I'm Sorry, I HAD To

Do not speak to me for a few minutes. I’m molting. I need a beach episode event like, now.

Art is by yudo_fu_nabe on Twitter!

Pairing: Ace x GN!Reader Genre: Fluff

Beep, beep. Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

You turn over in your half-awake state, one eye peeling open with much effort after having been woken up in the midst of a deep sleep. The room is dark, save for the crack of light coming from where your phone now silently lays face down beside your head.

You prop yourself up on a forearm after a moment of contemplation. Maybe it was something important or an emergency, considering how late the caller decided to ring you up.

But upon further inspection, you see that you have a missed call from none other than your best friend, Ace. And not just one or two calls either.

No wonder you woke up. Your phone must have been ringing for at least two minutes straight.

You squint your eyes against the bright light of your phone when another call goes through. Your index finger quickly slides the small switch on the side to silent before your ringtone could blast through the quiet ambiance of your room again.

“Hello? Ace, are you okay?” you press the phone to your ear and ask before your friend could speak.

“Were you asleep?” Ace’s hushed voice asks when he takes notice of how hoarse yours sounds. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Don’t lie. Yes, you did,” you chuckle at his statement with a shake of your head. Actions speak louder than words, especially when over a handful of missed calls means he was definitely trying to get your attention. “But it’s fine, I don’t mind. Are you okay though?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Ace confirms.

There’s a long pause before either of you speaks again.

You readjust your position under the warmth of your thick comforter and lay on your side so your head could hold your phone in place against the pillow.

You could hear Ace’s gentle breathing coming from the other line as if he had fallen asleep. The sound is comforting. Something you’ve grown accustomed to after months of falling asleep on the phone together.

“I—”

“Wh—”

“Oh, sorry—”

“Sorry, go ah—”

You let out short bursts of giggles upon interrupting each other.

“No, I’m sorry. You go first. Are you finally going to tell me why you’re calling at this ungodly hour?” there’s a playful tone to your voice, one that lets Ace know that you’re not actually upset that he woke you up in the middle of the night. It’s always nice to hear from him; especially when he lives halfway across Twisted Wonderland for work now.

“First of all, you’re usually up at this time,” Ace snorts and you can practically see him rolling his eyes. “Second of all, I missed my best friend. We haven’t talked all week.”

“And that’s because you were busy celebrating the holidays with your family, remember?” you roll over in bed, shifting again until you’re sitting up with your back pressed against the pillow.

Then you’re met with silence. Mostly because Ace knows that you’re right and has no rebuttal for the fact.

You take the opportunity to press the speakers button and place your phone on your lap before your gaze trails towards the large window beside you. It’s nearly a full moon tonight, the opened curtains allowing the beautiful orb to cast gentle moonlight into your room.

“You’re not doing anything right now, right?” Ace questions as if he hadn’t just woken you up mere minutes before. “That means you can sleep in later so come meet me outside.”

You snort and shake your head, “yeah, let me just walk about a thousand miles to see you real quick. I’ll see you real soon.”

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Ace fake laughs into the phone. “I mean it: I’m outside your apartment complex right now.”

“You what?” you immediately sit up straight, your eyes scanning what little of the outside world you could see from your third-level room in search of Ace. “I swear to God if you’re just joking…”

“I’m not. I even brought snacks,” Ace laughs, a genuine one that sounds like bells delightfully ringing in your ears, and you can hear the rustling of plastic bags accompanying it. “So come outside. I’ll wait for you.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” you grab your phone and kick the comforter off.

(via Twisted Wonderland Matchups! - Who would love you? | Jack Howl)

i have looked far and wide to find your gladiator lilia fic, im so glad to finally find it again

Aaaah, I hope you enjoyed it. 🥹🫶🏼

Pairing: Gladiator!Lilia x GN!Reader Genre: A dash of angst, fluff Warning(s): Brief mentions of blood and injury, implied character death, natural disaster A/N: I tried to do research to make this as historically accurate as possible, but please forgive any mistakes there. T_T

The first time you and Lilia met was shortly before the eruption of Mount Vesuvius in 79 A.D..

At the time, Lilia was a Vicecomes who willingly signed up to fight in the gladiator games, much to the horror of his friends and family. He was considered a major celebrity of those days, finding himself triumphant against even the most beloved gladiators despite his petite and slender stature.

Meanwhile you worked as a doctor providing the best medical care possible to the greatly valued gladiators. Being a doctor was merely viewed as being a trade at the time, so you didn’t earn nearly as much respect as Lilia did.

Still, you worked hard every day and did an objectively good job despite receiving no proper training.

Eventually you were trusted enough to take care of the more “important” gladiators, and that was when you met Lilia.

“Look at this,” you say quietly to yourself, clicking your tongue in displeasure as you press a cloth soaked in vinegar to a deep wound on Lilia’s arm.

The gladiator winces at the painful stinging sensation that spread throughout his limb, gritting his teeth so he doesn’t cry out.

“I’m sorry,” you offer the gladiator an apologetic smile and remove the now blood-stained cloth to dip it into a bowl of vinegar by your side. “If it’s any consolation, you fought well today.”

“Thank y— ah,” Lilia hisses when you press the cloth to his wound again, though the pain has lessened the second time around. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and tilting his head back to calm himself down before speaking. “Thank you. You were watching the fight?”

“Well, who wasn’t watching it? It was an important one to attend. ”

“Tell me: was everyone expecting me to go easy on Emperor Titus because he’s old?” the gladiator asks, rolling his eyes partly in annoyance of the punishment to come due to his victory.

“Well… he just took over from his father, so you could have gone a little easier on him. You know, let him win a few popularity points with the crowd?”

Lilia shoots you a look of disbelief as if to ask “are you kidding me?” and you merely shrug in response.

He watches as you busy yourself by dumping the dirtied vinegar outside his barracks. It’s uncommon for him to have a doctor who doesn’t stare at him in awe as they treat him, but even less so one who seems indifferent to his presence.

“I just have to dress your wounds now, then I’ll be on my way,” you reach into your doctor’s bag for a roll of wool bandages before making your way back to Lilia.

He glances up at you through long lashes as you position his arm out and begin to wrap his wound tightly.

“You’re not one for small talk, are you?” Lilia raises a questioning eyebrow, causing your hands to stop their movements as you look down at him with a similar expression.

“I’m busy. You’d be surprised how many gladiators I have to tend to in a day.”

“Oh, now that’s no fun,” Lilia tsks and pulls his arms away from your grasp, causing you to huff in protest. “I’ll let you re-bandage my arm if you’ll stay and chat with me for a while.”

You stay silent for a moment while your eyes flicker over Lilia’s handsome face. You were initially just trying to get a read of what his intentions are — after all, gladiators are regarded as sex symbols by many people. Maybe he thought you regarded him the same way.

But his ruby-like orbs are surprisingly clear and bright. They hold a certain glint of innocence you don’t see very often in gladiators, if at all.

You sigh and cross your arms defiantly, “fine, I suppose I could spare you a few more minutes of my time. Now give me that arm back.”

“Great. Let’s start off with your name first,” Lilia smiles brightly, flashing his sharp canines when you shoot him a death glare, his body unmoving as he waits for your response.

“Y/n. My name is y/n,” you roll your eyes and hold a hand out, palm up.

“That’s a pretty cute name,” the gladiator leans back against the edge of a table and places his arm on top of your waiting hand. “I’m Lilia. Lilia Vanrouge.”

“I know who you are,” you mumble, hands busy unwrapping the bandage that’s slid down Lilia’s arm.

“But you didn’t know me personally before — now you do. So that means we’re friends now.”

You let out a short giggle and shake your head in amusement, “Lilia, you are the strangest gladiator I’ve ever met. You know most of them aren’t all that great at small talk either?”

“Well,” Lilia sighs dramatically as he gestures to his slender and toned body with his free hand, “I think it’s safe to say that I’m not like most of them.”

And unlike most gladiators, Lilia doesn’t spend every possible hour training in combat and preparing himself for future fights.

Instead, he exchanges his gladiator attire for a much more comfortable knee-length tunic before heading into the beautifully paved streets of the Pompeii Forum. His friend, Silver, trails closely behind him just in case the shorter male decides to cause more mischief than is necessary (which is often the case).

Townspeople of the lower-class could recognize Lilia almost immediately when he walked by them. His gladiator status aside, the man is incredibly attractive and youthful, and the pops of pink locks flowing with every breeze is sure to catch anyone’s eye.

Even tourists would stop mid-walk to gape at him.

He pays them no attention and continues walking, with his main destination being the Macellum where it was always his safest bet to find you.

From your brief conversation days earlier, he learned that your family owns a small shop inside the rectangular space. It’s where you spend most of your free time when the demand for doctors isn’t very high.

In the center of the plaza, underneath the shade of a round roof, Lilia finds you hard at work scaling fish.

He stands off to the side, patiently waiting for you to finish your task before he carefully approaches you, “excuse me. Y/n?”

“Yes?” you respond with a sweet voice, turning around to face the man before your smile is replaced with a look of surprise. “Oh— Lilia. H—hello.”

“You don’t look too happy to see me,” Lilia pouts, his puppy dog eyes gazing into yours.

“Don’t take that too personally. Smelling fish all day could make anyone cranky,” you sigh, running your forearm across your forehead to wipe at the sweat there. “How can I help you?”

“You can help me by sparing some of your time,” Lilia grins cheekily, his eyes trailing down to the piles of fish scales lying scattered around your feet. “And in exchange, I can help you with that.”

“Oh, no, thank you. I will not be responsible for Pompeii’s favorite gladiator losing a thumb.”

“I can scale a fish, thank you very much,” Lilia gasps in mock offense. He holds a hand out and gives you a pointed look, “trust me.”

“I’m not sure if I trust you that much yet. But you can stand here and watch,” you gently bump your elbow against the gladiator’s abdomen, causing him to take a step back.

“That’s a good call,” Silver breaks his silence to quietly mutter, though the shorter man beside him still hears it and shoots him an offended glare.

Usually, Lilia is a very stubborn man. He’d have annoyed anyone else to no end until they finally handed him the knife and allowed him to work — but he has an unexpected soft spot for you.

He complies with your wishes without complaint, standing quietly to the side and watching as you expertly scale fish after fish.

As focused as he is on you, Lilia can’t help but notice the man standing next to you that continuously shoots him curious looks. There isn’t an ounce of anger or jealousy radiating from him, so surely he wasn’t your lover; and he appeared much too young to be your father. Could he be your older brother, perhaps?

Lilia doesn’t have to wonder far longer before you notice what the man is doing and dare to flick his forehead, “Deuce, could you please stop staring?”

“But that’s Lilia. You know, the really famous Lilia,” Deuce whispers, though it was a poor attempt as the mentioned man could still hear him anyways.

“Yeah, that’s Lilia,” you laugh at the perplexed look on Deuce’s face. “The really famous gladiator who could definitely beat you in a fight. I think I heard of him from somewhere before.”

“Haha, very funny. What is he doing here—and why is he staring at you like that?”

“Beats me. Maybe I’m just far too charming and he’s here to profess his undying love for me,” you joke, suppressing another laugh at the horrified look on Deuce’s face.

“This is hardly the proper setting for a love confession.”

“Deuce, I was just joking. Stop making that face, you’re scaring all the customers away.”

“Then it’s a good thing that I’m here to attract more of them, right?” Lilia interjects, suddenly appearing between you and Deuce and causing the both of you to jolt in surprise. He smiles sweetly and offers the other man his hand, “it’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Lilia, your future brother-in-law.”

You can only let out a short laugh while Deuce looks between you and the gladiator’s hand before deciding to shake it, “h-hi, I’m Deuce. Uh… I’m not y/n’s brother…”

“Oh, no? My apologies then,” Lilia grins, the expression on his face anything far from apologetic. He gestures to the forgotten man standing next to him, who had impressively managed to fall asleep standing straight up, “this here is my sleepy s—friend, Silver.”

“Is he actually asleep right now?” you question, gently poking at the man’s arm to get a response. “That’s pretty impressive; Sevens know I probably would fall over once my eyes close.”

“If you fall, I’ll be there to catch you, of course,” as if to demonstrate his words, Lilia places his hand at the small of your back and gives you a not-so-subtle wink. “Both literally and figuratively.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.”

❥

“Lilia? You didn’t tell me that you had a fight today,” you rush over to the gladiator’s side when you unexpectedly spot him waiting outside the entrance to your home.

“I’m sorry. I was so sure that I did,” he smiles at you fondly while you busy yourself by examining his body for any more wounds besides the cut to his side.

“You said that the last time too. Liar,” you glare playfully at the man. “Come inside, I’ll take care of you.”

The gladiator follows you into your home, walking past the atrium and towards the garden where he’s had you tending to his wounds countless of times before.

He much prefers the intimacy your home provides over you having to come to the gladiator barracks where other gladiators could openly ogle you. Lilia has never told you that, but he likes to think that you know exactly what’s on his mind.

Once you’re situated at the center of the garden, Lilia lays his head on your lap, facing away from you to expose the cut on his side.

“You know,” you began, wringing out a wet cloth before beginning to clean off the dried blood on Lilia’s skin. “It’s really bad for you to be walking around with an open wound.”

“Well, it’s really bad for me to have you walking around the barracks. So you’ll just have to deal with this.”

“You do realize that you’re not the only gladiator that gets injured, right?” you raise an eyebrow when Lilia shoots you an unamused look. “I’m a doctor. I have to take care of them.”

Lilia sighs and presses his cheek further into the cloth of your tunic, “yeah, I know that. It doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Hm… is that… jealousy I sense?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you’re cute. But you don’t have to be jealous, Lilia,” you laugh and run your fingers through the gladiator’s black and pink locks. “Now could you please sit up? I need to wrap you up.”

It takes a few minutes longer than usual, but you finally finish wrapping Lilia’s abdomen with several layers of wool bandages. It would have been done sooner had the gladiator listened to your instructions to hold the end in place.

Perhaps that is a result of him becoming more comfortable around you, and you him.

Had it been when you first met, Lilia knows you wouldn’t hold back in sternly scolding him for not listening to you. Not that he would have listened to you anyways after that.

But now, whenever he teases you, you merely laugh and spare him playful glares. So how could he give in so easily when he enjoyed seeing your joy-filled face?

“You like me, don’t you?” Lilia asks, his lips spreading into a cheeky grin when you look at him like a deer in the headlights. “That’s why you told me I don’t have to be jealous.”

“Oh, your ego is larger than the Great Seven,” you roll your eyes at his question. “But fine. Yes, I said that because I have no interest in looking at other gladiators besides you.”

Lilia’s smile grows wider at your words. He reaches out to cup your cheeks and gently pulls you closer until your faces are nearly touching, “you know… I’ve grown quite fond of you, y/n. How would you feel about marrying me?”

“Oh? I wasn’t even aware that you were courting me this entire time,” you tease and earn your cheeks a firm squeeze.

“Don’t be such a tease, I’m being serious! If you will accept me, I will go talk to your family right away. But I won’t go to them first because yours is the only opinion I value,” Lilia speaks earnestly as he looks into your eyes. “Y/n, I’ll promise to protect you from now on. I will care for you and love you for as long as my heart continues to beat — for as long as you’ll allow me to. If you’ll allow me to.”

You’re rendered speechless by how suddenly the mood shifts to a serious one. Lilia shows no signs of his words being a joke, only his eyes moving to search your heated face for an answer.

“Is your silence a no?” Lilia asks hesitantly, his grip on you loosening the tiniest bit. “You can say no. I’m a tough man and I can take it.”

“What? N—no. I mean— not ‘no’ to your question. I mean no to me saying no,” you try to shake your head, but Lilia’s hands keep you in place. “So… yes.”

The gladiator chuckles in amusement, for he’s never seen you so flustered before, “alright.”

“You know, I—I didn’t expect for you to be this romantic,” you narrow your eyes suspiciously.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to profess my undying love today but here we are.”

“So you’d like to take it back?”

“Not at all.”

“Yeah, we’ll see if you’re going to say the same thing once my father kicks your ass,” you roll your eyes.

But, unlike what you expected, your father did not kick the gladiator’s ass.

There wasn’t even a passive aggressive comment made or voices raised when Lilia finally approached him as the pater familias for your hand in marriage.

Even if he had, it would be difficult for your father to refuse a proposal from such a beloved gladiator — if you’d planned to refuse him at all. It’s not as if he was of bad character either, and that’s been proven when your father was informed that Lilia came to you before coming to him.

“I won’t oppose it if that’s what you want,” your father sighs, his arms crossed and eyes burning holes into Lilia’s face. “But if you don’t take good care of y/n, I’ll kill you myself.”

“Oh, stop it. That won’t be a problem, father,” you try to reassure the man and move to embrace him tightly.

“I’m just making sure that he knows,” your father pats your back and offers you a soft smile when you release him from your hold.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of them, or else I’m not a man at all.”

That same night, you left your family home in exchange for Lilia’s home — which you thankfully discover is not the gladiator barracks.

You’d decided to be married by usus, a plebeian marriage that is recognized by a long cohabitation period of one year.

Though it is not as favorable as a marriage that begins ceremoniously in the eyes of most, you couldn’t be more content by it. You were never a big fan of ceremonies anyways.

❥

You moved into Lilia’s home approximately a week before the peak of Mount Vesuvius exploded.

Although a week together isn’t a long time by most people’s measure, it was a week that was filled with only happiness and love.

It was the week that you discovered that you were a better swimmer than Lilia and learned that he was a sore loser. That same day, you also learned that Lilia’s bruised ego could easily be healed by peppered kisses along his face.

It was the week that you planned a small dinner party, and Lilia had invited his friends to come meet you when you only expected Deuce and Silver to show up.

You’ve never met a more energetic and loud group of friends; though the volume was mainly contributed by a certain green-head named Sebek who you learn constantly speaks in an almost-yell way.

It was the week that Lilia fought in his final fight which began with him publicly declaring his love for you and ended with him claiming a victory. Your face had heated up profusely when he yelled out your name and it echoed throughout the Colosseum Arena.

Then the next day, Mount Vesuvius erupts.

“Oh, here comes another tremor,” you mutter to yourself, bracing your body in a doorway as the ground shakes beneath your feet.

It takes a long moment for the tremor to finally settle down and you decide it was safe enough to move. You walk over to the garden, where Lilia and his friends are nonchalantly throwing grapes at one-another.

“Are none of you concerned about how frequently the ground has been shaking?” you ask with a small frown.

You take a seat on the floor next to Lilia before the gladiator wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you in closer.

“They’re normal, darling. Why are you so worried?” Lilia looks at you with a kind smile and presses a kiss to your temple.

“I’m only worried because of the explosions we heard earlier. I don’t have a good feeling about it.”

“Maybe someone’s home collapsed because of the earthquakes,” Silver offers up an alternative, smiling gently to convey his understanding of your concerns.

“Maybe. You’re probably right.”

It’s a reasonable explanation — one that you try to talk yourself into believing because earthquakes are nothing short of normal in Pompeii.

But while Lilia and his friends occupy themselves with small talk and board games, you keep your eyes to the sky. You notice something that is most definitely not normal in Pompeii, not even for the cloudiest day.

As if someone flipped a light switch, Pompeii is suddenly covered in utter darkness.

A light shower of volcanic ash begins to fall into the garden, and it quickly coats the floor with a thin layer of it.

The only positive note to the situation is that Lilia thinks quickly on his feet, even during stressful situations. He could sense that everyone in the room was starting to get restless and worried; he himself knows that there is something seriously wrong happening here.

“We have to leave— right now,” Lilia announces, causing everyone to quickly stumble to their feet as they’re told to.

“But where are we going?” you ask as you grasp Lilia’s hand in fear of losing sight of him.

He gives your hand a soft squeeze before pulling you towards the entrance to your shared home, “the coastline. If we have to evacuate, that’ll be our safest bet.”

“Evacuate?” you repeat the word to yourself. “Wait— Lilia, I have to find Deuce! I can’t leave him behind when he’s all by himself.”

“I’ll find him,” Lilia states firmly, holding his free hand up to stop you from protesting. “I promise I’ll find him and we’ll meet you at the coastline. But you have to promise me that you’ll follow my friends there first.”

If you weren’t so shaken up with feelings of anxiety and fear, you would have insisted on following Lilia. But you couldn’t think clearly anymore, you weren’t sure why the world seems like it’s suddenly crumbling all around you.

“You—you promise? You have to come back safely. Both you and Deuce.”

“I promise,” Lilia whispers as he cups your cheeks.

He pulls you into him and crashes your lips together into a passionate kiss that relays all the feelings of love and dread in his heart. You could feel his hands trembling against your skin and you wish you knew how to comfort him in that moment.

When Lilia finally breaks the kiss, he leaves you feeling breathless and unable to speak.

It was better that he didn’t hear you call out to him. If you did, he’d find it even harder to turn his back on you to fulfill his promise.

“Go. I’ll meet you guys there,” Lilia instructs his friends firmly before turning and running towards the opposite direction of the shoreline.

Even as Silver kindly urges you to follow them, you couldn’t take your eyes off Lilia’s retreating silhouette.

Who would have thought that, that would be your last memory of him?

hello!! i just want to let you know in your recent azul fic there's a word "girlfriend" near the end of the fic! ty!

Oh, no, I’m so sorry. Thank you for letting me know, I’ve changed it now!

Pairing: Riddle x GN!Reader Genre: Fluff

Everything about Riddle Rosehearts is almost perfect.

He’s handsome, kind, respectful, smart, and very well-spoken — but he takes nearly everything too seriously. That, of course, includes his work.

When you initially saw him at the company’s grand event for new hires, he could have easily fooled you for being an executive with the way he carries himself.

It comes as a surprise when you discover that not only will the two of you be working in the same department together, but you’re also the same age.

But it’s not like you obtained this information from the man himself. Instead, one of your seniors — an attractive young man named Cater Diamond who claims to have gone to college with Riddle — was the one to let you know.

“Are you interested in Riddle? I can call him over if you’d like,” Cater’s eyes hold a glimmer of mischief as he speaks of the offer.

You raise an eyebrow skeptically before sparing a glance towards the general direction you last saw Riddle disappearing into. You absentmindedly stir your vodka tonic with a straw and shake your head.

“No, thanks. A man like that has no interest in sitting around and talking to fresh meat like me,” you state plainly, causing Cater to chuckle in amusement.

“Oh, you’re misunderstanding him. Riddle’s great. Here, I’ll prove it,” Cater sits up straight and ignores your hushed pleas for him to stop whatever it is he was planning on doing. He cups his hands on either side of his mouth before calling out, “Riddleeee! Over hereeee!”

You shrink into yourself in embarrassment as most of the conversations around you cease. You could practically feel all the eyes burning curious holes into your figure, but thankfully the feeling doesn’t last for too long.

The sound of someone clearing their throat makes you correct your posture, and you find yourself face-to-face with Riddle Rosehearts once you’ve sat up properly.

“You didn’t have to yell to get my attention, Cater,” Riddle scolds the older man, but the latter doesn’t seem to mind the stern tone in his voice.

Cater rubs the back of his neck and offers the younger man an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry, but you were all the way across the room. Anyways, have you met y/n yet?”

“Y/n?” Riddle questions, his head turning to follow the direction Cater’s hand is gesturing towards.

He meets your eyes just as you were about to turn away and hide. But since you’re caught in the act, you’re forced to offer him a tight-lipped smile and a small wave, “that would be me. Hi.”

“Hi, I’m Riddle Rosehearts,” the man holds a hand out for you to shake briefly.

“Nice to meet you,” you reply, the awkwardness of the situation making you sip at your vodka tonic just to keep yourself busy.

While Riddle turns back to a conversation with Cater, you shoot daggers at the latter that you hope conveys what a bad idea this turned out to be.

Needless to say, your first encounter with Riddle Rosehearts was anything but perfect. In fact, it felt so awkward that you decided to hide your face from his sight every chance you got.

But try as you might, it’s literally impossible for you to avoid the man when you’re working in the same department. The senior analyst (damn you, Cater) even has the two of you sitting next to each other.

On the bright side? It doesn’t seem like Riddle is a fan of small talk, so you don’t have to try too hard to avoid him.

In your work environment, Riddle is almost perfect.

He learns fast, and is always the first one to volunteer to take on new projects or suggest changes to make your jobs more efficient. But his relentless work ethic also causes him to work too many hours to the point that you wonder if he ever goes home and sleeps.

“Sevens— have your eye bags always been that bad?” Cater is the only one brave enough to bring the topic up to the younger man — and, predictably, Riddle looks unamused by the prodding.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. My eye bags are normal-sized,” Riddle says without taking his eyes off his computer screen.

“They’re the normal size for sleep deprived people,” Cater retorts with a roll of his eyes. When Riddle doesn’t reply, he decides to change targets and makes his way over to your cubicle. “Hi, y/n.”

“Hey. I haven’t seen you around in a while, Cater,” you hit “Save” on the spreadsheet you’ve been working on before turning your chair around to face said man. “Have you finally gotten tired of marketing?”

“Absolutely not! I am having the time of my life marketing away! Social media is my L-O-M-L,” Cater says in mock offense and a hand clutching his chest. “I just stopped by to say ‘hello’ to my dear friends in the Finance department.”

Riddle shoots Cater with a suspicious side eye. He’s not sure if his friend is acting strange because he’s interested in you or because he’s simply up to something else; years of friendship would tell Riddle that it’s the latter.

For who is Cater Diamond if he’s not trying to cause some sort of mischief for fun?

“I also have a favor to ask of you, y/n,” Cater smiles sheepishly as he leans down and lowers his voice to a whisper. “Could you make sure that Riddle leaves at a reasonable time today?”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion at the man’s request, “why can’t you do that?”

“Because I’m not the one who has a little crush on him,” Cater sing-songs before taking a step back to avoid your attempts to swat him.

“I do not have a crush on him. I barely know the guy, and—and he’s your friend,” you hiss out, careful to keep your voice’s volume low.

“And I don’t believe you! So will you do me this favor?”

You take a moment before giving Cater an answer. Your eyes trail to Riddle’s hunched over frame, where the light from his computer screen illuminates his face, and you can see that Cater’s right about his eye bags.

You sigh in defeat before nodding, “fine, I’ll try. But you know that he’s very stubborn.”

“Yeah, I know. Good luckkk,” Cater shoots finger guns at you and turns in a rush to leave your cubicle before he gets yelled at by a superior for slacking off. “See ya!”

You silently wave goodbye to Cater’s retreating figure before your shoulders slump down and you turn back to your computer screen.

You spend the next few minutes typing away on your keyboard, your mind too focused on making sure that the data and numbers you were entering is correct, that you don’t even notice Riddle’s presence besides you.

He clears his throat and you guess that’s his way of making his presence known to people. It’s not the most polite method, unlike the way you’d assume he’d address most people.

Could it be that he’s just not particularly fond of you?

“Yes?” you ask without sparing the man a glance.

“I’ll go home when you do today. So don’t worry about asking me to leave.”

“What?” you look at Riddle in confusion, unsure if you’d heard the man correctly.

“You’re both terrible at whispering,” the man chuckles at the horrified expression appearing on your face. “But since Cater asked you for a favor, he must actually be concerned about me. So I’ll leave early today.”

“Um… just how much of that conversation did you hear?” you ask in a hushed voice, your feature twisting as if you’re in pain.

“That depends. What else did you talk about besides that and your ‘little crush’ on me?” The smile Riddle offers you is sweet, and you can tell by the dash of pink on his cheeks that he doesn’t mean to tease you maliciously.

“I’m going to dig a hole in my backyard to lay in after work,” you nod absentmindedly as you mumble to yourself and turn your chair back in place.

Riddle laughs to himself and leaves your cubicle to return to his own; the absence of his presence allows you to finally let out a breath you were holding in.

You try to focus on your work, but the mental image of the man smiling at you feels like it’s permanently stamped onto your brain. He didn’t even smile when you were first introduced, but now that you’ve seen it, you’re even more smitten.

The remainder of the day’s work hours tick by at a snail’s pace. Every time you think you’ve been working for at least an hour, the computer clock would say it’s only been 5 minutes.

By the time Cater announced that it was time to leave, you feel as if you’ve aged a good ten years.

“Thank goodness,” you sigh as you stretch your arms out above your head, the stiff muscles of your back protesting as you move.

“Are you ready to go?” a voice asks above your head, causing you to jolt in surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Riddle? What are you doing here?” you ask when you turn your head to look at your unexpected visitor.

“I’m waiting for you to leave so I can leave too,” the man says his answer as if you should have known all along.

You laugh and stand up before collecting your messenger bag and slinging it across your chest, “you know you didn’t have to wait for me, right?”

“That’d be very rude of me,” Riddle waits until you appear to be ready to go before gesturing for you to walk ahead of him.

“No, it wouldn’t,” you laugh again and comply with the man’s wishes by making the first moves to leave your cubicle. “Well, maybe if we were friends, it’d be rude.”

“Aren’t we friends?”

Your eyes search Riddle’s face for any sign that would indicate he’s trying to pull your leg. But, as usual, Riddle is being serious.

“Would you consider me a friend?” you challenge once you’ve stepped inside an elevator and pressed the button to the building’s lobby.

“Sure. Any friend of Cater’s is a friend of mine’s,” Riddle says nonchalantly with a shrug.

“That didn’t sound convincing at all. If you want to be my friend, you’ll have to start doing things that friends would do.”

The elevator doors open with a loud ding and the two of you step out into the lobby to find that a light rainshower has begun to fall.

Riddle rummages through his backpack for the travel umbrella he keeps inside at all times for emergencies such as this. With the rose red bundle in hand, he’s about to exit the building when he realizes that you haven’t moved an inch since exiting the elevator.

“Y/n, I was serious: I’m not leaving until you do,” Riddle calls out for your attention, his arms crossed and his back pressed against the glass door of the entrance as you face him.

“The weather forecast didn’t say anything about rain today, so I didn’t bring an umbrella,” you confess as your ears begin to warm up from embarrassment.

“Do you walk home?”

“Yeah, I live nearby in those apartment complexes a couple blocks North from here.”

Riddle mentally pictures the nearby roads as you begin to explain them to him, using the landmarks you recognize to pinpoint where exactly your home would be before deciding that it shouldn’t be too long of a walk.

“C’mon, I’ll walk you home. Unless you prefer I wait here with you until this is over,” Riddle adds quickly before you could protest.

“No— let’s go home,” you smile gratefully as you quickly make your way over to him.

The man situates the umbrella above his head and waits for you to scurry over to his side before you start the short journey to your apartment building.

Your budding friendship with Riddle is almost perfect.

Despite your initial judgment, Riddle is actually someone who likes to smile and crack jokes a lot. He’s good at listening to your problems and giving advice when you ask for it — and on the same token, he knows exactly what to say to cheer you up when you’re upset.

The only problem with your friendship is that what started off as an infatuation with the man has turned to a full-blown crush.

“Hello, my precious friends!”

Oh, and also now Cater won’t leave the two of you alone during working hours.

“Cater… we literally just got here. How do you have so much energy already?” you groan as you pinch the bridge of your nose in an attempt to fight back an oncoming headache.

“Are you alright?” Riddle asks, the concern clear in his voice when he notices the pained look on your face.

“Yeah, I just haven’t had my coffee yet,” you offer Riddle as wide a smile as you could muster up in the moment. “Thanks for asking.”

“Of course,” Riddle smiles brightly at you before it quickly disappears when he turns his attention back to Cater. “Go. Shoo before I have your head. We’ll see you for lunch.”

“Sheesh, it’s been a while since you’ve said that. It’s still scary… G-2-G!”

With that, Cater scurries away towards his own department and leaves the two of you to wordlessly turn to your computers.

Every adult has their own daily routines, and somehow you’ve made yours around the two least likely friends you could have made.

You’re grateful for their presence though, and especially for Cater’s outgoing personality — no matter how annoying he could get sometimes — because you would have been too shy and awkward to reach out to anyone first.

Another plus? Work goes by so much faster when you have something to look forward to for lunch hours and after work hours.

None of you like to leave the building in search of better food than the menus served in the company’s cafeteria. So, at 1:00 P.M. sharp, you always meet up at the basement floor to debate what is and isn’t going to give you food poisoning.

The safest bet? An egg salad sandwich and a bag of chips.

“I don’t know why you subject yourself to this mediocre food, Riddle. You’re the only one out of the three of us who can actually cook,” you jokingly comment once you’ve found an empty table to sit at.

“He’s let you try his food before?” Cater asks with a raise of his eyebrow.

“No, but it always smelled good when he brought it in the past. Wait— is that weird to say? I’m sorry if it’s weird,” you grimace, but Riddle chuckles at your comment and shakes his head.

“It’s not weird, don’t worry. I just haven’t had enough time to cook in advance with all the extra hours I’ve been working.”

“You know that those hours are optional and you really should go home and get some sleep— right?”

“There’s no use in trying to convince him, y/n,” Cater cuts into the conversation with a cheeky grin. “But since Riddle’s too busy, I’ll spend time with you instead! We can learn how to cook together.”

You squint your eyes at the mischievous man and before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, “why would I want to do that?”

“Ouch,” Cater gasps dramatically as he falls back on his chair and clutches his chest.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Could it be because…” Cater leans forward on the table clearly unphased and fake whispers, “you’re interested in someone else?”

You could practically see Riddle’s ears perk up at Cater’s words and you wave your hands frantically to dismiss the accusation.

“Wh— I’m not— I’m not interested in anyone,” you stammer out, hoping your burning cheeks don’t betray how flustered you are.

You miss the way Riddle’s face briefly falls in disappointment, but Cater doesn’t. It’s like that was the light switch that turned a light bulb on inside his head and he suddenly places his hands over yours.

“Then you can’t say no to going on a date with me!”

“Y—yes, I can,” you protest, but it comes out sounding more like a question.

You know that the man has no romantic interest in you, so you’re not sure where this request for a date came from. But with the determined look on his face and a familiar glint in his green orbs, you know that he’s up to some sort of mischief again.

“Fine, we can learn how to cook together. If that’s what you mean by ‘a date’,” you sigh and pull your hands away from Cater’s grasp.

“Great!” Cater exclaims and shoots Riddle an innocent smile, “we can do that after you walk Riddle home today.”

“Is it really necessary to appoint y/n as my chaperone?” Riddle finally speaks up with a hint of annoyance to his voice.

You’re caught off guard by the tone of his voice. You’ve never known Riddle to be someone who could get upset or annoyed easily, but you suppose you don’t know everything about him.

Besides, getting cranky is a side effect of being sleep deprived — or so Mr. Google would have you believe.

“I’ll walk you home, I don’t mind,” you meet Riddle’s tired eyes and smile softly. “And just like last time, I won’t take no for an answer so don’t even try it.”

“Okay, fine,” Riddle smiles half-heartedly and shoves the remnants of his egg salad sandwich back into its ziplock bag. “I’ll try to finish early so you won’t be late for your… date.”

You and Cater exchange glances, yours filled with confusion and his filled with smugness; looks like his hunch may be right after all.

After knowing the man for a decent amount of time, you still think that Riddle Rosehearts is almost perfect.

He’s a diligent worker and a wonderful friend, but you can never guess what’s on his mind — nor is he ever vocal about his feelings.

Well, you suppose that might be seen as a strength in some people’s eyes.

After lunch, you could tell that something was bugging Riddle. He didn’t spare you a glance for the rest of the day until it was time for you to go home — and even then, he barely spoke a word as you rode the elevator down to the lobby.

“It’s raining again,” Riddle comments while rummaging through his backpack. “But don’t worry, I… I have my umbrella? I can’t find it— what?”

He looks up when you poke at his shoulder and see a familiar rose red bundle in your hand. His eyes widen in surprise at the sight of his umbrella in your possession, “I don’t remember leaving that with you.”

“It’s not yours, actually,” you correct him with a gentle smile. “We just happen to have the same colored umbrella.”

“Small world. I must have left mine drying at home,” he readjusts his backpack, stepping aside to let you exit the building first and open your umbrella.

“That was over a week ago, Riddle.”

“Did I mention I have a bad memory?” you give Riddle a look of disbelief, knowing that no one with bad memory would be able to remember 810 rules and still remember them well after finishing school.

“I have a bad memory too, but apparently not as bad as yours,” you joke, poking the man at his side.

Riddle hums and stares at the sidewalk ahead, ears growing red from the feeling of your unwavering eyes on him. For a few minutes, you walk in silence, the only sound being the rain gently pattering on the nylon material of the umbrella.

Every now and then, Riddle would steal glances at you. It’s not the first time he’s done it. Even at work, he couldn’t help stealing glances at you.

He was never sure of what the reason for that could be — until he listened to you accept to go on a date with his friend.

Instead of being happy for the two of you, he felt jealous; jealous that Cater had the courage to ask you out and jealous that you accepted.

But did he have any right to feel jealous when he knew you were interested in him before — and he didn’t make a single move then?

Maybe he could change that now.

“Would… would your memory be bad enough to forget that you have a date with Cater tonight?” Riddle hesitantly asks, his voice almost too quiet for you to hear him over the rain.

“I don’t need a bad memory to forget about that. No offense to Cater. He’s great and all, but…” your voice trails off before you bite on your bottom lip to keep yourself from elaborating.

“But?”

“Oh, no, mister. You tell me why you’re bringing up Cater when we both know he was definitely just pulling my leg earlier.”

“Well,” Riddle breathes out, face beginning to turn the same shade of red as his hair, “he was definitely pulling mine too.”

“What do you mean?”

The two of you stop walking when you reach an all-way stop and Riddle turns to you with his lips pressed into a thin line. He appears to be deep in thought and you know better than to interrupt him in the middle of it.

“I think— no, I know. I like you,” Riddle blurts out before he could talk himself out of it.

“Like… as a friend?” you question and grip the strap of your bag tightly.

“No, as more than a friend. And I can’t believe Cater was the one that made me realize that,” Riddle laughs shortly.

“Oh, well, I—I like you too,” you can’t help but giggle nervously after your confession.

“So, that means it’s not too late for me to ask you out on a coffee date?”

“No, Riddle, it’s not too late,” You take a step towards the man and, after mustering up all the courage you have, lean in to place a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’d love to go on a coffee date with you.”

Roller skating at Skate City. That was your boyfriend’s bright idea when you told him that you’d let him choose where to go for your next date night.

It’s not that you had a problem with how relatively lowkey the activity is. No, it’s more so that the last time you tried doing something like this, both you two and your friends ended the night with mouthfuls of ice.

But still, you couldn’t deny all the fun that was had, so the night was fondly known as The Christmas Ice Skating Disaster amongst your friends.

All this to say that you can only imagine this date night ending with more than a couple of bruises on your shins.

“Come on, y/n!” Trey calls out, one hand stretched out towards you while the other is holding onto the rink barrier. He notices the skeptical look on your face as you stumble towards him and rolls his eyes, “I promise that you’re going to be okay.”

“Hold on, I’m coming,” you huff, your voice barely audible above the loud old-school pop music playing.

Your eyes are fixed on the carpet below you as you focus on trying not to slip on the glow-in-the dark material. You feel a hand grab onto the bend of your elbow and look up in confusion to find Trey standing beside you.

“You were taking too long. I’ll help you,” Trey explains with a teasing tone in his voice.

He sticks his tongue out before moving to stand behind you and pushing you towards the skating rink. You had half the mind to scold him for endangering you, but the words die in your throat when you realize that you were moving without a single stumble.

Well, that’s a pleasant surprise.

“Come on, baby,” Trey repeats, mimicking his earlier actions after he’s stepped inside the rink.

“Should I be concerned that you’re acting really confident for someone who sucks at skating?” you ask half-jokingly but place your hand in your boyfriend’s outstretched one anyways.

“That was ice skating. This is roller skating,” Trey grins as he watches you stumble ungracefully. “Which — no offense, babe — you definitely suck at more than me.”

“Uh… I definitely take offense to th— ah!” you let out a yelp as your feet suddenly slip back, causing your upper body to lurch forward.

You squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the fall that never came. Instead, you fell straight into Trey’s waiting arms and your hands instinctively clutch onto his sweater’s sleeve. You open one eye to peek at your boyfriend, who has a relatively proud look about him.

“So… are you planning to stay glued to my side the whole day?” Trey asks with another cheeky grin, “or should I let you flounder around the skating rink on your own?”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, “okay, just because you haven’t fallen over yet doesn’t mean you’re the better skater— okay, wait! I’m sorry!”

Your grip on Trey’s sleeve tightens when he makes a move to pull his arms back. You both know that he would never actually let go of you, but your body reacted out of pure survival instincts. In this case, you wanted to save yourself from an embarrassing public face plant.

“Glued to my side it is!” Trey chuckles as he loosely wraps his arms around your waist from behind. “Don’t worry, baby. I got you.”

The dynamic

I hope every writer who sees this writes LOADS the next few months. Like freetime opens up, no writers block, the ability to focus, etc etc you're able to write loads & make lots of progress <3