#riddle rosehearts angst

[oepionie]

— "AND WHILE YOU SLEEP, I'LL BE SCARED." overblot gang 

SYNOPSIS: Your lover waking up from a horrific nightmare and scrambling to listen to your heartbeat so he can make sure you're still alive.

⊹ [ cw ] — angst, hurt/comfort, overblot, blood, glass shards injury, anxiety/panic attacks, insecurities, mentions of death, crying (them)◞

⊹ [ tags ] — ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP. GN! READER | riddle tears his room apart, leona feels immense guilt, caring leona, azul having a panic attack, vil being an absolute mess, vil speaks german, shy idia, jamil injures himself accidentally, jamil calls you 'albi' (my heart), malleus immortality angst ◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 1.5k+◞

✩—RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS:

It's far past his scheduled time for sleep.

A bitter taste is bubbling up in his throat and frothing against his tongue. Riddle doesn't know what this wretched feeling is. All he knows is that he's terrified. Perhaps that's why he allows himself to disturb your sleep, the maddening emotions slamming against his head becoming too much for him to handle.

"I-I apologize for waking you," Riddle rasps, slipping into your shared bed and burrowing his face deep into the crook of your neck. His breaths come out in quick and fleeting puffs, heart thrumming hard against his ribs.

In the dimness of the night, the myriad of mangled and torn-up books that were strewn and flung about the room in a frenzied fury could hardly be seen. Your gaze flickered down to your lover. The tips of Riddle's fingers were a blistering raw red, his once well-groomed nails now visibly chipped at its ends.

With a touch of your tender hands, you pull him down to rest against your chest.

"What's wrong?"

"I–I just…I recalled the incident of my overblot and how I hit you with that blast. H-How you nearly—" Clamping his eyes tight, Riddle dared not to finish that sentence. The boy trembles in your arms—ears fervently straining to hear the steady and melodic thump of your heart, a melody he feared he would never hear again.

A choked sob tumbles from his lips and your chest aches.

"…I'm sorry," was his quiet cry. "I'm so sorry."

✩—LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

Peacefully fast asleep, your back was nestled snug against the Leona's chest while his firm bicep protectively curled around your ribs.

Over the course of your relationship, Leona began to realize how much he loved having you in his arms. You were at peace when you slept, untouched and untainted by the stress and pain you dealt with every day.

He crept his free hand up your torso, cold fingers slipping underneath your shirt, skimming up your stomach, and settling above the spot on your chest where your heartbeat danced vividly against his touch. Leona splays his fingers out more, fixated on how the thrum of your life felt against his skin.

It was a daily struggle to keep his emotions at bay, ensuring that his strong feelings and magic wouldn't hurt you again. The nightmarish phantom of his blot still haunts him to this day. That wrath was an ugly and hideous beast he wished to keep locked away in the depths of his mind for all of eternity.

Yet, at the soft beat of your delicate heart against his sullied hands—Already, Leona finds himself wavering, uncharacteristically weak.

An overpowering mix of stress and strain washes over him, pooling up into watery blobs and flowing down his cheeks in faint streaks as he silently wept.

"Fuck," Leona curses, pulling your dozing form closer to him. "Fuck. Fuck, I'm sorry. You don't deserve this."

✩—AZUL ASHENGROTTO:

The torment of nightmares was far worse than he remembered, but this dread he felt was unquestionably different, pressing in on him like a frigid cold. The icy sensation seeps into the marrows and dips of his flesh—his sole respite being your touch, which both warmed and scorched at his skin.

"Angelfish." Azul breathlessly sputtered, blindly patting around the bed in search of your body.

Through the fringes of his blacked out vision, he could barely make out your worried drowsy visage. This caused him to panic, pulse picking up, but you were quick to soothe him—reaching a hand out to press against his cheek. Finally finding you, the octo-mer pulled you towards his side of the bed, engulfing you in a tight hug.

Azul tried to stop the flood of tears that layered his face, but your soft lips strewn with kisses on his skin seemed to further elicit his unceasing cries. 

"I'm not going anywhere, Azul. I'm here." You whisper, cradling his face, but he was inconsolable. The octo-mer desperately clawed at your shirt as he pressed his ear deeper against your chest, practically melting into you.

The throbs of your heart echoed through his anguished mind, providing him with some semblance of comfort.

"Don't go….Please…" Azul sputters, body shaking from every deep, labored heave of his burning lungs, "Please."

✩—JAMIL VIPER:

A strangled scream awoke you from your abyssal sleep, your bleary eyes ripping open to dart here and there around the room in a manic frenzy. The ensuing shattering smash of a glass further threw your thoughts into disarray.

"Jamil?!"

Your lover had stumbled off of the bed, now kneeling against the wooden flooring with the bedsheets pooling around his hips, sheets damp from the shattered glass of water on the floor.

A bloody hand clenched at his palpitating heart, glass shards digging into his skin, as his lungs fought to maintain his breathing.

You sprang from the mattress and skidded in his direction, but Jamil scrambled away from you.

"Albi, no. There's glass. Stay away. You're going to get hurt," Jamil stammered. Holding a shaky hand up, the boy avoided your gaze.

"Jamil—" Brows pinched together, you eased towards him. "I'm not going to get hurt, don't worry."

You stepped over the shards of crystal glass with caution and made your way past, "See?"

Once you were within his reach, Jamil caved in and slowly brought you into his arms—careful with his injury. He could feel the distant sting of the cuts on his hands, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Leaning down, he lay his head over your heart. Even though the batter of your heart was frantic and panicked, it somewhat provided a steady beat for him to follow as he worked to untangle the complexities in his thoughts. Your lover sunk against you, anchoring himself against the warmth your body radiated.

✩—IDIA SHROUD:

As the minutes pass, Idia was rapidly losing every meagre amount of confidence he managed to scrape together.

"Idia…honey? Please get up." You croon, running a hand through his flaming hair.

Though it seemed as if he didn't hear anything—Idia kept his head glued against your beating chest, refusing to get up from his position on the floor.

He's been kneeling before you for so long that the rough fabric of his pants burned and skidded against the tender skin of his knees, sending excruciating stings along the threads of his flesh.

"I—No…N-No…I can't." Idia's lips quiver, eyes glossing over as he diverts his gaze. The weight of his arms lay heavy against your legs, elbows resting by your knees while his dull nails dug into the skin at the back of your thighs.

"Why's that?" You whisper.

Idia shut his eyes. The flash of numerous dreams and nightmares he's suffered at the hands of his own demented twisted memories clouded his mind. It did not help that they were all molded out of his own self-inflicted pessimism...cruel and unforgiving. A reason as to why he couldn't bear to look at you tonight, not when the image of your mangled body was still fresh on his mind.

"I-I'm s-sor-sorry…I ca-can't get up…I need to…” he stumbles for words, his breathing picking up its pace. "I need to…need to know you're okay."

✩—VIL SCHOENHEIT:

"Vil…" You worriedly murmur, pressing your lips against his mascara-stained cheeks, not minding the bitter aftertaste it left lingering in your mouth.

Laying atop the plush silk sheets of his king-sized bed, the dorm leader's eyes were ripped wide open as his chest heaved viciously. It was quite a rare sight as your lover lay vulnerable before you, heart bared open.

Oh, he was an absolute mess.

Dark streams of teary mascara ran down Vil's cheeks, his uniform wrinkled and his golden hair splayed out everywhere—unbound from its braids and tangled up.

The grip of his arms around your midsection tightens as he pressed you up closer against him, his head resting atop your chest. At the sound of your heartbeat, Vil allowed himself to unwind and let your affections banish away even the most ominous of his thoughts.

"Liebling…Es tut mir ehrlich Leid—" Vil rasps, his mother tongue dripping like honey from his lips as he suddenly found it difficult to speak the language he was so accustomed to every day.

Hushing him, you press a fleeting kiss against his brow line and Vil clamps his red-rimmed eyes shut, ceasing to say anything more.

"Hush now. Rest, my prince." You press a gentle kiss to his temple and brush the frizzes of his blonde hair away from his face.

A small smile quirks on his lips as he feels his stomach fluttering from the nickname. The look in his eyes is softly lit, warm like a candle.

✩—MALLEUS DRACONIA:

One day, Malleus knows, you will be nothing more than wilted and withered ash.

It was a truth that wrapped around him like shackling chains—tearing, whipping and lashing against his raw, bare skin. No matter how hard he pulled, scratched, and screamed at it, the chains remained.

The clanging and grating iron truth about reality cannot be so easily pushed away. Human lives are fickle, and you would inevitably leave him.

Once you do, the fae prince knows he will be a mere shadow of his former self, a wretched and lonesome creature awaiting and longing for his lover who was no more than a ghost of his fleeting memories.

"I apologize for the disturbance, my treasure."

And yet, Malleus presses his hand firmly against your beating heart. A distant marching beat serving as his reminder that you were very much alive and well.

"I truly apologize." Malleus heaves, hands clamouring against your collarbone.

Although thick tension and silence still hung heavy in the air, the dragon basked in the warmth and feel of your flushed skin, a bitter smile gracing his lips as he lay beside you on the bed.

"Sweet dreams, beastie…"

—TAGLIST:

꒰ ♡🧷: if you want to be tagged for ALL of my works, comment here!

@keedas @spadecentral @crypticbibliophile @pastellepastary @cassidycampfire @cocomollo @poisonioushearts @kawaiipotatoghost @ramvuda @sweeneyblue1 @the-lost-anime-dad @kyraxiyn   @skadi-winterfell @mushroomchaos101 @rainybeebs @taruruchi @fluffimemes @awkwardspontaneity @phoneandchips @gussuri

[incorrecttom]

They have such a high pride that they can never humble down. Never being humble enough to say 'I love yous' always keeping you a secret. Always.

And they hate it so much, they fucking do. They want to hold you in their arms as they gently soothe you. They want to speak to you, they want to -

but they can never. Always afraid that one step wrong and that they might lose their position and such or worse, be seen as weak. After all, they have to maintain a reputation. They have to work endless, even if it means pushing everyone away they hold dear, pushing you away too.

They are hurt, but they never seem to take a notice of that. They want to say that they are also sorry, they too want to cry. But can't, they simply can't the tears don't roll out. All they feel is a void and emptiness they can't explain and just wish that people noticed that.

After all they too are a living being.

And now they are struck with grief of never stopping you from leaving. Now, they question, whether their pride matters or not? Whether they have to do what everyone expects of them. Whether they have to bury their feelings or not-

Whether, they can be themselves or not? Whether they can be honest with people or watch them leave.

But does it matter anymore? After all, all they have is their pride left. The only thing that they live for and their value of being useful.

OIKAWA | LUCIFER | tsukishima | BARBATOS | riddle |

@roseadleyn , @that-one-pretty-bitch , @trash4can , @yourlocalintrovertt , @salvatvre , @dxmoness , @sxnful-rage , @starboo-txt , @crownxie , @yevene , @lady-navier0357 , @orlic1a , @ithil-lucien , @nyrwve , @meow-meow-potato

[random-twst-things]

For Riddle:

"When she was finished hurting me, she'd kiss the scars she left as if she remembered providing comfort was part of her job as a mother."

-unknown

(y'all ever think his mom was kind or caring enough to kiss his forehead or cheek? I mean, she had to be, right? Or was she that strict and mean to leave a small crying Riddle alone?)

[azulashengrottospiano]

it's your fault

SUMMARY: Riddle doesn't understand how this happened, but it's the reality he has to live in now.

CHARACTER: Riddle Rosehearts.

WARNINGS: Implied death & mortal wound, vomit.

COMMENTS: I felt like this request really worked with Riddle because Ace would blame him to hell and back for the Prefect's death. Also sorry for the angst it wasn't in my control WHAGFWHA

~~~~~

Someone is screaming.

That's the first thing Riddle registers when he wakes us, eyes fluttering open. His limbs feel heavy and he can’t move, but someone forces him up anyways. It’s Headmage Crowley, staring down at him in horror and all Riddle can think is what happened?

“Fuck! Get first aid! Cast a healing spell, please- shit shit shit, anything!”

It’s Ace that’s screaming, and Riddle somehow manages to turn his head in the direction of the commotion. There’s a limp body in the boy’s arms, and he can vaguely make out Deuce fussing over their abdomen.

Wait, is that…?

It’s the Ramshackle Prefect, their face scrunched up in pain and a gaping hole in their midsection. Riddle’s eyes widen and he feels the bile in his stomach well up. He vomits, tears stinging his eyes as his chest heaves.

No, no, nonononono-

“Riddle!” Trey yells, rushing over to him with worry etched across his face, “Listen, you need to go to the infirmary. We have a situation and-”

“Stop babying him, Trey!” Ace yells across the gardens, and Riddle’s heart pluments at the pure rage encased in his words, “This is all his fault! They’re dying and it’s because of him!”

Trey whips his head around but turns back to Riddle quickly, wincing. Riddle can’t seem to move his mouth or form any words, his lips dry and his mouth drier.

“Listen, just- here, I’ll take you. We’ll take care of it.” Trey furrows his brow, staring down at Riddle with a sickening pity, “I promise, it’ll all be fine.”

“Killed…them?” Riddle gasps as Trey helps him up, his dead weight of an arm flopping against his closest confidante’s shoulder.

Trey doesn’t answer, but Ace is still screaming.

“It’s your fault, Riddle! It’s all your fault!”

That sound will haunt him for all eternity.

[spadecentral]

🚅 Trainwreck | Riddle Rosehearts x Reader

>> requested: no >> a/n: happy birthday @faera-archive!!!

>> masterlist: here!! >> summary: ridde has too much fun spending time with you >> reader prns: they/them >> warning(s): none

Riddle Rosehearts loved you. He loved you so, so much. His whole world started to revolve around you. He started to slack off on his studies, even if it was only by a little bit. He wanted to spend more time with you, promising himself to do his work when he came back. But he always went straight to sleep when he got back to his room, exhausted from having the time of his life with you.

His (almost) perfect grades dropped from 99 percents to 85 percents. He forgot to complete homeworks and both his dorm and he suffered because of it. 

Standing in front of you, he swore it hurt him more to break up with you than you. He suffered knowing that you didn’t know how much his mother would mentally abuse him for letting his grades slip for staying with you. With you, it was perfect. And yet his mother couldn’t care about anything other than grades. He hated that you would cry and sob, probably for days, over him breaking up with you. And he tried so hard to not cry in front of you. But he could feel the tears welling in he back of his eyelids as he said, “I’m breaking up with you.”

And as tears welled in your eyes, you asked, “Why?”

And all he could do was turn and leave you behind, wishing he didn’t have to.

>> riddle taglist: @tulipluvlettr | @strawberry-hyacinth | @oseathepebble | @ventisaircurrent | @epelys | @pastelmages | @xphantasmagoriax | @atlasnessie | @divinesapph | @ze-maki-nin | @silly-ez | @flqyd-is-lost | @savanaclaw1996 | @cupids-chamber | @ravenlking | @queerlordsimon | @kyraxiyn | @rayisalive

[villainessxassassin]

Hi! I'm happy your requests are open and i saw You're Ok with angst, so is it possible to request a Riddle x Reader where he's in his overbolt form and says veery bad things to mc (who confessed feelings not long ago) about said confession like "you never were enough" or "how could i like someone like you" BUT AFTER THE OVERBOLT HE DOESNT REMEMBER HE SAID THEM and Trey has to tell him

"The faint feeling of a flower adorned in thorns whenever I look at him."

riddle x reader (angst)

You don't know how happy it makes me to finally write angst again— For you though, I hope your heart aches after reading this, in a good way i mean <3 - kishira

IF THIS FLOPS IMMA CRY CUZ I ACTUALLY ALREADY CRIED WHILE WRITING THIS

Warnings: ooc? Riddle, saying very mean words

A rose covered in thorns was never meant to be held by the naked hand, yet you tried to remove each individual spike, resulting in scars to appear one after another.

Riddle wasn't himself. From tables being flipped over to the garden of roses being diminished to nothing but shaved leaves and broken petals. You knew something had to be done, but you were foolish enough to have presented your feeling so out in the open, thinking this would be the solution.

"Pathetic"

The first thorn emerges

"Is this your way of ridiculing me? Am I to find what you said humorous?" Despite his words he lets out a high pitched laugh.

It grates your ears and accompanied by the mocking smile he sent your way, it made your heart clench, but it wasn't the same feeling that was accompanied by butterflies in your stomach. This... this one hurt.

"What makes you think I would even want to reciprocate, let alone want to accept your confession? Why don't you save it for someone that would actually want to be around your bothersome self— and I couldn't give a care in the world about what trifling feelings you have instore."

Bothersome. Was this how Riddle viewed you all this time? You couldn't help but look back on the times you spent together, to the days you'd spent hours at the library as he'd help you with an upcoming test, or the times when you'd meet up at the rose garden to snack on sweets.

"You were a thorn at my side, or rather a pesky weed in my rose garden." He picked up a rose that was incomplete of being colored fully red, as white still poked at the bottom of the petals. "A temporary thing that in the end was made to be disposed of", he said altogether while crushing the rose in the palm of his hand, disintegrating it in the process. He didn't hold back on his words, venom coating each insult that was thrown at you. You winced as your vision started to blur.

"You were never enough"

"How could I ever begin to like someone like you"

this was too much for your poor heart to take.

And yet you listened, hoping that he'd change his mind and take back what he said, but never once did he look apologetic. Those eyes that were devoided by the care and love you once knew, only staring back at you like the dark abyss, and before you knew it the atmosphere had completely changed.

Time seemed to pass without your knowledge as the sky reverted back to its regular blue color and the air wasn't suffocating to inhale anymore. Students and close friends quickly surrounded the heartslabyul dorm head, worrying for his wellbeing as he slowly regained his consciousness.

Trey and the others were just about to go check on you but you've already been long gone from the scene. You weren't able to see what happened next, yet you couldn't bring yourself to care for the time being as you were slowly retreating back to your own dorm. Who could blame you? with a rejection paired with unkind words towards your person— how could you even begin to care about that person?

*.✧

After Riddle fully recovered from the overblot incident and went back to his regular classes he couldn't help but feel like something was missing.

To be more specific, this something was a someone, and to be even more specific- ah, that's right, where are you? Y/n, you being nowhere in his line of sight seemed off to him. There are times when he'd give quick glances your way to take a peek at your lovely face, masking it with the excuse of making sure you were paying attention to the teacher, but today he comes face to face with your empty seat.

He would have let this slide for the time being if it wasn't for the fact that your bag was present in the classroom, and the class has been going on for quite some time now, so wherever it was that you were, you should have made it back by now.

This was the last subject of the day so after class got dismissed he waited in the classroom since he's got some time left to spare before his housewarden duties await him. It almost took about an hour before he could hear the very faint tiptoed footsteps from outside the classroom.

You'd made the decision of avoiding Riddle for a little while until he got the message that you didn't want to talk or even be near him, so why was he right there in an empty classroom when class was already over? None of your concern, most certainly. Good for him he's finally healed and ready to prance over flower fields and attend tea parties again with a smile on his face, but you are not. So with a quick frown plastered across your face you made a quick beeline towards your bag.

Given you didn't glance once Riddle's way he thought you weren't aware of his presence, so he decided to break the silence.

"Greetings to you as well. Excusing your lack of awareness for your surroundings I-" his half joking sentence was caught off by the sound of you rummaging through your bag, seeming to not care that he was present in the room with you. It seems you were in a hurry, but shouldn't he still get a welcome back for the many days you guys haven't seen each other? He didn't mean to assume or anything, but the reaction he'd expected from you when you saw him was one where you'd leap in to his personal space and ask if he was okay or if he was still hurt, and surely not this.

It's when you fully turned around that Riddle decided to reach out to you. "Hey", no response. His irritation was starting to become more visible with each passing second you weren't paying attention to him.

"When someone's talking it's only common sense you listen to what they have to say, so why-", when he finally reached you he was shocked with how quickly you shrugged off the hand he had placed on top of your shoulder, and in response he flinches. Why were you acting this way?

"And when someone's trying to ignore you, it's also only common sense you leave them be." a glare is accompanied by your statement. The fact that he didn't even begin with an apology about the hurtful things he said was proof that he really didn't give a damn about you.

You added hardening the glare you already had on and tears of frustration threatening to fall, "If you're not going to apologize for the awful and hurtful words you said that day, I don't see a need to continue this conversation any further."

Despite Riddle's unknown confusion to what you just said, he made sure his words came out straight and clear. Yes, he couldn't remember what he said or even a whole of what happened during his time that he overblotted, but a few of his close friends and classmates approached him recently just fine, so he took in what you said as just exaggeration.

His pride was another thorn added.

"I clearly wasn't in my right state of mind, You would've known this if you read on more about overblots, and what's more is that you're being childish! What I said couldn't have possibly left such a negative mark for you to act this way." This wasn't a fight, yet he still couldn't loose, he wasn't raised that way. He was assertive, and quick to harden his resolve that he was always in the right. Perhaps if he knew then maybe there was still time.

But as we all know, time waited for no one

He was insulting you all over again, even now. Childish? And were your feelings that insignificant that he'd pass them on like a small scratch that would soon be forgotten? Your final breaking point has been reached.

"Just shut up! shut it! I can't handle this anymore..."

You collapsed to the floor crying, screaming with every word till your voice started to crack. Riddle was stunned, scared by your sudden breakdown. Starting to regret how mean and inconsiderate his words came out. He went up to comfort you, but you flinched at his touch, inching away ever so slowly as only anger and sadness was all he could see swirling in your eyes. He couldn't move, your words still trying to register in his head as at the same time you decided you just need to get away from all this, from him.

After you had run off faster than the sound of ace and deuce causing a ruckus in nrc could be heard, Riddle stayed there stunned for an extra more amount of seconds before he himself quickly began to run in the directions of heartslabyul dorm. He couldn't care less if he was breaking more than a few rules right of this moment. HECK, he could care less about ANY rules because right now what he needed were answers.

It was clear how you had no intentions of hearing him out, so instead of chasing after a problem he wouldn't have had a proper response to, he decided to search for a different answer. Unfortunately, those answers have been received far too late, after hearing everything he needed to know from Trey, he already knew how much he's messed up.

Perhaps if he wasn't so insistent that he'd keep quiet about his feelings, maybe if he'd opened up to you more, maybe if he wasn't so prideful, maybe if he'd confessed how he felt to you first, it wouldn't have manifested into something his overblot form would have taken out so negatively on you. Maybe you both would have still had a chance.

He'll keep trying for days, weeks even, but there are times where something broken can't always be fixed, or perhaps you chose not to be mended, scared to be broken all over again.

You freed yourself from the wounding flower, scars from the thorns still linger, a feeling you'll never be able to forget whenever you look at him.

____

Gwen: Dayumn this is the first time where I didn’t indulge Kishira with Angst scenarios.

Request open!(until August 20 only!)

[cvlutos]

TW: ANGST & DISCOMFORT

"By the Great Seven! Have you no patience! No time to sit and do what you need to do, then follow me like some dog! Are you not tired—cause I very much am. You linger like some cloud, destined to hover over me as if without me, you ceased to exist. At first I thought endearing, but now it is nothing but bothersome.

And I understand that you... Feel for me... But if this feeling for me is so suffocating I rather do without. You within the last few days... Have brought me nothing but annoyance and every minute I spend breathing within the vicinity of you, I feel as if I am choking.. I have tried to be nice, yet with such a thick skull you seem quite unable to take a hint. At some poimt, I went from seeing you as a complete nuisance to utterly pathetic. I have tried my very best to be polite, but you have me grasping at straws. I can no longer feign ignorance to you, so I must and will need you to leave me alone. Permanently."

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Since you asked, @chinmon-spam

[skreebs]

Average straight couple

[eyreemusings]

Riddle Rosehearts, if he is to be a romantic trope, is first love.

Not the fluffy kind. Not the first time touches and sweet clumsy kisses and sappy promises of love everlasting.

He is the hurting kind.

Realizing that the wild lurches of the gut, the erratic beating of the heart, and face slightly flushed is love only when he witnessed his beloved go through the same thing. Not to him, but to another.

For most, a realization of a first love sends fits of joy and giddiness to the heart as flowers fall from the sky.

For him, he felt that, too, for a brief moment. yet waves of sorrow, regret, and pain flooded him harshly as he realized he loves and he lost long before he actually tried.

[indulgentandidiotic]

When You Leave With A Lie

Warnings: lying about feelings, harsh(?) breakup, playing with emotions unknowingly, no comfort

GN! Reader

Synopsis: You promised Riddle that you loved him more than life itself. So then, why did you leave?

This fic is sort of related, almost like a prequel: When Love Becomes A Bit…

.~

You came like the rain. A downpour of love and passion that chilled him to the core in the best way possible. You were unrelenting, and you were constant. That is until the rain stopped, and the sun came out.

“I’ll always love you, Riddle~ To infinity and forever, you’ll always be my one and only–my lovely rose–my precious dove–my soul, and my life.”

Perhaps that was it. You were too passionate. Too hyperbolic. Too heartfelt. And that was exactly why you left. You were a whirlwind of emotion, and you flitted from feeling to unfeeling as a hummingbird flits from flower to flower. A love like yours was too good to be true–too fantastical to be real–and that was why you left. Of course, it wasn’t meant to last. Your feelings for him were a raging fire, and all fires die at some point.

It took Riddle a long time to recover from your breakup. When you left, it was like all the color was sucked out of the world. There was no happiness, no true love. All that was left were dull skies and the endless cycle of living. All your professions of love he kept dear to his heart became blotches of poison suffocating him.

When you broke off the relationship with no sadness of what would be lost, no fondness for what had been experienced, he screamed at you. He demanded that you explain to him why you wanted to snuff out the magic you two had. Riddle’s face had been the deepest shade of red, but not because of anger or frustration. He felt upset, cheated, deceived, and heartbroken… He didn’t understand you, not when you told him, “I don’t love you anymore.” 

Those were ugly words. Those were words that were contradictory and infuriating. What did you mean by saying you didn’t love him? Then what about all those other times you professed your undying love for the Riddle Rosehearts? Do you mean to tell him those were all lies? That they meant nothing, despite how fervently and solemnly you said them? You mean to tell him that all this flowery language you’d whisper into his ear, or mumble into a kiss, or pledge to his face, was all hollow and utterly fake?

“As the planets revolve around the sun, so do I around you. You, my love, are the most important thing. A being of perfection, that even despite your flaws, you are better than anyone else in every regard. ‘Tis a blessing that I am able to bear witness to your beauty and your intelligence. Oh, how lucky am I to have such a bright star in my life~”

Lies! All lies! And for what? What did you gain from being in a relationship with him? You were a top student with a pleasant personality and many talents. You were regarded by others just as highly as he was. You had a life plan, life savings, for Seven’s sake! Why him?! Why not pick any other man to toy with? Why him? Why was he the one you had to lure in with sweet smiles and the promise of an eternal, comforting embrace?

“Riddle, it can be hard for me to express the full extent of my affection for you when there are no words to describe it. But when language is not enough, what should I do? I hope that, for now, you will be able to understand how I feel about you with just these three words. I’ll imbue all my emotion, all my passion, all my heart into these words, okay? … Riddle? … I love you.”

When you left, you took with you a piece of his heart. Ever since you left, his brain would make up for your absence by torturing him with memories of you. Every romantic confession of yours would replay in his mind nonstop. Every word of yours was so clear, your expressions so crisp in his mind, and it was killing him.

Your voice which Riddle had ingrained into his memory as hard as possible, became an agonizing sound that seared his mind as though it were burned into him rather than willingly memorized. Remembering your voice and your love brought feelings of despair, rather than happiness and butterflies.

It was awful. On nights when Riddle was especially tired, your voice would slither into his ears, speaking of love and affection, and instead of feeling comforted, Riddle would spend hours crying over the thought that all you spoke were falsehoods. His efforts to remember your touch–your arms around his waist, your lips against his own, your hand holding his–were things he now regretted, as they only brought the thought that he’d never feel you again.

Shortly after you’d left, he’d gathered every gift of yours to him that he could find, and stuffed them into boxes in the back of his closet. Over the years you’d been together, you’d given him lovingly hand-made hedgehog plushes, pressed roses, fantasy novels, tea sets you had decorated yourself, and more. All were evidence of how much effort and love you’d put into the relationship, and they only served to make Riddle break down into tears once again, wondering why you left when you seemed to care about him so much.

There was one night when he’d been enraged at you for leaving, and grabbed his favorite plush gift from you and threw it in the roaring fireplace. He was fuming, cursing under his breath, and hissing on about how stupid and awful you were for deceiving him. But when he caught sight of the plush being deformed in the fire, close to being ashes, he went into a panic. Clarity hit him like a brick, and he hurriedly put out the fire and tried to save the remaining pieces of the plush. Alas, it was too late. He’d destroyed a token of your love. And despite needing to move on, he desired to keep these physical memories. Perhaps a small part of him thought you’d come back, and he didn’t want to make you upset if you did. And perhaps, he didn’t want to let go of you. Despite the pain the memory of you brought, it also brought bitter-sweet feelings with it. It was a love Riddle didn’t want to forget, no matter how much it hurt.

“I used to think that the world was a beautiful place. I thought the endless blue sky and the glorious shining sun were marvels of the universe. I thought that waterfalls and geysers and rain were magnificent in both their power and their beauty. I thought that the flowers of the earth were the most delicate and precious things in existence. I used to marvel at the stars at night, which shone so beautifully and made me feel so in awe despite how far away they were. I used to gaze at the ocean and think it was mystical. I used to think the world was so beautiful. But, Riddle, you showed me–made me understand–just by existing in my line of vision, that the world’s marvels dulled greatly in comparison to you and were also made all the more stunning.”

The day you told Riddle you didn’t love him and left still haunts him. It’s been a few months and he is still not over you. He doubts–after all you two have been through together–that he ever will move on. All these memories of you loving him in such a healing and fulfilling way, of you making him feel secure, of your kisses and your praises, of your compliments and your dramatic love professions, plague his mind. He loves every second of this special agony.

“Oh, Riddle, you are the sun to my moon and the sea to my stream. Despite how far away I may be, or how distant I may sometimes act, I still come back to you. Why? Because I love you~ You’ve made me feel things I’ve never felt before. Every moment spent with you is magical, regardless of what we’re doing. Riddle, I hope to be yours for a millennium to come. I can’t even imagine being with anyone else.”

The peak of his heartbreak is over. The sobbing fits are rare now, and all that is left is a dull ache in his chest and a gaping gash in his soul. Despite how much time has passed from then to now, he still hopes for your return. He remembers your love with fondness and yearns for your touch once more. You’re a fickle thing, Riddle knows. You’re a passionate, moody, person, who lied about your everlasting devotion to him. But regardless of your betrayal, he wants you–needs you. The comfort you provided, the affection you gave, your sweet-as-honey words, he longed for it all back. 

“My lovely little dove, I do hope you know, while my words may seem extravagant, they are nothing but the truth. I would never lie to you about my feelings, darling. I love you, with all my heart and soul, and there is nowhere I’d rather be than by your side~”

Why did you leave? Did you become bored of him? Was he not enough? How did your feelings change? Oh, if only you knew he'd do anything to keep you in his life. He'd change, he'd do better. He'd be perfect, worthy of your praise. 

"Oh, Riddle~ You're the most amazing person I know. So hard working, so smart, so thoughtful, so excellent in every way~ There's nothing about you that needs to be changed, you're stunning just as you are!" 

Another lie. If he was perfect in your eyes, you wouldn't have left.

But...

Riddle cannot help but think that, with a love like yours, he doesn’t mind if it’s fake. He just wants you back.

[a-little-lostecho]

Mama’s Boy.

The last two were just me playing around w different layering and lighting effects I could do so if they look messy, blame that <3

[oepionie]

— "INTO THE RABBIT-HOLE" THE CROWNED PRINCESS OF RAMSHACKLE. riddle rosehearts

💭ramshackle princess series masterlist | 💬ao3 link

SYNOPSIS: A dispute with Riddle prompts the prefect to flee into the forest where she falls into a rabbit hole and finds herself in a mad fantastical realm of her imagination. Here, she meets her friends who are acting somewhat strangely… odd. They all treat her as royalty and whisk her away to a castle where her husband, the Red Queen, eagerly awaits her return.

How curious.

⊹ [ cw ] — hurt/comfort, falling from heights, arguments, lashing out, fighting, allusions to executions and stabbing, mentions of a knife, mentions of smoking, mild blood, riddle lashes out on you◞

⊹ [ tags ] — FLUFF, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, FEM! READER | deuce punches you, che'nya is a little shit, trey with bunny ears, ace and deuce as the tweedle dumbasses, affectionate riddle, cater as hot knave◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 9K+

ACT I: BLOOD RED MESS

​"It was just sitting on top of the old boxes in the attic!" You exclaimed, fumbling with the tiara buried deep in your bag. Trey watched as you took it out, holding it up for him to see. It was of a silver color, embezzled and richly decorated with diamonds. The tiara had a fan shaped diadem, nine throngs, and a small blue heart-shaped jewel as its centerpiece. It was an ornament befitting royalty. Not really something you'd find in Ramshackle's run-down attic.

"That does look expensive. What do you plan on doing with it?" Trey asked, pushing his glasses up. Both of you were taking a walk through the grounds of Heartslabyul, basking in the sunshine. "That could sell for quite a lot of money."

"Tempting, but I was planning on giving it to Crowley." You muttered, turning the tiara in your hands and admiring the way it glimmered in the sunlight.

All of a sudden, in the corner of your eye, a small green blur dashed into the rosebushes, scurrying deep into the green brambles. Gasping, you pointed to it. "Oh! Trey, did you see that?"

"See what...?" Trey blinked. You rushed forward, parting the branches and peering through the shrub. A green rabbit in a waistcoat dashed through the bushes, a ticking clock perched onto his hip. "A bunny rabbit!"

"A rabbit-? O-Oi! Prefect?!" Trey ran after you as you rushed through the bushes, intent on chasing the bunny. Branches and rose thorns scratched and tore at your uniform, but you paid no mind to it. The rabbit took a sharp turn right, and you followed in hot pursuit. As you rounded the corner, you crashed into a large stack of paint buckets. The canisters all toppled to the ground, breaking open and tainting the green grass red.

Likewise, you also fell into the red puddle. The paint pooled around you, seeping into your clothes and hair. You groaned, pushing yourself away from the wreckage. "Just my lucky day."

While you were busy glaring down at the offending red pigment bleeding onto your pristine white blouse, Trey had rushed to your side. The third-year seemed to be nervous as he wiped your face down with his sleeve. "Prefect, quick, fix yourself up before—"

"What is the meaning of this?!" Riddle exclaimed, the clattering click of his heels signaling his arrival as he stomped towards you.

Uh oh.

"O-Oh! Riddle, I—" You stammered, scrambling up. "Love, I was just trying to—"

"Do you have any idea what you've just done?!" Riddle yelled, pulling you away from Trey and seizing your arm—all with a frown etched onto his face. You whimpered at his tight hold, his blunt nails digging deep into your skin. "What were you thinking?! Why were you running through the gardens like some buffoon?!"

"I-I...I was chasing...a rabbit." You peered at him through shaky wet lashes, cheeks burning up in embarrassment. Your sweetheart stared at you in incredulity before a snarky laugh left his lips.

"A rabbit." Riddle seethed, dragging a hand down his face. His pointed glare cut through you as he gestured towards the mess of red. "All that for a rabbit?!"

"I'll have you know that batch of paint is a special import from the Queendom of Roses. We've been waiting for its arrival for months and now you've ruined it with your tomfoolery!" The redhead's chest heaved as he finished his outburst. His skin had turned crimson, and a vein had ticked on his temple. Riddle grabbed a battered bucket beside you, making you avert your gaze towards him.

"Well? What do you have to say for yourself?" He said. Your mouth dropped open, but you found yourself unable to say anything. The longer you kept silent, the more he felt his anger simmer. Riddle's face twisted into a vicious scowl before he threw the bucket full-force at a nearby tree. The resounding bang made you jump, fear gripping your heart.

"I said—" Riddle paused, his tongue screeching to a halt once he saw thick blobs of tears sliding down your face. Silence soon followed. Quickly, his demeanor changed as he finally realized the cruelty and weight of his words.

Muttering obscenities under his breath, Riddle pinched the bridge of his nose. He's done it again, he let his anger get the better of him.

Mistaking his guilt for anger, you cowered before him, watery eyes glued to the ground as you sputtered out sloppy apologies. "I'm s-sorry, Riddle...I'm really sorry."

"No, I—" The redhead let go of your arm, causing you to fall back and crumble to the floor. He scrambled to kneel down beside you, hands hovering over your waist. "Rose, I didn't mean to—"

"I-I have to go." Everyone stared at you with sympathy as you rushed out of the garden, frantically wiping away at the tears on your cheeks. Riddle tried to go after you, but Trey blocked his path. The third-year shook his head, pushing the dormleader back. "Give her some space."

"You can apologize later." Trey sighed. He folded his arms over his chest, looking as if he was about to lecture Riddle. But the look of guilt on his childhood friend's face already told him all he needed to know.

ACT II: JUST LIKE ALICE

Sobs racked through your chest as you rushed through the woods. You didn't know where you were going, you just knew was that you needed to get away. Riddle's words still beat and tore at your poor heart.

So stricken with embarrassment from earlier, you didn't notice an overgrown branch sticking out of the dirt and you tripped, slipping into an agape rabbit hole. You fell through the dirt tunnel; Screaming your lungs out, spinning around wildly in the air, and panicking while tears sprung out of your eyes. Though you soon realized, as minutes passed that you were still falling. The hole seemed to be unending.

"By the great sevens-?!" You soon stopped spinning wildly and instead started floating down. From soaring book shelves, a musty wrinkled bed, a vintage lamp and a broken down piano—The hole around you was filled with all sorts of trinkets and junk.

It took a good 10 minutes before you finally dropped to the ground. Oddly enough, your fall didn't hurt one bit. In fact, it was rather...plush?

Looking down, you found yourself seated on a tremendous pile of pillows. Each pillow was distinct, mainly covered with red and black patchwork—you could only assume it was handmade. There was some sort of symbolism stitched onto it as well, resembling either a heart or playing cards. 

"What in the...Twisted Wonderland?" You gasped, standing up.

Whilst on top of the pillowy mountain, you took the chance to survey the surrounding room. It was a great hallway lined with many doors of all shapes and sizes. The area was fairly big, modeled after Heartslabyul's dorms with its wine-red walls, checkered floors, and peculiar heart-themed architecture.

Was this some sort of secret hideout?

"How curious..." Sliding down the hill of pillows, you decide to survey the hallway. Amongst the doors, you find a small one that's hardly the size of your foot. It was unique from the rest, colored purple and framed by a golden archway instead of the common silver one that others had.

Speculative, you wrapped your fingers around the minuscule handle and turned the door open. You bent down to peek through and catch sight of a beautiful, lush garden. 

A group of flowers danced around in the wind, almost as if they were beckoning you to take a closer look. For some odd reason, it fascinated you. In a trance, you turned back to the room with a new goal in mind. Surely there must be something in here that could take you in?

A banquet table sitting in the far corner caught your eye. It was filled to the brim with fresh pastries and drinks, strange considering no one was here. Though a bit creeped out, you took a gander at the feast lay out before you. Despite the table being so long, there was only one chair present and in front of it was an envelope.

"Curiouser and curiouser." You mutter.

Tearing the top open with your nail, you plucked out the contents of the envelope and caught sight of your name marked in elegant cursive on a lustrous golden card.

"A letter...?" You muttered. What you found was an invitation to a party. "Addressed to me?"

"The Red Queen's Unbirthday party...?" You mumbled, eyes skimming over the text until one line attracted your attention. "—Where His Majesty's Rose shall put on the Nine-Throng Tiara?"

A Tiara? With Nine-Throngs? 

Blinking, you turned back to the stack of pillows. The very tiara you found in your attic was sitting at the top, glimmering under the lights of the hall. Uh...when exactly did that get here?

You squinted your eyes at the line again. "Where she shall put on the Nine-Throng Tiara..."

"Put on the Nine-Throng Tiara?" Pocketing the invitation, you trudged back to the very top of the pillows and took the jewel headdress in your hands. You could only assume that its appearance here right now was the result of magic.

...So it wouldn't be far off to say that it had magical powers, huh? 

Taking a deep breath, you raised it above your head. "Well then, here goes nothing."

After gently setting it atop your head, you soon found a mystical glow engulfing your body. Gasping, you watched as your school uniform shifted and altered into a dress.

The dress was of a sky blue, a long train at its back, pleats along its front; It was decked with lavish lace, delicate embroidery and sewn in with diamonds.

The dress was knee-length and its big bouffant-styled skirt bounced when you walked. For accessories, you had opera-length white gloves and matching white stockings on.

Running your hand up your neck, you noticed how it had a high white lace collar which oddly complimented the black bow tied snug around your waist. The sneakers you had previously worn shifted themselves into dark mary janes, which felt like clouds with every step you took.

"O...kay? A dress-up was not what I was expecting." Sighing, you bunched up the train of your skirt in your hands and rushed back to the banquet table. This time, you took a look at the food and found a champagne bottle labeled "DRINK ME". 

Silently debating if this was a good idea, after a while, you decide to just go for it. Popping the bottle open, you take a quick swig and immediately get hit with a wave of nausea. Gagging, you place the bitter drink down on the table. 

"H-Huh!?" You gasp as the room around you grew bigger and bigger or rather—as you grew smaller and smaller. 

"Oof!" You plopped down onto the floor, the banquet table now towering over you. The drink had managed to shrink you to the right size and it seems that your clothes adjusted accordingly. Clapping your hands, you happily made your way to the golden door and turned the handle. 

Only to find that it was locked.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me." Furrowing your brows, you continued to furiously fumble with the doorknob. 

"It wasn't locked earlier!" You whined, kicking at the door. Huffing, you turned back once more to the table. A small golden key was seen on top, one that you must have missed earlier. 

Well, it was far too high up for you to reach now that was for sure. While marching up to the key, you spot a cookie marked “EAT ME” hidden behind one of the nearby table legs. 

"Might as well." You shrug, grabbing the cookie. After brushing it off, you move in to take a bite. "This can't possibly get any worst."

"Huh...? W-Woah!" You shriek, looking down at your feet which seemed to be so far off. Just then your head struck against the roof of the hall. "Uff!"

This time, it seems that the cookie caused you to grow to an inordinately large height.

"That hurt..." You grumbled, rubbing the top of your head. At once, you took up the tiny golden key and hurried off to take the champagne bottle, downing the liquid and shrinking back down. With a pep in your step, you rushed towards the door.

"Alright, Wonderland." You pushed the key into the keyhole, turning until you heard a click. 

"What do you have in store for me?"

Stepping into the door, you found yourself in the peculiar garden. 

It was a whimsical wonderland of it's own. The sky was painted in reds and pinks, and the flowers were ones that you've never seen nor heard of before. The only ones familiar to you were the rosebushes which surrounded the area, enclosed around the garden like towering barricades as little butterflies kissed its roses, fluttering about the flora.

"Oi!" Jumping, you whipped your head around to find a familiar pair of ginger and blueberry heads peeking out from a tree. "Who're you?"

Gasping, both of your hands clasped over your mouth. 

"Ace?! Deuce?!" The first-years jumped at your shrill shriek, nervously exchanging glances when their names flew out of your mouth. Both of them stepped away from their hiding spot, cautiously walking towards you. 

"How do y'know my name?" Ace asked. You were about to answer his question, but got distracted once you noticed the ridiculous outfits they were dressed in. Both of them had identical vivid yellow blouses with thick white lapels. Said blouses were paired with high-waisted red slacks and big blue bow-ties.

Snorting, you covered your mouth to conceal your giggles. "W-What's with the goofy fit?" 

"Eh? This is what we wear every day?" Deuce halted, looking down on his outfit. Ace shook his head, slapping his friend by the back of his head. "N-Never-mind that, listen, we have no idea who you are but—"

"Huh...?" You blinked dementedly. "What do you mean you have no idea who I am...? I'm Y/N!"

Both of them stared blankly at each other, then at you. Simultaneously, they bluntly replied. "Who?" 

"Y/N!"

Ace folded his arms across his puffed up chest. "Never heard of 'er."

"Guys, seriously-"

"That dress looks expensive." Deuce noted, "Are you some duchess from out of the kingdom?"

"No! I'm-" You struggled.

"Deuce, I don't know about you...but I think she might be a bit cuckoo in the head." Ace whispered, deliberately backing away from you. "Let's walk away slowly..."

"Alright! Enough with the jokes!" You lashed out. Gathering your skirt in your hands, you frantically rushed towards the two. "Listen to me! I'm-"

"Your majesty!" Popping out of a corner, Trey appeared by your side and scrambled to clumsily curtsy before you. His shoulders trembled with tension as he kept them taut and square. Stupefied, you stumbled back and gawked at him. "Y-Your majesty?"

It was only then did you notice the two fluffy green bunny ears sitting atop his head. He fumbled with an antique pocket watch, taking a quick glance at the clock before hastily stuffing it into his pocket. Trey wore a plaid red petticoat, dark maroon slacks, and a deep lavender bowtie.

"I apologize for these two." He awkwardly chuckled, kicking at the two boys' knees and forcing them into kneeling positions. Nearly toppling over from the force of Trey's kick, both Ace and Deuce hurriedly crouched down before you.

"We apologize, your highness. We didn't realize it was you..." Deuce trailed off, face spiraling into a ghostly pasty white. "Y-You're not going to cut our heads off, are you?"

"Why—in the everlasting fuck—would I do that?!" You swore, scraping your fingers through your hair and tugging at the strands which made your tiara turn askew. "I don't even know what's going on!"

"Neither do I." All of a sudden, a floating grin appeared in the middle of nowhere, manifesting itself out of thin air. Then, a head and body slowly appeared in a cloud of lavender mist. A purple-haired cat-beastman appeared before you, tail swishing around gracefully as he smoked a long hookah.

The cat looked at you for some time in silence, his face obscured by the thick purple mist he was smoking. At last, he took the hookah out of his mouth, and addressed Trey in a languid voice. "My~ You guys are really giving our rose a headache!"

The smoke cleared to reveal a familiar face grinning at you.

"Che'nya?! You're here too?!" You gasped.

"Yes~ Hello, there. Alchemi Alchemivich Pinka at your service," He bows.

"I have to say! It's great to see you here, your highness!" Che'nya chortled, floating up into the air and spinning around playfully. "Your husband turned the entire kingdom upside down looking for you."

Jolting, you pressed your palm flat to your chest in shock. "M-My husband?!"

"Yesss~" Che'nya drawled, floating around without a care in the world. "Your queen has gone mad ever since you've gone, your highness."

"My queen?!" Is your bewildered response.

"Yes, your majesty. Erm...the 'queen' is a he." Trey confirmed. "Queen Rosehearts has been in a state of panic since you've disappeared weeks ago."

Nodding along, Che'nya gestures to the bright red ring on your hand. You gape at the jewel, eyes ripped wide open. Where did that come from? What is with you and random jewelry popping out of nowhere? No, most importantly—you were married to Riddle?!

You tilt your head up, meeting everyone's eyes in a panicked state.

"This is a dream," Slowly backing away, you cradled your head in your hands. The gravity of the situation you were in was finally sinking in.

As you guessed, this was an extremely lucid and well-crafted dream. It had to be a dream. What other reason was there?

Most likely, you were in the forest right now, having fallen unconscious after tripping over that branch. Yes, truly, you must have hit your head somewhere.

In a daze, you gestured to the world around you. "Yes. Yes, this is a dream."

With that logic in mind, you were safely held inside the comforting quarters of your own head. 

"You!" You bellow and point a rigid finger at Deuce. The poor boy tensed up, fear striking him like thunder as you moved towards his incapacitated frame. Grabbing onto the collar of his shirt, you pulled him towards you and spat out an order,

"Punch me." 

Instantaneously, his horror-stricken expression melts into one of confusion. You want him to do what now?

"Erm.." Deuce furrows his brows, closes his eyes and clutches his chin, pondering. 

Surely, it was against the law to punch the Queen's Rose? If Riddle got the slightest whiff of what he's done, he's a dead man. Then again, disobeying direct orders from royalty was also a crime, was it not? 

He was torn.

Deuce sighs, moistening his lips as he meets your frenzied gaze. Ah, well...either way, this was a lose-lose situation for him.

"A-As you wish." Raising his arm, he smashed a rough fist against your cheek. The blow caused your head to violently whip back as you stumbled to the ground. 

Minutes pass and yet, to your chagrin, apart from the growing bruise on your cheek, nothing has changed. You blink incessantly, brows drawn tight together. 

"That's odd. Punching usually does the trick." You murmur, concurrently confused and dizzy. Trey helped you up and considered your condition with reckoning eyes. "Your majesty, have you hit your head somewhere? Or maybe you're sick? You're acting...odd."

"Oh, well—First off, I fell down a rabbit hole. Then there were pillows, tiny doors—and-and other things I can't even make sense of!" You gestured grandly around, acting out the various things you've experienced but Trey doesn't seem to appreciate your ramblings, continuing to stare at you like you were a madman. 

You huff and scoured the vast open gardens as if you could find the culprit who had created this insane world. "This is all so insane, weird, a-and—and mad!”

"Oh, your highness, everyone here is mad. Especially you~!" Che'nya cackled, throwing his head back in amusement. He floated towards you, wrapping his lithe tail around your waist. "Ah, but while I do enjoy the little show you're putting on. We really have to get you back to the castle. Can't really have our kingdom's rose wandering around the forest with memory loss, hm?"

In a snap of his fingers, a map appeared before you.

"This, your highness, is the Red Castle. That's where you reside." Che'nya tapped his fingertip against the very center where an illustration of a castle was shown. It was quite nicely done, nearly to the point of obsessive architectural intricacy.

"Trey, I trust you'll take them there?" Che'nya purrs, head tilting to the side, knuckles pushing up against his cheek.

"Of course. I'll make sure you return home safe, your majesty." Trey responded, one of his bunny ears swiveling. 

Once again, he checked his watch, anxiety gripping him as a trickle of sweat dripped down onto the glass frame. After a while, he pocketed it and reached his hand out to you. "We must leave now. I'm already running late for the unbirthday party. The opening ceremony starts in 3 hours..."

'Curious and curiouser...This is not so bad a dream,' you thought as you intertwined your fingers with his. 'Perhaps I should stay a while.'

ACT III: A WATCHFUL EYE

"Hey! Bunny—We really had to go this way?" Ace groaned, holding onto the train of your skirt as to not sully it on the dirt ground.

"It's the quickest way to the castle. You know we can't waste any more time." Trey pressed, directing your group deeper into the woods. 

"Yeah, yeah! You told me that earlier. I just don't get why I gotta follow? That cat-guy dipped the moment we stepped a foot into this place." Ace pouted, kicking a nearby pebble away.

"Oh, is that so? Well then, feel free to go back." Trey scorned, taking the train of your dress away from Ace's hands and grasping it in his own. "It's not like I'm forcing you to come along. Surely that would make you happier?"

"Fine by me!" The ginger scoffed, crossing his arms and proceeding to go the other way.

Rolling his eyes, Trey pressed a hand by your back and continued guiding you through the forest. Only for you to come to a halt, digging your heels to the ground. "Wait."

"Your majesty?" The bunny noticed how your eyes flickered to Ace's retreating form briefly, concern swimming around your bright orbs. 

"Will he be alright? I'm not so sure he even remembers where we came from..." You sighed. "We can't really leave him behind. Especially in this forest, of all places."

Trey stays silent, a warm smile spreading across his cheeks. Ah, so the tales were true. Tales of the Queen's Rose and their never-ending compassion. Hearsay's of how they pardon offenders sent to the dungeon cells or to the pillory of a guillotine.

"Don't worry, your majesty," Trey chuckled. "He'll be crawling after us in a few minutes."

Shaking your head, you grimaced. "If you say so."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"That damn bunny. Makin' me go into this creepy place." Ace seethed through gritted teeth, stomping back from where he came from. "Like hell I'm wasting my time helping that crazy missy."

As he trudged through the dirt pathway, a branch cracked in the far distance and he froze. Fear gripped him in it's grasp as a cool chill seeped into his bones, creeping all the way up to his spine. 

Ahm...was it just him, or was the sky darker now?

Gulping, Ace's eyes darted around the forest. The wind howled and screeched, the tall decaying branches of rotting trees reached out to him like talons, and the gloomy shadows in the distance morphed into twisted, deformed faces.

Yeah, no. He was out.

"O-Oi! Guys, on second thought, a hike is just what I need!" Ace disputes, struggling for breath as he chased after you. "Guys?!"

As Ace skittered after you, he was completely oblivious to the ominous gaze pinned to his back. 

Obscured behind a cluster of trees, a raven, perched atop a log, looked straight at your group with a lidded stare—unblinking and as still as a statue.

Once you were all out of it's sight, the raven spread it's wings and took off into the sky. It soared through the woodlands, fleetly gliding around the large trees of a forest and wide grassy plains before reaching the Queen's domain.

Grey mist and thin fog cut through the streets of the kingdom while a looming feeling of dread permeated through the air. The past few weeks of searching have not been merciful to the people, it seems. Everyone has felt the full effect of the rose's disappearance.

Once the bird reached the territory of the Red Castle, it swoops and dips down to a balcony. The Knave of Knights stood by his desk in his bedroom, reading over letters and declarations from the Queen. Just a few beheadings to schedule here and there, nothing too difficult.

The loud flap of wings drew his attention away from the desk. A leering smirk stretches across his face as he stands and leisurely strolls over to the bird.

"Birdie~ Back so soon? Have you found them?" He purrs, cocking his head. The leather pads of his glove stroke lightly at the crow's head as it squawks a response. "Hmm~? The queen's favorite trio of lunatics is taking her here?"

Chucking, the Knave clasped his hands around his sallet—lazily pulling his helmet off and allowing his ginger hair to cascade down his shoulders. The iron of his cuirassier plate armor glinted under the glare of the sun, refined and battle-scarred though peculiarly lavishly decorated. It seemed to serve more as a fashion statement than actual protection.

"Well then~ Let's go pay Queen Red a visit, lil' Cay-Cay." Cater muses, scratching the side of his cheek.

"Hopefully that rabbit can handle it. It's going to be MY head on the pillory if she doesn't return home safe."

ACT IV: STRAWBERRY JAM

"SOMEONE HAS TAKEN THREE OF MY TARTS!"

The doors to the throne-room thrash open, smashing hard against the walls. Servants and soldiers alike startled, groveling in fear as they forced their gaze towards the entryway. In all his full glory, the Red Queen appears, adorned in his usual white dress suit. 

His face was tinted in a deep bloody red, pupils dilated into mere pin-pricks, and thin lips stretched out into a snarl. The wisps of his lashes cast a bold shadow across his plump cheekbones, the brush of scarlet eyeshadow above his eyes intensifying his scornful gaze.

Card soldiers frantically scramble to line up by the pathway as Riddle prowls around the room, his signature cape tossed over his left shoulder, dragging along the floor as he went. Snarling, he points his golden scepter to a soldier standing by the end of the line. "Was it you?!"

"N-No my queen..." 

"You?!" Riddle bellows, swiveling his scepter to point to one of your handmaids this time. Whimpering, she shook like a leaf in her shoes, wringing a washcloth tight in her hands. "I-It w-was not me, my queen."

A sudden movement, on the fringes of his peripheral vision, caught his attention. Turning around, his gaze was drawn to a chef standing near the door. The boy appeared to be no more than fifteen years old. Riddle assumed he was a mere apprentice.

The chef popped his fingers in his mouth, seemingly humming at it's taste. How...odd.

Squinting his eyes, Riddle strides towards the apprentice. He approached the boy, pushing him back until his back was flush against the window's tinted glass panes.

"And how about you...?" Riddle seethes, leaning down close to the chef's face. A wobbly grin presents itself on the boy's lips as he stutters out a greeting. 

"Tsk." Tutting, Riddle places his scepter below the apprentice's chin, flicking the boy's gaze up. His crimson eye darts to the side of the chef's lips where a smidge of jam could be faintly seen. 

"Miscreant." Riddle snarls, dragging the boy forward by his apron. Falling forward, the subject scrapes his skin against the floor—a look of horror seeping onto his face as he kneels before his queen. 

"OFF WITH HIS HEAD." Riddle screams, slamming the bottom of his scepter onto the ground which discharged a burst of magic. A collar manifested itself around the chef's neck, so heavy that it weighed his entire upper body down—making him fall.

Panicking, he writhed around on the ground but could not muster enough strength to bring his head up due to the sheer weight of the restraints.

"No! Please!" Indifferent to the pleads of his victim, Riddle scoffs and struts towards his throne, heels noisily clicking against the marble. Moving swiftly, a pair of soldiers grabbed the offender by his arms, dragging him out of the room. As the screaming crook was taken out, the doors shut close with a resounding bang.

"My apologies for the disturbance." Sighing, Riddle reclines against his throne, cape draped across his shoulder and cascading down to his lap. Grumbling, he pushes his hair back—half-lidded gaze piercing through the crowd before him.

"All of you return to your previous duties." He orders. Though hesitant, gradually, the servants resumed to their previous tasks around the castle, toiling silently as to avoid further aggravating the Red Queen. 

Riddle sighs and sinks onto his throne, rubbing at the scorch in his eyes. The warm beaming light of the sun cascaded down his flushed face as he reflected over his previous actions

Was he too harsh with his punishment? After all, you've always resented the way he dealt with delinquents so...intently.

Riddle sighs, tilting his head back. Perhaps he should have—

A frown etched itself deep onto his cheeks. 

No. That chef deserved every bit of punishment sent his way. It was a general and well-known rule in the castle that no one must consume the tarts baked in preparation for an unbirthday party. Only a fool would forget it. 

"It was justified," He huffs. "I am clearly in the right," Riddle consoles himself. 

Behind the draping crimson curtains of the throne room, a tall figure steps out—adorned in a full suit of armor. The Red Queen glances at the stranger, immediately recognizing the tangerine strands peeking out through the openings of his helmet.

"Knave." Riddle murmurs, addressing Cater with a simple glare. Unfazed, Cater bows with a cheery grin before striding over to the queen's side. Plopping himself onto the arm of the chair, Cater leans down to wrap an arm around Riddle. "Hiya~!"

"That was certainly the performance of a lifetime earlier. It was theatre worthy!" The Knave snickers, eyes sweeping across the room, rejoicing at the horrified looks the servants send him. 

'How dare a mere knave like him act so friendly with the red queen?!' He could already hear their hushed whispers. 'Was he mad?'

'Mayhaps.' Cater chuckles, eyes turning dark.

"Anyhow~! Boy, do I have some good news for you." Cater laughs, mood switching over like a light switch. He pulls off his helmet, fanning his face with his hands. "Man, it's so hot in here. Like—Who installed the ventilation?"

Riddle clicks his tongue, pushing the knave away. "I am in no mood for your shenanigans. Come back some other time."

"Ugh, if you say so." Cater sighs, slipping off the throne and turning his back to the queen. "I guess you don't want to hear about how my little pet found your rose. Toodles!"

"What?" Riddle snaps, pulling Cater back by his arm. "Repeat that at once."

Cater smiles. 

He turns to Riddle with a cold dead look in his eyes. "Ara~? Didn't you say you weren't in the mood? Don't worry. I'll come back later. For now, I'll be on my merry way~"

"Do not test me, knave." Riddle seethes, hands coiling tight around his scepter. Cater hummed, waiting a second or so before responding. 

"Little Cay-Cay found her with the bunny and the tweedle duo. They were trekking through the forest." He rasps, toying with the half painted rose brooch on Riddle's suit pocket. "I think that little baker bunny of yours is escorting her here."

"Find them." Riddle growls, baring his teeth. Cater blinked languidly, confusion written all over his features. "Why would I do that? Like I said, they're already bringing her here—"

"I said find them!" The red queen snaps, slamming his fist down onto the arm of his throne. Cater stares at him with a passive expression, unmoving and watching Riddle's every movement carefully.

Well, this certainly ruined his plans. What a travesty.

"As you wish..." He kneels, slipping his helmet back onto his head. "...your majesty." 

ACT V: THE KNAVE

Despite the initial creepiness, it was quite nice to take a walk in the forest. 

Owls hooted and birds chirped in the darkness as golden-orange leaves fluttered in the wind. The soft cool breeze occasionally reached out to caress your cheeks. Nature was at pure harmony with each other here, melting into a single combined melody that provided your group with peaceful ambience.

"The gates are just up ahead. It'll lead us directly to the castle grounds." Trey divulged, tilting his head towards a distant outline of a castle. 

You took a deep breath and took in the crisp woodland air, letting it fill your lungs before exhaling it out. The anticipation of what was to come made your hands clammer as a wave of nervousness washed over you.

"Hi~! Oh, Miss Majesty!" The clippety-clop of hooves made its way towards you. Seated on a gigantic beauty of a black stallion, a rider halted before you. 

"Oh! U-Um..." Gasping, you gathered your skirt and stumbled back. Tilting your head up, you gazed up at the stranger, "Ah...are you some kind of royal guard?"

The mysterious armor-clad rider laughs, shaking his head. "Hmm...close to that! Actually, I'm a knave!" 

"The name is Cater Diamond. At your service." Cater bowed. His horse too mimicked his actions as it bent a knee and curtseyed before you. Giggling, you raised a hand to gently pet at the stallion's mane. It seemed to revel in the gesture as it relaxed and huffed in satisfaction.  

"Ah. Cater, I-I didn't expect to see you here." Trey fiddled with his glasses, a ruminative look on his face. The chef kept himself guarded, stepping a few feet away. Cater side-eyed him, smiling ominously. "Hiyaa~ Trey! Nice to see you and your little tweedle boys."

Deuce and Ace frowned, glaring at the smug aristocrat. Folding his arms over his chest, Trey sighed. "Yeah...nice to see you." 

"Mhm~ Now!" Cater clapped his hands. "While I really do appreciate you bringing our Miss Majesty back to the kingdom...I do believe there's an unbirthday party coming up? Well, it would be best if you commoners—Ah, excuse me—participants went ahead and started preparing."

All three had the same smoldering frown branded onto their faces. They were clearly irked at the not-so-subtle dig Cater sent their way. It’s becoming a bit of a ritual: every time the knave would meet any of them there was always some snarky comment sitting on the tip of his tongue.

"I dunno' if you're blind or anythin', but we're kinda busy." Ace scoffed, tilting his head over to you. "She still has to get into that castle." 

"Ah, about that! Don't worry~ I'll take things over and bring the rose to the castle." Cater grins at you, patting down his horse. "Miss Majesty, wouldn't you prefer riding a great stallion instead of...how horrifying...walking?"

"Oh, I really don't mind walking. I think I'll just—"

"Great!" Before you could finish your sentence, Cater leans down and wraps a firm steady arm around your bottom. You flinch, pushing your hands against his shoulders. "H-Hey!"

"Easy now, Miss Majesty." He hoists you up onto his horse, securely placing you atop the saddle. The train of your dress was now bunched up by your hips as you sat sideways on the stallion. 

"You're so relentless." You huff, smacking Cater's iron clad chest. Only to end up regretting it when your palm started to throb from the impact. Hissing, you drew your hand back.

What a surprise. Who knew hitting someone decked in full armor wasn't a good idea?

“It would be unrefined for me to leave her with someone—someone like you!” Trey bristles, dashing over to pull you off the horse but Cater was quick to shove him away.

“Oh, please, bunny. I insist,” Cater replies firmly. “You're a busy man, Trey. I—of all people—know the importance of keeping a well-ordered schedule and you know fully well how Queen Rosehearts hates being off schedule."

Trey stays silent, keeping his gaze glued to his feet.

Grinning wryly, Cater starts guiding his horse in the direction of the castle. "Well, then~ Toodles! We'll see you three at the party."

With a whip of his reins, both of you were off.

In haste, you turned your head around, bidding adieu to the trio as they waved back.

ACT VI: MAD PARTY

The journey to the castle was fairly long, yet you found yourself enjoying the sights and bustle of the city blurring past you while the people greeted you with robust gaiety and mirth.

When the clouds parted to reveal the sun, you noticed that your eyes stung as you peered up at the strangely pink sky. It wasn't the intense brightness of the sky; rather, it had a shade that brought back memories of late afternoons spent in Heartslabyul, petting pink flamingos while lying on the grass with Riddle's head on your lap.

Following unbirthday celebrations, it was routine for you two to relax while just enjoying each other's company.

Ah, that's right...the unbirthday party. In fact, now that you think about it, there was an unbirthday planned in your "reality" as well. It was the day after today, and the entire dorm was overrun with work.

A painful sting crept up your heart as you remembered the events that transpired earlier. Oh, you must have ruined Riddle's preparations...no wonder he was so livid.

The horse slowed to a stop as you reached the entryway of the castle. It was in essence of a Victorian design. With its mosaic of red cobblestone and brick, it stood there—tall and bold, as though conjured from a child's fairytale.

Cater slipped off his horse and held out a hand for you to take. "Shall we? Ah, but, you do know that your presence is mandatory at an unbirthday party?"

"Yes, I do. We shall." You smile and take his hand as he carries you off the horse, setting you down onto the ground. The knave led you to the back of the castle, where a garden—or, more accurately, a yard—was at.

A big rose-tree at the entryway drew your attention. The roses growing on it were white, but there were two gardeners at it, busily painting them red.

"How curious..." You mutter. "It's just like back in Heartslabyul..."

"Pardon? What was that, your majesty?" Cater questioned, a brow raised. You shook your head, faking a cough. "Ah—Erm—Nevermind that it was just a slip of tongue."

"Oh. Alright..." He regarded you with a skeptical look. "Well then. I'll leave you to it. I have to go fetch Queen Rosehearts."

"Do enjoy the party." With a final bow, Cater strode away, leaving you alone.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The party was bustling and filled with patricians dressed in colorful, silky lavish garbs and glimmering jewels. The majority of the men and women were dressed considerably more extravagantly than you. It was a charming small extravaganza that everyone seemed to enjoy.

They were all huddled around by a grand large banquet table, but you weren't interested in that at all.

Among the guests, you recognized Trey. He appeared to be speaking to a card soldier in a hasty, anxious manner, smiling at everything the soldier said and passing you by unnoticed. The bunny was clearly preoccupied; you decided to leave him be this time.

You turned back to the gardeners painting the rosebushes. What a very curious thing...and you went nearer to watch them.

Just as you came up to them, one of them nearly splashed you with a dash of paint. You pulled your skirt out of the way, narrowly missing a drop of red. "Oh, my!"

"Oi! Look out, Deuce! Don’t go splashing paint over like that!" You peered up at the gardeners, noticing two familiar faces.

Ace and Deuce were engaged in a heated argument, flinging their brushes and buckets around.

“I couldn’t help it! You jogged my elbow!" Deuce snarled, throwing his brush at Ace. Screeching, the ginger dodged it. "Oh yeah! That’s right, Deuce! Always lay the blame on others!”

Deuce flung down his paintbucket, and had just begun to roll his sleeves up "Say that again—” when his eye chanced to fall upon you. As you stood watching them, he checked himself suddenly. Ace looked round also, and both of them quickly bowed low. "Your majesty!"

"You know. You ought to stop fighting if you want to get this done," you mused. "Queen Rosehearts is coming, boys. Make sure to get that done or it's—"

You swiped your finger across your neck, hinting at what was to happen if the two didn't straighten up. "Off with your head."

The tweedle duo visibly tensed up. "Yes, your majesty!" They shouted, rushing back to paint the unblemished white roses. At this moment, Trey, who had been anxiously looking across the garden, called out: “The Queen is here!"

The people gathered by the entryway, and you looked round, eager to see your Queen. Murmurs and whispers spread through the crowd as the procession started.

First came a crowd of card soldiers, decked in military uniforms that were reminiscent of Heartslabyul's dorm uniforms. Then followed the Knave of Hearts, Cater was seated atop his horse, head stuck up high in the air. As he waltzed by, you could hear the murmurs and giggles of young women and men around you. Smiling, you shook your head as he winked at a flustered servantboy. 'What a charmer...'

Last of all, the trumpets blared an ear-piercing blow as the highlight of this grand procession came.

"His Imperial Majesty, His grace, His excellency, His Royal Majesty...The Red Queen, Riddle Rosehearts!"

The people round you bowed down yet you were rather doubtful whether you ought to lie down like them or approach the procession. So you stood still where you were, and waited. When the procession came by you, they all halted.

A moment of pure silence envelops the scene. Everyone in the garden gawked at you, placing you in a spotlight. A bashful smile came upon your face as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "Hi..?"

"Rose." Riddle muttered, shock radiating from his entire being. The scepter he'd been carrying was discarded on the floor carelessly as he surged towards you, dragging you into his arms. Gasping, you eagerly sank into his embrace as the surrounding crowd erupted in cheers. Riddle drew back and pressed his lips heatedly against yours, making you feel faint.

My, the Riddle in this world was certainly much more forward than the one in yours.

"Oh, my dear." Riddle swoons, raising your hands and pressing his lips against your knuckles. "Dearest, I've been worried sick. I thought you'd gone forever."

Heart melting, you whispered, "Well, I'm here now.", and traced the side of his face.

Riddle leaned against your touch; He tucked his arm affectionately into yours and pulled you in to join the procession.

As you soon noticed, you were walking by Trey, who was peeping anxiously at a paper.

"Hello, Trey" You greeted. "—where’s Che'nya?"

“Hush!” He said in a low, hurried tone. He looked anxiously over at Riddle who was preoccupied with adjusting the large bow to your dress. Trey leaned over, putting his mouth close to your ear as he whispered "Che'nya is under sentence of execution."

“What for?” You hushed, eyes wide as a plate. Trey opened his mouth to speak but before he could—you were pulled off into the croquet grounds by Riddle.

"What a lovely day for croquet. Don't you think, rose?" Riddle smiled, pressing his lips against your knuckles once more. He pulled you forward, chest flush against yours as his hands rest against your hips. Stammering, your cheeks burned up at his bold affections. "O-Oh! Yes! Very much! Though I don't know if I have the energy for a game right now."

"Alright then. Feel free to rest a while." Riddle seats you down a round table filled with pastries. Riddle discards his cape, revealing the handsome the 3-piece suit he had underneath.

The queen plucks a rose from a nearby bush and nips away its thorns. He presses a fleeting kiss against your lips whilst threading the rose into your hair. "Stay here, dearest. I'll be back."

ACT VII: OFF WITH HIS HEAD

Well...the croquet game wasn't going so well. The players all played at once without waiting for turns, overeager to get Riddle's attention. They quarreled all the while and ran around scrambling for the hedgehogs and flamingos.

It was complete anarchy.

The very thing Riddle hated.

In a very short time the Queen was in a furious passion, and went shouting “Off with his head!” or “Off with her head!” roughly once every minute. You become overwhelmed in the midst of this mayhem and fled to the safety of the banquet table. There weren't many individuals present. Only a few people lingered and loitered around.

Pouring yourself tea, a hand suddenly wraps around yours as purple mists surrounds you. A second later, a grin appears. "Hello, your majesty."

"Che'nya!" Now fully visible, the cat stops smoking his hookah and blows smoke in your face. "We meet again."

Coughing, you swat the smoke away. "Ufh— Y-Yes! How are you?! I heard you were sentenced to be executed!"

"Oh yes," Che'nya yawned, resting his head atop the banquet table. "I escaped the guards. Queen Rosehearts didn't like it when I took his crown."

"You took his crown?!" You screamed out a little laugh and Che'nya grinned madly. "Yes~ Oh, you should've seen his face when he realized it was missing! It was like a strawberry about to explode! Ah—but you seem quite down. What is the matter?"

“It's the croquette game,” You began, in rather a complaining tone, “Everyone is quarrelling so dreadfully and Riddle's temper has exploded again.”

“Hmmm. Tell me, how do you tolerate the Queen?” said the Cat in a low voice. "Seeing that you're married to him and all, silly girl."

“Well, tolerate is a mean word. He's not all that bad,” You soothed, fiddling with the rose in your hair: "I think you’d take a fancy to him if you could only see just how caring he is."

"People will always look at their lovers with a love-tinted gaze." Che'nya purrs, leaning his head atop yours. "Prime example being you, silly girl~"

"How dare you speak to her that way."

Just then you noticed that Riddle was close behind you, listening. Jolting, you moved away from the cat and accidentally dropped your tea cup. The piece of china clattered to the ground, spilling its contents all over the green grass. Paying no mind to the mess, the queen pulled you towards him, protectively shielding you from the cat.

"I remember you. You're the thief. Tell me, how did you manage to worm your way in here?" Riddle pointedly snaps. "I'll have you know this breaks a rule in the—"

“A cat may look at a king,” interrupts Che'nya, smoking his hookah. "That is the only rule I've bothered to remember and I’ve read that in some rulebook, but I don’t remember which one. There's so many dreadful rules. How do you manage to memorize it all? Ah—apologies—I forget that you have such a big head."

With every passing comment from the cat, Riddle's fury simmered and grew anew. The cat looked up at the royal with a wide grin.

"You are brilliant and astute," he slurred, while Riddle neither acknowledged nor protested the remark. "Yet you are a tyrant and that rose of yours is a willing little sheep."

A deafening silence soon followed. The shock locked Riddle's bones together; a coldness seeping into his bones, making his skin feel akin to ice as his chest filled with hostility and ire. You felt a muscle underneath your throat tighten, but you gave both men a quick nervous smile and nudged Riddle to the side. "O-Oh darling, let's go somewhere else. Maybe you'd like to sit down? I-It's so hot and—"

"Sheep? A sheep you say?" Riddle barks, his hands clenched into fists—trembling at his sides. You wanted to calm him, but did not have the opportunity to do so as his voice cut through the thick tension in the air.

"Why it would be the very height of your arrogance to presume." Riddle seethes, pointing his scepter at the cat. The queen's eyes glowed an immense red, magical energy swirling around him. "As punishment for your crimes...it's off with your head. I'm going to tear your head off with my bare hands if I have to."

"You can try~" Che'nya grinned.

The Cheshire cat lunged towards Riddle, tossing the queen's scepter away. It all moved so quickly that your eye could barely follow the sudden shift of repressed anger to outright violence.

They had gone down to the grass together, knocking the banquet table over, spilling the pastries and tea to the ground. Riddle sagged him by the shoulders, fist smashing against the cat's face. Che'nya's lip had split, and drops of blood fell onto the lawn like the strawberry jam of smashed tarts. 

In the midst of the fight, a glimmering object in Che'nya's hands caught your eye. You saw him grab a stray knife, pastel blue frosting still spread on it, and the sight of it shocked you into action.

"NO!"

ACT VIII: THROUGH THE WINDOW

"NO!" You scream, half of fright and half of anger, and kicked your legs around. Startling yourself awake in a fit, you found yourself lying on top of a clinic bed, limbs soaked in sweat—the smell of alcohol and anti-septics sobering you up. "Wh-What?"

All of a sudden, warm hands cupped your damp cheeks. You met Riddle's worried gaze as he wiped your tears away. The dorm leader slipped into the chair next to your bed, pushing you to lie down. "It's just a nightmare, dearest."

Your gaze flitted around the room, stopping once you saw something shimmering on your bedside table. The tiara was discarded to your side; Its once luminous blue gem was now gone, leaving an empty space in its wake. Looking down, you found yourself in your paint-stained uniform, skin feeling awfully crusty from the dry paint.

'It was just a dream...?' you ponder.

"What's the matter? Please tell me what's wrong." Riddle fussed over your disheveled appearance. Your face perspired with sweat and your hair was a tumble about your shoulders; He combed it with his fingers, careful to not pull at any tangles and knots. "Rose? Dearest? Are you alright?"

No, you wanted to say. It was hard to breathe, and there was a thick, unpleasant feeling weighing down your heart. It made your head spin. Riddle ran a hand up and down your back as you took a deep, shaky breath, trying to reorient yourself. Despite the apprehension in your chest, you gave a single nod to your worried lover. "Yes. I'm just shaken up."

"Love.."

"Everythings fine." You force out. Though, you’re really saying it to yourself. You can't stop the aching in your chest and you surely can't silence the echo of his ruthless words replaying in your mind.

"Oh, dearest." Riddle murmured, his heart breaking.

The redhead slips in bed with you, dragging you in the comfort and safety of his arms. He sighs in relief when you don't push him away, instead scooting over to press against him. The smell of his cologne invades your senses, grounding you as he rests his head against yours. "I am so sorry. I have been too hard on you."

"When Ace found you passed out in the forest, I was beside myself with anguish...." Guilt washed over his face. The dorm leader had no use for pride, not now when you were in this condition. He hopes that his apology, meager though it has been, will be enough.

"Had-Had I known you were sick, I wouldn't have been so—I deeply apologize. I should not have let my anger get the best of me. I was a fool to get so heated over something as simple as spilled paint. I hadn't even checked if you were alright." Riddle mutters.

"I'm sorry too. Though, I'm just glad it's over." You breathed out, resting against his chest. Then you regarded him with a pointed stare. "Humph. You have to make it up to me, though."

"Of course. Thank you, rose." Riddle hesitates for a moment and then, brazenly, leans forward and gives you a quick peck on the lips.

“Oh! How bold~” You tease with a wry grin, giggling madly like a Victorian lady who just held hands with her lover for the very first time. Riddle flushes, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Shaking his head, he composes himself, coughing into the sleeve of his shirt. "Am I not allowed to show you affection?"

"Oh no, I adore it." Chuckling, you reached out your hand, and Riddle eagerly took it. He pressed his lips against your forehead as you stared out the window in front of you.

While the sun sank, the sky was tinged with bleeding reds and violets. You spent the next several minutes wondering whether what you'd just witnessed was truly a 'dream' when you saw a strange appearance in the air. That baffled you at first, but after observing it for a minute or two, you realized it was a sharp toothed-grin.

Sitting on a bough of a tree a few yards off was Che'nya. When he smoked his hookah and blew smoke about himself, a purple magical mist encircled him. The Cheshire cat grinned at you with a split lip before fading away.

How curious.

—TAGLIST:

꒰ ♡🧷: this is a series! to be tagged, comment here. if you want to be tagged for ALL of my works, comment here

@keedas @spadecentral @crypticbibliophile @pastellepastary @cassidycampfire @cocomollo @poisonioushearts @kawaiipotatoghost @ramvuda @sweeneyblue1 @the-lost-anime-dad@kyraxiyn @mayaaaeo  @tbhyknow  @eeveelutiontrainerr  @jelsah27 @as-the-moon-blooms  @bonleyweeb @ch0c0shortiie @unspokenlly

[incorrecttom]

They would always wipe your tears after an argument. It was because they would feel guilty - as to they made you shed tears of sadness or anger rather than joy.

It hurts them when you cry and they hate it when they are the reason. They don't want you to cry- They want you to be happy.

But how could that be when they are the reason you are crying? How could they not feel guilty?

And they pamper you with gifts, no not because they simply don't want to apologize. But more so to show they do care, they do not know how to express it.

Their guilt always gets the better of them - thinking that this might be their last time to stay with you. So, they always give you, so you have enough.

Because, who would want to stay with someone who upsets their lover?

And you always comfort them, that it was both of your fault, that it's fine. That things will be fine. But their head always spins on what ifs. What if you leave them like almost everyone?

Oikawa | Atsumu | Bakugou | Lucifer | Diavolo | Malleus | Azul | Riddle | Satan |

[justyoureverydaytwstsimp]

was going to make a "you with your least fav character" with this, but Riddle's hair was on the female's and I couldn't help myself.

[azulashengrottospiano]

Congratulations on 1k! ❤️❤️❤️

May I have riddle + 🥹 (emojis are so funny to me idk why help—)

thank you!!!! <333

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS + 🥹 (1k event details)

~~~~~

“Welcome back, Riddle.”

Riddle gapes as you reach for him, hand encircling his wrist so gently as you pull him into his dorm room. The door shuts quietly behind the two of you and it’s like his voice has left his body because he can’t make out a single word.

“I ran a bath for you. It’s strawberry scented. There are small tarts on a tray next to your bed with one of your favorite teas. I made sure to make it when I thought you would be getting back, so it’s still hot.” you say, all while petting his hair and pressing kisses to his face that make him feel so loved and—oh dear, he’s terribly red now, isn’t he?

“Ah…thank you.” he chokes out, ducking his head to hide behind his hair.

He sniffles.

You stop talking and he freezes, wondering when he started crying.

“Oh, sweetheart…” you murmur, taking him into your arms, “What happened?”

He doesn’t know how to answer that question. He doesn’t know how to say that your care is everything to him and that he can’t handle it sometimes. He doesn’t know how to say he loves you with everything he has and everything he is because he doesn’t know if you can handle that.

And so he lets you wrap your arms around him and hold him like he's precious, because that's all he wants to be to you.

[olivyh]

omg!??! Your work is so entertaining!! U deserve more attention! u are very good at writing angst, amazing!!!! I dont know how to explain it while reading ur work, i felt very amused and satisfied ! Very pleasing written story!! In my eyes, ur work is unique

Absolute obsessed with ur ruggie x reader and leona x reader, secretly hoping for more stuff like these

Could u please do riddle x reader angst to comfort/fluff if u have free time ?

Thank you so much <<33!!!!!! I also love, LOVE the different colors in this request- it makes my brain vvvv happy because it's bright!!!!!!!!! I also love the fact that people are actually requesting angsty things because it gives me an excuse to do character analysis' and fanfics at the same time <<333 enjoy!

TW: Mentions of abuse, slight panic attacks

Riddle was not always treated with cruelty. He was pampered the first few months of his life, being treated with care by the maids and the servants. 

He remembered being told that, when he was a newborn, even his mother was doting and affectionate. He was told how she would read him stories every night, she would rock him gently when he was getting too fussy and would whisper into his small ears while he whines and whimpered, small, pale face turning red from the hungered wailing. Oftentimes, he would lie awake at night and try to remember those days, try to feel the way her soft hands would feel as they stroked his chubby cheeks. 

Riddle would find his mind wandering during those endless lessons, racing to find any explanation as to why she'd stopped treating him with such care, why she'd decided that she would no longer act as a mother, but as a tyrant.

Even as a child, he would hold his own hands up to his face and caress his soft skin, trying to desperately pretend that they were hers as he rubbed them up and down. His own hands even felt too cold against his face, the chill sending shivers down his spine. 

It was all wrong. His hands were always too small, and his shoulders ached from how long he held the uncomfortable position. His thumbs would never run over his forehead in the way he'd imagined hers to, and his hands were far too calloused to even attempt to compare to her own. He would lower his hands to his sides and bunch them in the soft silk of his blankets, gritting his teeth as he stared at the ceiling with blurred vision and muffled sniffles that sounded all too loud in the vastness of his childhood bedroom. 

He would often comfort himself in the way he'd imagined her to, positioning his pillows to resemble a person's torso and resting his head against it, wrapping his arms around the center of it and trying not to squeeze too hard in fear of ruining the fragile fantasy he'd created. He would imagine her playing with his hair softly, tried to desperately imagine the feeling of her chest rising and falling with breaths that would come out as delicate birdsong, twirling through the air with the goal of putting the boy to rest with a peaceful sleep. She would rub his shoulders and back as he cried, hushing him and pulling the blanket tighter around the both of them. He would pretend that the blood rushing through his ears was her heartbeat as it pounded in her chest, that the loose fabric of the pillowcase was her nightgown as he gripped onto it for dear life and tried to muffle his sobs to hide it from any curious ears walking past his door. 

Some days he would even imagine his father coming home late from one of his many business trips and sitting on his opposite side, fixing the blankets and speaking to his mother in hushed, loving tones as Riddle drifted off into a peaceful sleep. 

Riddle had gotten used to laying down on his sleeve, knowing all too well that the servants would notice the dried tear stains and the stains of his runny nose on the pillow when they would clean his bed sheets. He knew better than that. He would lay on his sleeve and cry until his mind and body were too exhausted to continue through the night, then he would wake in the morning and wash off his sleeve before crawling back into bed silently and pretending to be asleep until his nanny came in and woke him up for the day. 

He'd fallen into this same routine at NRC, with an added layer of sorrow when he would pass by friend groups who grew silent at the sound of his heels clicking against the marble. Their laughter would bounce off the walls and would send a mysterious pang that shook him to the core and made his knees weak and his eyes watery. He felt as though he were an outsider to this strange new world, as though he were a puzzle piece that did not create a whole picture, no matter how much he tried. 

He was lonely, he'd decided. He was lonely and bitter, and so unbearably cold that he wanted to sit beside the fireplace and never leave despite knowing all too well that even the suffocating heat of the flame could not thaw the ice that had settled in his bones. 

Riddle was used to the isolation that came with his house, how it would never truly feel like a home no matter what he did to make himself as comfortable as possible. He was used to spending endless days in his study, barely seeing the sunlight until his skin had paled to the extent where he could crane his neck and see the delicate blue veins that traced patterns beneath his thin skin. The darkness crept around every corner, was buried within the pages of every textbook and had managed to worm itself into every spell and rule that he had committed to heart. 

There was no spell to make him friends, he knew that much. 

But... nobody had taken the time to teach him the proper way to make a friend. Nobody had sat him down and given him a lesson on how to socialize properly, nobody had taught him what to do and what not to do, how to act in different situations, what is alright to say or not. Riddle was... guessing. His whole life, every interaction depended on the flip of a coin or the roll of a dice. 

That's why he truly felt terrible when he had first met the prefect. The lovely, kind prefect who had shown him nothing but generosity that he returned with a scowl and bluntness. Riddle wasn't used to this feeling within his chest, this warmth that only ever arose when he could finally speak with his peers as though they were friends. This warmth, however, was new. It was practically scalding and made his mind absolutely blank. 

It hurt him more than anything he could ever imagine. 

He was blunt and he knew his charm had failed him whenever you two spoke. Riddle knew that his words often came off as condescending or as cruel. He had never intended it to! He wanted nothing more than to sit beside them and explain with teary eyes and a heavy heart that he just didn't know how to properly express himself. 

He had somehow stumbled even closer to the prefect, hoping to, in some part, understand them better. He desperately wanted to find out everything he could about them, curiosity overtaking his senses as he soaked in every crumb of information he could get. He was greedy for the warmth that they offered to him, a warmth like no other than melted that shell around his heart and made him desperate for more, more, more.

Until he blew it. 

One moment the two were baking, and the next they stood next to him, eyes wide and clutching their hand close to their chest. Riddle stood in equal shock, jaw dropped and lower lip quivering as his mind raced to understand what had happened. He was reading off the instructions, and they were laughing at something he'd done. They'd pointed out the batter on his face and reached to brush it off with their thumb. Riddle would have fantasized that his heart was soaring and his head would be full of cotton candy, just as it's described in all the novels he may or may not have been reading. His eyes would meet theirs, and they'd both blush and chuckle as he tried to swallow the butterflies that swarmed in his stomach and crept up his throat and he could finally, finally feel the warmth of your touch against his skin- the same warmth he'd craved since he was a child. 

And then their hand met his cheek, and it all felt wrong. 

Too terribly wrong, in a way that dissolved the butterflies into acid that sunk into his heart and took his breath away as tears sprung to his eyes and his skin was itchy and burnt and his lungs struggled to take in any sort of air which left him gasping as his face pales and his ears rang as blood pounds at the vessels within it and the lights above were too bright and he was too painfully aware of the feeling of everything clinging to his skin and-

It all felt like too much.

He had, in his panic, smacked their hand away. The kitchen was silent aside from Riddle's still racing breaths as his heart sunk and his stomach clenched in a way that would have made him double over if he had not been so mortified. His mouth opened for a moment as his shaky hands scrambled to find purchase on the counter. 

"I-I'm-" He gasped, gulping and taking another few heaving breaths. "I'm so sorry-"

"Riddle, it's-" The prefect begins. He slams his eyes shut and raises his hands from the counter, running off with wobbly legs before they could finish their sentence. He raced until he made it to his room, collapsing against the door and panting until his lungs ached and burned. He grew desperate for air as he used the chill of the hardwood floor to ground himself, mind racing over what had just happened. A pit in his stomach formed and deepened the more he played it over and over, tears welling in his eyes as he hiccupped silently, holding his knees close to his chest and weeping into them. 

Perhaps, he thinks bitterly, the words swimming in his mind, perhaps I'm not meant for love after all. 

Riddle hardly thinks he deserves it after what he'd done, his actions reminiscent of his mother's whenever he would slack or slow down in his studies. He felt sick to his stomach as the world around him spun and he tried to desperately bite back the nausea that crept up his throat.

"Riddle?" A knock on the door sounds, making him jolt. The sound of the prefect and their concern makes his heart deflate just as quickly as it had swelled. He ponders telling them to leave, to never come back, but he can't trust his voice. 

And he can't trust his heart to not betray him in that split second. 

"I'm sorry," He mumbles into his knees, just loud enough for them to hear him through the door. 

"Can I see you?" They ask quietly, and he can hear how their voice sinks closer to the ground. He could practically picture them lowering themselves to talk to him more clearly, putting themselves on equal ground with him. Why? He wonders. Why me?

"Not right now," He whispers, voice breaking as more warm tears stream down his porcelain face. They're silent for a moment on the other end, and he would have assumed that they'd left would it not be for the rustling of fabric as they make themselves comfortable on the other side of the door. 

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched you without your permission..." They're quiet, and their voice sounds remorseful, a realization that makes Riddle's tears stream faster down his face and drip onto the soft cotton of his uniform. He was a monster, a tyrant, so why? Why are they choosing to give him their kindness and share their light with him?

"No," He sighs. "I should be apologizing. I should never hit you. I-I never wanted to-" His voice betrays him once more as he hiccups, breaths catching on the words that tear through his throat. "I really wanted you do to that, really." The confession would normally make his heart race and his face flush a bright red, but his heart was too heavy to soar as it was supposed to. "I wanted it to be perfect."

"Perfect?"

"It hurt, being touched so gently," Finally, he was able to choke out the words that had been lodged in his throat since day one. Admitting it out loud made it seem more real, adding another stab of sorrow into his heart as he chokes back a sob. "I wanted to..." he can't seem to finish his sentence as he swallows thickly and takes a shaky breath. 

"It's okay, Riddle," He can hear the love in their voice from the other side of the door, and the stream of tears lessens ever so slightly. "We can take our time with it."

"You don't deserve that," He decides firmly. "I-I truly like you, but...I can't love."

"Let yourself be loved," They practically demand, making the boy jump as his breath catches. "You think you're this terrible person when you're not that at all. You're hurt, and you're confused," He wants to wail, to scream at them and beg them to stop, but at the same time... 

They understood. They were finally seeing him as he always wanted to be seen, they were telling him the truth of who he was- of who Riddle Rosehearts was and not just Riddle of the Rosehearts family.  

"You're not going to hurt me," They're silent against the door, and the redhead finds himself leaning further back and hoping to feel the warmth of their body press seep through the mahogany door. He swallows once more, wiping at his tears as he stares up at the ceiling, focusing only on the prefect's steady breaths on the other side of the door. "I know you're scared but...I promise that you could never hurt me."

"I just did."

"I overstepped a boundary. I- you were scared, I saw it. I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing!" He sniffles. "You never did anything wrong."

"Then make it up to me!" They argue, taking the boy back for a moment. "Make it up by finally letting yourself be happy, Riddle! It doesn't have to be with me! You don't have to confess your love, or do anything! Shit, even if you tell me to never come back to Heartslabyul I still- I'll care, and I would be absolutely heartbroken because I love you so, so much, but... I'll understand. I just need you to promise me that you'll be happy. I need you to promise that you would allow yourself to love, and to be loved."

"I want..." He stammers before taking a breath. "I want to love you. And... to be loved by you." 

Riddle could hear their sharp intake of breath, and, in a moment of bravery, he spins his hand and slips it under the crack in the door., feeling the rough wood scrape against his hand until he was certain his fingers are visible on the other side. 

"Y-you can..." He can't finish his sentence and he hears an affirmative hum sound from the other side of the door as warm fingertips rest over his own. 

"Is this okay?" They ask. He nods slowly and hums, allowing his eyes to slip closed as he relishes in their touch. It's gentle, as though he were made of glass and any touch harder than what they were doing would break him. There was no malice, not cruelty.

He felt safe. 

"It's..." Riddle smiles softly. "Warm... it's nice."

For the first time in his life, Riddle saw a future in which he could be held in the same tender way he'd dreamt all those years ago.