. "At least you're honest. I'm glad though. I really enjoyed our chat last time." Her eyes looked me up and down. "You look good."

I felt my cheeks grow warm, knowing she didn't mean it like that but still unable to accept compliments from pretty girls. "Thanks, so do you."

And I wasn't lying. She looked amazing in her glitzy purple dress, long, curled dark hair and smokey eye makeup. In just the month since we'd last seen each other, her music was already blowing up more and more, and she was really starting to come into herself as a star.

"Thanks," she said with a grin. "So, are you working this event too? That's so cool for you!"

"Yeah, it's definitely a great opportunity," I replied, glancing around. "Just trying to get the best gigs I can, y'know? Get my name out there."

"Well, I personally loved the stills you took of me," she complimented sincerely, dark eyes glittering under the lights. "I think you're really talented."

"I think you might be biased," I said, unable to take the compliment, "but thank you."

She rolled her eyes playfully before nodding behind her. "Do you wanna get a drink and chat or are you not allowed? You're actually the only person I know here."

I was surprised she wanted to talk more, but also felt the same way. "Erm...," I paused, checking my watch and glancing around. "I should really work or I might get told off. But I finish in an hour, before the event ends. I don't know if you're still around then?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely," she said with a bright smile. "I'll be hanging around if you wanna find me? I'd love to know more about these photography gigs of yours."

I exhaled softly, nodding. "Sounds good. Only fair you tell me all about this becoming-a-celebrity gig of yours then." She laughed at this and it brought a smile to my lips. "I'll catch you later, Skye."

She nodded, satisfied. "See you in a bit."

And from there, it was safe to say we became friends. After getting to know each other better and exchanging numbers, it was easy enough to make a friend in the same boat as me, even if her boat was slightly different to mine. Of course, it was my mistake to be even mildly attracted to my new friend because that was not a good starting point for our friendship.

Because of how close we got, close enough for us to consider each other a best friend, she invited me to join her on tour as a documentary-style photographer. I was still building my experience and portfolio whilst she claimed she just really didn't want to be alone on her first ever international tour, so it was a win-win.

It was during the tour that I realised how much I actually liked her, in a dangerously non-platonic kind of way. And any little thing she did that was slightly touchy had me stumbling over my words – which was almost all the time because she was the touchiest friend I'd ever had.

It could be something as simple as braiding my hair for me and I'd forget how to breathe, or one time I was sat in her dressing room, listening to her mum talk about the show when she decided she wanted sit on my lap. Such casual friend things and yet I was malfunctioning every time.

Naturally, I forced myself to get over it.

—

Spending our 20s together meant I got a front row seat to her eventual decline into substance abuse. She was already an anxious person, though did well to disguise it, but her quick rise to fame and the constant pressures of her team did her no favours.

The first time I truly witnessed just how much she dealt with was about a year later, when she lost her voice in the midst of preparing for another tour. I was hanging around the side of the stage as they did a rehearsal a few nights prior to her first show, simply showing my support, when everybody noticed the croak in her throat as she attempted to sing a verse. After realising she couldn't, she was taken to a doctor.

"She's been under too much stress and her vocal cords are worn," the doctor explained to her mum in her dressing room, Skye sat opposite her. "She needs vocal rest."

Her mum seemed uncertain. "How long will that take?"

The doctor began to pack her things away as she spoke, "I'd advise a minimum of a few days, but she probably needs a week."

"She doesn't have a week," her mum snapped. "Her first show is in a couple of days. Thousands of fans are expecting to hear her sing."

I glanced at Skye, noticing the guilty expression she wore as she looked down to her hands. Her mum was always putting pressure on her like this and it was never nice to see her. I settled for resting my hand on hers, earning her attention, and squeezing it gently to let her know I was there for her.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Riley, but your daughter is in a lot of pain and if she keeps going like this, she won't even have a tour," the doctor said impatiently. "Give her the rest she needs and she'll be okay."

Her mum sighed. "Fine. Thank you, doctor."

The doctor nodded before giving Skye a reassuring smile and leaving the four of us alone – including Skye's mum's assistant.

"Sorry, mum," Skye muttered, and I nudged her gently in warning.

"You just heard the doctor," I reminded her. "No talking."

Her mum merely massaged the bridge of her nose with frustration, as if working out what to do next. It was harsh, insensitive even, but it wasn't my place to intervene.

"Okay, it's okay," she decided, before looking to her daughter. "You can still rehearse everything else. No vocals until the first show."

Skye nodded, standing up, but I quirked a brow as I looked to her mum.

"Shouldn't she rest?" I said, holding back my critique as much as I could. "If anything, it'll help her recover quicker. The doctor said she's already under stress."

"Dancing won't kill her," her mum said dismissively, before nodding to Skye. "I'll see you back out there, okay?"

Skye nodded as I raised my brows with disbelief, watching her mum and mum's assistant leave. Only when they were gone did I scoff and look to Skye.

"Are you serious? You need to rest, Skye," I told her. "You don't have to listen to her, you know."

Skye closed her eyes, frowning as she shook her head. I then realised my complaining wasn't helping and relaxed slightly.

"Sorry," I said quietly. "But it's not right. And if you were hurting, you should've said."

She swallowed thickly before opening her eyes and forcing a smile that didn't reach them.

"Skye...," I started, but didn't want to upset her anymore than she clearly already was. Instead, I gave her a hug, hoping it would mean something.

She wrapped her arms around me and didn't let go, not until I did, and I only did because we were hugging way too long and I didn't want to piss her mum off even more.

"Take it easy," I said to her when we pulled apart, searching her gaze. "Stop if it's too much, alright?"

She nodded, squeezing my hands gently, but I knew deep down that she was only saying what I wanted to hear, or rather doing what I wanted to see. She was too obedient to her mum and didn't want to let everyone down, even if it meant working herself to death.

It was all of these little things adding up that inevitably pushed her to seek out an escape where I just couldn't help her anymore.

The first time I realised it might be an issue was that same tour, about halfway through, when I was photographing some of the crew the day before a concert to eventually use in the tour documentary they were making of Skye. It was a fun day for me since I loved hanging out with the people who made the magic happen, and I was excited to show my photos to Skye back at the hotel like I always did. Only, this time, when she let me into her room, I realised she was drunk.

If it wasn't the acrid scent of alcohol that clung to her clothes that gave it away, or her giddy nature as she flopped on her bed, it was the countless mini bar bottles and cocktail glasses littered around her room.

"Did you... have a party with yourself or something?" I asked with confusion, sitting at the edge of her bed.

She laughed like I'd said the funniest thing ever smacking my hand gently as she stared at the ceiling. "Something like that."

I watched her, mildly concerned. "Are you gonna be okay for sound check tomorrow? Your mum might actually kill you if you show up with a hangover."

She waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, it's not that bad. It's a one-off, honest. I just wanted some fun."

Stupidly, I believed her. "Okay, well... maybe we should attempt to sober you up. C'mon."

She groaned, rolling over to stick her head under her pillow. "Later."

"Skye, please," I tried to reason. "Have you eaten anything?"

She ignored me and I took that as a no.

"I'll order some room service, yeah? Get some food in you," I said, talking to air as she continued to ignore me.

I had it easy enough that evening, looking after her. And even though she did wake up with a hangover the next morning, she promised she'd never act so irresponsibly again. I didn't care, I just didn't want her to struggle.

Of course, that was only the start. Whereas we'd usually hang out together after her shows, she began to leave to hang out with some of the crew and their friends. I wouldn't have minded since she was her own person, but it meant she'd come back absolutely hammered and it only worried me. It kept happening, to the point that it was a regular thing. Even after the tour ended, it was almost impossible to see her without a drink in her hand.

We fought about it at first, but I didn't want to push her away even more, especially into the arms of her shitty Hollywood friends. She was once open but now she'd hide things from me, making it difficult to know exactly what she was up to. I couldn't control her and I didn't want to, but she didn't seem to understand the severity of her actions.

It kept getting worse as the years went on, especially when she got a new boyfriend. They were awful for one another, terrible influences. Skye became more irritable to everyone around her, including me. It was like being friends with a completely new girl. Between the drinking and the partying and the drugs, I couldn't keep up. And as much as I cared about her, I wasn't important enough in her life for her to even consider listening to.

The final straw was when the paparazzi released some photos of her having a breakdown, screaming at some poor makeup artist for no reason at all. A joint was in her hand, she looked a mess, and it was enough to send her mum in a livid spiral. I wanted to stay out of it, but when her mum practically forced me to go to her and try to knock some sense into her, I had no choice.

When I knocked on the door of Skye's apartment, she saw it was me and rolled her eyes but let me in.

"She send you to fix me, did she?" she asked, walking to the kitchen.

I tried not to get offended as I stepped in and closed the door behind me. "It's bad, Skye. You look insane."

She faked a laugh. "Wow, way to fuckin' sugarcoat it."

I sighed, leaning on her kitchen island and looking over at her. "Are you gonna act childish with me right now or are we gonna have an actual conversation?"

She raised her brows, surprised and irritated. "Seriously?"

Maybe it was the years of putting up with her on-again off-again mood swings, or maybe it was just her complete disregard to listen to anyone who cared about her, but I'd had enough in that moment.

"Skye, you're embarrassing yourself," I said sternly, meeting her red-rimmed gaze. Of course she was high. "It's concerning and these pictures should be a wake up call."

She narrowed her eyes. "Good job I didn't ask your opinion."

I rubbed my face, fed up of her anger. "Skye, I'm not trying to argue."

"Then stay out of my fucking business, Y/N! You're always on my back about this shit and it's getting old."

Ignoring her tantrum, I said, "I'm worried about you."

Suddenly, she began to laugh slowly, quietly, mockingly. "I bet."

Confused, I watched her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She tilted her head as she nodded at me, arms crossed over her chest condescendingly. "It's written all over your face. You're in love with me."

I couldn't really comprehend what she'd said, not at first, but then my face felt hot and I felt like I'd been caught out.

"God, you're so obvious!" she whined loudly, approaching me. "You've been obvious with it. All these fucking years."

How did she know? How could she?

"You- you don't even know what you're saying," I finally spoke, cursing inwardly when I stumbled. "You probably won't even remember this in the morning, you're that fucking high."

"Oh, I'll remember," she assured me with a smile so cruel that it looked nothing like my best friend. "Because it's written all over your face."

She poked me in the cheek and I swatted her finger away instinctively, ashamedly, making her laugh.

"You're terrible at hiding it," she continued, eyes flickering between mine. "It's laughable."

Every part of me was screaming to leave, to run away and never come back. My skin was crawling and I wanted the earth to swallow me up, hot with shame. Tears pricked my eyes, embarrassed and hurt by how cruel she was being, how careless she was with my feelings.

"Did you think there was a shot?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "Is that why you stuck around all this time?"

I frowned, attempting to glare at her, but it was a foolish one. "I stuck around because I care. Because you're my friend."

"You're lying." She laughed again.

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Forget it."

"It's forgotten."

I couldn't even look at her, turning around to leave. Never had she been so hurtful with her words.

"Oh, fine, fuck off like you want!" she shouted as I opened the front door.

I clenched my jaw as I glanced back at her. "You've become such a bitch."

She glared at me. "Better a bitch than a shitty admirer."

My heart crumbled, but I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. "Fuck you."

And with that, I slammed the door and left. Though, not without breaking down on the lift down to the lobby.

—

She never called to apologise. She never texted to check in. And I wasn't going to crawl back to her, not out of worry or friendship or anything. She'd made a fool of me, hurt me so much that I felt like an idiot. Because I was. I was the idiot who had my love for her practically tattooed all over my face. How could I have been so foolish?

An almost ten-year friendship gone, just like that.

Months passed and it was admittedly strange not to have her in my life. Even though our relationship had drastically changed for the worst, she'd been a consistent part of my life. And now she was just... gone.

The anger and embarrassment easily turned into hurt, which turned into sadness, and I found myself missing her greatly. But she made no effort to get in touch, so I knew I needed to move on.

It was those few months later when her car accident was all over the news. That was how I'd found out. She'd been on a drive with her boyfriend who unfortunately died, and she was in hospital. Or, at least, that was all the press knew.

As frustrated as I was with her, none of it mattered when I found out what had happened. Every part of me was concerned, wanting to know if she was okay. I was so close to calling her mum and asking to visit Skye in hospital, but I was too cowardly to do it. I'd convinced myself that she wouldn't want me there. Still, I missed her greatly.

A year passed soon enough and the only connection that I had with Skye Riley was the same as all of her fans – through a TV screen. Her story was in the headlines for ages – her public breakdown, her accident, her rise back to stardom. Interviews, the announcement of her new album, her new tour... I avoided it where I could, but she was a superstar and it wasn't always easy.

I'd gotten over her. I had. I never expected to hear from her again and that was okay.

Until I got a call out of the blue and it just so happened to be her.

"Hello?" I answered the unknown number with confusion.

"Oh, sorry, I thought you might still...," the girl on the other side mumbled, before clearing her throat. "It's Skye. Erm, Skye Riley."

I stopped what I was doing, surprised to hear her voice. "Oh."

"Sorry, I know this is really random," she said quickly, nervous, "but, erm, I... I wanted to– I'd like to see you." She paused, then added, "If that's possible."

My brain was still playing catch up from the fact that she'd even called, let alone that she wanted to see me. I didn't know what to think.

"Why?" I finally asked, not trying to be hostile, but genuinely surprised.

She paused, and then spoke, "I miss you. A lot."

I furrowed my eyebrows, looking down. "Skye, it's been a year."

She chuckled nervously. "Well, I've been in rehab for half of it..." When I didn't laugh, she continued, "Sorry. I just– I want to apologise. To explain. Ideally in person."

It didn't make sense. Why now?

"Please," she said quietly, noticing my silence.

I sighed, closing my eyes. As easy (and satisfying) as it would've been to tell her no and hang up, a part of me still cared. And annoyingly enough, I'd never gotten closure which had haunted me for a while. Maybe this could be it.

"Okay," I breathed out.

"Really?" She was as surprised as I sounded when I'd answered.

"Yeah," I said before I could change my mind. "Maybe this–?"

"Tomorrow?" she cut me off without meaning to.

"Oh," I started, but she spoke again.

"Sorry, never mind," she said nervously. "When did you want to meet?"

"No, tomorrow should be fine," I agreed.

I heard her exhale with relief. "Great. Good. Is around three okay? Maybe we can get a coffee or something."

"Sure."

"Great, thanks," she said quietly. "I'll text you."

"I'll save your number," I said without thinking.

She laughed awkwardly, making me cringe at my own discomfort. "Yeah. Thanks. See you tomorrow."

After saying my goodbyes and ending on an awkward note, I took a moment to acknowledge what just happened. Getting a call from her was genuinely the last thing I'd expected, but I was willing to hear her out. If not for her sake, then for my own.

—

I couldn't stop spinning the ring on my finger, a nervous habit of mine, as I walked into the bistro downstairs to Skye's dance studio. We'd agreed to meet there after her rehearsals since it was usually only staff that frequented it so it wouldn't draw attention from her fans.

When I walked in, I glanced around, seeing it was empty for the most part, save for one or two patrons. And then I finally spotted her sat at a booth on the side, looking a lot different to how I'd last seen her, though still very similar to the girl I once knew.

When she saw me, she perked up, looking as nervous as I felt, and I had no choice but to walk over to her. She stood up, blinking, unsure whether to speak first.

"Hi," I said, when she didn't, meeting her flittering eyes.

"Hi," she responded, before swallowing thickly and glancing at the table and then me again. "Erm..." She leaned in to give me a hug, which I had no choice but to return, but it was awkward on both sides. When we pulled apart, she smiled uncomfortably. "I– sorry, I–"

"It's fine," I said quickly, before nodding awkwardly.

She slid into her side of the booth so I did the same, hoping she couldn't hear my irregular heartbeat. I looked over at her, noticing her new look. She'd cut off the long, dark hair she'd had as long as I knew her, donning a pixie cut that was now dyed blonde. I'd seen it in the press, but it still took some getting used to. Suited her though. Annoyingly, she was still as beautiful as she was the day I'd met her.

"The new look is nice," I spoke, breaking the silence and nodding to her.

A nervous smile crept on her lips. "Thanks." A pause and then: "You look good, Y/N."

"Thanks," I mumbled, smiling just as nervously.

She pushed an iced coffee towards me, saying, "I ordered for you, but I'm now realising your favourite order could've changed since we last... yeah. I can get you something different if you want."

I looked at the drink, reading the label, surprised she'd even remembered. "No, no, this is still my favourite. Thanks, Skye. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do," she replied with a shrug, playing with the lid of her own coffee. "I... thanks for meeting with me."

I glanced up at her. "I thought I'd never hear from you again to be honest."

She frowned, looking down. "I know. I debated calling sooner. I... I owe you a huge apology." Her eyes met mine with the utmost sincerity. "I'm sorry. For all of it. For the way I took advantage of your kindness, your friendship. The way I ignored your warnings and support. And–"

She stopped, eyes flickering to her drink guiltily, and she didn't even need to say it for me to know what she was remembering next. Everything she'd said to me before I left for good. How horrible it was, how embarrassing it was. Even now, I couldn't look at her, my face growing warm. After all this time, it was still so humiliating.

"It was awful, I know," she said quietly.

I didn't know what else to say other than, "It was."

At this, she sighed. "I know it's unforgivable and that this isn't an excuse, but I wasn't in the right head space then. I just– I miss you. After the accident..."

When she was quiet for a second longer than usual, I looked up at her, seeing a faraway look in her expression.

"Skye?" I prompted, a hint of concern in my voice.

She shook her head, glancing at the table before meeting my gaze. "Sorry. I just– I miss you and I wanted to see you."

"You keep saying that you miss me, but you had a phone," I pointed out gently, not trying to argue but unsure how to believe her. "You could've called. Especially after the accident."

I wanted you to call, I so badly wanted to add, but it was embarrassing to admit.

"I tried to," she said with a frown. "I didn't think you'd want to see me again after what I said."

I searched her gaze, saddened to hear that. "You thought I wouldn't have wanted to make sure you were okay? Just because of one argument? That I wouldn't have put all of that bullshit aside to make sure you were actually alive?"

She didn't meet my eyes, but she shook her head weakly, and I realised I was a being a little unfair despite it all.

Sighing, I leaned back in my seat, drawing shapes in the condensation of my cup mindlessly. "It's not fair of me to say you should've called. It was a lot, I can imagine. And I had a phone too, I know. I just... I didn't think you cared  anymore. After everything, I thought the last person you'd want to see in hospital was me."

"I don't blame you for thinking that," she muttered, picking at her coffee cup lid again. "It's far from the truth though."

A quiet fell between us as neither of knew what to say nor where to go. It was a lot to digest, knowing she regretted how things had ended up. Selfishly, it was all I'd wanted all this time – an apology and some closure.

"I want to make things right," she said, eyes flickering up to mine.

I met her halfway, exhaling gently. "I forgive you, Skye. I appreciate your apology."

The tension in her shoulders seemed to relax, as did her expression, and she nodded slightly. "I'd like to try again. If you would."

"I figured that's where this was going," I admitted, before nodding slowly. "I'd like that too."

She breathed out with relief, containing it behind a simple nod, and it meant a lot to me that this meant a lot to her, more than I thought it would.

"I really missed you," I said, feeling like a weight had been lifted.

Her eyes were glassy as she gave me a small smile. "I really missed you too, Y/N."

I stood up, as did she, and hugged her properly. It was unlike the previous one and she returned it with just as much relief, the two of us clinging tightly to one another like it was the last.

It was still a mystery to me as to whether rebuilding a friendship with Skye would be for the better, but my heart was saying to do it and I couldn't help myself. She was so easy to give into, so easy to fall back into place with.

[sylusbelovedart]

Yes, Kitten ? (Sylus x MC)

Disclaimer : MC has a cat girl. I tried to picture Sylus as best as I could, sorry if it's a bit OOC.

↑ Those are the insipiration btw. I just wanted to write a soft drabble about Sylus being loved by a kitten (knowing how much cats love to hate him). I imagine Sylus would be really happy to be loved by a kitten that keeps seeking him out and being clingy towards him, though he might be a bit shocked at first. And the fact that that cat is yours just makes it better. He just wished you would act the same towards him.

TW : there is none, it's just fluff.

You've never thought of getting a cat for yourself, really. Considering your job and the amount of time it took from you, you always thought having a cat would be irresponsable.

You took a breather after fighting wanderers all day. As you laid down to rest, you heard a rustle being the bushes. On alert and pissed that another wanderer may have found you, you pointed your gun towards it, unmoving. You tried to steady your breath and focused on reacting at the right time. As it was moving closer and closer to you, you tightened the grip around your gun. You nearly pressed on the trigger but stopped right before shooting.

It wasn't a wanderer.

But a frightened kitten, meowling loudly as it made its way to you. It scratched your leg, pleading.

And for some reason, your heart ached for this sweet furrball.

You promised yourself that you won't keep it, you just wanted to help it. You took it to the vet the next morning. After a health checkup, the vet informed you that the stray kitten was in fact a girl and that she was doing well. "You just need to carefully feed her with some nutritive food and give her the antibiotics needed to reduce the infection in her wounds". And you promised yourself that no matter how much that cute kitten was clinging to you, you would bring her to a shelter where she would be taken care off. But no matter how much you tried, she kept screaming and crying, begging you to keep her. So you gave in. You grew found of her and loved her, trying to make as much time for her as possible. You couldn’t help but spoil her rotten.

And as cute and lovely she was to you, you knew her to not be very kind to strangers. She easily gets scared, and won't hesitate to hiss and scratch. None of your friends or coworkers managed to get close to her, aside from Tara who managed to pat her for a bit but your kitten never willingly let herself be carried. And they would all joke about how much she ressembles you. You often pretended to be offended and point out how nice and helpful you were to everyone. But your friends brushed it all off, "like owner, like pet" they would say.

As your kitten was nestled in your arms in front of them, Nero kept staring at her, sadness plastered on his face, sighing loudly.

"Well, be grateful to at least be around her. She doesn't like people" you said pointing your finger at him, as if to make your point across "she is picky with who she lets close".

"That's exactly what I mean" he responded deadpan and then he looked back at your kitten with grief, his shoulders slumped "but she is so cute, do you think she will come to love me one day ?" he asked pouting, thrusting out is lower lip so much it made you laugh a little.

"I do wonder which one of you she will come to love first." You asked yourself patting your kitten’s head.

---

That's why the first time you let Sylus into your appartment, you were slightly anxious. It’s not the first time Sylus came by, but it wasn't just your home now. You hoped your kitten won't be too scared of him considering his intimidating aura or pissed by his arrogance. You knew Sylus was an absolute sweetheart to animals, but you were still scared of what your kitten’s first impression of him will be. You didn't mind her not liking people in general but you still wished she would accept Sylus, or least tolerate him.

And because people kept pointing out how much you're both alike, your first encounter with Sylus kept replaying in you mind and you winced at the thought. Yeah, we might have to work on it a little.

Arriving at your front door, you explained once again to Sylus how to act in front of your kitten. "She is scared of everyone, really. Please don't take it to heart, just give her some time."

"As if I have never dealt with another fierce kitten before" he teased, his head on your shoulder "And a stubborn one at that" he continued kissing your cheek.

You huffed and tapped his shoulder lightly "you're silly" you rolled your eyes "but I'm being serious now".

Sylus looked at you, smiling "your worry too much, it can't be that bad. Should I use my own methods on her ? Would gifts help sooth her ? Or is she as merciless as her master is ?" he nudges his nose against your cheek, teasing. That man, really.

"As long as you don't scare her" you said back, whispering at his lips "I don't mind your methods" you kissed him and unlocked your door. He raised a brow at your, a challenging look on his face.

Your could hear your kitten already meowling on the other side of the door. As soon as you opened it, she rubbed herself against your leg, happy to see you back home. You immediatly crouched down to pat her and take her in you arms, entering the appartment to let Sylus come in behind you.

"I guess it’s time for some presentation" you turned to face Sylus "Sylus, this is my sweet angel" you said kissing her lightly "and sweet angel, this is my boyfriend Sylus".

Sylus stared at your cat at first, as if trying to understand its way of thinking. He then tried to approach her but she hissed back at him and growled. Unbothered by her reaction towards him and seemingly used to this kind of treatment, Sylus just huffed and crossed his arms "You spoil her too much. She has your bad attitude"

You mouth fell open, shocked "No she doesn’t. She is the sweetest. She is just picky."

"And in my book" Sylus took a higher pitch "it’s called ‘like owner, like pet’".

You blinked, your mouth agape. Did he just mock you ?

You narrowed your eyes at him "Your horse has terrible temper. My kitten is just picky. She's being careful, that’s not the same" you pointed your finger menacingly at him "beware or I am making her chase you out of my appartment"

"I am soo scared." He said slowly approaching you, a mischevious look on his eyes.

Not wanting to give in to his antics. You turn your back at him and put down your kitten on the couch. You take off your coat gesturing Sylus to do the same. As you passed by him, you approached him and yank him down to meet your eyes "don't forget you're in my territory now. And contrary to last time, I have backup."

"Your territory ? I thought we already settled that last time" you couldn't help but blush, remembering the make-out session you both had on your kitchen counter 'last time'.

"You've been warned" you tried to glare at him but you knew Sylus wouldn't be frightened by it. You pushed him back, wanting to get away from him before giving in. That man might be the death of you someday.

Trying to ignore the flush of your face and your agitated state, you went to the sink to wash your hands. After gaining some sense of composure, you tried to change the subject "Is there anything you want to eat in particular tonight ?" you asked him.

"What are you proposing ?" from the corner of your eyes you saw Sylus leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, staring at you.

"Let me take a look" you opened the frigde, trying to act as normal and calm as possible and ignoring your loud heartbeats. His teasing always got you but seeing him so confortable in your own appartment did things to you.

"I can make some salad, if you want" you craved for something light and fresh "but not sure I have something for dessert though" you said a little bit embarrassed "I ate everything yesterday".

"I don’t mind. I’m sure we could settle for something sweet for the dessert."

You gulped dryly, almost chocking on your own spit. Yup, definitily the death of you.

As you took out the ingredients from the fridge, Sylus came next to you to wash his hand. He signed you to let him help you wash the vegetables. As you were patiently waiting for him, you heard your cat meowling loudly. Pretty scared that something might have happened or that she was angry by Sylus apparence in your kitchen, your searched for her worriedly. And as you looked for her, you saw her standing next to Sylus, looking at him with the most pleading eyes you’ve seen her make to someone. 

Sylus first look at her then at you, his eyebrows raised, a playful look on his face. Then she meowled again more loudly, rubbing herself against Sylus' leg. She never did that and certainly not to a stranger. You tried to brush it off.

"She can be quite a lot, sorry."

Sylus shook his head, laughing "it’s fine. I guess I won’t have only one kitten to take care of tonight"

If you could pretend to not be affected by his words earlier, you certainly were know. But you cat's meowls helped you keep you grounded and not embarrass yourself in front of him.

You called her out, distressed by her tantrum, hoping she would get the message. "Be nice" you grumbled softly "he is a guest". As you scolded her, Sylus crounched down to pat her. "Be careful, she could scratch you. Or bite you". For some reason you felt incredibly defensive towards each of them.

Sylus smiled at you, softened by your care for him. He presented once again his fingers to your kitten for her to sniff before she eagirly rubbed herself against his hand, purring loudly. He patted her a bit before she tried to jump into his arms, a paw against his tight and another on his torso. He quickly lifted her up as she nestled against him. You looked at the both of them dumbfounded and at a loss of words. Everything was working better than you imagined.

He looked at your with raised eyebrows, his eyes wide and surprised, his smile growing bigger. You couldn’t help but stare at him and the way he was so gentle with her. You rarely saw the happy look Sylus' had on his face right now, one of the purest sight you've seen since meeting him. But his expression quickly changed into a cocky one as he looked back at you. "I guess I won't have to work my way through her heart that much. Like owner, like pet, huh ?"

You prayed for God to have mercy on your soul, because this sight nearly made you combust. As surprised as you were, seeing them bounding really stired up something inside of you. Those two might be the death of you tonight.

"I guess she doesn’t hate you" you said lightly, shrugging off your shoulders trying to play it cool and stay focused on the task at hand. As if you weren't scared earlier that your cat might try to make Sylus her next meal.

"I’m pretty sure she adores me at this point" he said almost purring. With Sylus smart mouth and confidence back, you knew you won't hear the end of it. You looked back at both of them and it reminded you of the time you and Sylus went to feed the cats. "Do you want to feed her ?"

Sylus looked at you "whatever the kitten wants" he said as he scratched her chin. You were sure he wasn’t only talking about her. "She does deserve a reward after for being so sweet and polite after all" he walked away and searched for something in his blazer. He took out a can of food, the same brand you told him your kitten loved. "her food is right here" you said pointing at your cat food spot "you can feed her there". You absoluteley didn’t mind your cat eating in the kitchen, but your heart couldn’t stand the both of them right now. You took a good minute to compose yourself before returning to your task.

-----

"Come here, kitten" you suddenly straighten up as Sylus calls out for you, his voice soft and velvety.

You walked towards him nonchalantly, trying to come up with some sly retort. Once you arrived in the livingroom, you stopped completely in your tracks.

Sylus wasn’t actually calling out for you.

He was slouched over your kitten, his hands gently spread towards her. She didn’t even fight against his graps and just let herself be put on his laps. You felt your face turn red from embarrassment.

Sylus just used the same nickname for you to your cat, it's fine, you told yourself. You wanted to make a run from it, to escape the awkwardness that situation might bring if Sylus sees you. But as you turned around, Sylus eyes landed on you. By the look on your face, he frowned and stood up, ready to come and help you.

He nearly asked you what was wrong but Sylus was a clever man. Too clever for your own good in that situation. Seeing with the way you looked at both him and your kitten ? He quickly understood. Damn him.

"So you can come to me if I actually call out for you, kitten ?" He tapped a finger against his temple, his smirk too wide for your liking "that’s tremendous information. I'm keeping that in mind for next time."

You bite the inside of your cheek trying to hold yourself back and not embarrass yourself further. But you knew you failed miserably as your entire face was flushed red. You didn't dare to look at Sylus and just turned around.

"The intel I have on you would make rampage in the dark web. Don’t act so smooth as if you don’t have anything to hide. I pretty sure your soft spot for straight kittens would please your ennemies. Besides, I just wanted to make sure you both were good since I didn't hear from you for some time"

"Wouldn't that be a good sign ?"

"I don't know. Maybe she would have biten off that smug tongue of yours."

Sylus didn't say anything back but you knew he was ecstatic. "Well, I'm going back to the kitchen. Tell me if you need anything."

----

You felt Sylus arms wrap around you, his lips kissing the back of your head.

"You will always be my favorite kitten." he whispered into your ear.

"How come ? you know other kitten ? How many ?" you tried to sound mad but a smile spread accross your face when you felt Sylus pressing himself further against you, kissing your neck and shoulder.

"Not much really. One's a cute furball" your kitten meowled loudly as if she knew you two were talking about her "But... the other, this one I can't seem to get away from… and she is the one I adore" he said sweetly, turning you around to kiss you, blocking you against the kitchen counter.

"And-" you said trying to part your lips from him "you think that will-" Sylus put his hand on your cheek and tilted your head back to deepen the kiss "make me-" he slipped his tongue between your lips.

After a moment he finally parted slightly from you "forgive you ?"

Sylus kisses always felt good. Gosh his lips of his were blessed and crafted by God himself but cursed and polished by some sort of demon. Something about his kisses were soft and sweet but also deeply passionate and dizzying, always making you breathless.

"How should I earn your forgiveness then, my lady ?" he asked teasingly, brushing your nose with his.

"I don't know" you bite your lips looking up at him, you wanted him to work for it "should i even consider forgiving you ?"

Sylus slightly frowned. You smiled, hugging his waist "what do you have in mind ?"

"Anything you want" he whispered against your lips.

"Shouldn't you be careful before making this kind of proposal ?"

Sylus tucked your hair behind your ear, a beautiful smile drawing on his features. "Do you plan on finally being greedy with me ? I wouldn't ask for much."

You pretended to think for a little. "And if I say I just wanted to cuddle and watch films ? Would you mind ?"

"Sounds amazing to me, sweetheart." he said kissing you once again.

Sylus never mind going by your every whims and demands. He actually loved it. As much as you loved spoiling your cat, Sylus loved spoiling his own kitten rotten. Having you asking him for things, spending time with him, leaning on him, clinging to him was more than he could ever ask for. And God knew he didn't ask for much. So he didn't mind you making a fuss or acting mad or being greedy, because nothing made him happier than seeing you finally claiming him as your own.