#twst riddle

[solxamber]

You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: Housewardens

Riddle Rosehearts

The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood and the rustle of fabric as you flopped onto the couch with all the grace of a cat forcibly denied its favorite sunny spot.

The argument still hung in the air, an unspoken tension that neither you nor Riddle were willing to breach—at least not yet. He wasn’t wrong, not entirely, but he wasn’t right either. The impasse was as thick as the silence between you.

Determined to make a statement, you yanked the blanket off the couch arm and cocooned yourself in it, defiantly turning your back to the door. No way were you crawling back to bed tonight. Your pride wouldn’t let you. Let him stew in his perfectly fluffed, oversized bed.

Meanwhile, in his room, Riddle’s impeccable composure was fraying at the edges. He lay stiff as a board under his duvet, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to all his mistakes. His pillows seemed unusually hard, the blankets too suffocating, and no matter how he adjusted, something felt... wrong.

It didn’t take him long to figure out the culprit: you weren’t there.

He groaned softly into the darkness. Guilt clawed at his insides, sharp and relentless, each tick of the clock making it harder to bear. He’d handled things poorly—he could admit that, now that the heat of the argument had ebbed. And worse, he couldn’t bear the thought of you being upset, out there on the couch, all because of his stubbornness.

With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, he threw off his blanket and shuffled into the living room. His breath caught when he saw you.

There you were, fast asleep, your cheek smushed against the arm of the couch, one arm dangling off the side. The sight was far too adorable for the emotional train wreck he’d become. His guilt doubled.

Riddle knelt by the couch quietly, determined not to wake you. But as he crouched there, the exhaustion hit him—of the argument, the guilt, the restless tossing and turning. Maybe just sitting here would suffice. He wouldn’t disturb you.

A few minutes turned into an hour. Before he knew it, he’d slumped sideways against the couch, head lolling onto his arms, fast asleep in what had to be the most uncomfortable position imaginable.

When you stirred awake, the morning light was peeking through the curtains. Groggily, you rubbed your eyes, the previous night’s anger feeling like a distant shadow. That was when you noticed him—his normally pristine figure curled up on the floor, head resting uncomfortably close to your dangling hand.

Your chest ached at the sight. The idiot. The sweet, guilty idiot.

You reached out, brushing your fingers lightly against his hair. “Riddle,” you whispered. “Hey… wake up.”

He stirred, blinking up at you with sleep-clouded eyes, disoriented but instantly softening when he saw your face. Without a word, he shifted closer, arms wrapping around your middle as he buried his face against your stomach.

“Don’t go,” he mumbles, voice thick and quiet.

You freeze but quickly recover, leaning into his embrace. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your blanket. “I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand.”

Your throat tightened, and you found yourself carding your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry too,” you whispered. “Let’s not fight like that again.”

For a moment, the two of you just stayed like that, wrapped up in quiet forgiveness. When he finally looked up at you, there was a hesitant, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Will you come back to bed now?” he asked softly.

“Only if you promise to use it too. No more couch-floor accommodations,” you teased, pinching his cheek lightly.

“Deal,” he murmured, and together, you made your way back—closer than before, warmth filling the space where anger once was.

Leona Kingscholar

The argument had been sharp, biting, and the kind of fight where you both refused to back down. Storming out of the bedroom felt dramatic enough to match the vibe, so you grabbed a blanket, stomped to the living room, and threw yourself onto the couch with the weight of your indignation. “Fine,” you muttered into the cushions. “Let him have the stupid bed. I don’t care.”

And at the time, you didn't. You were replaying his snarky remarks and cursing his stubborn attitude. But the couch was lumpy, the blanket too short, and sleep came grudgingly after what felt like hours of stewing.

When you finally woke, disoriented and achy, something felt...off. For starters, you weren’t on the couch anymore. You were in the bed, wrapped snugly in the comforter that still carried Leona’s scent.

Blinking against the sunlight, you sat up, confusion clouding your thoughts. At the foot of the bed was the blanket you’d dragged out last night, now neatly folded like some taunting symbol of Leona’s existence.

And Leona himself? Missing.

You slid out of bed and wandered to the living room, where the answer to your mystery lay sprawled across the couch. The sight of him, however, made your irritation waver.

Leona was far too large for the couch. His long legs hung over the edge at weird angles, and one arm was slung over his face to block the light filtering through the curtains. He looked wildly uncomfortable, but his usual arrogance softened in sleep, his face peaceful and unguarded.

It didn’t take a genius to piece it together. He must have carried you to bed sometime in the night, only to exile himself to the lumpy couch. The guy could be maddeningly stubborn, but this... this unexpected gesture had you torn between wanting to yell at him or simply kissing him awake.

Ultimately, you decided to settle for the middle ground.

Crouching next to the couch, you reached out and brushed the stray strands of hair from his face. Before you could withdraw, one eye cracked open, and a lazy grin spread across his lips.

“Caught ya,” he drawled, voice rough from sleep.

You raised an eyebrow. “You moved me to the bed, didn’t you?”

He huffed, clearly uninterested in owning up to the sentimentality of it. “Couldn’t leave you out there whining in your sleep.”

“I wasn’t whining!” you protested, even though your cheeks were burning.

“Sure you weren’t,” he replied smoothly, grabbing your wrist before you could retreat. With a sharp tug, he pulled you down, practically pinning you against him. “Don’t see the big deal. You’re mine, aren’t ya? ‘Course I’m gonna take care of you.”

The casual way he said it didn’t make it any less sincere.

You sighed, melting into his warmth despite yourself. “I hate how sweet you can be when I’m trying to stay mad at you.”

His smirk widened, and he tucked you closer, burying his face in your hair. “Didn’t mean to piss you off,” he murmured against your temple. “But you’re not leaving this couch till we make up. Deal?”

You rolled your eyes, but your voice softened. “Deal.”

As the tension melted away and his arms tightened around you, the couch didn’t seem quite so lumpy anymore. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad place to be.

Azul Ashengrotto

The argument had been tense, the kind where you both said things you probably shouldn’t have. Frustrated and too stubborn to stay in the same space as Azul, you grabbed a pillow and marched out to the couch. He’d barely tried to stop you, his pride seemingly keeping him rooted in the bedroom.

But pride was a fickle thing, and now you were left trying to fall asleep on the stiff cushions. Every creak of the floorboards made you feel a little guilty, knowing exactly who it was.

You didn’t even need to look; you could feel Azul’s presence lingering in the doorway, his usual composure clearly absent. The sound of shuffling footsteps returned to the bedroom, and you thought maybe he’d finally leave you alone—only to hear those same footsteps inch closer again a minute later.

"Azul, I know you're there," you muttered, cracking an eye open and turning toward the doorway. Sure enough, there he was, peeking out. His glasses caught the faint glow of the hallway light, and he immediately froze like he’d been caught stealing treasure.

“I-I wasn’t...” he started, before trailing off, clearly scrambling for an excuse.

You sighed and sat up, your frustration ebbing in the face of how uncharacteristically sheepish he looked. This was Azul Ashengrotto, the calculating businessman who could sell ice to Yetis—and yet he couldn’t even apologize without peering at you like a child who’d been scolded.

“If you’re just going to lurk there all night, we’re both going to lose sleep,” you said, finally beckoning him over with a wave.

Azul hesitated for a fraction of a second before his composure cracked, and he shuffled toward the couch. “I didn’t mean for things to escalate...” he started, sitting next to you, his head ducked low, voice soft.

You smirked despite yourself. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed, you know that?”

He bristled, his dignity rallying as he cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “I am not—”

“You’re very cute,” you interrupted, and the smallest flicker of a pout crossed his lips.

Azul looked away, a hint of color dusting his pale cheeks. “You’re the worst.”

“And you still love me,” you countered, pulling him down beside you. “Truce?”

He glanced at you, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. “Truce.”

Apologies came in murmured exchanges after that, both of you acknowledging where you’d gone wrong. You knew you’d both let pride get in the way—typical for two people as headstrong as yourselves.

Eventually, Azul’s head rested on your shoulder, his warm weight grounding you. You leaned back against the couch, and despite its discomfort, it felt perfect with him there.

“You know,” you whispered, running a hand gently through his hair, “for a guy who’s made half of Twisted Wonderland sign contracts, you really can’t stand your ground for the life of you.”

Azul huffed, turning his face into your shoulder to hide. “Do you want me to apologize again?”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Nope. I think I’ll just enjoy this.”

And with that, the two of you finally let the tension of the argument melt away, falling asleep together on the couch in an imperfect, perfectly “you and Azul” sort of peace.

Kalim Al-Asim

The argument had been uncharacteristically heated—rare for someone as sunny and easygoing as Kalim—but even he had limits, and so did you. When your stubborn streak flared, it ended with you grabbing a blanket and storming off to the couch.

“No, Kalim, I’m fine. You sleep in the bed, I’ll sleep here,” you snapped, cutting off his attempts to follow you. His face fell, but for once, he didn’t argue, retreating to the bedroom with a defeated slump of his shoulders.

You burrowed into the couch cushions, determined to stay mad, but as sleep started to claim you, the anger dulled into annoyance. It didn’t matter. He started it, you thought stubbornly, clutching the blanket tighter.

A soft rustle of fabric woke you, tugging you from the edges of sleep. Blinking groggily, you turned your head to see Kalim crouched beside the couch, carefully tucking another blanket over you. He had his tongue poking out slightly in concentration, his touch so gentle that it was clear he didn’t want to wake you.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled, voice hoarse with sleep.

Kalim flinched, looking at you like a startled puppy caught raiding the kitchen. “Oh, I—uh—I just thought you might be cold, so I…”

He trailed off, clearly expecting you to brush him off again. Instead, you sighed, your irritation melting as you realized just how ridiculous he looked, trying to coddle you even while you were angry at him.

“Come here,” you said, sitting up and pulling the blanket back a bit.

“What? No, I don’t want to—”

“Kalim.”

His protest crumbled immediately, and he slid onto the couch beside you, tucking his legs up awkwardly. You wrapped the blanket over both of you, and after a moment of stunned hesitation, Kalim relaxed into the embrace, resting his head against your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice small and earnest. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You sighed, tilting your head to rest on his. “I’m sorry too. I overreacted.”

He perked up slightly at that, his usual cheer trying to peek through. “So… does this mean you won’t sleep out here alone again?”

“You’re lucky I’m even letting you under this blanket, Asim,” you teased, though your smile softened the words.

Kalim beamed, his arms wrapping snugly around your middle. “I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me forever!”

You rolled your eyes fondly, leaning back into the cushions. The couch wasn’t exactly built for two people, but the warmth of his presence made it easy to ignore. Slowly, you both drifted to sleep, Kalim murmuring sweet nothings even as his breaths evened out.

Maybe next time, you thought sleepily, you’d just let him win.

The argument left both of you simmering in silence, which for Vil was a rarity. Instead of his usual icy composure, he seemed genuinely rattled. You, however, weren’t in the mood to care. Grabbing a blanket with theatrical flair, you stomped to the couch.

“You can have your perfectly fluffed pillows and skincare routine in peace,” you muttered, tucking yourself in with a spiteful sense of triumph.

Once comfortably cocooned, you scrolled on your phone, trying to drown out the lingering annoyance. That’s when you heard it—sharp, purposeful footsteps marching toward you.

Before you could react, Vil appeared like a vengeful storm god, looking every bit as flawless as a deity would while furious. With a huff that could make kingdoms tremble, he reached for your arm and began dragging you back to the bedroom.

“Vil, what are you—let me go! I’m fine out here!” you protested, but his grip was firm, his annoyance palpable.

Once you were unceremoniously deposited by the bed, he turned to you, pointing at your neatly made side. “You are sleeping there,” he declared.

You folded your arms. “I’m sleeping on the couch. Deal with it.”

He tilted his head, his expression a dangerous blend of frustration and disbelief. “Absolutely not. You’ve ruined my entire evening, and now you expect me to suffer further by sleeping alone?”

“Ruined? Seriously?” you shot back.

“Yes! I require my beauty sleep, and I can’t possibly get it knowing you’re out there, sulking on a couch. It’s impossible to relax without you next to me—so you, are going to have to take responsibility!”

The sheer audacity of his statement left you blinking. It was so dramatic and entirely Vil that you couldn’t help it—you laughed. Not a little chuckle, but a full-bodied, slightly wheezing laugh that made you clutch your sides.

Vil crossed his arms, arching an offended brow. “I fail to see what’s funny.”

“You,” you said between giggles. “This whole ‘it’s your fault I can’t sleep because I love you’ nonsense. You’re ridiculous.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he sighed, and once your laughter subsided, he gestured to the bed again, this time more softly. “Please. Don’t make me sleep without you.”

You relented, sliding under the blankets. As you settled in, Vil switched off the lights, the room going still.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly after a moment. His tone was sincere, lacking the sharp edges from earlier.

You shifted closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him gently against you. “I’m sorry too.”

Vil let out a contented hum, nestling into your hold. With your body heat mingling and the earlier tension dissipating, it didn’t take long for both of you to fall asleep—together, as it should be.

The argument had been rough—sharp words, bitter edges, the kind of fight that left your chest heavy. It didn’t matter how much Idia stammered his way through an apology or tried to explain his side; you weren’t ready to hear it yet. So, in an act of frustrated finality, you grabbed a blanket and retreated to the couch, refusing to spare him another glance.

Sleep came in patches, your mind replaying the fight in a loop. At some point, the dull ache in your bladder forced you to stumble toward the bathroom. On your way back, you froze, hearing quiet, panicked murmurs drifting from Idia’s room.

“Ortho, what do I do? I think I really messed up this time,” his voice wavered, thick with worry. “They probably hate me now. Like, actual hate—no respawn, no restart. I mean, who else would put up with me? I’ve completely blown it.”

You sighed, anger ebbing as guilt trickled in. You hadn’t meant to push him that far, and his usual self-deprecating spiral sounded more frayed than usual.

Pushing the door open, you caught the tail end of Ortho’s voice. “Big Brother, you should—oh!” His robotic eyes darted to you, scanning the scene. A moment later, he gave a tiny thumbs-up and practically zoomed out of the room, leaving you and Idia alone.

Idia froze when he noticed you. His shoulders hunched as if he could shrink his already wiry frame. “I-I didn’t mean for you to hear that. Sorry for being pathetic. Again.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you stepped forward and opened your arms. “Come here, you dramatic dork.”

His eyes widened, hesitation etched into every inch of his posture. When you didn’t move or drop your arms, he finally shuffled over, nervously slipping into your embrace. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him securely, and his entire body seemed to deflate as tension drained out of him.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” he admitted, voice muffled against your shoulder.

You huffed softly, rubbing his back. “Idia, I wasn’t leaving. Just... needed space to cool off. And honestly, hearing you lose your mind over it made it hard to stay mad.”

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” he mumbled, the words tumbling in an embarrassed rush. “Um, does this mean...?”

“It means I still love you,” you interrupted gently.

His grip on you tightened for a moment before he pulled back, pink dusting his cheeks and his hair glowing pink at the ends. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice so soft you almost missed it.

“I’m sorry too,” you replied, kissing his cheek and earning a startled squeak.

Together, you made your way back to bed. As you settled under the blankets, his fingers tangled hesitantly with yours. The argument seemed miles away now, replaced by the steady warmth of simply being with him.

“I’ll try to be better,” he murmured into the quiet.

“You’re already enough, Idia,” you replied, squeezing his hand.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you felt his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your knuckles, grounding both of you in the quiet comfort of reconciliation.

The argument left both of you tense, and you were too mad to deal with Malleus' brooding silence. Grabbing a blanket, you stormed off toward the couch, refusing to even glance at him. "I'm sleeping on the couch," you announced. "Goodnight."

Malleus stood frozen for a moment, processing your declaration, and you could feel his pout even with your back turned. "You do not need to sleep on the couch," he finally said.

"I'm not changing my mind," you shot back, tossing the blanket onto the couch for emphasis.

There was a brief, sulking pause. Then, he went quiet—suspiciously quiet. You peeked over your shoulder just in time to catch him crossing his arms with a look of smug triumph spreading across his face.

“Malleus—”

Before you could finish the thought, a flash of green lightning struck the couch, reducing it to a pile of ash with alarming precision. You stood there, jaw dropping as the faint smell of charred upholstery wafted in the air.

"Well," Malleus said, ever so matter-of-factly, "it seems the couch is… out of commission. A most unfortunate turn of events."

You turned to him, dumbfounded. "Did you seriously just smite your own couch?"

He looked at you expectantly, his lips pressed into an overly calm smile. "The bed is still available," he offered, gesturing toward the bedroom as though that solved everything.

Your anger reignited—if that was even possible after witnessing such sheer audacity. Without a word, you dropped your blanket onto the floor, flopping down dramatically as if making it your personal mission to out-stubborn a dragon fae.

He stared at you in bewilderment, clearly expecting a different outcome. For a long moment, he didn’t move, as though trying to process your act of defiance. Then, with an audible sigh, he finally caved.

“Alright,” he said softly, crouching to your level. His eyes held a rare vulnerability. “I… overreacted. I apologize for upsetting you.”

You bit back a smirk, pretending to be unimpressed even as you felt your resolve softening. "I wasn’t thrilled about it, yeah."

Malleus tilted his head, something of a pout returning to his expression. “Will you come back to bed, then? The floor hardly befits someone so precious to me.”

“Only if you promise not to zap anything else," you teased, finally relenting as you reached out to take his offered hand.

He helped you up gently, his grip firm but careful, as though he feared breaking you. “I cannot promise to never act rashly in defense of my love,” he murmured, leading you back to the room.

Settling into the bed together, you couldn’t resist poking at him one last time. “You really destroyed your own couch just to keep me near you, huh? You know they make couple’s therapy for this, right?”

He chuckled softly, pulling you close. “I would smite an entire castle if it meant you stayed by my side.”

“Noted,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the warmth in your chest. As you both drifted off, tangled in the sheets, you couldn’t help but think how absurdly lucky you were to be loved by someone so dramatic—and so utterly devoted.

Masterlist

[urstruly-ghst]

girl, get up ! - riddle, leona, vil, silver

in which u suck at phys ed and they're trying to help you out

requested ask !

author's note: i am not physically fit as i like, but dw!! we all have our moments 😌 now get up and be that slay queen (or start low impact exercises for now!)

riddle rosehearts

riddle rosehearts is a well rounded individual, he was raised in a household were meals calculated and regimes strictly adhered. if you think riddle is strict with his exercising, you would be surprised. riddle was someone who was not the most adept to exercising, and understands you wanting to take it at your pace. but don't think you're getting away with it.

fret not! riddle takes things slow, and in accordance with the rules of the queen of hearts, taking note of your weaknesses and strengths. he even rewards you at the end, each small victory was worth a party.

if your goal was to hit 5 pushups or rounds of burpees, he'd set it to 10. harsh, however, he claims if you settle for less you get less. riddle wants you to aim high (and he would even join in on your physical journey!)

"i think im gonna be sick" you yelp and try to not pass out at your 4th day of attempting to do sets of squats and this exercise.

"you're doing fine, rose." riddle said smiling before observing your notions. despite your protests, you did well. your initial goal of just 5 laps around the oval became 6! it was a small improvement, but you managed to do it.

"after this, we can relax and enjoy some new tarts trey baked." riddle smile warmly as he jogged next to you, noticing you brighten up

leona kingscholar

leona laughed at you first. born with athletic capabilities, he couldn't believe you can't do a simple push up or run down at least 5 laps. however, he wasn't one to keep someone down, leona wants a fair fight.

it starts off simple, leona would observe you and see it as you not pushing yourself. leona would be behind you, motivating you (odd to see him out of bed), making sure you're in the right position and actually getting your goal. you need 30 push ups for vargas? you're doing those 30 push ups... with his help.

lends a lot of his time or some trainer to help you. though, don't expect he'd be doing this often, he still likes his nap times you know? you can do exercises after the nap!

"mmh. herbivore. you're quite close to running more than yesterday" leona mumbled walking beside you as you jogged. his long strides make your jog a walk for him. he admired you before patting your head

"yeah because you literally pushed me!" you retort but he smiled and followed you to the end of the track, marking your newfound success: running 500 meters!

"good job, herbivore... now let's go rest, you ended exactly on my nap time."

vil schoenheit

vil wasn't going to make you be a lazy potato. he can see the potential and determination from you. he is the most hands-on out of all, he tracks it closely and adheres everything to his own personal trainer.

each move you both do comes from professional advise and vil does the same exercises as you (although with bit more intensity on his end). the meals afterwards were also a highlight. vil prepared the after meals himself, go on, eat up!

he's more strict. vil won't take no willy nilly answer, and he won't allow slip ups. vil is a very determined person, once he sees a diamond that needs polishing, he'll handcraft it with time and effort. vil showers each progress you've done with praise and small personal victories he records and keeps hidden for him to admire.

"ah, my dear, look at that. another stellar news, you've managed to hit the goal in record time." vil rejoices as you both finished the prescribed exercises from his trainer. you beamed and smiled proudly

"all thanks to you, vil!" you praise him but he smiled and shakes his head.

"no, all you, dear. you pushed your limits and got us both here."

silver

silver is a trained knight, he was no stranger to the regime of ruthless training. however, he does know that reaching goals is hard. he had his fair share of failures of reaching certain goals with his habit of sleeping. though, silver is still strict and maintains that if you want to be active, push through it

he would share his regime at a lighter level and even trains you himself, silver guides you gently and even makes you disregard your goal so he ensures you're not in a hurry and get hurt. though, that was because his regime had quite some brutal exercises.

and sometimes, he'd pull in sebek or lilia for some regime tweaking so he can sneak more time to help you be more active. though it was difficult sometimes, silver can't help but feel sleepy sometimes when he trains you...

"okay, your footing isn't that great. it lacks some..." silver yawned as he gracefully guides you into holding a baton firmly. you were sweating as the faux fighting with the baton proved to be more difficult. it was awesome though, you get to see him wield such grace!

"silver, we need a break" you huff tired. silver smiled before shaking his head, even if he was sleepy, he wasn't allowing you be trained half-assed.

"nope. now, parry"

[bluessmau]

Dry-Texting

In which Fem! Reader is not great at texting, and their responses to the Housewardens are pretty ashy and dry.

Riddle Rosehearts

Leona Kingscholar

Azul Ashengrotto

Kalim Al-Asim

Vil Schoenheit

Idia Shroud

Malleus Draconia

[twisted-wonderland-memories]

Im back from a hiatus :3

[kodzukay]

riddle‎ time: whats black‎, white and red all over??🌹

it's roselle‎ rosehearts!!‎‎ one of‎ femzul's‎‎ ‎numerous gfs

[bonehalos]

OK SO!!!! MERCH TALK!!!

so on the last poll i ran, 24% of people suggested adding more characters. but! itd be ultra mega helpful to know what characters you guys would want!

ty in advance!!!!!! happy voting!!

edit: idia and lilia already have badges drawn for fans of the gamer duo!

[the-clockwork-fiend]

I had to look up fanfic cliches cuz i genuinely don't remember any shshsh </3

anyways i found "Seeing someone in a dress/suit for the first time"

and thought it could make a fun Turn the Tables prompt; "seeing them in super casual clothing for the first time" (they even SLEEP fancy)

After looking thru what characters you write for I thought it could be funny with Riddle, w/ him being the one Finally Wearing Casual Clothing :3

Hello, dear patron! You're just in time, do come in. As you could probably tell, I started an event to drum up more business. I don't suppose that would be the purpose of your visit here on this fine morning? Eh — it's raining? Ah... I haven't taken a peek outside recently, if that wasn't apparent.

1 - 20 - 25

❝ Tyrant's Day Off ❞

— Riddle Rosehearts x gn!reader...

Genre: a little angsty, mostly fluff. I am a firm believer that pre-overblot Riddle wouldn't have cut his partner any slack on rules, despite what I've seen floating around (no hate, just my personal thoughts, maybe that counts as a hc?). Following rules was way too ingrained in him at that point, even Trey couldn't get him to chill out. I hope this was to your satisfaction. Thanks for the request!

Event menu

You'd always known Riddle to be formal. It was no surprise, given how he previously ruled Heartslabyul with a vice-like grip. He liked everything to be tidy and in order, always perfect, or he'd blow a fuse. This tendency translated into every aspect of his life, including what he wore. Even outside of the school's uniform, he preferred button-down shirts and shiny, polished shoes.

There was a time when he'd tried to get you to adopt a similar style — you and the rest of the dorm, to be more precise. He believed that his dorm should be presentable at any given time; not Vil's standards presentable, he held Heartslabyul in high esteem and expected his dormmates to reflect that image. This showed in other ways too: punishing students for low grades using his unique magic, or assigning the lazier students with more chores in an attempt to instill a better work ethic.

Being Riddle's partner during this time was difficult. You were held in the same high standard as everyone else, though it was arguably a little higher. Riddle had apparently decided that you reflected upon him due to your more personal relationship.

However, that wasn't to say that it was completely bad. He was an excellent teacher and your stellar grades were an indication of that. He went through great lengths to have some quiet evenings with you, but they were always a little awkward; he had read numerous books on how to act when with your significant other, but you'd always felt that these instances were too stiff and practiced.

Not to mention the incessant pestering from your fellow Heartslabyul members. Numerous students had approached you, encouraging you to use your close relationship with Riddle to entice him to be more relaxed about the rules. Each time, your response was the same: "I've tried that already." And boy had you tried. But even Trey couldn't manage this feat, and you had similarly fruitless attempts.

You couldn't say you were all that shocked about the reason for his overblot. He'd always adhered to the rules quite strictly, and a sudden move like punching him square in the face after already being mad about the offending tart sent him far over the edge. You were more empathetic toward his behavior after learning more about his life before NRC — he hadn't told you much about his childhood — but you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel vindicated by Ace's punch all the same.

Life in Heartslabyul thankfully mellowed out after the events of Riddle's overblot. The former tyrant's loose screws were, so to say, screwed back in — mostly. Your relationship improved greatly, and the dorm became much less tense. No longer was there a looming worry of incurring Riddle's wrath when mistakes or mishaps were made. Though punishments were still handed out to rule breakers, strict upholding of the rules was a little more lax.

One of the things that didn't change, however, was Riddle's attire. You were worried that he might still being caught up in the past, but you checked yourself. They were clothes he was probably used to wearing, regardless of the meaning, and they were just clothes at the end of the day.

It was this reason in particular that made you do a double take as you passed him studying in the lounge one early morning. You were tired, having just woken up a few minutes before, and figured you were still half asleep.

You backstepped and peered into the room again. No, you hadn't been mistaken. There was Riddle, pen in hand and open textbook on the coffee table, dressed in a simple T-shirt and baggy sweatpants. His hair was still tousled from sleep, so he couldn't have been up that much longer than you. You weren't sure where or when he'd bought the clothes. In fact, you weren't even sure they were his. You'd never seen your partner dress like this, so you were definitely reconsidering your assumption that you were awake.

"Riddle?"

The boy turned. He'd recognized your voice immediately, and his eyes lit up as he caught sight of you. "Y/N. Good morning; I didn't wake you up, did I?" Your room, predictably, was next to his. In fact, he'd booted an older student out of it when he'd become housewarden and insisted that you use it. You shook your head, smiling slightly — which may have been more akin to a grimace — as the memory surfaced in your mind. "Nope, I just woke up a little bit ago. Say," you moved around the back of the sofa and sat down beside him and amusedly pointing at him. "What's with the clothes?"

Riddle looked confused until he glanced down, as though he'd completely forgotten what he was wearing until you'd pointed it out. "The rest of my clothes were dirty."

Riddle? Having dirty clothes? He was normally on top of his laundry. Still, you weren't complaining. The fact that even Riddle procrastinated a little was comforting. It was another sign of how much he'd changed, and while procrastination may not seem like a good change, considering Riddle's previous behavior, it was for the better in your opinion.

"Ah, that makes sense," you answered. You inspected the textbook that he was annotating and immediately leaned back, giving up. Too complex for your tired brain so early in the morning. You were actually surprised that Riddle was still awake reading it, but then again, this was Riddle you were talking about.

"Do you always get up this early?" you asked. Normally he was already awake and busy when you dragged yourself out of bed, but it had never occured to you how early he woke up to achieve this. Even though you were difficult to get out of bed in the morning, you woke up early enough that it never really mattered. Riddle hesitated, an unusual occurrence, before answering, "Sometimes." He offered no further explanation, and you didn't press the question.

Your stomach grumbled quietly, a not-so-subtle hint that it required sustenance if you didn't want to experience the relentlessly stabbing pain that would accompany the noises soon if it didn't. You relented and got up from the red sofa. "Have you eaten?" Riddle's eyes followed you as you stood, and he realized with a start that he hadn't when you asked the question. "I had some tea earlier," was his response. You shook your head in mock disbelief and sighed. "You can't fuel that brain of yours without food. I'll be right back."

A few minutes later, you were back at the sofa with two plates of eggs. You pushed the textbook across the coffee table and placed one of the plates in front of Riddle. He was about to protest, but you scooped up a bite with a fork and more or less shoved it into his open mouth. His cheeks flushed but he didn't say anything until after he'd swallowed.

"Thank you." He took the fork from you and set it down on his plate.

"You're welcome. And where did you get those clothes?"

His face went beet-red, a shade that almost matched his hair. "I- um, I borrowed them from your closet." Taking a closer look, you realized that the shirt and pants were yours. They were a bit small for you, but they apparently fit your partner just fine. "Oh, okay," you replied, going back to your eggs.

Riddle was evidently surprised by your answer. "You're not mad?" You were about to question why you'd be mad — partners did that normally, didn't they? — but then you remembered that Riddle had little knowledge about how dating was realistically outside of his slightly outdated knowledge from books. Also, you took this instance as a good sign; it made your relationship feel a bit more like a relationship.

"Nope." You paused, your fork halfway to your mouth. "You can grab my clothes whenever you want, you don't even have to ask." Frankly, you were very happy about this development.

Riddle was still letting the information sink in. He'd previously seemed almost ashamed, but now he was just a little embarrassed. "Alright..." he said. The conversation ended briefly while the two of you finished your eggs.

You sighed contently and leaned against the smaller boy, who stiffened at the unexpected contact before relaxing. Your plates were stacked neatly in the corner of the coffee table and Riddle was once more reading his book. With the rising sun entering the lounge through the giant window-wall on the other side of the room, you were cozy laying up against your boyfriend. The others would probably stay in bed for another hour or so, with the exception of Trey, who also had a tendency of waking up early.

The rest of your morning was pleasant, even though half an hour later it was interrupted by the arrival of Trey (and surprisingly Cater, who usually never got out of bed before 8 am). The latter immediately made himself a cup of coffee, declining Trey's offer to make it himself. "No thanks, Trey-kun. Cay-Cay can make it himself," Cater had answered before padding into the kitchen, his feet hidden in a pair of slippers.

Trey turned his attention to you and Riddle. "So what have you two been doing down? It seems a little early for studying." You'd moved to the other side of the sofa when Trey and Cater had come downstairs, and now, you sat with your legs crossed on the far cushion. Riddle replied, "It's never too early to study. Some people don't study enough, in fact." There was no question as to who he was referring to, given the sharp edge in his tone. Trey laughed sheepishly. "I bet that Ace will come around after his grades get worse." To you, he mouthed, "Hopefully."

"I heard my name?" Speak of the devil, the ginger popped his head into the room. Deuce appeared behind him, watching curiously.

"Yes, we were just talking about how terrible your grades are and when you're finally going to study," Riddle said dryly. "And Deuce, yours aren't much better." The duo shared an, "Urk!" and Ace quickly said, "Y'know, I'm feeling pretty hungry, I'm gonna go get some breakfast. Come on, Deuce." They fled from the doorway, presumably to the kitchen. You snickered, the brief interaction amusing.

Trey sighed, adjusting his glasses. "Oh, speaking of breakfast, do either of you want me to make you something?"

"I already made us some eggs," you replied. Trey glanced at the plates still stacked on the coffee table and nodded. "Alright." He left, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

You turned back to Riddle and shifted closer to him. "I think you should wear my clothes more often," you teased, though you were definitely serious about it. He got flustered again, attempting to stammer out a reply, but failing amazingly. You laughed at his response — or lack thereof — and leaned up against him once more.

"It's a one time thing!" he insisted.

"I'm just saying, I wouldn't mind," you giggled.

You're leaving? Well, I hope to see you again soon. Grab an umbrella — not the mechanical ones, they're in their prototype phase. Watch out for carriages on your way home, it'd be a shame if you got injured because one lost control. I bid you safe travels. Now, goodbye!

@xryptik @lyle-my-beloved @xen-blank @edith-is-a-cat @nervocat @nightmare-in-the-woods @floydsteeth @officialdaydreamer00 @cookiesandbiscuits @rainynightmoonlight @koihanwrites @casp1an-sea @vivisboutique @tako-cafe @creatorbiaze @l7k-a

Let me know if you'd like to be added/removed from the TWST taglist.

[a-twistedheartslonging]

Yuu with Doctor Riddle.

[awesomest-sauce]

“Nothing to hide

with Riddle Rosehearts”

“Is it bad…?” His voice was barely above a whisper. You almost didn’t hear him ponder aloud, anxious at your staring with little reaction. But it wasn’t due to his volume. More-so the heartbeat in your ears.

You’d heard the jokes the rebellious and spiteful students beneath him would make. How he was scrawny, weak, pathetic. But you’d gotten him to believe that no, you didn’t feel that way. He tried to keep that assurance in his head as you scoured his body with just your eyes.

“Do you think you can handle stepping on the scale?” You wished for a second that you didn’t ask so suddenly. Seeing his small and frail figure flinch slightly under the weight of your words and tone.

Now wasn’t the time to show weakness though. So you steeled yourself and pushed it slightly closer to him with your foot. It was covered, a subtle reminder of his vulnerability worsening.

He was nude, aside from his boxers. You were in the ramshackle dorm’s bathroom. The goal and reason for this was weight checks. Mandatory for his upcoming doctor’s appointment, although they’d permit him to record it beforehand. A privilege, you’d think.

He refused to let anyone have a chance of baring witness to this display. The weakness, humiliation. All except for you.

“. . .”

A drop of water fell onto your dorm’s flooring. “What’s going o-,” he kicked it.

The small scale didn’t go far, making a screech in protest as it slid only a foot or so. But it served as a sign that he wasn’t ready. And that was okay.

You only wish that he could know that. Recovery is a process. He won’t be okay right away.

[cookiesandbiscuits]

I want to draw so bad but I'm stuck with doing schoolwork and finals-related stuff.

So as a compromise, I made some Ramshackle Girls x NRC relationship dynamics memes (most of them are platonic)

(I couldn't find the owners of the animal pictures so I can't credit them properly 🥲. But I do know these are entries for the Comedy Wildlife Photography Awards.)

[rizdoodls]

omg omg HELLO!!! After seeing the new oc Mina, and read through the fun facts, I wanted to as how did her crush on Riddle develop? When did they meet first, and how? Did she meet other NRC members? I’m really curious about her!(*´-`)🤍

Hi Kaz!!! Thank you for your interest in Mina, and sorry for responding so late!🙏💕💕

I haven’t worked much on their relationship yet, but all I can say is that Mina just finds Riddle small and cute and loves going up to him to talk. But in general, what she says tends to embarrass or even annoy Riddle. Mina, on the other hand, never realizes if she’s going too far with him, so she just keeps going.

I think their dynamic could maybe be something like this: a radiant girl who’s not ashamed of anything and wants to see him smile, and a guy who’s embarrassed, doesn’t own up to his feelings, and stays on the defensive?🐁🌹

As for the other NRC members, I haven’t thought much about it yet. She would be closer to RSA students (Chenya and other side characters) and other students (I don’t think she would currently be close to Neige).

OH! I know she knows Pépito, though! As for her meeting with Pépito, hmm, how can I explain… It happened on the street in the middle of the City of Sages. Pépito was calmly walking, doing who knows what mundane thing, when suddenly Mina grabbed her arm and asked her to try on some clothes for her. (Since Pépito doesn’t have any style, Mina saw giving her a fashion glow-up as a challenge for herself.)

(Pépito and Mina had never met before.) And this kind of caught Pépito off guard, and she didn’t understand the situation at all. But since Pépito is naïve, she followed Mina without understanding a thing.

Since then, they’ve kept in touch, even though it’s unclear whether they’re friends or not.

As for Mina’s first meeting with Riddle, I think she ended up in one of the teapots during the Heartslabyul tea party at an unbirthday celebration, and Riddle found her there. (Maybe Mina was there because she wanted to hide from Chenya so he wouldn’t realize she had snuck into his pocket without telling him???)

(I hope you managed to understand this rambling explanation, but it's still a work in progress!🐁✨)

[fizzydrinkuno]

hope yall had a fun holidays

[aimapandu]

Dethroned

[oya-oya-okay]

Riddle and Azul🖤💔

[fungifanart]

Somehow, I think Riddle’s diss against Yuu in Book 1 would go just a BIT differently with Cerezo (BIG thank you to @pawnyao for taking my commission)

[ibee00725]

Strawberry cake rosehearts