#also him in his glasses even though we only saw that in night vision but god he's cute kjd voice i love myeon

[dmumt]

just watched all of ladder s3 in one day

[writtenfangirl]

Madness

I wrote this so long ago and then abandoned it because I didn’t know if the ending was satisfactory or not. I thought it would have a greater plot as well but when I couldn’t find it, I was dissatisfied until I reread it and realized the prose was too good not to publish.

Fluff but also a little bit of angst if you squint hard enough.

In which Benedict Bridgerton finally reveals the truth.

She was beautiful. Too beautiful, if Benedict was being perfectly honest with himself. Not the kind of beauty that had him picking up a paint brush and painstakingly striking an easel with lovely swirls of color but the kind of beauty that distracted him, made him brood in a dim corner of the room, watching the little twists of her mouth and the subtle way she arched a brow. Beauty to the point of distraction, like spending hours watching shooting stars dash across the night sky, not realizing as dawn approached on the horizon.

It was utterly maddening.

She was utterly maddening.

How was he meant to live, to exist and breathe, to witness such great beauty and yet have none of the capacity, the right, to keep it?

Just a glance from her, a single curve of her lips, and Benedict could feel his faith in God strengthening as easily as he could deny the Lord’s existence. Only a benevolent God could create such ecstatic beauty and yet no benevolent God could exist in this world if Benedict had to bear the cruelty of Y/N’s indifference.

Maddening.

He sighed, the sound bereft as he continued to watch her charm the eligible men of the ton. She had a veritable cabal of men gathered around her and if any other debutant had been in her position, they surely would have been overwhelmed by now.

But not Y/N.

Never Y/N.

With her head held high and her smile demure, she directed the men as easily as if she was holding court. A slight clearing of the throat and already, someone had a glass of lemonade in their hand while a flap of her hand would have the men falling over themselves in an attempt to get her a chair.

A queen holding court, indeed.

Benedict rolled his eyes at the man to her right, who practically shoved at the man on his left in order to catch Y/N’s attention. Not that it really mattered though, especially not when Y/N’s attention was focused on Benedict.

Even from across the room, the tension between them felt palpable. Exhilarating. It always had been with Y/N. Thick and smooth, the connection between them as tangible as their own beating hearts. Just a shared look between them and the world fell silent, the edges of his vision practically darkening at the edges until he saw only her.

Beautiful. Even as her face contorted with hurt for the briefest of seconds, her eyes pulling away from him and returning to the crowd of men that surrounded her.

Benedict gritted his teeth, the only sign of annoyance he let himself show.

“I see you are not quite so enamored with our diamond.”

Benedict’s head whipped to the left, finding Lady Danbury watching him with those shrewd eyes of hers. The old crone had her cane gripped tightly in her hands and Benedict fought his grimace at the phantom pain that shot up from his ankles. The dowager countess had a terrible habit of whacking gentlemen she didn’t like with that sturdy cane of hers and Benedict had felt the brunt of that pain far too many times for his liking.

Still, as a gentleman, he couldn’t very well ignore the woman. It would have been terribly rude of him to and it went against every fiber of the etiquette that had been drilled to him as a child.

He spared Y/N another glance before he spoke. “You think all those men enamored with her?”

“I think they think themselves enamored by her,” Lady Danbury said. “She is quite a beauty and accomplished too, I hear. Are you acquainted with the young lady?”

He had been, when he was young. As recently as a few months ago, Benedict had counted Y/N as one of his dearest friends but with everything that transpired between them…

“We are familiar with one another.”

Lady Danbury arched a brow, directing her attention back to Y/N. She was animatedly speaking with Anthony and Colin, the only time the entire evening where her smile didn’t seem a little bit forced. “Your brothers seem friendly with her. Why aren’t you?”

Because he was a stupid, bloody, idiot who didn’t know how to keep his damn mouth shut, that’s why.

But his pride would never let him say that, especially not in front of Lady Danbury. “We are familiar with each other.” He repeated, voice tight.

Lady Danbury’s eyes flickered. “I seem to recall your mother telling me about how you and the Lady Y/N were thick as thieves not so long ago.”

Bloody hell, the old crone was relentless. He didn’t want to talk about his and Y/N’s falling out, especially not with her.

He suddenly whirled, cocking his head to the side. “Oh, I believe I hear someone calling me.”

No one was calling him but not even his impeccable manners could make him stay.

Lady Danbury harrumphed. “I may be old, boy, but I am not deaf.”

“Definitely hear someone calling me.” Benedict even cupped a hand, placing it on the side of his mouth before he yelled a quick, “I’ll be right there!” He turned back to Lady Danbury, who was looking at him as if she knew his claims were a lie. “Lady Danbury, if you’ll excuse me.”

The dowager countess simply gave Benedict a knowing look yet let him go.

He ducked into the crowd towards… bloody hell he couldn’t find anyone he would rather talk to. His brothers were still off speaking with Y/N and he didn’t feel like speaking with his mother, who would likely hound him about his fight with Y/N. Which left the last person of their party, Eloise. A quick scan of the room revealed his sister in the other side of the room, conspiratorially whispering to her best friend, Penelope Featherington.

He zoomed towards them, turning his back on Y/N and Lady Danbury.

Eloise caught his eye as he approached and her lips pursed in displeasure. “Why do you look as if you’re expecting me to bail you out of a horrible situation.”

“Can’t I see my favorite sister with joy in my face without being suspected of ill intent?”Benedict said with a grin before bowing to Penelope, who returned the gesture with her own curtsy.

Penelope ducked her head to suppress a giggle.

Eloise rolled her eyes at him. “What do you want?”

“To ask you why you’re sulking in a corner instead of dancing despite—“ he pulled at the dance card in her wrist, every single line filled with names that were unfamiliar to him. “Did you put fake names in your dance card?”

Eloise snatched her wrist back. “Yes. I thought that with Y/N grabbing the attention of so many of the gentlemen, I would be spared the embarrassment of having to entertain any gentlemen tonight. Unfortunately, I was wrong.”

Benedict turned to Penelope. “How many approached her?”

“Six,” Penelope smirked, “and those six quickly turned right back around.”

“Well with a full dance card, I’m not at all surprised.”

Eloise rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Spare me the lecture, brother. I’m sure I’ll hear enough from mother tonight.”

“She caught you?”

“After Eloise turned down the sixth one, Lady Violet began to suspect,” Penelope explained.

Benedict grinned. “When have you known me to lecture you?”

She gave him a saccharine smile, the kind that Benedict always knew would end with her barbed words. “Aren’t you meant to be fawning over Y/N? You’d done it most of our life.”

He bristled at her words.

Penelope shot them a curious look. “You never told me you were acquainted with the lady?”

“Hadn’t I?” Eloise frowned. “Lady Y/L/N’s family and ours have been acquainted for ages. Of course, she rarely ever came to London and if it hadn’t been for her father’s recent passing she wouldn’t have had a season at all. Mama had held hope that perhaps one of my dear brothers would begin to take some responsibility and marry her.” She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper that was so loud, it still reached Benedict’s ears. “Personally, I always thought Benedict would offer. He and Y/N had a special bond growing up. Even Daphne thinks so.”

Benedict had never hit a woman before but perhaps, just this once, excuses could be made for one’s sisters.

“So, well acquainted then,” Penelope said with a slight smile.

“I do recall Benedict pining after Y/N for years,” Eloise mused, uncaring as Benedict’s mood soured. “You never did tell me why it is you suddenly became estranged”

“Not that it’s any of your business.” He grumbled.

Eloise batted eyes innocently. “Irritable today, aren’t you, brother? Could it possibly be because of the cadre of men that hound every one of Y/N’s footsteps?”

“I have changed my mind. Francesca is now my favorite sister.”

“I love you too, Benedict,” she all but grinned.

He turned his attention back to Y/N, who, to his surprise, had taken her leave.

“She’s in the garden, if you wish to speak to her,” Eloise said, noting his wandering eyes and nodding towards the open veranda at the side.

“What gave you the impression that I would like to speak to her?”

Eloise simply rolled her eyes before tugging Penelope’s arm. “With Y/N taking her respite, I imagine there will be a sudden influx of gentlemen who would like to dance. Let us make ourselves scarce.” And she pulled Penelope along, the red head offering Benedict an apologetic look.

He glanced at the crowd once again before letting his feet carry him through the veranda and out towards the garden. There were still many people milling about outside that granted them protection from scandal but it was much more intimate than the loud din of the ballroom.

The night was cool, the spring air serene compared to the humidity of the ballroom.

He spied Y/N, her back turned against the door. Upon hearing his approach, she sighed. “Good sir, if you did not understand me, I wish to be al—“ she turned and her words died at her lips at the sight of him. “Oh. It’s you.”

She looked even lovelier up close. She always did. Whether dressed in a simple frock with her long hair flowing down her back or dressed ornately with jewels adorning her, she always looked lovelier up close.

“What do you want, Benedict,” Y/N said, dropping that societal mask she employed inside.

“To apologize.”

She shook her head. “There is nothing to apologize for. You asked for my hand under false pretenses, I rejected you. End of story.“

“Under false pretenses?” He echoed, his own tone turning sharp. “You think my proposal to be insincere? Is that why you rejected me?”

“I did not think it insincere, I knew it to be insincere. I heard you and the Lady Violet discussing me. I heard when you declared your intention to ask for my hand in marriage simply because she had asked you to.”

Oh.

Oh.

He remembered then, the conversation he had with his mother right before he proposed.

“Propose to her,” Violet had urged just as breakfast had been served, with only Benedict and Violet dining.

“I am not even courting her, mama,” he replied exasperatedly. It had been far too early in the morning to entertain his mother’s insistence on seeing him wed to Y/N. She’d pestered him about it in one form or another even before the Y/L/Ns had come to visit the Bridgertons and Benedict knew she would not stop until he and Y/N were formally engaged.

But Y/N had just ended her mourning period for her father. And though societal mandates dictated that it was perfectly reasonable for Benedict to ask for her hand in marriage, he knew how deeply she mourned the man, especially since his death had placed her in such a precarious position. The late patriarch of the Y/L/N family had been fond of his only child, even if she had been born a girl. And Y/N had loved him, even if his death left her and her mother saddled with financial debt despite coming from the longest line of barony in England.

“What does it matter that you are not courting?” Violet demanded. “You have known her since you were both children. You’ve been courting her all your life.”

“Mama, please leave it well enough alone.”

“What is it that you do not like about her?” She insisted. “She is beautiful and accomplished and you have known each other your whole lives. Any young man would be fortunate to be bound to her in marriage.”

“I never said anything that would imply otherwise.”

“Then why do you refuse to ask her for her hand in marriage? Doing so would spare her a season in London and limit their financial troubles.” And then she had gasped in indignation. “Or is their financial troubles the very reason why you refuse? I never raised you to be avaricious!”

Bloody hell. “I am not avaricious, mother. I do not care about her dowry or lack thereof!”

“Then what is it? Do not tell me it is because you do not love her. I have seen the way you look at her.”

Benedict had eyed his fork, had wondered if perhaps, it would be a better to shove it in his ears than listen to his mother’s hullabaloo.

Instead he took a scone, spreading a generous layer of clotted cream and jam so his hands had something to do rather than maim himself.

“And how is it I look at her, mother?” He drawled.

“The same way your father used to look at me.”

At that he had paused, scone half-raised to his mouth. He hadn’t known what to say anymore. Mentions of his own father had always been capable of silencing his mind.

Finally, he had decided on telling her the truth, that his mother may finally stop pestering him.

“Asking Y/N for her hand in marriage had always been the plan, mother,” Benedict relented. “I was simply waiting for the perfect moment.”

Violet smiled at her son kindly. “There are no such thing as perfect moments, dearest. Only moments that can be made perfect. And whether you ask her later or tomorrow or next week, that moment will be perfect by virtue of you asking.”

She was right, of course. Violet Bridgerton was so rarely incorrect especially in matters of the heart and love.

Benedict had given her a smile, and said, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Well, since you so graciously asked me to, I shall propose to the Lady Y/N, if only to make you happy.”

That must have been what Y/N heard. Not the whole story but the end, when Benedict had teased his mother.

Now he was convinced that God existed and that he must be cruel. Only the machinations of a cruel God could have lined up the timing perfectly.

Y/N’s eyes flickered as she regarded him. “I do not wish to bind you in marriage with someone you do not hold any affection for. You have fulfilled your promise to your mother and have asked for my hand. I rejected you. We no longer have any obligations with one another. Good night.” She made a move to pass him, to walk back to the ballroom to her gaggle of men but Benedict’s hand shot up, gripping her arm and keeping her to him.

His hands were gloved and even Y/N’s arms were sheathed in silk. And though he had never felt gloves to be particularly offensive, he wished to burn the ones that covered their hands. If only so he could feel her smooth skin beneath his fingers.

The heady scent of her perfume wafted through his senses. She smelled divine, like walking through a garden of roses under the cover of moonlight as the stars twinkled above his head. Utterly mouthwatering, and capable of driving even the sanest of men into insanity. The scent of distraction.

Always so distracting.

Benedict forced his mouth to speak before his brain could forget the words he needed to say. “Do you think so little of me? Capable of such cruelty especially when it comes to you.”

Y/N’s brows met, a flash of pain in her eyes and then it was gone. “It is the opposite, really. I think the world of you, Benedict. Only a gentleman would offer to marry a girl he has no obligations to simply because of her precarious position in life. You are an honorable man and any woman would be lucky to call you their husband. It is why I cannot accept your proposal, not when you do not love me. Not when there is no one on this world more deserving of love than you.”

Benedict frowned at her. “Why do you continue to insist that I do not love you?”

“Because you do not!” She pulled away from him, wrenching her hand from his grasp. Her eyes were pure anguish as she looked at him and the very sight of her pain had him staggering back. “If you truly held any affection for me, I would know. I have studied you all our lives, Benedict. And in all the time we shared together, you had never shown any affection for me beyond that of a friend. Your proposal hurt, Benedict. I have loved you in every way a man could be loved for so long and for you to ask for my hand in marriage out of pity—“ She choked, eyes widening as if she didn’t mean to say the things she’d said.

“You love me?” He echoed, heart beating quickly in his chest. He wondered, briefly, if his fast beating heart marks the day he really lived. If Y/N’s confession had been the reason he truly felt alive for the first time in his life.

Her face crumpled in pain as she stepped back. “Forgive me, I shouldn’t have said those things. Please take your leave, Benedict. That I may salvage whatever scraps of my dignity is left.”

But Benedict did no such thing.

Instead he took her hands and lowered himself into a kneel, setting his eyes upon her. The arching light of the manor spilled over the veranda casted her in a soft glow that took his very breath away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in alarm and whatever pain she held there was washed away by her surprise. “Benedict, what are you doing?”

“Begging you for forgiveness.”

“What? Benedict, get up.”

But he held firm, his determination cementing his knees to the ground. “Forgive me, Y/N, for my grave transgressions against you. That you had ever lived your life doubting my affections for you, or wondering if I cared for you as more than a friend are sins I will carry with me to my last breath. It will be my great shame that I had not made it abundantly clear that I love you. Because I do love you. Most ardently.”

“Benedict, get up. This is madness—“

“You are right. It is madness. The way I feel for you would drive the sanest of people into lunacy. But if loving you is madness then I don’t ever wish to be sane.”

Her eyes gleamed silver with unshed tears that threatened to fall from her pretty eyes. “B-But that morning, the day you proposed—“

“I did not propose to you out of pity for you, I did it out of pity for me. I needed to put myself out of my misery and finally marry the only girl I ever had the privilege of falling in love with rather than continue pining after you in secret.”

She let out a a laugh through her tears, the sound like bells chiming during a storm. Light and beautiful despite the pouring rain that threatened to drown it out. “Ask me again.”

His heart leapt to his throat, pounding so quickly he struggled to get the words out. But they came nonetheless, the words clear and betraying none of his anxiety. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Pt. 3, “This ain’t for the best.”

“Jesus, Daz.”

I looked up from my shoes, searching the crowd of people sitting before me for my brother’s brown eyes. He was twisted around in his chair with a concerned look on his face. Beneath that expression, I could tell he was really hungover. Like me, he wore eye bags, a grimace only one who had been up too late drinking could wear.

“You look like shit.”

I pulled out the chair next to Sam, dropping my bag and neck pillow onto the floor beside me. I stretched my lips apart, lamely, “Thanks so much.”

Sam faced forward as I sat down. He reached for his coffee cup, staring at me over the edge of it. “Sorry. Are you feeling okay? Oliver texted me before you guys left last night. Said you were sick.”

I flickered my eyes to the end of the table, where Oliver was sat. He gave a small smile, like it pained him to do so. I shrugged to Sam, “Fine.”

“Do you remember…anything?” Max inquired now. He chomped down on a bagel, his grin like a devil’s.

Out of the corner of my vision, I saw Oliver shift in his seat. I swallowed thickly, “Um…I remember…”

He was listening intently, anticipating my words.

“Dancing. Drinking. Dinner. Puking on the curb. After that, I…I don’t really know,” I ran my teeth over my bottom lip nervously.

“Don’t remember Oliver walking you home? Sleeping in his room? How about when I came and brought you back to ours? You don’t remember when you touched my hair and called me a poodle?” Sam rattled off a few memory joggers, but nothing clicked.

It was the truth. Well, it was…a partial truth.

I remembered snippets. Like clips from a sped up movie, shooting through my brain in memories that I couldn’t quite grasp. The warmth of Oliver’s chest, the feeling of his hoodie on my body, the Hello Kitty bandaids on my knees, his thumb stroking my cheek.

The sad part was, though his behavior was sweet that night, it didn’t change anything for me.

When I woke this morning, in my own bed, and I began to recall only small moments from the night before, I realized that Oliver only did as much because I had been seducing him all evening and, most importantly, because I was Sam’s baby sister. He would have faced hell had he not gotten me to bed safely. With the context of what I had remembered from our encounter, Oliver still couldn’t stand me. This was only confirmed when I knocked on his door this morning, secretly hoping that maybe there were missing pieces of my memory that would snap back into place once I saw him. Hoping that these missing memories would say something different.

Why? I didn’t exactly know the answer to that. From the interactions we had had thus far, I should hate him, not want him anywhere near me. But, something deep within me felt drawn to him, attracted to him. But, when he opened the door, I realized this was an unrequited want.

He looked…annoyed. He saw the hoodie in my hands, reached out with an expectant hand, and stared at me with darkness pooling in his eyes.

I set the hoodie in his grasp, brows furrowing. “Thanks…for your help.”

“Yeah,” he barely murmured before stepping back into his room and shutting the door.

So he really did hate me.

So, why was he so concerned with what I remembered?

I shook my head at Sam. My hand was shaking, from lack of sleep and anxiety, as I reached for the glass of water sitting before me. “No, sorry.”

“Oh, also,” Ronnie reached behind her, digging in her coat pocket, “Do you remember losing your wallet? The bouncer gave it to us when we were leaving.”

I ashamedly held out my hand, taking it from her. “Is that why I had to stay with Oliver?”

He shuffled at the sound of his name, glancing over his plate, dark eyes distant, dead. I watched him for a moment, noticing the way he ignored the very mention of himself, maintaining distance from our conversation even if he had every right- and every need- to speak up. Just because of me.

Sam glanced at the singer, expecting him to say something. When he didn’t, like I knew he wouldn’t, Sam said, “Yeah. Sorry. Came and got you as soon as I could.”

“It-it’s fine…” I trailed off, moving my gaze to my plate of food. Why did I feel rejected? I shouldn’t care about Oliver.

“Well, sorry for you losers, but,” Max pursed his lips, looking at our group with a cockiness in his eyes, “I’m unforgettable.”

I managed to chuckle at his air, “Oh, so true, Max.”

“In all seriousness, I had a great time last night.”

The others concerned themselves with their own conversations as Max focused on me, seated across from him. I glanced at Oliver, just curiously, and noticed he was on his phone, as per usual.

Why did he care what I remembered? Had he told me some secret? Had he kissed me, or done something inappropriate that would cause some sort of conflict? It was all very strange.

“Yeah,” I replied, distantly, before turning my focus back to Max. “Me, too. Thanks for buying my drinks.”

“Anytime, lovely.”

“Did I…” I scrunched my face up in embarrassment. Images of Max and I dancing flooded my mind. I remembered doing so, but I hadn’t realized until now that I had been so…flamboyant about it all. “Oh, God. Did i grind on you?”

Max’s grin was so bright, it nearly blinded me. “It was life changing.”

“Jesus Christ,” I lay my head in my palm, eyes squeezed shut. “Never let me drink that many Dirty Shirleys ever again.”

“Sorry,” Max spoke through his giggles, “I should have slowed you down. But, you were so relaxed. I figured you probably needed it last night.”

“Oh, I did,” I began to dig into my breakfast, knowing we’d be leaving quite soon. “I have been working my ass off in school for so long. And, I have to do it all again in just a few months.”

“Are you excited?” he asked me as he took another bite of his bagel.

I nodded slowly, “Yeah. Somewhat. I like school. But, this is so much fun, I can’t even think about that right now.”

“Don’t. Just…enjoy this. It’s already flying by. Don’t know what we’ll do for the rest of the tour without you.”

Max spoke with such sincerity that it broke my heart. I pouted at him, quickly swallowing to say, “Aw, Max. That's so sweet. I’m definitely going to miss this.”

“Two more months, love. Let’s make it last forever,” he winked cheekily, returning to his usual, teasing self.

I could do two more months with Max, with Adam, Cy, Ronnie, Sam. With weekend club trips, early morning breakfasts, venturing across Europe. I could do this forever.

But, I didn’t think I could do Oliver’s animosity forever. Not when my stomach clenched everytime he looked at me, not when my skin would get clammy, and my hands would shake with unrequited anticipation.

Not when I was feeling this way about him, and all he could do was glare at me.

-

Throughout the first week that we were in Italy, moments I experienced triggered memories like a shotgun ringing through the night. It was only small scenes, and it happened randomly, which frustrated me as each new piece of information was revealed.

The first thing I remembered was that moment when I vomited on the sidewalk. I knew it had happened, thanks to the bad taste in my mouth that morning. But, also, because I had a vision in my head of running out of the bar, scraping my knees. This was relevant to my mind because of the bandaids I caught sight of in the morning.

Oliver rushing to my aid? His whispered sweet nothings? I didn’t know about any of that until we had landed in Italy.

The plane ride had been brutal. I felt sick the entire time, and when we landed, I had to race off to the bathroom to empty my stomach. When I met up with our group, back by our gate, Ronnie had a fresh water bottle and package of pretzels ready for me.

“Thanks, mom,” I joked, wrapping my pillow back around my neck before taking the refreshments from her.

“Sure thing, peaches,” she rolled her eyes.

We all began moving, as a group, towards baggage claim. I fell in step beside Ronnie, lazily chewing on the pretzels. They were helping with the nausea.

“You remember your brother’s awful Mario impression?” Ronnie chuckled to herself, gaze distant as she thought about it.

“Oh, God,” I cringed as the scene played out in my head. ‘Why did he do that? What was that? Why did we let him go on for so long?”

“I don’t even know,” Ronnie pressed a hand to her lips as we shared a loud laugh.

Sam looked over his shoulder at the sound, slowing his feet, which were matching Max’s pace, to come to the other side of Ronnie. “What’s so funny?”

“Why are you so nosey?” I scrunched my nose, speaking through a pretzel that was between my lips.

“You’re in public, laughing like a hyena. I’m allowed to be nosey.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, and he returned the expression. “You’re a dick hungover,” I commented.

Ronnie nodded slowly, “Yeah, I’m not gonna disagree with her on that one.”

“Well, this is coming from the girl who once tore apart my favorite teddy bear because she didn’t get to have Cheerios for breakfast,” Sam leaned into Ronnie, speaking low, as if passing a secret, even though he glared at me and knew I could hear him.

I gaped at him, offended by him bringing up something that happened twenty years ago. “Dude, you literally ate the last bowl without asking. And you knew I wanted Cheerios that morning. I literally asked you to save me some! You ate a bowl bigger than my head!”

“Now, that’s impossible,” Sam scoffed, eyeing my cranium snarkily.

My jaw dropped more, if at all possible. I threw a pretzel at him, “Fuck you. You know I’m insecure about the size of my head!”

Ronnie, snickering to herself, took a chance to tease. She set a hand on my arm, smirking at Sam, “S’okay, Daisy. Your brother’s just mad you have a big head because-” she pointed at his crotch, “his is small.”

Adam, Cy, and Max heard this and, harmoniously with Ronnie, burst out into laughter. Max slammed a hand down onto Sam’s shoulder, “Ouch, dude! That’s gotta hurt!”

I giggled, glancing around the boys. My eyes ghosted over Oliver, whose back was facing me as we walked. His head was down. Ronnie’s words echoed in my memory, a distant reverberation that flashed images behind my eyes.

“It’s okay, Daisy. You’ll be okay.”

I touched my neck, nearly feeling Oliver’s fingers ghosting there, but it was just a gust of wind pushing through the automatic doors we were walking out of. The way he had touched me, the way he pulled my hair from my sweaty face, bunched it up in fist. It was so…sweet. Caring.

How was this dull man capable of such kindness if he hated me so much?

-

The time change in Italy, luckily, didn’t throw me off too badly. The next morning, I woke, feeling refreshed and no longer hungover. It was nice to not feel like a walking corpse, like I had all of yesterday.

We were here in Florence for the next week, and next week we would be in Rome. I spent the first two days wandering the streets. Ronnie and Sam would be meeting me for dinner later that evening, on the second day, so I didn’t get involved in anything too seriously. They didn’t have as much to do at the venue because things had gone so well the day before. Tomorrow, I had plans to take a tour group, like I had back in England, to catch the best sights of the city more easily.

I spent the afternoon perusing antique shops, book stores. It was interesting, to blend into the background of stranger’s stories, to not hear my mother tongue for hours at a time. I definitely had culture shock sometimes, but I also felt at peace, both humbled and relaxed by the experience.

That didn’t stop my mind from racing.

Oliver consumed all my thoughts. His hushed comfort replayed through my mind like a skipping record, white noise beneath the mangled languages filling the space around me.

The more I thought about him, his touch, his words, the tighter my stomach got. I felt like I could choke up broken wings from the butterflies that had taken up a village in my stomach. neI dreaded breakfast the next morning, knowing that it meant I’d have to look him in the eye. While he avoided me, cursed my presence, I felt myself drawn to him as every second drug past.

I tried to focus on the present moment, the gorgeous shops I was perusing, the delicious food samples offered to me nearly every two feet. What snapped me out of my racing thoughts, fully, was the sound of my phone ringing in my pocket.

I balanced my bags in one hand and dug through my purse until I found the device. I usually kept the sound off, but being that I was alone, in the middle of a foreign country, I figured it would be a good idea to have it on.

A picture of Sam and I covered my screen and his contact name- Sam Ham- was in a white font above it. I was somewhat confused, considering he was supposed to be at rehearsals right now. They had another hour before he and Ronnie would join me for our later lunch.

“Hello?” I pressed the phone between my shoulder and ear, tucking myself into the corner of the antique shop, so as not to disturb others.

“Daz, hi,” Sam breathed out. I struggled to hear him at first, as above his voice was music, loud music, accompanied by singing. Cymbals crashed, a guitar riffed, and…Oliver was singing.

I’d heard it before, on Spotify, on pre recorded tracks that Sam had shown me. Of course, I’d never really listened to it, prejudiced with my own taste of music. Hearing it like this, live, hearing the soul Oliver fueled his lyrics with…it sent a shiver down my spine. I couldn’t understand what he was singing, but I knew it was good. He was incredibly talented.

He’s a dick, I tried to remind myself.

“What’s up?” I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to focus on Sam, and Sam only.

He seemed to leave the room that had been housing the loud music, tone more clear as a door shut behind him. “Hey, sorry. Um…there’s some shit going on with the speakers and wires. Me and Ronnie won’t be getting out of here on time. I’m so sorry.”

“No, that’s okay!” I shook my head, “Don’t even apologize. You can’t control that.”

“I know, I just feel bad,” Sam huffed, before continuing, “Cause I need to ask a favor, too.”

I stepped to the side as a group of customers moved past me, whispering apologies. “I’m- sorry, guys- scusa- sorry, um- I’m not busy. What do you need?”

“If we ordered food from somewhere, could you go pick it up and bring it to us? I’ll cover you,” he offered.

“No, of course. Just text me the address,” I reassured him. “And I’ll cover myself. You got me the other night, anyways.”

“What? When?”

“At the restaurant? You covered-”

“Sam! Can you please tune ii’s drums again? Something’s not fucking working!”

“One minute!” Sam seemed to hold the phone away from his mouth as he spoke, which I was grateful for. “Gotta go, Daz. I’ll send you the place. Text me your order and I’ll let you know the details.”

“Okay, love you.”

“Love you. Bye-”

He cut himself off, three beeps resounding, signifying that he had hung up. Immediately, I received a text with the name of the restaurant. I quickly found something easy on the menu and replied. While I waited for him to give me the information regarding the order, I decided to head back to the hotel. I needed to drop off my shopping bags and honestly fix my hair.

Because I would be seeing Oliver.

And, despite myself, my own self interest and boundaries, I wanted to look good for him. So what if he hated me- he thought I was hot. And, I’d break my own back to just get him to look at me for one single, fleeting moment.

-

Two hours later, I was flashing my ID to the venue’s security, being led through the entrance by a worker, and wound up standing just inside the pit, right where the floor dipped down. The music was even louder in person, yet I could hear it more clearly. Oliver wasn’t on stage, nor anywhere to be seen, which I was grateful for. I needed just another moment to prepare myself to see him.

I couldn’t help but smile at Max, who was spinning around the stage, his large bass whipping through the air, effortlessly. He wore casual clothing, a sight I was used to, but had his stage mask pulled down over his face. There was a small bump from his bun, which I chuckled at seeing.

Adam and Cy were dressed similarly, with those same masks on, each fit with their own instruments. They seemed to be rehearsing a song, focused on the sound mix and not the singing, considering Oliver wasn’t with them. After a minute or so of me standing there, watching them, actually enjoying the music I was hearing, the song ended.

Sam walked out onto stage, a headset down over his curly hair, a clipboard in hand, “That was good, guys. Sounds better. Soon as Daisy gets here, we’ll break. Wanna go from the top? I’ll grab Oli-”

“Daisy!” Max, who had been fiddling with the strings on his bass, glanced up when Sam mentioned me. He spotted me, towards the back of the room, shifting the bags in my hands.

I lifted the food up in a sort of greeting, grinning as everyone looked to me, “Hey, guys!”

“Oh, thank God,” Sam wasted no time in taking off his headset, tossing it and the clipboard onto an amp next to him.

Max set his bass down, too, joining Sam as he b-lined for the stairs. Sam took a bag from my left hand and Max took the other, greeting me with kind thank-you’s and a hug from the taller man. “We’re so happy you’re here,” Max wrapped an arm around my shoulders, guiding me as we followed after Sam.

I adjusted my slipping purse strap, giggling slightly, “Really?”

“We actually are,” Adam spoke up as we bounded up the stairs.

I didn’t know where we were going, but the guys headed backstage, Cy joining in our group. Max added, “Today has been a fucking shitshow. You’re, like, a ray of sunshine in the rain, love.”

“Oh,” I grinned with a blush eating at my cheeks, “Well, then, I’m happy to be here.”

I couldn’t see much of the band’s expressions behind their masks, but I knew their words were true. Each of their pairs of eyes shone joy, lit up like fireworks.

We continued our short conversation until we reached a back room, where Sam held the door open for all of us while we piled in. Max let go of me now, moving to unpack the take out bag on the counter. I guessed this was their dressing room, considering there were racks of clothes, stray bottles of paint laying about, and bags of theirs that I recognized sat at each of the four chairs pushed into the vanity.

I didn’t notice Oliver in the corner of the room, fiddling with a piano, and I didn’t even hear the notes he was playing. I was too busy helping Max, matching everyone up with their food order, giggling as the bassist poked my side.

“You want something to drink?” He asked me, moving to a mini-fridge in the corner of the room.

I set my own carton of food down on the counter beside Max’s, then followed him. I met eyes with Oliver- well, I met eyes with the blackened slits of his mask- nearly tripping over myself. My words stuttered out as the notes he keyed out came to my hearing.

Oliver wore black, fabric pants, black socks, and a black cloak, with white emblems on the elbows. His lips and the very edge of his nose were visible beneath his mask, and I noticed he was murmuring some melody to himself. I knew that he was looking at me because I could feel the burn of his dark eyes on my skin. I peeled my gaze away, feeling my face get hot.

And I noticed he was shirtless.

This image drew another memory from the trenches of my mind.

“Wanna keep staring at me or go to bed?”

I knew I had worn his hoodie to bed, but I hadn’t remembered that he took it off of his own back.

What I replied with, what he proceeded to say afterwards- these were all blanks, holes in my memory. But, I knew, now, that he had literally given me the shirt off his back.

I looked to the slits of his mask, again, brows furrowed, jaw slack. Oliver quickly dipped his head, focused on the piano that sat on the stand before him. Max peered over his shoulder, crouched down in front of the mini-fridge. “Love? Daisy? Drink?”

I moved my head from side to side, slowly, peeling myself from my trance. I glanced down at Max, breathing deeply, shutting my slack chin. “Uh…yeah. Yeah, please. Just- water. Thanks.”

I noticed Max flicker his eyes between me and Oliver, blond brows furrowing slightly. “Oh…kay. Here you go.”

I reached out and took the bottle from him. Turning on my heel, I peeled myself away from the corner of the room, finding myself back at my food quickly. Max joined me, carrying his own bottle. He examined me, almost curiously, as I turned to face him. “What?”

“No, nothing,” he cracked open his bottle and took a sip, still watching me.

‘Seriously, what?” I grew impatient and snapped the words, though quietly, unwilling to draw attention.

Max held up a defensive hand, “Nothing. Sorry. Just…” Max glanced over his shoulder, to Oliver. I followed his line of vision, face heating up. “Be careful.”

Be careful.

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

-

I’d rushed home after eating with everyone yesterday, avoiding Max, who had asked me to step outside with him after we tossed our trash away. I claimed I had a headache and needed to go lay down. Instead, I spent the evening in the hotel pool, resisting the urge to drown my stupid self in the water.

I didn’t even join the group for dinner, not even when Sam called my phone and asked where I was. He said he didn’t see me in our room. I lied and said that I’d gone out. Afraid they’d find me swimming, I snuck up to our room, changed, and made true of my words. I went to some stupid dive bar, bought tickets to see some local comedian. Some of his set was in Italian, but some in English, so I enjoyed myself as best as possible.

In the morning, I didn’t even join everyone for breakfast. I didn’t want to take any chances of seeing Oliver, nor Max, now that he knew of this stupid fucking crush I had. I waited until Sam left, then got up, showering, dressing and preparing myself to be gone all day.

I had my tour group today, so I texted Sam and told him not to wait up for me later. I grabbed breakfast at some local cafe I’d yet to try before making it to the bus. I was accompanied by some older English ladies and a group of Australian bachelorettes. We had a lot of fun together, not weighed down by the presence of any men. By the end of the day, I’d made a few friends, gained new contacts in my phone, and had a load of photos I needed to go through.

It was dark when I returned to the hotel. I sped past by the dining room, hoping everyone couldn’t see me b-lining for the elevator. Just when I thought I was in the clear, as the steel doors began to slide shut, someone stuck their hand through the partition. The elevator dinged as the doors peeled back open.

I frowned, shifting on my feet, wrapping my arms around my stomach, as Max stepped inside. He shot me a soft smile, stepping in beside me. “Hey, love. How was your tour?”

I shrugged and avoided his eye contact. Max sighed, facing the doors, as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Three floors passed by on the little digital screen before he spoke again.

“I’m sorry for giving you such a cryptic message yesterday-”

“Listen,” I interrupted him, a gross taste in my mouth, “I don’t want to talk about it, okay? I’m just trying to- ignore it, alright? It’s stupid and I don’t want to deal with it because I feel like it’ll just cause drama, yeah? Can we just…act like it never happened?”

I finally looked Max in the eye, shoulders tensed, hopeful that he would agree.

“That’s a good idea,” he nodded slowly.

“Really?”

Max gave a pathetic chuckle, “Really. I said be careful because I thought you were going to pursue something with him. And, Daisy, I just think- you’re too good for him. I love Oliver. He’s one of my best mates, but- he’s a wreck. He doesn’t have his life together. He’s so involved in his music, and this band, and he just doesn’t make time for anything else. Not even himself.”

‘That’s kind of sad,” I scrunched my nose, “have you talked to him about having healthier coping mechanisms?”

“Believe me,” Max waved me off, “we have. He goes to therapy. So, that’s something. But, I think it’s still gonna take a while before he learns to balance his personal life and this…this insane amount of attention we’re all receiving. You deserve a lot more than that. You deserve goodness and light because that’s what you are. I won’t let you get yourself involved in a shitty situation with him.”

“I don’t even know what it is about him,” I brushed my hands down my sides, as if attempting to wipe myself clean of Oliver. “Just…he’s an asshole to me-”

“I know,” Max rolled his eyes, “I’ve been talking to him about that, too.”

“Thanks,” I chuckled. Then, I sighed, and continued, “I just keep getting these flashbacks from the other night, when I was drunk. He was being…so kind to me. And, I’m a stupid fucking idiot. I get attached to people easily. So, my brain is just- fucked. I don’t want to think about him like this, but…”

“It’s okay,” Max lay a hand on my arm, drawing my gaze to his. It calmed me a bit, the soothingness of his stormy blue eyes. “We’ve just gotta get you laid. I promise that you’ll forget about him in an instant.

I bit my lip, giggling at his eyes, “You’re probably right. How about next week? I’ll download a dating app. You make sure I go out with somebody, yeah?”

“Now, that I can do,” Max tugged me into his side and leaned his cheek against my head. I wrapped my arms around his waist, comforted in his hug. “I bet these Italian boys will

The elevator doors opened again. I stepped out, turning to Max, who held the doors open, to say, “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow, okay?”

He reached out a hand, booped my nose, “Okay, darling.”

“It’s complicated, darling…We can have this conversation when you’re sober. Can we do that, darling?”

Fuck.

-

I couldn’t sleep.

There was still something missing, I just knew it. One more line from Oliver, one more slurred response from me. But, from what I had, from what I had grappled at desperately with my shaking fingers, I knew things were not what they had seemed to be.

I rolled over in bed, trying not to make too much noise because I knew Sam was fast asleep- evident from the snores he elicited. But, I let a small huff pull from my throat, a frustration building up in my chest that made me want to cry. My pillow was warm on both sides, the room was stuffy, sweat was pooling on my neck. My mouth was dry and I couldn’t find a good position to lay in. I just wanted to go to bed!

But Oliver was haunting me like a ghost.

His words resounded in my head, over and over, singing like when I’d get a line from a song stuck up there. They teased me, knowing they knew everything that I didn’t.

After kicking the covers off of me and throwing a clenched fist against the bed, I decided it was best for me to just get up. I pulled sweatpants beneath my long t-shirt, shoveled my feet inside my slippers, and grabbed my purse and phone. I headed for the vending machine first, purchasing a bottle of water. I cracked it open as the elevator doors shut.

I examined the buttons laid out before me. I could go down to the lobby, see if the bar was still open. But, drinking sounded disgusting right now. It would probably make me do something stupid, anyways. The roof was tempting, too. I really wanted to go there. But, part of me worried that Oliver would be there.

Part of me hoped he would be, too.

Before I knew it, the doors were opening to the roof. There was another pool up here, one I didn’t know about. Given the time- 1 am- there weren’t any guests swimming. I was going to take advantage of this newfound opportunity tomorrow, considering it was one of our last days in Florence.

I walked towards it, examining the crystal blue waters. I wanted to take a dip now, knowing it would clear my head. The shining moonlight and chlorine chemicals would force me to think more efficiently. I settled for sitting on the edge, sweatpant legs tugged up enough that I could sink my feet in.

I shuffled my playlist, some Taylor Swift song playing faintly beneath the sounds of the city beneath me. Car horns beeped, music poured from open dive-bar doorways, crowds of people rowdied down the streets. As noisy as it was, with the pool pump humming alongside the music of the night, it was peaceful.

I became mindful of my own thoughts, tracking them down, lassoing them up, so I could sift through them and organize everything.

Oliver had told me it was complicated. What was complicated? What had he wanted to speak about later? What conversation did he want to have with me, sober? From everything else I remembered- his tearing words as he shed his hoodie, his lingering touch on my body, his sweet use of the word darling- there was a tension between us that night. Was that what he wanted to discuss? Was that what was complicated?

I didn’t have much peace and quiet to myself because, soon after I sat down, the elevator doors opened. I quickly stood from the pool, shoving my cuffed pants down, exiting out of the Spotify app. I don’t know why the position I had been in felt so intimate, but I didn’t want this stranger to intrude on it.

Not that it was a stranger.

I should have known Oliver would come up here.

I crossed my arms over my chest as a breeze blew through the roof. Too, I wanted to take a defensive stance against him. He looked up when he stepped out of the elevator, cigarette already lit upon his lips.

“Oh,” he took it between his fingers, smoke pouring from his puffed cheeks. “Sorry-”

He tossed the butt to the concrete ground of the roof, stomping it out with the toe of his black Converse. “Didn’t know you’d be up here.”

Okay, that was something, too. He chose not to smoke around me. That was courteous…that was the man who had given me the shirt off his back.

I tilted my head, looking up at him as he moved closer. Why was that when we were alone, on some roof, or behind the doors of his hotel room, he felt like he could speak to me? I wanted to ask, but I wasn’t that bold.

Instead, I said, “Thanks.”

Oliver moved past me, approaching a set of chairs positioned towards the farthest wall of the roof. He sat down, stretching his legs out onto the ledge above. He leaned back in his chair and flipped his hood atop his hair. I watched him from where I stood, unsure of what I was to do. Should I sit back down on the edge of the pool, continue to ruminate over the very man now sharing the air with me?

He answered the question for me, peering over his shoulder before waving a hand, “You can come sit.”

I didn’t know if I wanted to.

But, I guess, my body did. Because I found myself pulling my legs to my chest, sat on the chair beside him, following his gaze to the city before us.

We didn’t say anything to each other for a while. To be honest, my mind had gone quiet. While my meditation on the side of the pool had been peaceful, this…this was different. This was soothing, tranquil, to just listen to his soft breathing, to feel his presence just beside me.

Eventually, though, Oliver surprisingly spoke up. I felt him look at me, but I kept my chin balanced on my knee, kept my eyes on the streetlights below. “You don’t remember anything?”

It sounded hopeful, which only fed my suspicion that something happened between us the other evening that was far from friendly, far from something he could just write off.

I chewed on my bottom lip, words choking in my throat. “Not really.”

Oliver examined me for a few moments, then hummed, “Okay.”

Just as I turned my head to see him, he moved his eyes to the city. I spoke softly, timid, “Is there something I should be remembering?”

We finally met eyes. Oliver looked taken aback to see that I was staring at him. He scratched his neck, seemingly nervously, and shrugged softly. “Not really,” he echoed my words.

I squinted slightly. “Okay.”

At the same time, we both looked back at the view.

I focused on his breathing again, listening for dips, breaks in the air he pulled in and out of his lungs, hoping I could read into his rhythm enough to find answers. He seemed focused, too, dark brows furrowed slightly.

I guess we were both thinking similarly because, at the same time, we turned to each other and began again. I started with, “Are you sure-?”

Meanwhile, he said, “You don’t remember-? Oh, go ahead.”

“No, you go,” I shifted in my seat.

Oliver licked his pink lips, glancing to his feet, “I was just gonna say…you don’t remember coming back to the hotel?”

I searched his pupils as I responded- lied, “Not really…you’re sure there’s nothing you want to…to tell me? Something important I should be remembering?”

“I don’t think so,” he quickly peeled his gaze away.

“Why did you tell me to come sit with you?” I murmured, the words slipping before I could stop them.

Oliver sighed, “I don’t know. Thought it would be nice. Like when we were in London-”

“Like when we were in London and you proceeded to pretend like we never did this? Like when we were in London and you kept interrupting me, so I couldn’t tell everyone we had been up on the roof together?”

“Yeah, like that,” he shrugged.

I scoffed, shaking my head at his passiveness. Impulsively, I decided to stand, decided to just not care like he seemingly did, “I’m gonna go to bed.”

I made for the elevator, hearing a scuffle behind me as Oliver must have stood to follow. I hit the button a few times in the hopes that I could escape inside the steel doors before he could catch up. I peered over my shoulder and saw that he was just watching me.

I shook my head again, facing the elevator with squared shoulders. Then, his footsteps began moving closer. I reached out a shaking hand, thumb punching against the button, rapidly.

“Daisy,” he called out, just a few feet behind me.

The doors opened, I shot inside. I pressed my floor number just as Oliver reached the elevator. He slipped inside while the doors slid closed. I huffed, tilting my head up to stare frustratingly at the ceiling. He watched me.

“Daisy,” he spoke, softly, “I need you to be honest with me. What do you remember?”

“Oh, cause you’re such a conscientious person yourself!” I threw a hand up and it smacked against my outer thigh. I just kept shaking my head.

Oliver ran a hand through his hair, knocking his hood off. “I really don’t think we’re on the same page right now, Daisy. Please, if we can just talk about this, if you could just tell me what you remember.”

“If I lay down next to you, I don’t think I could keep my hands to myself.”

I stared blankly at Oliver as my head rushed.

He continued with the belief that he now had my full attention, hands braced between us, “I want to figure this out, okay?”

“I do want you.”

“Oliver,” I frowned, pleading eyes burning through him. “I don’t…I can’t play this game with you.”

“What- what game?” he lay his arms at his sides, shoulders slackening. “Daisy, I’m confused.”

“So am I, Oliver. I’m so…you’re fucking with my head.”

“What do you remember?”

“It doesn’t matter, Oliver,” I waved him off. Then, I brushed hair behind my ears, shaking fingers rubbing my neck nervously. “I just don’t want to do this with you. Max…I know Max is right. I should listen to him.”

“What? What did Max say to you? Daisy, please-”

The elevator doors opened, revealing our floor. I glanced between him and the opening, a promising escape from all of this, at least for now.

Oliver seemed to beg me, with his dark eyes, to stay. But, like always, he just didn’t say anything. So, I smiled sadly at him, lips tight, arms wrapped securely around my stomach. And I left him in the elevator.

I made it back to Sam and I’s room, quietly guiding the door shut behind me. I kicked off my slippers and turned into the bathroom. I needed to splash some cold water on my face. However, before I could close the door, a soft knock sounded from the hallway. I rested my hand against the doorknob, holding my breath, as I stared towards the noise.

I knew who it was. I knew what he wanted.

If I was as smart as I thought I was, as protective of my boundaries and my peace, I just wouldn’t answer.

But, as much as I hated to admit, I wanted him, too. I wanted him like a flower wants the sun, thirsty and impoverished. Ever-reaching, fingers stretched out, dragging through the stale air for just a spot of light.

So, I opened the door. I let him burn me with that distant gaze, let him speak my name like a whispered prayer, let him take my cheek and hip in his hands, let him tug me out into the hallway, and I let him kiss me like a solar flare, explosive and scarring.

[reysdriver]

Glam Rock | S.B.

You and Sirius go to a muggle rock concert — sirius x fem!reader fluff

warnings: one mention of nausea but nothing else

words: 0.9k

"Sirius, if you put on any more jewelry, everyone will think you're part of the band."

"That's the point, love." He told you. "They're icons." 

You rolled your eyes. "But we won't get to see them if we don't leave soon." 

He looked into the mirror by your bed, studying his concert outfit. "Do you think I should put some eyeliner on?"

Hoping to get to your concert, you gently wrapped your arms around him from his side. He brought his right arm over you as you kissed his necklace-clad chest. 

"I think you're pretty enough already. I also think we should get there before Freddie makes his grand entrance, so we should get going." 

It was just under ten minutes until they were set to perform, and you were getting more anxious for every minute that passed. Your boyfriend sensed that, and decided his outfit was complete. 

"Alright. You have the tickets, right, love?" He asked you. 

"They've been in my back pocket all afternoon." You assured him, pulling them out to prove it.

"Then we can go now. Hold on tight." 

You held his comforting hand and he apparated the two of you to an empty alley near the venue. 

You had told him several times before that you could just apparate right into the venue, thus losing the need to buy tickets in the first place, but he had insisted every single time that he wanted the 'muggle experience'. 

Although Sirius was totally fine with apparition, it had always made you a bit nauseous. Sirius knew this and held onto your upper arms as you breathed deeply and composed yourself. 

"Okay, let's go." You said with a smile once the sick feeling went away. "Don't want to miss the show."

You started walking, following the sound of excited fans. Sirius linked your hands together while you walked, even though it would take you about a minute to walk to the venue. 

Once you arrived at the building, you handed your ticket to a teenage boy in a glass booth, he ripped part of it off and handed the rest back to you. He held up two fingers to the buff bouncer, who let you and Sirius into the concert hall. 

"We're in." You smiled at him, as another bouncer opened the door connecting the lobby and the main room. 

There was a huge crowd, which was expected since you showed up so late. 

Sirius looked straight to the bar; not to drink, but because that section was always mobile at the start of the night. He knew that when you got to the front, the drunk people would be far away from you by then. It was a trick he got while smoking outside with concert-goers another night. 

It was a trick that proved itself to work, since just a few minutes into the concert, you were a few metres away from the stage. 

In the middle of Somebody To Love, you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to see a blond man holding two beers. 

"Sorry, but my girlfriend is in front of you, can I get by?" 

Sirius wanted to say no, but you first got the attention of the girl he pointed to, who turned around and lit up when she saw the guy with the drinks. 

His arm crossed you to give her a beer, and you moved aside so they could stand together. 

The only problem was that he was taller than you, but shorter than Sirius. Your vision of half the stage was blocked, and Sirius didn't notice until he saw you readjusting to see the stage when they started the next song. 

"Here, you can hop on my shoulders." Sirius said just loudly enough for you to hear. 

He went to bend down, but you put a hand on his arm to stop him. "Then I would be blocking people too." 

"They can move." He insisted. "Or get on each other's shoulders. We could start a movement."

You laughed at his joke, and pushed your worries of offending other people aside. 

He bent down again, and this time you let him. You were a bit scared of it, but you climbed onto his shoulders nevertheless. He stood up, and you could finally see everything that was going on. 

You looked around the audience and saw a few other people above the rest of the crowd, and the people behind them didn't seem upset. 

You lovingly looked down at Sirius, who had his eyes glued to the stage, then you curled a lock of his perfectly smooth hair around your forefinger, and looked back at the band. 

They ended the current song, moved on to Love Of My Life. Your face broke out into a smile, and you thought that this could be your song with Sirius. 

Without a word, he turned his head slightly and kissed your inner thigh. You knew he was thinking the same thing, and that only made your smile brighter. 

Though you were still thinking about your boyfriend, you returned your gaze to the band. 

You set a mental reminder to buy a picture frame sometime soon. You would need to frame the ticket stubs as a souvenir of this amazing date at the best concert you've ever seen.  

[gonedreaminggg]

ITS TIME ITS TIME

my unhinged laurance zvahl headcanons 🫠

- Laurance has a BUNCH of ear piercings. Candenza made him swear not to get any facial piercings, and she's one of the only people he listens to. He did get a belly button piercing to spite her tho :)

- He has a lot of nervous ticks. He used to play with his hair when it was long, but when Cadenza cut it, he started cracking his knuckles and picking at his nailbeds. When Aphmau notices him doing this, she lets him play with her hair.

- GARRANCEMAU. POLYCULE. It was kind of unspoken for a while, and then Garroth got left behind in the Irene Dimension. So, Laurance and Aph got really close. However, nothing was official so she got with Aaron. Laurance and Garroth only ever realized after he had died. Garroth understood, he knew that the polycule wasn't too serious. However, Laurance on the other hand, didn't understand that. Plus, he was dealing with the calling and whatnot. There was a rift in the relationship for a while after that.

- All of the kids in the village love Laurance. I mean, we know he was one of Malachai's biggest role models, and Laur had also grown attached to him. But, he also kinda becomes Naoki (Nekoette but less problematic) and Dmitri's babysitter. He's always been good with kids, but MY IRENE he cannot handle Naoki. Leona also likes to hang around him, as well.

- Laurance used to have a fascination with fire when he was little. (i mean the man has adhd and u know how we r with fire.) He would stare at it for hours. It was the only thing that really calmed his brain. But now, he can't stand it. He can stay near a fire for warmth of course, but he's never the one to start or feed it. He can't look at it anymore. Too many memories. The fire is literally a part of him now. His new body was forged from it. There's no need to stare into the flames. He just has to look in the mirror.

- He's still blind, somewhat. His eyesight wasn't miraculously healed. He has to wash his face in the fountain of Lady Irene every so often, or his vision will completely blur. Even then, there's still spots that never go away, mostly on the outer field of his vision. He has reading glasses, as well.

- He's very physically affectionate. He plays with Aphmau's hair. He grazes over Garroth's hands constantly, running his thumb on all the marks in his palm or his scarred knuckles. When he was younger, he would always find something to fiddle with on Cadenza's clothes.

- He would model for Cadenza a lot. Before becoming a Shadow Knight, he was very comfortable in his body and his masculinity, so playing dress up was honestly very fun.

- Laurance always has to do something with his hands, so he takes up a lot of different crafts. Tying knots, woodcarving (thank you @xerith-42 for that one lmao), making jewelry. (In my hc my OC taught him how to make jewelry, but we don't have to get into that now haha)

- Laurance has Brazilian heritage, and even though he was an orphan, there's a large Brazilian population in Meteli and he was raised around the culture. Hayden kept Laurance very informed on his roots, and in turn Cadenza got to experience all of this as well. (I wanna go into this further at some point but I want to do the proper research first.)

- Since SKs don't need as much sleep, most nights Laurance just wanders Phoenix Drop. That's why he's usually the first to know when something's wrong.

- Before Laurance became an official guard, he was sort of a... vigilante. Bringing justice in the dead of night type beat. When he was younger, in his early teens, there was a high crime rate in Meteli. So, if Laurance saw someone stealing, or trying to break in somewhere, he'd tie them up and leave them outside the guard station for the authorities to deal with them.

Alright have fun with this one crazies

[eyooosh]

academy's undercover professor AU! VAMPIRE

(Major Spoilers!)

13 years ago... He, Heathcliff Van Bretus is in the brink of death after falling off a huge pit. A follower of lumensis planned on killing the him because some people from the royal family felt threatened by his presence..

The young Heathcliff did not die from the fall but his head is injured and is bleeding excessively...

Heathcliff continued to cling to life despite knowing that no one will help him... maybe by the time there was someone out there, he might have been dead from bloodloss.. Or maybe one of the gods will bless him again, prolonging his life and suffering.

Even if the he healed from his injuries, he'll still be stuck in the deep pit, there is also no food nor water to consume..

His head throbs in pain and his vision is swirling around... The young boy's body is drenched in his own blood, pooling all around him.

Heathcliff stared up above, weakly clenching on a strange piece he found nearby.. His blurry vison saw the moon illuminating its serene appearance just above the deep pit..

It is only for a moment before his sight darkened.. "HoHo. I didn’t think there would be anyone here." But perhaps fate would not allow him to die.

Rudiger Cherish is a quarter vampire.. 13 years ago.. When he was just infront of death's doorstep, Grander found him..

Because of excessive bleeding, Grander then decided to feed him a very small amount of her precious blood from her small, pale wrist...

He healed instantly but it didn't come for free..They made a deal, she will feed him, shelter him and teach him while he will eventually grant her death.The blood he received turned out to have a side-effect on him..

As he eventually inherited her blood after a few nights..

He's an unusual case actually..

His skin became quite sensitive to the sun and consumes blood like his master.. Though he only consumes blood as an alternative method for treating his mana deficiency and fortunately, he doesn't go crazy for blood when he's thirsty...

He is no way near his master, a pure-blooded vampire.

He doesn't have immortality nor the ability to use her blood magic. She stated that he only inherited a few of a vampire's characteristics and is did not became an actual vampire like her.

His fangs are also quite small and less sharp than his master's fangs. They can't penetrate deep enough to tear a nerve, hence his masters frequent teasing of "baby teeth" everytime he brings the topic of drinking blood.

The seal helps him conceal some his vampire traits too.. His vampire traits, fortunately, didn't hindered his abilities.. His vampire blood didn't clash with the divine power and slightly enhanced his dark attribute.

Making him slightly more powerful at night, though only for a miniscule amount, compared to Grander.

===

Ludger received a cup of coffee from Sedina as usual in his office.

"Thank you."

Sedina peeked at Ludger, who is sipping coffee while looking through papers with his rimless glasses.

'Vampire..'

After what happened with the world tree, Sedina became quite closer to Ludger and other U. N. Owens who risked their lives to save her.

She  learned how to control the world tree and met her deceased mother once again.

She brought Ludger to her mother and conversed with each other. It got rough first but they talked in the end and her mother even teased her.

'Sir. Ludger has the Bretus royal bloodline and even vampire blood..'

She didn't mean to eavesdrop in their conversation but she heard it because they fought right in front of her.

It is quite contradicting when Bretus is the homeland of Lumensis church and vampires are the devil's children.

Sedina is really curious but it is Ludger's secret, she can't just prod.

"What is it?"

Ludger noticed Sedina's gaze and asked but still not looking up from the papers.

"We-well! Its just... Uh!"

Sedina jumped and stuttered.. She contemplated whether to ask him or not.

"Just ask.."

"Okay.."

Sedina looked at Ludger and decided to just ask.

"About when mother said that sir. Ludger is a.. vampire? Well, you don't have to answer if you don't want to! "

"Ah, about that."

Ludger took another sip in his coffee and immediately casted a sound-proofing spell in the office. He had expected Sedina to ask him about his origins after the World tree incident.

"She is right, i am a part-vampire."

"Oh! Then sir. Ludger, do you often drink blood?"

"Not that much.. I only drink blood as an another method of recovering mana."

"Then do you get burns when standing in the sunlight? Wait, you go out sometimes though.."

"It's not like that..."

Ludger shook his head at the ridiculousness but gave a response.

"My skin is just a little sensitive."

"Oh... Is that why you always wear coats?"

"Yes."

"Then, do you-"

"-I don't like drinking someone's blood."

'Ah, i was about to ask him that...'

Ludger immediately spoke and Sedina awkwardly nodded at what he said.

"Then sir, what kind of blood do you drink? how often do you drink blood? Should i continue giving you vegetables? Ah, sorry that was too much!"

Sedina got too excited and asked more questions, though Ludger didn't mind.

"I drink animal blood once a month or sometimes, a week. Also, the vegetables you give me is fine too."

"Ah-"

Sedina let out a gasp as she absorbed new information about Ludger.Sedina felt like she got a little closer with Ludger for him to answer her question..

Sedina felt another urge to ask another question but the bell rang. The spell he had diminished just a few second before the bell.

"Well, maybe later Sedina.. It's time for class."

Ludger sat up from his chair and went to his class.

Sedina first picked up the class documents before following Ludger.

She felt a little sullen, there's so many things she wants to aks, but there's always a next time.===

[miracles-and-butterflies]

On this episode of me randomly posting an unfinished wip from my drafts: we have what was going to be a Madrigals swapping bodies fic.

This one dates back to April 2023, almost a year old.

What the hell? This wasn’t her room.

Instead, she was in Mirabel’s cosy, ordinary, little room. Maybe scratch off cosy - this room is fucking freezing. Seriously, Luisa doesn’t think she’s ever been this cold before. And it’s a bigger room than she remembers. How did she even get in here? When did she get in here? Is Dolores right about her sleepwalking? And where’s Mirabel?

Luisa ignored her questions just now because Antonio, who was still wailing intensely outside, was her top priority at the moment. She could figure out what happened to herself later. And it was most likely that Mirabel, being the early bird she was, was already awake and far into her morning routine by now.

As she darted for the door, she felt completely off - like her centre of balance wasn’t where it normally was. Her vision also seemed to give up on her as she tried to spot Antonio once she was out the room.

What the fuck kind of drunk shenanigans did Isabela drag her into last night? At least she doesn’t have a hangover.

She strained, eventually catching a little, dark blurry figure, and running that towards it. Relieved that when she got closer, her eyes fixed themselves and that Antonio did appear.

Thinking a moment, she slowed her pace, not wanting to scare the boy any further by just suddenly ambushing him.

“Hey, primito, are you okay? Did you have another nightmare? Whatever it is, you’re safe now.” Luisa hoped her voice sounded gentle, she couldn’t really hear herself over the blood pumping loudly in her ears.

Antonio looked up at her. Whatever she had sounded like, she had only upset him more. He pointed at her, screaming, cowering back into the corner between his door and his parents’.

Luisa, although freaked out, continued, “Antonio, it’s just me! It’s Luisa, your cousin. I’m not going to hurt you. ”

The more she spoke, the more she realised her voice didn’t sound right. It had a slightly higher register than it usually did, and was overall more feminine and controlled. Her familiar raspiness was seemingly replaced by something more mature.

She also realised as she approached, that she was undeniably shorter, because Antonio looked to be about three thirds of her. Which is particularly strange because if she remembers correctly, she had been the tallest Madrigal for many years now and there’s no way a child is going to suddenly grow so much in one night. Isn’t she a bit young to be shrinking with age though? She’s only twenty!

“What the hell?” Luisa asked out loud.

She looked down at herself and saw her hands which were decidedly darker and smoother than her natural complexion. There weren’t any calluses from heavy lifting or nervously chewed up nails. Instead, well-kept and delicate. In fact, her whole body was dainty and more doll-like than the one she knew just yesterday, covered in a frilly nightdress that she definitely did not own. She reached up to her hair, only to feel the soft, shoulder length curls that resided there.

Luisa let out a scream of her own, before shouting another, louder, “What the hell?!”

She kept repeating that phrase while wandering over to the pictures on the nearby wall. Trying to use the glass as a mirror, she leaned close to it, eventually seeing a reflection that wasn’t her own. Finally coming to the conclusion that not only was she not in her own body, but she was in someone else’s body. Mirabel’s. Which explained why Luisa hadn’t seen her when she woke up in the nursery. Because she was…

Antonio whimpered somewhere behind her.

He was now sat on the floor. He had stopped crying, but was still staring at Luisa with eyes the size of dinner plates.

Part of her still wanted to comfort him, but considering how he reacted to her presence, didn’t think it would work. If it was a nightmare was about Casita’s collapse and having the person comfort him be… Mirabel right after, probably hadn’t helped.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat directly behind Luisa.

Suddenly frozen, every muscle, that felt too small and weak to be normal or familiar, locked into place. She stepped back and turned a full 180 degrees, looking up (that felt weird to do again) at her mother.

“Mirabel? Are you okay? You look very pale, mi amor.”

Kinda the opposite, actually.

Luisa tried not to react to the nervous shivers running through her body. Does that happen every time Mirabel’s nervous? Is that why she’s always cold? Wait, no, that’s the anaemia. Maybe it’s both?

“I’m,” she paused, trying to think about what Mirabel would say. ‘Fine’ would make Julieta worry and that wasn’t fair, but saying ‘okay’ wouldn’t be Mirabel. It had to be something smart, that normal people wouldn’t say. “Quite adequate, dearest mother.”

…She should’ve just said ‘fine’.

[aemiron-main]

smthn interesting to me is that when will has his episodes in the upside-down in s2, we are repeatedly shown doors OPENING for him (at places like the arcade and his house when he has episodes), which is a contrast to how vecna is repeatedly shown to have closed-door imagery with his victims, not only with the boarded up doors, but even with non boarded up ones (like the creel house the night henry killed his family) trying to be opened by the victims but not budging.

but wait- where else have doors been brought to our attention in ST?

back in season 1.

“you always say we should never stop being curious. to always open any curiosity door we find. why are you keeping this curiosity door locked?”

but wait- we’ve also had them mentioned again in s3, when mr clarke is talking to Joyce.

“as I tell my students, once you open that curiosity door, anything is possible.”

but wait- where ELSE have we heard door imagery?

“keep the door open 3 inches.”

“I kept the door open 3 inches.”

where ELSE?

the door that billy bursts open in s3, that they tried to keep shut. that lucas mike and will were shown closing earlier when they saw the old dudes in the sauna, but then tried to shut billy into it later, but it burst open. this is also shown in s4 with billy behind the door again when she’s getting vecna’d.

plus all of the imagery with the DOOR of the creel house and the stained glass in s4. even during mike’s monologue, El is dying against that very creel house door, unable to open it.

I’m not sure how all those connects yet, but I am getting Suspicious. like there’s SO much imagery in s4 of people trying to open locked doors- and Nancy is the ONLY vecna’d person who succeeds, but it leads back into the tattooing room, and then she’s shown the visions by vecna.

And things like hopper’s secret knock for El on the cabin door!! And how she’s not supposed to open it unless she hears the knock!! and how El is supposed to leave the door open 3 inches specifically because of mike (mike being associated with open doors??)

AND THE FACT THAT THE SONG THAT PLAYS DURING THE LEAVE THE DOOR OPEN 3 INCHES SCENE/THE MIKE AND EL MAKEOUT SCENE STARTS WITH THE LYRICS “and just a little more time could open closing doors”.

god I haven’t quite put the pieces together yet, like I said, but there is SOMETHING here. After thinking about that “and just a little more time could open closing doors,” lyric i wonder if this door stuff ties into my time theory, considering that I’m almost certain that Will’s episode in his house and his episode in the arcade both happen at 8:15 pm (which is also the same time that will left mike’s house on the night he disappeared)- which would be when the doors open when he’s in the upside-down.

AND the promo imagery with will and the open door specifically?? But weirdly enough he’s shown OPENING it with his hand on the knob even though in the show, it opens FOR him.

[84reedsy]

Can i get prompt 14 “since when do friends do things like this?” and possibly prompt 48 “you never look better than you do when you’re underneath me.” with Roddy Piper please and maybe fem reader?

So....I couldn't make both prompts work in one short, so there will be two! The first imagine is for

#14: "Since When Do Friends Do Things Like This?"

It wasn't unusual for company talent to flirt with the production crew. If anything, it helped pass the time, and if they were honest, they liked making the women blush.

She never put much stock into the flirtatious banter and she was rarely bothered by it. Except for one. One man's offbeat personality and unusual mannerisms always caught her off guard. She should be used to it by now, but she couldn’t deny the butterflies in her stomach when she saw him, heard his laugh, or merely heard his name.

Roddy Piper's kindness was only outshined by his boisterous in-ring tirades…at least to her. He showed her more respect than any other talent combined, and for that, she clearly favored him. She always came to find him and keep him up to speed on the show, and his entrances were always impeccably punctual.

Within their professional relationship and friendship also grew. Many nights on the road had been spent around bar tables littered with empty beer bottles and glasses. She lived a little for those late nights when enough alcohol made him laugh and smile more and also stare more, particularly at her.

But now it was time to work as she saw Roddy approach her while she fiddled with her glitching headset.

“Roddy….” She giggled a little , “your kilt,” she pointed out that the side was bunched up inside his wrestling trunks, the plaid laying completely askew, “here, turn around, I'll get it…” she carefully pulled at the fabric to keep from disrobing him altogether. She swallowed a lump in her throat as she tried to rid herself of that vision.

She was surprised she even noticed the kilt with the way his shirt was laying open, offering a glimpse of his toned torso.

“Since when do friends do things like this?” Roddy said, his voice low and gentle. He didn't want their conversation to carry. She was one of the few he felt comfortable enough with to be this candid. He took amusement in making her flustered.

“What kind of friend would I be to let you go out like this?” She countered, “though, I guess you wrestle in a lot less,” she reasoned, “maybe just walk around in your underwear from now on and call it good?”

“Why stop there?” he looked down where her hands straightened and adjusted his belt, “I could just walk around stark naked, find something else for you to play with,” He smugly smirked, watching that flush burn in her cheeks as she knew her fingers were lingering by pointlessly adjusting the chain that held his sporran in place.

His direct remark made her retract her touch, and he felt instant regret - though it was better to stop now than to have to walk out and work an unhinged promo while also fighting his natural response.

The tension was slightly awkward between them now and he left before it became worse, heading towards the gorilla as he replayed his comments over in his mind.

“Maybe after the show, we get a drink and see how playful we’re feeling then…” She said masking the nervous quiver of her voice by speaking quickly. She nearly gasped when she realized the words came from her own mouth.

Roddy turned around at the comment, his eyebrows raised and a surprised smirk on his lips. He took his leather jacket from where it was slung over his shoulder and slipped it on.

“I don’t need a shot of whiskey to admit how much I’d like to play with you,” His eyes flickered over her before he winked and turned into the gorilla.

[the-knightmare]

Dreams of You I Wish Were Sweet

Have some Zoey/Ben from Escape Room (2019).

Warnings for depictions of violence, implied death, and night terrors.

Also on A03

Minos had them again. She was stuck behind the glass as Ben struggled to stand in a rapidly collapsing room. The sounds of glass smashing, and wood splintering filled her ears and reduced any logical part of her to the desperate pleas for Ben to hold on while she thought. Zoey was fumbling with a puzzle box when a pained scream made her drop the contraption. The room Ben was trapped in had shrunk to the point where he could only lay flat on his back. Tears pricked her eyes, as Zoey ran to the window. Her legs collapsed just as Ben was buried under rubble and the room finally closed in on itself.

Zoey closed her eyes in a silent scream, only to have the room reset when she opened her eyes. This time, Ben was standing in a room rapidly filling with water. Frantically, Zoey raced around the room trying to find something, anything, to break the glass. Minos had stripped anything useful from the room, only a secured chair and table too big to throw decorated the room. The water was just over Ben’s head now.

“Hold your breath, Ben, I’m going to get you out,” Zoey cried, pressing her hand to the glass.

Ben’s hand met hers but slipped away as air bubbled out of him. He floated above her, looking like a puppet before a performance.

“No!”

Zoey slammed her hands against the barrier. She battered the glass again, and again, until her hands were bloody, and it was not glass she was hitting, but ice. Kneeling, she watched Ben’s body as it was pulled by the current. Her frozen limbs seemed to move in slow motion as she crawled along the ice. No matter how much she tried, Zoey could not catch up. Her breathing became shallow, cold sweat beading on her brow as the aired thinned until she was dizzily kneeling in an escape tunnel. Ben swayed across the room. There was not enough time for him to make it to safety, and Zoey watched in horror as he stumbled forward and fell. She tried to crawl to him, hoping she could drag him to safety, but she could only choke and cough. Breathable air was running out. Zoey needed to get out, but not without Ben.

She would not leave him. Her mom, Amanda, there was nothing she could have done to help them. But Zoey could help Ben. She had to save him. She just had to get across the room, and they would be okay. Black spots danced across her eyes. Just a few more feet. Zoey’s chest burned, but she could almost reach him.

Her fingers just barely grazed Ben’s jacket when her vision cut out.

“Just a bit more,” she muttered, “We can still make it.”

Collapsing next to Ben, Zoey tried to fight the poisoned air in her lungs. She felt herself slipping away, all the panic she tried to muster faded into a frustrating nothingness.

Just as everything went black, Zoey jolted awake. Her chest heaved as she tried to reorient herself in the new room. Except it was her room, in her apartment, not a Minos trap.

“Zoey?” A sleep-heavy voice asked, “you alright?”

A warm hand pressed against her back, grounding her in the assurance that this was not some Minos trick. Zoey stayed quiet for a moment, focusing on the comforting warmth at her back before turning to face Ben.

“Just a bad dream.”

In the dim light of dawn, Zoey could see the concern on his face and felt a rush of embarrassed shame wash over her. She had hated when Allison had seen her startle awake at random hours, but even though Ben knew exactly what was going on she could not bring herself to tell him exactly what she saw when she closed her eyes. Sometimes she saw her mom fall through sand, other times Amanda, Rachel, Danny, Nate, their faces swapping in the middle of whatever torture scene her mind had conjured. Other times it was Ben. Minos using him to get to her, punish her, recruit her, it didn’t matter. It never mattered. It always ended the same.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.”

Arms wound around her waist and Zoey relaxed into the curve of Ben’s neck as thumb rubbed gentle circles into her hip. This position was no longer new. They had begun sharing a bed a month after moving in together, it had seemed natural with the number of nights spent comforting each other. Whatever their relationship had become, neither had ever addressed it, caution overruling anything else, though tonight Zoey felt too tired to be cautious.

“I saw you,” she said softly, the only indication Ben had heard her was the stillness of his hand. Zoey missed the comfort of the gently moving thumb but continued her quiet confession.

“You were trapped in rooms; all I could do was watch. Nothing I did could save you, and I…” Zoey swallowed around the rising lump in her throat, “I…I could-”

“Hey, you don’t have to tell me.”

“I couldn’t save you,” Zoey finished shakily, “I couldn’t save you, I tried, but I couldn’t save you.”

“Well, I’m right here, alive, because you did save me,” Ben’s voice was low and soothing in her ear.

Tears slipped down Zoey’s cheeks and soaked into Ben’s shirt as he continued to reassure her that he was alive, she had not failed, Minos couldn’t them anymore.

“But I almost lost you. I’ve…we’ve both lost so many people. I can’t lose you too,” Zoey interrupted.

“And you won’t. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me to go,” Ben said, his words sounding more like a promise than its usual joking tone.

“I don’t ever want you to go,” Zoey confessed.

For a moment they were silent, each taking in the other’s words. Zoey turned his over in her mind, each meaning like another possible solution in a puzzle. She had always had a hard time understanding people. It had always seemed as if they were operating at the same frequency, and she was left in a feedback loop of failed interactions made worse after the plane crash. But with Ben, it had been as if she was finally beginning to connect again. She had started having dinner with her roommate before moving out of the dorms, joined study groups and the physics society.

A soft kiss pressed to the top of her head broke Zoey out of her thoughts.

“In that case, would you want to get coffee sometime?”

Laughter snorted out of Zoey before she could stop it. The normalcy of the question throwing her off balance, where just for a moment she could imagine them as just another boy asking a girl on a date instead of waking up screaming dreams of Minos horrors.

“Don’t we already have coffee together?” Zoey teased, knowing what her answer would be no matter what.

“Well, I just meant like a date, but if, you know, you aren’t into it-”

“I’d like that,” Zoey said, interrupting his nervous stammering, “but I think we have a few hours before anywhere is open.”

“In that case I vote we go back to sleep. If you’re okay with that?”

The suggestion of sleeping again after a bad nightmare was usually enough to send a wave of anxiety through her. Half the time, she chose to lay awake or get some work done rather than face the possibility of more horrors. But that anxiety did not raise its head. Only a heavy tiredness that she didn’t want to fight.

“Sleep would be nice.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ben studied her face, as always more concerned with her wellbeing than what he wanted.

“I am now,” Zoey reassured, settling more comfortable into his arms.

Ben fell asleep first, and she listened to the steady rise and fall of his breathing like a lullaby. As she began to drift into sleep, Zoey hoped that one day she could dream about Ben without it turning into a nightmare. That she could see her mother and dream of the days before the accident. Until then, she vowed to herself to fill her life with pleasant experience to dream about, starting with that coffee.

[aryajon]

Significance of the blue winter rose vision for Jon and Arya

A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. - Daenerys IV, ACOK

Symbolism in-universe

The clearest references we read regarding the blue winter rose is during Ned's POV:

He could see it still: a crown of winter roses, blue as frost. - Eddard XV, AGOT

She had loved the scent of winter roses. - Eddard XV, AGOT

The subject in question here is Lyanna Stark, and we know that Ned found her in a bed of blood and roses. Rhaegar Targaryen crowned Lyanna as his Queen of Love and Beauty with blue winter roses.

As a result, blue winter roses in-canon are generally associated with Lyanna Stark.

Significance of ‘sweetness’

Throughout the series, ‘sweet’ smells carry associations with death, especially in Dany’s chapters.

Some instances in just the first book include Drogo’s wound which eventually kills him:

A foul, sweet smell rose from the wound, so thick it almost choked her. - Daenerys VIII, AGOT

And Dany’s memory of Ser Willem Darry’s death:

He never left his bed, though, and the smell of sickness clung to him day and night, a hot, moist, sickly sweet odor. - Daenerys I, AGOT

Lyanna and Jon

Lyanna's love and association for blue winter roses was established earlier. The wall of ice is the Wall itself, representing Jon as Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and his current whereabouts. At one level of reading, the rose growing out of the wall refers to the truth of Jon's parentage, the crack - or chink - that shatters the illusion of his identity as the Bastard of Winterfell. The sweet smell could represent the death of Lyanna in bringing him into the world.

Lyanna and Arya

The two Stark characters canonically associated with flowers are Lyanna and Arya. Both are shown to have a great love for them:

One day [Arya] came back grinning her horsey grin, her hair all tangled and her clothes covered in mud, clutching a raggedy bunch of purple and green flowers for Father. - Sansa I, AGOT

Then to Sansa [Arya] said, "When we were crossing the Neck, I counted thirty-six flowers I never saw before.’ - Sansa I, AGOT

"I bring her flowers when I can," he said. "Lyanna was … fond of flowers." - Eddard I, AGOT

Lyanna and Arya are the only Stark women to resemble each other too:

“You remind me of [Lyanna] sometimes. You even look like her.” - Arya II, AGOT

Lyanna and Arya are also said to be very pretty / beautiful themselves, confirmed through other characters.

Lyanna had only been sixteen, a child-woman of surpassing loveliness. - Ned I, AGOT

“I’m sorry I tore the acorn dress too. It was pretty.” / “Yes, child. And so are you.” - Arya IV, ASOS

"Lyanna was beautiful," Arya said, startled. Everybody said so. - Arya II, AGOT

“Or would you sooner be a courtesan, and have songs sung of your beauty?” - Arya II, AFFC

Bael the Bard’s story

“North or south, singers always find a ready welcome, so Bael ate at Lord Stark's own table, and played for the lord in his high seat until half the night was gone. The old songs he played, and new ones he'd made himself, and he played and sang so well that when he was done, the lord offered to let him name his own reward. ‘All I ask is a flower,’ Bael answered, 'the fairest flower that blooms in the gardens o' Winterfell.”

“Now as it happened the winter roses had only then come into bloom, and no flower is so rare nor precious. So the Stark sent to his glass gardens and commanded that the most beautiful o' the winter roses be plucked for the singer's payment. And so it was done. But when morning come, the singer had vanished . . . and so had Lord Brandon's maiden daughter. Her bed they found empty, but for the pale blue rose that Bael had left on the pillow where her head had lain.”

“The maid loved Bael so dearly she bore him a son, the song says . . . though if truth be told, all the maids love Bael in them songs he wrote. Be that as it may, what's certain is that Bael left the child in payment for the rose he'd plucked unasked, and that the boy grew to be the next Lord Stark.” - Jon VI, ACOK

The story of Bael the Bard above is told to Jon by Ygritte, and its symbolism runs parallel to Lyanna’s own story.

Lyanna and the daughter of Lord Brandon Stark both fell in love and disappeared with their supposed kidnappers, going as far as giving them a son. Rhaegar and Bael were both singers. Lyanna and Lord Brandon’s daughter are both associated with blue winter roses, and the fact that Bael the Bard's son became Lord Stark is solid foreshadowing for Jon becoming King in the North.

The blue winter roses are also defined as the rarest of flowers, a very specific type that so far in canon, is only grown in the North.

Arya is the only Stark woman to bear the classic traits of House Stark:

Jon had their father's face, as she did. They were the only ones. Robb and Sansa and Bran and even little Rickon all took after the Tullys. - Arya I, AGOT

Her own children had more Tully about them than Stark. Arya was the only one to show much of Ned in her features. - Catelyn VI, ACOK

The Stark look is specifically Northern, compared to the Southern Tully appearance that everyone but Jon and Arya - and therefore Lyanna - have:

Lannister studied his face. "Yes," he said. "I can see it. You have more of the north in you than your brothers." - Jon I, AGOT

Like the blue winter rose, Lyanna and Arya are a rare type of Northern beauty in that they are the only women in their time to look like the North and are canonically beautiful themselves. The Stark daughter in Bael’s story does not have her appearance described, but the Starks have bore their classic traits for generations and we can assume that she would have had a resemblance to Lyanna and Arya.

Blue winter roses are also called precious in Ygritte’s story. Arya is described as precious by the Northern Lords:

“What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl.” - The Turncloak, ADWD

Symbolism in literature

In literature, roses are generally linked to love and romance. This can possibly be explained by the Greek myth of Adonis and Aphrodite. When Adonis died in Aphrodite’s arms as she wept; the first red roses were said to have sprung up from his blood as it soaked into the earth, staining the nearby white roses a deep crimson. The idea of the red rose came imply such love that transcends death and lives on beyond the lovers’ own short lives.

The blue colour of the rose carries an added symbolism for desire, love, and the metaphysical striving for the infinite and the unattainable, given their rarity in nature.

Roses also have an ancient association with discretion and secrets. The Latin expression sub rosa (literally ‘under the rose’) denotes something said under the veil of secrecy.

Desire and love:

“The maid loved Bael so dearly she bore him a son.” - Jon VI, ACOK

Prince Rhaegar loved his Lady Lyanna, and thousands died for it. - The Kingbreaker, ADWD

What do you know of my heart, priestess? What do you know of my sister? - Jon VI, ADWD

The veil of secrecy, sub rosa:

Bael and Lord Stark’s daughter hid in the crypts of Winterfell.

"Bael had brought her back?" / "No. They had been in Winterfell all the time, hiding with the dead beneath the castle. - Jon VI, ACOK

Rhaegar had Lyanna hidden in the Tower of Joy.

He dreamt an old dream, of three knights in white cloaks, and a tower long fallen, and Lyanna in her bed of blood. - Eddard X, AGOT

It was said that Rhaegar had named that place the tower of joy, but for Ned it was a bitter memory. - Eddard X, AGOT

Jon plans on sending Arya to hide in Essos once she’s been rescued.

The best solution he could see would mean dispatching her to Eastwatch and asking Cotter Pyke to put her on a ship to someplace across the sea, beyond the reach of all these quarrelsome kings. - Jon IX, ADWD

The sweetness of death + the unattainable

The significance of sweetness in relation to death was mentioned above, but death comes for both the men whom the Stark daughters loved, and for two of the Stark daughters themselves. The ‘unattainable’ symbolism of the roses is reflected in these tragic loves cut short by their separation.

Bael, Rhaegar and Jon are all slain, partially because of the consequences of stealing (or attempting to steal) the three Stark women from Winterfell.

Bael was slain for being King-Beyond-the-Wall, but by the son that he’d born with the stolen daughter of Lord Stark.

“Thirty years later, when Bael was King-beyond-the-Wall and led the free folk south, it was young Lord Stark who met him at the Frozen Ford . . . and killed him, for Bael would not harm his own son when they met sword to sword.” - Jon VI, ACOK

Rhaegar was slain by Robert for stealing Lyanna, in a war waged against his father, King Aerys II.

Rubies flew like drops of blood from the chest of a dying prince, and he sank to his knees in the water and with his last breath murmured a woman's name - Daenerys IV, ACOK

Jon was slain by his brother in black for his decisions as Lord Commander, partially for allowing the freefolk through the Wall, and partially because he was willing to break his vows to steal / save Arya.

Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold … - Jon XIII, ADWD

The connection between Jon and Arya here regarding Bael’s story is when Jon sends Mance Rayder to infiltrate Winterfell to save (an imposter, but what he believes to be) Arya. Mance uses the tale as inspiration and even pretends to be a musician called "Abel" which is an anagram for Bael. Jon, through Mance, is attempting to steal "Arya" from her (metaphorical and literal) marriage bed, much like Bael the Bard did with Lord Brandon's daughter.

A story of towers

Lord Brandon’s daughter and Lyanna all die in and around a tower.

When Lord Stark returned from the battle and his mother saw Bael's head upon his spear, she threw herself from a tower in her grief. - Jon VI, ACOK

He dreamt an old dream, of three knights in white cloaks, and a tower long fallen, and Lyanna in her bed of blood. - Eddard X, AGOT

Arya has not died nor is dying in a tower anywhere, but she does have these thoughts when listening to a song very similar to Bael’s story:

He is a man of the Night's Watch, she thought, as he sang about some stupid lady throwing herself off some stupid tower because her stupid prince was dead. The lady should go kill the ones who killed her prince. - Cat of the Canals, AFFC

Bael and Rhaegar died before their respective Stark loves. Arya, as the third iteration of the story, breaks the mold and is potentially foreshadowed to take vengeance for Jon’s death, the way her predecessors were unable to.

Jon, Arya, and GRRM’s rule of thirds

A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. - Daenerys IV, ACOK

The blue flower, as evidenced above, represents Lyanna Stark - but it also carries associations with the rebellious daughters of Stark, Arya being the third and final, following GRRM’s rule of thirds.

The wall of ice represents Jon Snow, who also serves as the connection for all three stories coming together. He hears Bael’s story, has Bael’s blood, is Lyanna’s son, and dies for breaking his vows to save Arya.

The air of sweetness represents death: Bael’s and Lord Stark’s daughter’s, Lyanna and Rhaegar’s, and eventually Jon’s own. But Jon and Arya are again, GRRM’s third and final parallel, and are thus the subversion of death and the maiden, as an in-depth analysis here describes.

How this manifests in their ending is still yet to be seen, but Bael and his Stark maiden, Lyanna and Rhaegar, all had sons who ruled the North after them, even if they don’t believe it themselves and think it’s for others.

"You," Ned said, kissing her lightly on the brow, "will marry a king and rule his castle, and your sons will be knights and princes and lords and, yes, perhaps even a High Septon." / Arya screwed up her face. "No," she said, "that's Sansa." - Eddard V, AGOT

"King," croaked the raven. The bird flapped across the solar to land on Mormont's shoulder. "King," it said again, strutting back and forth. / "I think he means for you to have a crown, my lord." - Jon I, ACOK

[stinkyme]

I completely forgot about sigma staying up late to memorize his patrons, I highly doubt kept many lights on, so that definitely would’ve messed up his eyes further. And I absolutely agree that he wouldn’t wanna wear glasses, he might wear contacts but I think he’d be scared to stick his fingers in his eyes (which is why I don’t wear contacts either lol)

And the Nikolai rant! Yes definitely! The wiki doesn’t have a whole lot on him so I’ll trust what you have to say about his character. If what you say is true to his character then I definitely can see why he would wear his mask over his good eye, in fact that could even be why his good eye is described as being vacant. Keeping an eye covered for extended periods of time can damage it involuntarily. But I’d like to raise you this: stereotypical pirates wear eyepatches over one of their eyes not because of injury but to have one eye that’s always accustomed to seeing in the dark. I could see him doing that as well, I mean he’s gotta set up his terrorist crimes at some point and I doubt he’d do it with ease during the day/with a bunch of lights on cuz he could get caught easier or have suspicions raised about what he’s doing (that is if he even tries to hide it) Also in regards to his pupil then I definitely believe his sight is heavily damaged in that eye cuz of how major your pupil is to you being able to see properly. There no real pupils like that in nature that I’ve found at least so going off of hunches and what I know on pupils that are at the least a little similar in shape, I’d like his vision in that eye not only has a severe astigmatism but I feel like since it’s a cross shape it would probably be like looking through a round fish bowl. Everything is probably skewed, magnified, and shaped out of proportion to what it actually is. In fact going back to his mask over his good eye that would make since, in showing people his vulnerability he’s actually training himself to relearn how to see with that eye which makes it less of a weakness in the end

definitely no good amount of lights!! and i feel like staying up all night would make his eye pressure go way up and mess up his eyesight further! ALSO PLEASE HE WOULD BE SCARED TO DO THAT, BUT AS FOR YOU, I THINK THERE ARE SOME LIKE LITTLE TOOLS THAT CAN HELP YOU MAYBE, BUT I THINK IT'S NOT AS BAD AS IT SEEMS, YOU SHOULDN'T EVEN FEEL IT AS MUCH I THINK, BUT I HAVE NEVER TRIED CONTACTS, NOR I WEAR GLASSES EVEN THOUGH I MAYBE SHOULD BUT WE ROLLING :D I mean as long as glasses work for you, that's good!! :) <3

OH I LOVE WHAT YOU SAID!! ESPECIALLY SEEING IN THE DARK! I feel like he definitely needs better night eyesight regardless od everything, his killings that we know of by now are really violent, etc., you will see when u get to that part, so he didn't try to be calm with those, but others? Most likely! Since he didn't want to get caught before those that we know of :) Also! About him seeing in fish bowl type of way is so interesting! His pupil has really unique shape and I personally never saw anyone having like cross type of pupil, only like melted down or melted on the sides if you know what I mean, so it looks more like smudged circles, but his is definitely very unique! I also love the pirate and eyepatch thing that you mentioned - it would make perfect sense for him to try and damage his eye even more due to his personality and everything he stands for since everything he stands for requires him to damage himself completely, so I love that idea! I think Nikolai's eyes are really interesting as his whole appearance/persona in general! :D

and also!! what you mentioned about going out of proportion in his scarred eye makes so much sense too! It represents twisted, insane way/lenses he might look through when he does everything he does :D

I was wondering though, how do you like Atsushi's eyes and his slight mixed heterochromia? I think he has most beautiful eyes out of everyone ngl, so I wanted to ask you, what do you think? Whose eyes are your favorite? :D <3

[beels-burger-babe]

Double Vision

*This is completely self-indulgent as I officially have to wear glasses now and got my first pair today, but I figured to give you guys some content in between me being stuck on the two stupid drafts that I'm writing, I'd give you this I guess this is a series of shorts?? Either way, enjoy! -B*

Summary: It's the night before the first major test of the RAD school year, and MC has been holed up in their room all day. The brothers are concerned and go to check in on them, but they notice something different - MC is wearing glasses

CW: Asmo being Asmo. His bit is a little suggestive at times

LUCIFER

Although he'll never admit it, Lucifer was really concerned when you had disappeared for the entire day.

He was so used to hearing you laughing amongst his brothers, or pestering him in his office, or even just lounging in the living room that your absence had left him feeling like something was wrong.

Using the excuse of bringing you food to prevent you from starving, he comes to your room and knocks once before entering.

"MC, I know your studying, but do try not to forget that you...need..."

He's cut off mid-snark as he saw you staring back at him behind a pair of framed lenses.

His heart stuttered in his chest and Lucifer Morningstar is left speechless.

Your hair was a mess from the countless times you had run your hands through it. There were bags of exhaustion under your eyes, and there was a hand-shaped mark on your face from where you had been leaning into your palm.

But with those glasses, you looked studious and sharp.

If the eye-wear added this much to your beauty when you were clearly sleep-deprived as you were, he couldn't help but imagine how you might look dressed up in business wear with them.

"Lucifer?"

He snapped his head up, as you caught his focus one more, and noticed, with a frown, how you had removed your glasses.

"Did you come here for something?"

Lucifer walked over to your desk and set down the plate in front of you. "I was ensuring that you actually ate some food between all the reading you're doing." He picked up your glasses and casually inspected them (although mentally he was taking note of the style so that he could buy you more). "I was unaware that you wear glasses, MC."

You rolled your eyes and took a bite from the food in front of you. "That's because I don't need to wear them all the time. Just when I'm doing activities that can strain my eyes."

Lucifer hummed and looked closely at you. You rose an eyebrow at the demon, questioning his odd behaviour. Before you could say anything, he leaned forward and gently slid the frames onto your face.

You felt your cheeks heat up as his eyes remained locked on yours, and a sly smile graced his lips. "You should wear them more often," he whispered softly. "You look lovely in them."

MAMMON

Mammon sighed heavily as he sat upside down on his bed.

He was bored. You had locked yourself up in your room all day for that stupid test and had kicked him out since apparently he was "distracting" and "prevented you from getting any work down."

Well, fuck that! He wanted to spend time with you, damn it!

Mammon marched down the hall and banged on the door once before throwing open the door. "Yo human! Studyin' time is over! It's Mammon ti-...time..."

He trailed off for a moment as he noticed you glaring heatedly at him. However, it wasn't the glare that made him surprised. No. It was the fact that the glare was being filtered through a pair of glasses that he had never seen before on your face.

"When the fuck did you start wearin' glasses?!" He screeched and marched over to you, grabbing your cheeks to pull you closer and get a better look.

You let out a noise of frustration and swatted his hands away. "Mammon quit it! I'm trying to study!"

Surprisingly, he pulled back his hands, but he remained barely an inch away from you. "I didn't ask if you were studyin'! I asked about the glasses!"

You felt yourself blush and pulled your face away. "I've always had glasses. I just don't always wear them. That's all. Wh-Why does it matter?"

Mammon opened his mouth to give a retort, before snapping his jaw back shut. His face grew rapidly warm as he scratched the back of his neck. "I-I was just wonderin'! You've been down here for what? 3 months now? And I ain't ever seen you wear them."

You averted your eyes from the clearly flustered demon and nervously played with your hands. "Yeah, well, I didn't really want any of you to see me in them. I look pretty silly and-"

"What the fuck are you talkin' about? You're adorable!!" Mammon shouted before slapping a hand over his blushing face. The two of you stared at each other with wide eyes full of shock. "I-I mean, glasses are cool, ya know? I wear glasses all the time! And if the Great Mammon knows anythin', it's style! So, of course, you look cute- I mean good- I mean gorgeous- I-I mean GAH!" Mammon turned around and stormed out of the room.

A couple days later, you found a pair of tinted glasses, identical to the ones Mammon wears, in your prescription sitting by your door.

LEVIATHAN

Levi groaned as he looked at the books in front of him.

He wasn't the most studious of his brothers, and this test was draining the life out of him. He wanted nothing more than to curl up with you and watch anime, but because of this stupid test you were both holed up in your respective rooms studying.

Leviathan let out a huff as he laid his head on his desk and glanced over at his manga collection. His gaze paused on the side of a particular school manga with the two main characters studying on the cover.

Levi shot out of his seat in realization, "I can just go study with them!!!"

Levi quickly gathered all his textbooks and went straight to your room. He knocked on the door and nervously waited for you to answer.

As the door swung open, Levi's jaw dropped and his books went scattering across the floor.

Glasses. You were wearing glasses. Glasses that made your eyes look slightly bigger and just overall made you so freaking cute. Oh goodness. He didn't know that you could pull off the cool, studious type so well. You were just so cute!

"Oh shoot, Levi! Your books!" You bent down and quickly began to gather them for him. It was just like a scene from an anime!

"S-So kawaii," the otaku muttered, as he tried to hide his red face behind his arm.

The reddening got worse as you looked up at him and tilted your head. "What was that, Levi?"

He frantically waved his hands took his books back from you, "N-NOTHING! Just, um, I-I was wondering if we could study together? I'm not having much luck on my own, a-a-and you look smart, especially with your new glasses, which look amazing, and I-I thought maybe..."

You smiled softly at the otaku's mumbling and grabbed his hand. "Of course, Levi! I'd love to study with you!"

As you pulled him into your room to sit at your desk, Levi blushed and followed behind you, mentally thinking of the number of glasses-wearing cosplays he could get you to try.

SATAN

Satan took a sip of his tea as you sat down at the library table beside him.

Test season had always been a favourite of his for a number of reasons, but this year, those reasons could all be narrowed down to one big one: he got to spend more time alone with you.

It made him more grateful than ever that his brothers were morons and that he was the only dependable demon in the house that you could study with.

He had constructed an easy-to-follow study guide for the two of you that would guarantee both your success for this test. You'd get good grades and avoid Lucifer's wrath, and he'd get to spend time with you. It was a win-win.

He flipped through a textbook to find the subject of the test. "Alright. We should get started if we're going to stick to the plan. Now, how comfortable are you with..." he stopped short as he looked up and saw you staring at him with a pair of glasses on your face.

He blinked.

He had never seen you were glasses before. He couldn't help but think that now that he had, he never wanted to see you without them again. You look so stunning and elegant with them on. He absolutely loved it.

Of course, he couldn't just tell you that though.

Instead, Satan tilted his head and smirked. "You are aware that just because you're wearing glasses, it won't make you any smarter?"

You gasped in mock offence and lightly hit his arm as Satan laughed. "I'll have you know these are prescribed! I have to wear them when I'm doing any strenuous activities."

Satan flashed a roguish smile and went back to flipping through his book. "Pity. I'd rather like to see you wear them more often. You look wonderful," before you even got the chance to respond or acknowledge the light blush on his cheeks, Satan cleared his throat. "Now, on page 364, you'll see..."

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus hummed to himself as he walked towards your room with a basket full of facemasks and nail polish in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

You had been tucked away in your little room all day studying, and he just knew that you needed a break. That's where he came in of course, offering you all the love and self-care you could ever desire.

Asmodeus joyfully knocked on your door before slipping inside. "MC dear, I've come to free you from your..." he inhaled sharply at the sight before him.

You were laying on your stomach, kicking your legs behind you as you read whatever book you were studying from, dressed in an adorably oversized sweatshirt. That alone would've been enough to make him squeal.

But you were also wearing glasses.

Asmo shrieked as he jumped onto the bed with you and tackled you.

You let out a yelp as the two of you tumbled to the floor. "Wha- Asmo! Get off!"

Asmodeus giggled and sat up beside you. "Sorry, darling! I couldn't help it! You look so cute with your little glasses. AH! It's delightful," his eyes sparkled with intrigue and pleasure. "Sexy even," he purred as he leaned in close.

You chuckled and pushed Asmodeus away as you stood up. "I'm just studying. The glasses are so I can read without getting a headache."

The demon hummed as he walked back over to the door to regather his supplies. "Well, have you ever considered buying some for accessories? I have a pair or two that would look gorgeous on you. It'd be a shame if the only person who ever got to see how scrumptious you look with glasses was your books," he smirked knowingly as he turned around and saw you flustered.

Asmo grinned and held the basket and wine bottle. "Now enough with the studying. It's time for a break. So sit back and relax, and let me take care of you."

You raised an eyebrow at him, and damn that glare was more effective from behind a pair of lenses. "Asmo," you warned, causing the demon to shiver.

Asmo pouted and gestured to the basket. "Self-care of course. Gee, MC, why must you think such filthy things."

BEELZEBUB

Beel made his way towards your room with his arms full of snacks.

He was proud of you for taking your test so seriously and really putting in the work to do your best, but he was also worried. He had barely seen you come out of your room even once today, and that meant that you probably hadn't eaten enough.

Seeing as you were always carrying around snacks for him, he figured it was time that he returned the favour.

He frowned as he got to your door and realized that he had no hands to knock with. He tried rearranging the food in his arms but nearly dropped the entire load. Beel huffed and stared at the door for a couple seconds before leaning forward and butting it with his head several times.

He heard a groan and some shuffling on the other side before the door opened.

His eyes widened as you stood before him, yawning as you rubbed your eyes underneath your glasses - yes, glasses.

You were always small in comparison to Beel, but now with the glasses, there was something about it that made you look even more delicate.

"Cute," Beel said as he looked down at you.

Your face instantly flushed as you blinked up at him. "H-Huh?"

Beel smiled softly and felt his fingers twitch with the urge to ruffle your hair. "Your glasses. They look very cute," he explained honestly.

You squeaked and quickly took them off, too embarrassed by Beel's forward compliment. "Th-Thanks Beel. They're um, they're just for studying."

The urge to ruffle your hair, or pat your shoulder, or even simply touch you grew stronger, but Beel's hands were still full. So, much like with the door, Beelzebub thought of an alternative.

He leaned down and gently kissed the top of your head. His warm gaze met yours as he gently whispered, "You always look pretty, but with them on, you look even prettier," and then, as though he hadn't just stolen your heart, he grinned and held out the food. "I brought snacks."

BELPHEGOR

Belphie had been wandering around the house late at night in yet another round of restlessness.

He had just walked past your door when he noticed your bedroom light was still on. Belphegor tsked and began making his way over. It was bad enough that he wasn't getting any sleep. He didn't need you picking up on his awful sleep habits just because of some boring test.

Without bothering to knock, Belphie opened your bedroom door. He opened his mouth to tease you but found his words catching in his throat.

You weren't awake after all.

You were passed out on your desk, face smooshed up against an open book with a pair of glasses sitting uncomfortably askew on your nose.

Belphie felt his cold heart melt at the sight.

He let out a deep chuckle and walked over to you. He carefully removed the glasses from your face and snorted at the red lines that had been left in their wake. He pressed gentle kisses to the marks before scooping you up in his arms and carrying you over to your bed.

"Silly MC," he whispered as he draped your blankets over you. "Everyone knows that you're not supposed to sleep with glasses on," he smiled tenderly at your sleeping form as he brushed a few hairs from your forehead. "No matter how cute they may make you."

*And that's that! I hope you enjoyed this cute little thing I just threw together! Sorry I haven't been able to write as much lately. School and work have just been insane and I honestly don't think the workload is gonna get any lighter. Thank you for your patience and your support!*

TAGLIST:

@thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @victoirey @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @obeys-world @poly-bi-mf @armycandy10 @burrixino @rulaien @pumpkins-mainside-blog @acousticpen @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff @itskrispy @10paradox10

[lotus-flowerz]

hello hello I love your writings so far sobs I couldn't help but do an ask myself aa (it's my first ask ever help hwkajd) could I request perhaps gn reader that flinched away from the boys by reflex? (preferably with Diluc, Kaeya and Kazuha but you can add or remove someone if you want to!) like they were hanging out and reader was lost in thoughts and suddenly when they see in the corner of their eyes how the boys raise their arm for smth reader quickly raises their arms above their own head to protect it- how would they react and how would they comfort the reader? I hope it's not too much or if you're uncomfortable with it you can ignore it if you want to whaaaa

AHHH TY IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY WRITING! i actually do this too, some of my old friends would make fun of me for it, so i hope that my writing here is accurate >.<

i also added beidou in here, hope you don't mind, i just had to since she's my favorite character <3

TW!! FLINCHING, ANXIETY, PAST TRAUMA, MENTION OF DEATH AND INJURIES

SLIGHT INAZUMA ARCHON QUEST SPOILERS

KAEYA BACKSTORY SPOILERS

The cherry blossoms fell silently from the trees under which you and Kazuha were sitting. Those had remained unchanged since you and Kazuha were children. The beauty of the pink blossoms falling towards the green earth without a care.

It had remained the same through the vision hunt decree, through the war, through watching Tomo get killed by the shogun, through both of you getting injured during said fight. Kazuha's hand was burnt from Tomo's vision, and your body had a large scar running from your knee to the side of your neck from a stray bolt of lighting from Tomo's divine punishment. If not for Kazuha's determination to not lose another friend and Beidou and her crew caring for you, you would be dead.

These days, although you and Kazuha both carried the same trauma, he seemed to be doing leaps and bounds better than you were. Your eyes flitted to Kazuha, who was writing poetry. The only sound that could be heard was his pen gliding across the paper, filling it with his eloquent words that always seemed to flow so smoothly.

You were deep in thought, when out of the corner of your eye you spotted something coming towards your face. Instinctively, your hands flew out to shield yourself, leaving a very confused Kazuha, who was only scratching his head, looking at you with concern in his eyes.

"Dove.. did you think I was going to hurt you?"

You slowly lowered your arms, guilt washing over you.

"No! It's just- sometimes, when movements are too sudden.. I.. you know, I try to protect myself because uh.."

His eyes drifted to your scar, then looked up at your face, only to find it tilted to the ground. He put a finger under your chin, bringing your eyes up to meet his, then kissing your forehead.

One hand snaked around your waist while the other traced lightly over your scar, sending shivers down your spine. You wrapped your arms around him as well, putting a little of your weight onto him.

He kissed your lips, squeezing you tight against him.

"I'll never let anyone hurt you again. I promise."

"Kazuha, it's not-"

"I know it's not my fault. And I know I couldn't have prevented it. But I promise you, you're safe now."

He brought his hand up to cradle the back of your head as you buried your face in the crook of his neck.

"Thank you." you said, squeezing him a little tighter.

"No need to thank me. I love you, Y/n."

"I love you too, Kazuha."

You had been a part of Beidou's crew for just over a year now, after meeting her in the wharf of Liyue harbor after finally finding the courage to leave your abusive and toxic partner. You didn't have a place to stay and you were clearly distraught, so when she asked if you were okay and you immediately began to cry, she offered you to come on her ship. You trusted her, since she was the well-known captain of the Crux. After you had explained your situation, she offered you to join her crew. You agreed, and began dating her about six months after joining the Crux.

Because you had been aboard the Alcor for a year, you knew the crew was loud and prone to get drunk. You had never liked to drink, preferring to quietly sip a small glass of dandelion wine while sitting next to Beidou while she drank a few beers and talked with her crew.

It was now the one year anniversary of when you had left Liyue Harbor, and conveniently, the Alcor was anchored there for a bit for a supplies run, imports drop off, and exports pickup. While out and about with Beidou, you had seen your ex in the wharf. They were about to come and talk to you, when you had pointed them out to Beidou. Beidou had slipped her arm around your waist, glaring at your ex, who glared back and turned heel to walk away.

Now, you sipped your wine beside Beidou, deep in thought. The loud atmosphere wasn't helping your anxieties, and you couldn't get your ex's glare out of your head. You didn't even realize you were completely zoned out until Beidou raised her arm to sling it around your shoulders, after she noticed you were zoned out.

Your arms flew up to shield yourself, and you spilt wine all over the both of you. The cup clattered to the floor, but luckily no one else noticed what just happened.

Beidou's face dropped and she quickly picked up the cup, setting it back down on the table.

"Men!" she called out. "Y/n and I are turning in early tonight! Make sure you scallywags have this cleaned up by the morning!"

The crew cheered their goodnights, raising their beers to their captain and her first mate. Beidou smiled, slipped an arm around your waist, and led you back to your guys' shared quarters.

"Alright doll, what happened just now?"

She closed the door behind her and sat on the bed next to you, looking at you with a certain softness that made you melt.

"I'm.. I'm sorry, I was just thinking of my ex, and how we saw them earlier, and I couldn't get their glare out of my head.. and I left them exactly a year ago.. I don't know why I flinched away from yo-"

Beidou cut you off by taking both of your hands into hers.

"Y/n, don't say sorry! You know, your ex wouldn't stand a chance against even my weakest crew member. They will never hurt you again."

"I don't doubt that for a second," you said, a small smile growing on your face, "Thank you for taking me in, Beidou."

"No, the pleasure is all mine. I couldn't ask for a better first mate. You're safe now, okay?" she smiled, squeezing your hands.

You looked into her eyes for a moment before throwing your arms around her. She squeezed you back, kissing your head.

"C'mon, let's shower and get this wine off of us." she giggled.

You laughed. "Yeah, let's."

Kaeya had told you his backstory, but you never mentioned yours. You just weren't ready to talk about it. Your parents had never been great, you always walked on eggshells around everyone, and everyone was all too rough with you, emotionally and physically.

You had met Kaeya in the tavern one night, while trying to drink away what you were feeling. Kaeya had noticed how obliterated you were and let Diluc know he was taking you to stay at the Knights Headquarters, and would keep an eye on you. The rest was history, and now you and Kaeya had been dating for a little over a year.

Kaeya had told you his backstory on Monday. That same day later on, you had a run in with your parents at Blanche's, where they had yelled at you for deciding to become a Knight, and proceeded to pick you apart from your very core.

In turn, you had been drinking a little more than usual for the entire week. You seemed more withdrawn and just not fully there. And it all came to a head when you were laying in bed next to Kaeya.

He went to put his arm over you, a loving gesture, but your arms came up on instinct to shield yourself. He sighed loudly.

"You're scared of me."

"Oh Archons- I didn't mean to- no, I swear it isn't-"

"You've been acting all angry and cold ever since I told you about my roots. I thought you would be the one who didn't leave me after I told them."

"No, Kaeya- please, just let me explain!"

"I'm listening."

You began to hesitantly tell him about your parents. His face grew angrier and angrier every time you told him another thing your parents had done to you.

"I'll kill them. I had no idea that that happened though. I'm sorry for assuming."

"It's alright, Kaeya. I didn't even consider that you might think I was acting weird because of where your confession."

"I swear they'll never get near you again, alright? You're safe now. It's alright."

He pulled you into him, wrapping you up in his strong arms and putting his legs over yours, making you feel protected and safe.

"No one will hurt you, not on my watch. I love you, Y/n."

"I love you too, Kaeya. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

"No need for apologies, you were gonna tell me when you were ready. Now let's get some sleep, that dandelion wine I downed earlier is starting to get to me."

You giggled, burying your head further into his chest.

"Alright. Goodnight, Kaeya."

"Night, prince/ess."

You and Diluc had been dating for a few months now, you had met when he had needed to hire a new bartender, and you volunteered your mixing skills to the Angel's Share. You had caught his eye immediately, and he had asked you out on a date soon after you began your work there.

Your ex wasn't a kind person, to say the least, so you had been hesitant to say yes. You assured Diluc that this was just because your ex was unkind to you, but you had never mentioned physical harm. You hadn't wanted to worry him.

You were sitting on the couch with Diluc, his arm slung over your shoulders while you stared into the crackling flames of the fire burning before you. Diluc wasn't paying attention, as he was reading a book in his free hand.

He raised his arm up, attempting to adjust to a more comfortable position, but you misread this. Your arms were shielding your face in an instant, and Diluc was looking at you with a shocked and concerned face that quickly morphed to anger.

"I'm going to kill him." he growled/

You lowered your arms and looked down, avoiding looking him in the eye.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

"Did he hit you??"

"I, um, didn't want to worry you."

"Barbatos.. and this domestic abuser is just, what, roaming around Mondstat? No punishment for the pain he put you through?"

"I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want him to come and hurt me. I also didn't want to cause any trouble."

Diluc rubbed a hand over his face, before wrapping you in a hug.

"You're safe here, alright? I will never lay a hand on you to hurt you. I won't let anyone else hurt you either, okay?"

"Thank you.." your eyes welled up with tears, "I thought you would be upset that I didn't tell you."

"No, never. It's a hard thing to talk about. If you'd like, I have connections. We can have him arrested."

"I don't want to cause trouble.."

"You won't. He won't be able to hurt anyone else this way. But we can discuss this later. Would you care for a cup of tea?"

"That'd be nice. Thanks, Diluc."

"You're welcome, angel. Tell me if anyone hurts you again, alright? I'll protect you."

"Will do. I love you."

"I love you too."

[floral-poisons]

as it was

pairing: riddle rosehearts x gn! reader word count: 4.8k words warnings: mentions of parental abuse (riddle) notes: this is based on harry styles’s new song, “as it was” because i can’t get it out of my head. so yeah. have fun with this angsty fic. riddle is also older in this fic. i’d imagine him to be in his mid 20s so it’s been years since you’ve last saw him. also the word count was rounded up. ao3 link: 🌹🌹🌹

His fingers couldn’t stop fiddling with the black watch on his wrist. He kept readjusting it as he grew more nervous inside the empty room. There was nothing to be worried about. When was the last time he went out for an interview and got to dress himself? His mother always made sure to check his outfit beforehand. This would be the first interview he would conduct after leaving her and denouncing her from his book. It was a memoir and a hit. People were fascinated with the cruel details of his life it seemed. Though it sort of made sense to him. His mother was famous after all, worshiped even. And then her son pulled back the curtain to reveal mommy dearest. His fashion was a lot more casual than before. A white button down with short sleeves, beige pants cuffed at his ankle, casual white sneakers, and a white sweater vest with a red heart and checker pattern. The only thing that didn’t match was his wrist watch, which was black with a leather strap. His foot couldn’t stop tapping on the floor and his leg shaking. And then the door opened. Immediately, he sat up and straightened out his posture. “Roi des Roses! How nice to see you!” the voice chimed.

“Rook?” Riddle’s gray eyes widened. “You’re…You’re doing my interview?”

“Of course! I just ended up doing these interviews after my internship. Makes a pretty great living.” Rook’s hair had grown out since the last time Riddle had seen him. It was tied in a low ponytail, draped over his shoulder. He also had thin, square glasses on with metal frames and a matching chain. “Of course I’m still around Roi du Poison.”

“That makes sense.” Riddle purses his lips as Rook sits down across from him and pulls out a tablet from his bag. “You wear glasses now?”

“They’re just to prevent my vision from deteriorating. My vision is still sharp as ever, Roi des Roses.” Rook pushes his glasses up his nose with a finger. “Shall we get started with the interview?”

“Of course, of course.” Riddle clears his throat, messing with his watch again.

“You still have that? After all these years?” He cocks his head to the side.

“Oh, um…” Riddle looks down as he readjusts the strap again. “Yeah…”

“Here I thought you and the Trickster would last after school.” Rook opens the tablet. Riddle could feel his thoughts trail off as he thought back to his memories of Night Raven College. He had blocked them out for the past few years because all he could remember was the pain. The pain overshadowed all the good he had experienced.

···

“Watch where you’re going!” He exclaims, crossing his arms. “How rude. A new student who doesn’t even know basic conduct for the opening ceremony. If you are to be part of Night Raven College, you must collect yourself accordingly.”

“I’m so sorry.” You mutter, hiding your eyes underneath the hood of your ceremonial robes. The inside was made of a silk material though so it wouldn’t fuck with your hair.

“Honestly. Is this year’s batch of first years going to be so rowdy and undisciplined? If so, I have my hands full.” He scoffs, blowing a strand of his red hair out of his eyes. “What’s your name?”

“(Y/N) (L/N).”

“Well, (Y/N) (L/N). You better get sorted into your dormitory soon. I’ll let it slide this time.”

···

“Roi des Roses? Riddle?”

Riddle snapped back into reality, looking back at Rook. “Sorry, sorry. What were you…talking about?”

“We’re going to talk about your new book: Dance of Coals. It’s a romance novel and certainly is straying from your groundbreaking memoir.” Rook leans back. “You’re tackling fiction and your readers are interested as to why this shift.”

“Well I just…found the inspiration I guess.” Riddle fiddled with his wristwatch again. “There’s nothing much to it. But I understand why people have their doubts. Men writing romance hasn’t exactly been…great.” He was mentally gagging at some of the paragraphs he’s read from romance excerpts.

“I think it’s interesting how the premise behind this love story seems very similar to what you mentioned in your memoir: how your mother handled the idea of you dating.”

“Oh yes. Well, we all know she wasn’t a fan. She wasn’t even a fan of me having friends that she didn’t approve of. I would’ve probably ended up in an arranged marriage where I would be unhappy if I didn’t cut her out of my life.”

“I guess you could say that Night Raven College gave you the freedom you lacked when you were at home and thus gave you the inspiration for this novel?” Rook raises his eyebrows.

“Yes…yes it did.”

···

His breath was heavy and his skin was hot to the touch. His whole face was flushed red and he couldn’t even get out of bed. Was this what happened after an overblot? Getting sick with a fever? Feeling intense fatigue? He couldn’t get any work done in this condition (hence why he had Trey). “Great Seven…” He mutters, pulling the covers up.

“Hey.” Looking up, Riddle raised an eyebrow.

“Good afternoon (Y/N).” He looked down at what was in your hands. Books and…a stuffed animal? Was that a horse? “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you and see how you’re doing. You did collapse in the middle of Potionology after all.” You smile.

“Yes…that happened…” No wonder why there was a spot on his head still throbbing with pain. “I thought you wouldn’t want to see me after I…” He couldn’t say it. What would his mother say?

You moved closer, setting his books next to him along with the horse plushie. “I got you this. Sam had it in his shop. Looks like Vaporal.”

“That’s very thoughtful of you.” He mutters.

“You’ve been through a lot.” Your smile falters slightly. “I get it, you know.”

“Get what?”

“How overbearing parents are. My dad’s the exact same way. Think him and your mom would be best friends or something.”

“Oh…” Riddle’s eyes look at the horse plushie before looking back at you. “That’s nice to know.” His heart softened upon seeing your eyes. They were filled with kindness and compassion and sympathy. You understood his pain. “Wait, no, that’s not what I meant.”

You laugh. “No, no. I get it. I understood what you were going for.” You pause. “Ace was—”

“Harsh?”

“Insensitive.” You scoff. “Listen, I like him. He’s a great friend you know and he was right to call you out and to call Trey out. But he doesn’t understand.” You frown. “He didn’t understand why I was hesitant to call you out after I learned about your mom.”

“I think he just lacks emotional awareness.”

“That’s true. He’s also the baby in the family so it makes sense.” You roll your eyes, thinking about your own siblings. Babies in the family and you, the eldest, forced to deal with unbearable expectations.

“I kind of miss the collar on him. He was a lot less annoying then.”

“Me too honestly. He keeps dragging me into his shenanigans.”

“Well then I’ll make sure to reprimand him next time I see him.” Riddle sits up. “Anyways, um…thanks for visiting me.”

“Of course.” You smile and you turn around, about to leave until you feel Riddle’s hand grip your wrist.

“Wait…” He muttered. You turn your head. “Please come back?”

“Of course! You’re cool Riddle. I wouldn’t want to hang around anyone else.”

···

Rook took a sip of water from the glass bottle. “This is so fancy.”

“I’m sure we’re both used to it.” Riddle also takes a sip to cleanse his throat. “You were in Pomefiore after all.”

“Okay, you got me there.” Rook looks at the questions. “Now people are wondering how you’re going about this romance novel. You’re well aware that romance novels in general tend to come with some very common and upsetting tropes.” The redhead nods along. “So your fans, and I myself, am curious as to how you aim to change romance or at least challenge it.”

“Well I plan on portraying it realistically. Beyond the movies you could say. Like that one rom com Vil starred in.”

“Oh Roi du Poison. He was amazing in that one!” Rook swooned.

“He was great obviously but there were lots of typical tropes in them. I also would not expect him to be in rom coms.”

“Roi du Poison does surprise us. You’re a fan of rom coms, yes?”

“I mean…I’m very well acquainted with them. So I know how to improve upon the formula. Like for example, intimacy and romance don’t just develop after the grand romantic gesture. You need time alone. And that’s how intimacy and romance develops between two people.”

···

Heart racing, cheeks dusted with a pink blush, palms sweaty. Great Seven he was never this nervous. Why was he so nervous? Well it could be that he had practiced over and over and over in his head and in the mirror how he was going to ask you out. You were his crush. You were his friend, a close friend. You understood how he felt. You understood where he came from with everything. You helped him during the Culinary Crucible (by wiping away the tears caused by those onions). You just were…amazing in every way. Physically attractive. Intelligent. Kind. Compassionate. Passionate. And your smile. Your smile was the best part of you. “(Y/N), can I, uh, talk to you in private?” He mutters.

“Of course.” You smile before looking back at your friends. “I’ll be back.”

Riddle’s quick to take your hand and remove the both of you from the cafeteria into the hallway, hopefully out of earshot from your friends. You frown a bit, seeing his face. “Is something wrong? Is it your mother again?” Your voice grew sour at the mention of her.

“No! No! It’s not my mother I promise.” His cheeks grow hotter and redder. “I, uh. I just wanted to ask if…” You raised an eyebrow. “If you wanted to go on a date with me.”

A bright smile breaks out on your face, your heart beating faster with anticipation. “Yes! Yes I would love to!” You were practically jumping up and down. “Oh! Speaking of which, do you like rom coms?”

“Ummm…I think they’re okay? My mother never let me watch them.”

“Well then that’s great! There’s a new rom com premiering this weekend. We can go into town and see it then get something to eat during the weekend festival!”

“Yeah. That sounds amazing.” His smile was also bright and his eyes filled with hope. And love.

“Awesome! Super excited!” You hug him tightly. “I’m glad you asked me out. I’ve been, uh, meaning to ask you out sometime this week.” Your cheeks became hot and your eyes sheepish.

“Well I would love to take you on a date featuring a romantic movie and some amazing fried food.” Riddle thought nothing could ruin the moment. Until he noticed Ace, Deuce, Floyd, Ruggie, and Grim behind the cafeteria doorway. “Are you kidding me?”

“What? It’s public property technically.” Ace huffs.

“Technically it’s private. This is a private school. And this moment was actually supposed to be private.”

“Again, I’m free to be where I want to be!”

Riddle pulled out his magical pen and saw Ace’s face fall. “Okay, okay. We’re leaving.”

···

“You’re very sweet, Roi des Roses.” Rook smiles. “And you always have been.”

“Well, I have a lot of memories to help me with my writing. Write what you know is the basic rule.”

“Yes it is. Now this question might be personal but your readers are so curious.”

“I mean, I wrote a whole memoir about my life.” Riddle purses his lips. “Fire away.”

“Who is this mystery significant other mentioned in the memoir?” Rook raised an eyebrow. He already knew of course. He was there. But he would pretend he didn’t know to keep your identity a secret.

“I did not think people would be invested in my romantic life.” Riddle laughs nervously.

“Well, you are pretty quiet about your private life. There’s a lot of speculation as to who this student you were affiliated with could be, especially since there are three chapters dedicated to how your mother reacted when she found out the two of you were dating.”

“Oh. So my readers find the appeal in that it’s a pseudo forbidden love story?” Riddle readjusted his watch again.

“They’ve done more.” Rook looks down at Riddle’s watch. “Somehow they went digging and found photos of you back in your NRC days.”

“That’s not surprising. Cater and Vil were quite popular while we were at school so I probably ended up in the background of some photos.”

“They noticed you always wear that watch.”

“It goes with all of my outfits.” Plus his mother wasn’t aware that it was gifted by the one person she despised: you.

“True. It brings everything together. Speaking of which, your outfit Roi des Roses. It looks stunning~”

“Oh thank you. Red is certainly my color.” Riddle brushes a strand of hair out of his eyes. “But it has sentimental value. That’s all. It reminds me of my time at NRC which I am greatly appreciative for.”

···

“Oh hey! I bought you something!” You chimed, holding a small bag. Riddle was at his desk, books surrounding him and Vaporal Jr. (the horse plushie) sitting on top of a stack of books. His duties as a prefect were currently drowning him alongside normal schoolwork.

“You…You did?” Riddle’s face went red. Crap! Did he forget an important date? A birthday? A holiday? An anniversary? Oh Great Seven, an anniversary! Your six month anniversary!

“Yes! Happy 6 months!” You present him with the bag. “Open it! I wanna see your reaction!”

Riddle put his pen down as he took the bag and reached in. His hand felt something firm, like cardboard. Pulling it out, he was met with a black box. His hands were gentle as he opened it, eyes widening. It was a black watch with a gold case and the strap was made of leather. It looked amazing and expensive. “(Y/N)! You didn’t have to! This must’ve been expensive!” He looked back at you frantically.

“It actually wasn’t. I had Jade pull some strings.” You whisper.

The calmer Leech twin? A shiver ran down his spine as he thought about the possible connections those twins could have. “This…This is amazing! I’ll be sure to wear it always!” He exclaimed, putting the box down. “I’ve been swarmed with work though. So I forgot—”

“That’s okay.” You smile. “You’ve been busy. So we’ll go on a date to celebrate after you’re done with your work, okay?”

“That sounds great.” He yawned. “But what about a present?”

“Oh. I already know what I want.” You lean in and whisper into his ear.

“Oh…Oh! I can most certainly do that.” His cheeks go red but the smile doesn’t leave his face. “You’re amazing, you know that? I could just leave my work and…kiss you. May I?” You nod in response. Riddle leans in, his lips meeting yours. The kiss is gentle and cautious, much like Riddle. It lacks a certain rhythm. But he makes up for it with his gentle touch on your face as he holds it and the sense of love and passion behind his movements. He cares about you, a lot. And he wanted nothing to break you two apart. You guys would most certainly last outside of NRC.

···

“Your readers have said they were devastated by the ending. The twists, the turns. Oh the passion between your characters! They were not expecting what you wrote.” Rook leans forward a bit. “Do you care to elaborate what you could’ve possibly meant by the ending?”

“Well…” Riddle could feel his heart suddenly begin beating faster as if he was nervous. To be fair, he was. The answer to that question was quite…complicated. “It’s realistic.”

“Realistic?” Rook raises an eyebrow. “Roi des Roses, what could you possibly mean by that?”

“It’s a romance that happens in school. Once they leave school, it would be hard to maintain the relationship. Nay, impossible even.” Riddle again starts messing with the watch. “There are so many factors that prevent the relationship from being successful. And…the world is always out to destroy whatever pure romance is left.”

“Crushing. Nihilistic. But also beautiful in its ephemerality. Love is short, love is passionate, love is hot. Love is like…dancing on coals, I would say.”

···

It’s been over a year since the two of you got together. And Riddle was most certainly not going to leave you alone at NRC for holiday break. Except he didn’t realize that this would cause the collapse with your relationship. Riddle’s mother was exactly how you envisioned. Just like your father. She looked an awful lot like Riddle too. Same eye color and same fiery red hair like a lycoris lily. She kept her mouth shut throughout the entire holiday break. But Riddle could sense his disprovement from her stares and he could sense that something was about to go off. And it went off when you left one day to explore the town and buy some fresh groceries to make a strawberry tart for Riddle.

The berating, degradation, the yelling. It was far too much. He was happy you weren’t here to witness her fit. His mother’s main complaint was about how you couldn’t even do magic. You weren’t magical. So why were you dating her son? You were lower than the dirt on the ground. You weren’t worthy of dating her son. Her perfect, powerful, precious son. But the worst part? Riddle fought back. He wanted to protect the relationship between the two of you. You were the best thing that ever happened to him. He wouldn’t give you up. But you made him defiant. And his mother had enough.

“I’m back!” You chime with a basket full of the ingredients. “Riddle?” You searched for him only to find him in front of the fireplace, shoulders slumped. “Riddle?” You rushed over, getting down on his level and setting the basket beside you. “Riddle, what's wrong?” Dried tear stains on his cheeks, hands clenched into fists. The room had a lingering atmosphere that only remained after a screaming match. Something happened. Your eyes looked down and saw bruises on his wrists too. “Where’s your mother?”

“She went out.” His voice croaked. It was hoarse. Like he had been screaming and crying for hours. “She won’t be back until after we’ve gone back to NRC.”

“Well that’s good right?” You smile nervously. “Hey, there’s nothing to be worried about.” You bring him into a hug. He doesn’t hug you back. Rather, his eyes begin to tear up and his vision becomes blurry.

“She’s so cruel. I don’t understand how she can be so cruel.” He chokes out. His eyes couldn’t leave the fireplace, couldn’t leave the sight of the horse plush he loved so dearly burned to a crisp. “She…She—”

“She’s a cruel woman, Riddle. It’s not your fault.”

“But it is. What if she hurts you?” It came out before he could stop it.

“She won’t hurt me—”

“But you don’t know that!” He exclaims, removing himself from your grasp. His breathing is ragged and heavy. “I’m sorry.” Immediately, his hands wipe away the tears and he takes a few deep breaths to steady himself. “She…She believes you’re a bad influence. And you’re not. But she won’t listen!” He wanted to throw something, break something. Maybe he would break that precious vase his mother prized so much. “(Y/N), you love me right?”

“Of course I do. Very much.”

Riddle looks at you straight in the eyes, tears threatening to leave his own once again. “My mother, if she offers you financial compensation for you to leave me, I want you to take it.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach. There was a pain in your body when you heard that. You knew that pain: the pain of a heart shattering. “Riddle—I…”

“(Y/N), you have to do it! My mother is cruel. And I don’t want you suffering for my sake!” The tears fall and he embraces you tightly. “I love you so much. All I want to do is protect you. So please, when she offers you to leave me, take it.”

“Riddle…” Your heart was being torn. But you understood why.

It happened so quickly. When you got back to NRC, you received a letter from Riddle’s mother. Leave him and earn financial compensation. It was a lot of money. But no amount of money would live up to the love you felt for Riddle. It was for the best. He asked you to do it and you obliged. The break up was brutal on you and on Riddle. You barely left Ramshackle when you didn’t need to leave. You didn’t even bother spending the money you got. No one could get you out of the deep depression you were in. Riddle had to continue his life as normal. It was a different story behind closed doors. Trey walked in once to find Riddle’s whole room in complete disarray. Everything wasn’t where it was supposed to be and lots of items were broken. And in the middle of the mess was Riddle himself, crying while holding a picture of the two of you from your first date. The photo booth was your idea much to his reluctance. It was painful to look at. Seeing you caused him so much pain and going home was even worse. The two of you had been so close, happy, in a healthy relationship. It was paradise.

Alas, young love never lasts does it?

···

The interview was wrapped up and the camera turned off. “It’ll be uploaded within a few days after we’ve edited everything.” The manager said.

“Great.” Riddle stood, stretching his legs.

“You know, Roi des Roses,” Rook stood up and placed the tablet back into his bag. “Actually…no.”

“What is it Rook? You can speak it.” Riddle adjusts his watch again.

“You should’ve seen (Y/N) after the whole thing. I thought you two would go the distance.” He removes his glasses from his face. “Family is hard. They’re difficult. But it’s not too late for a reunion.”

“(Y/N) probably resents me.” His eyes fall and his heart sinks to his feet. “I wouldn’t pin the blame either. I would resent (Y/N) if what happened happened to me.”

“But (Y/N) is not you Roi des Roses.” Rook picks up his bag and the water bottle. “Fate is quite fascinating. It goes against the principles of your book technically. But it has its ways. And I have a feeling Fate has something in store for Riddle and (Y/N), the couple that could’ve been.”

“You have not changed one bit have you?”

“I guess not. Is that a bad thing?”

“I also guess not.”

···

His body was sore. He didn’t understand why it was so sore. He didn’t do much aside from do a ton of interviews, go on a book tour for the past four months, and approved his romance novel to be turned into a movie. Which was…shocking and weird to think about. Tonight was supposed to be a self care night for him. “Vil’s stuff really does work, huh?” He washed his hands from the cream that he had applied to his face. A face mask to help moisturize, brighten, and remove dark spots. Coincidentally it was the same color as his hair.

His bare feet hit the smooth wooden floor of his flat as he carried the silver tray with the tea set to the coffee table. He poured himself a cup of tea and picked up the remote. “Let’s see…Is there anything to watch?” Riddle found that there wasn’t much. “Great Seven, I’ve already watched most of this curation.” His interest peaked upon seeing a familiar movie. “It’s been years since I’ve watched Seven Lilies for Seven Cranes.” Mostly because the last time he watched it, he had cried his eyes out. It hurt too much to watch it because that was the movie he saw with you. That was your first date. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt.”

Halfway through the movie, he had to pause to remove the face mask he had put on. His skin looked so good afterwards. Vil truly knew what he was doing. Riddle was mindlessly watching, not really paying attention. But that moment when the character Tara ran through the airport to catch the love of her life Lucina before embracing her tightly and professing her love caused a sudden pain to rip through Riddle’s body. Great Seven, it hurt. It hurt a lot. His hand clutched the fabric of his pajamas above his heart. And he could feel his eyes begin to tear up as a sudden surge of emotions began to drown him. Riddle didn’t expect himself to be sobbing into a ton of tissues but here he was, sobbing. “Great Seven. I miss them.” He sniffles before squinting. “Is that Vil’s dad? How come I never noticed!” Of course it was an uncredited cameo.

···

“You look worried.” Vil raises an eyebrow.

“I’m just nervous.” Riddle adjusted his wrist watch again. He could see his own reflection from the window. A garnet red suit, three pieces, and accessorized with his favorite watch. “Thanks for, um, coming by the way.”

“Why of course. After all, our collection based on your book, and its film adaptation, is selling well. I needed an excuse to release those new shades of red anyways.” Vil looked at himself through the compact mirror before closing it. “Oh looks like we’re here!”

Riddle watched as the door opened and was met with the sudden flashing of cameras and yells of his name. Riddle this. Riddle that. He had to blink for a bit so his vision could adjust. How quick were movies? It’s only been a year since his book came out and a movie has already been made. The premiere was a sensation all over Magicam in particular. He waved to a few cameras and posed before continuing to walk along the carpet. “Hey everyone! We’re here on the red carpet for Dance of Coals!” a voice exclaimed. His head turned to the direction and saw a familiar head of long, orange hair.

“Cater?” Riddle questions. But what he heard next made his heart feel like it would burst out of his chest.

“Joining me is my friend, (Y/N)! Say hi!” Cater posed and he moved slightly revealing you. You dressed up with makeup on your face that accentuated your eyes and your lips. You smiled at Cater's camera, waving, before saying hi. Riddle could read your lips. You were happy to be here and you were excited. It was an honor to be here.

“There’s no way…” he muttered, his heart beginning to beat faster and faster. Would you notice him? From across the red carpet? No, you probably wouldn’t. And if you did, you would ignore him. After all, the both of you left on rocky terms.

You could sense someone looking at you and turned your head. Your eyes met Riddle’s gray ones. He was a little bit taller than when you last saw him. He had a growth spurt. Time seemed to slow. The voices, the cameras, the flashes faded into the background. Riddle could feel the world fall away as he took in your appearance. Ephemeral, amazing. You were like a deity. He would worship you. He would be your one worshiper.

His feet moved before he could stop it. He walked quickly, over to you. “Oh Riddle! It’s nice to see you!” Cater chimes. “We were schoolmates back at NRC.”

“(Y/N).” Riddle mutters. “Sorry Cater. I’ll catch up with you later.” He turns to you. “Do you want to go somewhere private?”

You smile brightly. “I’d love that.”

His hand takes yours, bringing you along with him to somewhere away from the cameras, somewhere away for the people. A smile broke out on his face as he thought back to his school years. The feeling that filled his body was the same anticipation he felt when he first wanted to ask you out. Except it wasn’t dread or anxiety. It was relief.

Relief for a second chance.

Relief to go back to the way things were.

Or maybe it was a chance to make things better, better than it was before this.

[rightsforbrunomadrigalonly]

Hey!

I just saw that your ask box is open!

I was wondering if I would request a fic about Bruno and his s/o, where his s/o would in her late twenties (they would meet first time when Casitas rebuild). They'd be such a strong couple, love each other at no matter what, and the Madrigals would support them.

One day she'd ask Bruno to gave her a vision cause she want to see how Bruno use his gift(she never saw it, only heard rumors about it) but he'd rejects her because he is afraid from the future. Afraid because he thinks he is not good enough for her or she'd leave him after the gossips in the town about him.

But finally he give up (he love her so much but he has sooooo much anxiety) and give her a vision, but for his surprise the sand globe and the glass sheet are totally empty. Bruno'd panic because he thinks something would happen with his s/o and he'd loose her, but after his family and his love support him through his breakdowns, they insist he should try once more.

And this time it would be something sweet like a marriage or whatever you prefer!

Long story short I need an angst fic with happy ending!

Thank you so much, feel free to ignore this if you don't like it or if you don't want to. You are amazing and I hope you have and amazing day!

{Word count: 2775}

{Warnings: Angst with a fluffy finish!}

{A:N: VERY MUCH SO YES A MILLION TIMES I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!!! I do have some minor altercations though! While I think most of the family would be so ecstatic that Bruno found someone he loved, I feel Abuela may not be so accepting about the fact that she's so much younger than bruno! ALSO I AM SO SORRY IN ADVANCE FOR HOW STINKING LONG THIS THING IS. I KINDA JUST POPPED OFF AND COULDNT STOP GOING I LOVED THIS PROMPT TO MUCH. }

Growing up, gossip was a filthy mask that was passed around in the small Encanto where you lived. Trickling down from the prestiged Madrigal home, as far back as you could remember, you’d hear tales of a wicked brother. A man with dark intent and mystical powers of misfortune and horror, plaguing the village with pessimistic premonitions. Your Papa would tell the traumatic tales over an open flames, the night sky shimmering as the children ran around laughing and screaming. You never forgot those tales, and as a child you feared the man named Bruno. The unwanted Madrigal son haunted your mind, keeping you distant from the beloved family for so long. Your primos and primas would all play and laugh along with the other Madrigal children, but you always kept your distance, even when you grew past the age where monsters and superstitions shook your spirits. It was embarrassing to admit but even now at 28 years old, you still avoided the Madrigal family, ideas and conclusions of the eldest son harboring freely in your mind. You swore to yourself you’d never go anywhere near their casita, but when the town rumbled and cracks fractured through the villa, you knew you couldn’t stand by idly. The whole Encanto raised their hammers and shovels to help rebuild what had been lost, you knew you had to do the same and let go of the childish fears you held onto from the past. The family had contributed so much to so many of you, including your own familia. 

Every morning you’d rise early setting the ovens within your family's bakery a blaze two hours earlier than usual to prepare food for the workers and families helping rebuild La Casa Madrigal. You’d bring arepas by the dozen, boxes of almojabanas, and two whole plantain bacon and cheese cakes, everything you’d need to feed a village. The first time you’d ever ventured up the mountain to the ruined wreckage that once held such great honor and hope for the village, your nerves had nearly eaten you alive. You’d spent most of the day hiding behind the concessions table next to your Mama and sister. 

“You should go help them mija, the work will get done faster if we have all hands on deck. I can handle the food” your mother smiled, her palm cupping your cheek. “I saw Mirabel and Bruno in the courtyard trying to decorate the walls. You’re very artistic mi vida, why don’t you give them a hand.” 

You wanted to vomit on the spot, your stomach pitting at the mere mention of Bruno Madrigal. “No! No, I just- uh I don’t think I’d be very much help over there. Maybe I can help place blocks in the kitchen, or clean up the scraps outside” 

Your mother sighed, shaking her head in disappointment. “Mija, you have the most talent I have ever seen in this entire villa, and that isn’t me being biased. Your work is so beautiful, imagine the pride you’d feel taking part in something so important to this familia, to our community. I’d be so proud of my daughter, and I’d smile and tell everyone that your beautiful work is part of this casa” she gaslit, really laying it on thick as she grabbed your cheeks and smiled. 

You gave a huff, worming your way out of her hold with a scowl. “Fine mama fine, please stop. I get the point, ay dios mio.” You grumble as you brush the confectioners powder off your hands and onto your pants. 

Your stomach was a tidal wave of nerves as you slowly approach the two Madrigals, your eyes cautiously glancing Bruno’s frame up and down. He was nothing like the tales you’d heard. In fact if you hadn’t heard everyone gasping and gossiping about his presence, you would have never even guessed he was here. His face was soft, and his eyes shone with a dim glimmer of playfulness and relief as he watched his niece climb the ladder, strokes of her paintbrush creating small simple designs along the frame of the walls. He seemed almost approachable, not monstrous at all. Glancing up between the two you gave a sheepish smile, your hand giving a small raise as you mustered up the strength to use your voice “I like what you’re doing so far Mirabel, but can I offer a suggestion? If it’s okay I mean!” 

The girl's curls bounced as her head turned towards you, a smile on her face “sure, I’m open to ideas! Whatcha’ got for me?” she asked. 

“I was thinking you could do butterflies? Um, maybe between each flower, maybe like this” you hum extending your hand out for the brush. 

She gives you a grin, handing the brush off with confidence as she steps down the ladder allowing you to step up instead. Your wrist flicks and effortlessly you create this beautifully simple shape between two flowers Mirabel had previously painted. “Something like this, and each butterfly could be a different color, maybe even in a different position too! Add a bit of personality to each one!” You could feel yourself relaxing under each stroke of the brush as you and Mirabel laughed and painted the day away, the sun filled sky dimming and the rays of dusk beginning to fill the space until it was too dark to continue working. It was an enjoyable time with some very unexpected company. You didn’t know the Madrigals were so lively and so easy to talk to. You didn’t know Bruno was so easy to talk to. From that point on your relationship with Bruno began to blossom like the beautiful flowers Isabela produced across town, the progress slowly burning into something special. Soon you couldn’t wait to see his face. You fantasized about those heavy green eyes of his, the way they’d get brighter when you walked into the room. You longed to see the dopey smile that crawled across his face whenever you’d laugh at the obscure jokes he’d crack. You’d go from counting the days, to the hours, to minutes before you two could see each other again, your heart feeling juvenile and giddy with emotions you’d never felt before…for someone you’d never thought you’d have the perspective to fall in love with. Eventually your small talks would turn into long over extended stays where the two of you would stay up till the crack of dawn, indulging yourselves with asinine inside jokes. You became Bruno’s closest confidant, and when the time came, the two of you became lovers, sharing an intimacy and passion the Madrigal family had never quite seen before from the dark haired shut away. 

Despite the age gap, most members of the Madrigal family were ecstatic for you and Bruno. Julieta was overfilled with joy whenever she’d see your face around la casa. She’d grab you by the ears and pepper your cheeks with kisses. “Mi hermana bonita!” she’d squeal, causing you to chuckle and squirm. It made your heart jump to hear her call you sister. Your relationship with Bruno was still new, yet every time she greeted you it was with such warmth and with such confidence that you’d continue to be here in her brother's life. “You know, I’m not quite married to your brother yet” 

She’d wave your comment off with a chuckle shaking her head “Please, I don’t need my brother’s gift to know you and him will be together for a very very long time.”

The sentiment of knowing Julieta approved so whole heartily of your relationship held a special place in your mind. It weighed heavily on your conscience to know certain members of la familia Madrigal were strictly against your relationship. It was an unspoken tension between you and Abuela that made the air thick and uncomfortable whenever you’d stay the night. It was the disgusted looks you’d catch from the corner of your eye, as Bruno would gently brush his fingertips against yours. It was the way the circles under your lover's eyes grew heavier, each and every time you saw him, the stress of his mother’s disapproval collapsing on his mind. Your own mind wandered and stressed about the longevity of your relationship. “Do you think…” you paused, your teeth anxiously picking at the skin of your lip as your eyes casted to the grout between casitas tiles. “Do you think Bruno would be able to see the future of our relationship?” You ask, breaking the unintentional silence you’d created. 

There’s a lull in conversation as you await Julieta’s response. “Yes, but I don’t think if you were to ask he’d willingly look. It’ll take a lot of convincing and pushing Manita, and I’m not sure it would be the best thing to do.”

You gave a sigh, Julieta was rarely wrong, especially when it came to Bruno. Before you, no one knew the man quite as well as his sister did. Still…you felt the curiosity and desire to know kindling in the pit of your stomach. You had to ask. You spent the next 3 weeks poking and pressing every time you shared your lover's company. “Mi vida, please show me a vision. I want to see your gift in action. Nothing you could show me would ever tear my love for you Bruno,” you’d plead. 

It’d take about 2 additional weeks of pleading before the man would finally cave, his heart yearning to do anything to make you happy. Even if internally it riddled him with anxiety to think about. You were over the moon when he agreed, eagerly awaiting as he dragged you up to the highest point of his room. Bless casita, for had there not been magic in this household you didn’t think you’d ever be able to make it to the top of those stairs. You watched as the object of your heart began to set up his typical ritual, your eyes taking in his every move. He was quiet the whole time, his hands trembling as he poured the sand around the two of you. “You seem nervous amor” you comment softly, a hand reaching out to take hold of his. “You have nothing to be afraid of.”

His fingers clutched onto you as he paused. “What if you don’t like what I show you Y/N. What if I see something bad and-....and you leave and you don’t come back. That happens more than you think, people just walk away from me. I don’t want to see you walk away too. What if I see something I don’t like!...I don’t know if I want to do this anymore.” He paused, releasing the breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. It was obvious he was sinking away in his own anxious thoughts. 

You smiled, planting a kiss right against the edge of his mouth, your hands pressing against the surface of his chest. “Bruno, breathe amor. I won’t hold you to this if it’s really causing you this much stress. Your mental well being means more to me than some silly vision. I can wait to see our future unravel before my eyes, the way it was intended to. I don’t need to rush every answer, I just wanted the experience with you.” You smile, thumb grazing against the stubble of his cheek. Your cheeks sting as your dimples deepen, his lips tug into a grin as well. “Do what you feel is right.” 

His body is stiff, only for a moment before his shoulders drop and his eyes flutter closed. “I can do this, I can do this.” you hear muttered lowly under his breath before his routine continues. 

You wait in anticipation as sage and smoke fill the air around you, a sudden chill picking up as the currents of the room begin to swirl around you. You take hold of the hands Bruno holds out in front of you, heart stopping to see the gorgeous emerald glow of his eyes staring back at you. “Hold onto me, and don’t let go.” 

Doing as instructed, you grip his hands, lacing your fingers between his watching, waiting for something spectacular to take place. The winds blow and the sand swirls, everything seems typical to Bruno, except his vision is blank. In the sand there’s no images, no figures, nothing. Just sand whipping. “This isn’t right! T-This hasn’t happened before! I-I gotta stop! Why is there nothing here!” 

His hold on you tightens, his chest rising and falling quickly as the winds begin to beat chaotically, thrashing around the room. Sand slashes your face and you can’t help the whimper that passes your lips as you turn your cheek away. Immediately everything stops, and Bruno’s hands are cupping your face, inspecting the scratches left behind. “This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have- I should have….are you okay?” 

“I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s just a tiny scratch, I'll be okay.” you murmur, hands trying to pull his trembling fingers from your face. “Take a deep breath, it’s okay.” 

“No. It's-uh-It’s not. I did this and it’s my fault. I always make things like this happen, I cause bad things, I am a bad thing” he whimpers tears forming in the ducts of his eyes. 

You shake your head, grabbing his face peppering the tears away before they can fall. “Mi cielo,shh. Do NOT talk about yourself that way. You didn’t know this would happen. Let’s just go downstairs, we'll get some fresh air and Julieta can fix my face, it’s going to be okay. I don’t think you make bad things happen, okay? It was just an accident, they happen. Come on. ”

When you leave that night everything feels…corrupt. You feel heinous for forcing the man you loved into exceeding his comfort zones. Julieta was right, not that you doubted she would be in the end, but sometimes you hoped you knew just a little bit more. It comes as a surprise when the next day Bruno asks to try the vision once again. 

“Mi amor are you positive you want to do this again? I respect your boundaries and if you aren’t comfortable doing this we really don’t have to.”

“No, I want to do this. I just- I think I got a little too worked up, like you always tell me not to do, which I always do anyway cause- well that's not important,” he hums hands grasping for yours “just promise me you’ll love me no matter the outcome.” 

Your lips seek his cheek, nose nuzzling against his as you smile “that’s a promise I can handle.” It takes time, but the two of you redo his trials, setting up once more to have your future read. You can feel your own nerves building as the sand swirls once more, but this time it's different. Things appear to be calmer and before long, images flourish in the sands of time around you. A cascade of emotions barrel through your heart as you watch imagery of you and Bruno, a gorgeous baby cradled in your arms as his forehead laid resting against yours. Heat radiates from his palms as they grow sweaty and his cheeks flush red. Eventually the winds stop and a tablet of Emerald collects from the images you’d just seen play out before you. Bruno’s hands hold onto the stone, his eyes refusing to pull from the slate. He’s speechless, drawn in and captivated by the prophecy in his hands. He’d never produced something like this…something good.  His immersion is disconnected when he hears sniffling coming from you, his heart dropping. Immediately his mind flies to the worst case, the stone toppling from his hands. “I knew you’d hate it if I showed you something you didnt li- oof!” 

Caught off guard, his eyes widen as his back presses into the sand of his cave, your lips pressing to every bare inch of skin they can find. “I love it. I love you, mi amor. I was so afraid- I was worried that because Abuela hated me, that you would grow to resent me and distance yourself from me as well.” 

“What! Don’t be crazy, why would I ever ruin the best thing I’ve ever had in my life. I’ve come to grips with the fact that I don’t care what my mother thinks of me….I care what you think of me Y/N…I love you more than I ever thought I was kinda capable of.”

You can’t help the laughter that ripples through your body as you crush your lips against his