#yandere riddle x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

merakiui · 3 months ago

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moros's looking glass.

yandere!overblot!riddle x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, death, victorian era, obsession, attempted captivity, arranged marriage, threats of violence, restraints, non-consensual touching and kissing note - after the death of your husband, you are left to sift through his estate. you'll soon find some ghosts refuse to remain in their graves.

To the esteemed Lady of the Rosehearts Estate: It is with a shrouded heart that I write to inform you of Lord Rosehearts’s untimely passing. It is a most unfortunate occasion, and for such reasons I must implore you to return from your seaside retreat with great haste.

Mrs. Rosehearts’s bare hand comes down so suddenly that you hardly have any chance to brace yourself before it makes contact with your cheek. A harsh smack resounds throughout the hall, echoing within your brain until it’s all you can process. The sting that follows warms your tender skin and, though you wish to soothe it with a gentle caress, you remain stone-faced and stiff before her, a mere statuette who has been frozen in time.

“Such insolence is unforgivable,” she seethes, swiping her glove from her butler, who holds it out with his head bowed and shoulders hunched. She fits her hand inside the pristine fabric and flexes her fingers momentarily before turning her fiery gaze back on you. “You were well aware of the ailment that consumed my dear Riddle and yet you abandoned him in his time of need! You are the lady of this house. It is your duty to remain here! Must the implication be branded on your very bosom for you to recognize it?!”

“My deepest apologies, madam.” You lower into a perfect curtsy. “I did not possess enough foresight to know that this might happen. For that, I am truly regretful.”

He was already at death’s door. A sickly body is meant for the hands of higher powers, or so they’ve said. I suppose this is the inevitability of fate.

“I have always been of the opinion that you were inadequate for my son,” she snaps. “If it weren’t for your family’s status, I’d have had you pulled from his life before you could ruin it further like the vapid weed you are.”

With a huff, she strides past you.

You remain in the hall, comforted by the soft tock of the old grandfather clock.

It’s not my fault your son was sickly, you think, scowling at the floor tiles. But you refuse to allow this to darken your mood. Gathering yourself, you straighten your posture and smooth the sting in your cheek with a few consoling pats.

I am (Name) Rosehearts, lady of this fine estate. I shall not waver in the face of a monstrous mother.

Though your union was one of arrangement, it took some time to convince Mrs. Rosehearts. She only conceded after her son had, quite literally, begged her. Your parents’ social status and fortune were quite persuasive as well. It was your late husband who argued with her, day and night, for the right to wed you.

“Mother, I have fancied no other to the extent I do Lady (Name). Should you come between us, I shall take her and we will be wed elsewhere—with or without your approval.”

Not wanting to lose her pride and joy and faced with the boundless prosperity boasted by the arrangement, she submitted to his demands. Thus, you were wed. You shall never forget the disdain scrawled on her wrinkled countenance as she watched you from her place in the pews. She disapproved of your dress, your disposition, your very existence. There was no part of you that could please her, but she had no choice. For Riddle’s sake, she would have to acquiesce.

Now that he’s no longer of this world, you’re feeling the force of her frosty hatred more directly. She has, by her own standards, every reason to dislike you. You could not conceive an heir to carry on the legacy. You could not be there to assist Riddle while he was on his deathbed. You could not measure up to her lofty expectations of what a proper wife and lady should be. You could not be pretty enough. The list is endless.

“My lady, the photographer is waiting,” the butler pipes up, nodding in the direction of the room.

“I understand. Thank you.”

You inhale all of your negativity, allow it to fester within your lungs, and then you expel it in a long exhale.

You must stand tall and proud in the face of adversity. Do not falter.

This is the busiest you have seen the silent, despair-tinged halls of the Rosehearts Manor. Shadows creep along floral, cream-colored wallpaper, and the curtains do well to keep the sun from poking its rays through the gloom. Your grip tightens on your lace shawl as you’re led through the foyer, and when you view the vaulted ceiling it seems to spiral into never-ending darkness. Photographs are turned over to protect those in the film who are still living. The clocks are all stopped at three in the morning—supposedly the time at which Riddle gave his final breath. Every reflective surface has been enveloped in black cloth, and every funeral attendant you pass offers sympathetic bows and curtsies. Your nose crinkles at them, but you nod your acknowledgement and continue down the hall.

Riddle is poised on the sofa, his arms folded primly in his lap. His face is colored in a sickly pallor, and he’s dressed in his best suit. If it weren’t for how deathly still he is, you’d think he was full of life. Glassy greys stare listlessly ahead. You peer into them. He does not blink or recognize your presence.

It occurs to you that he truly is dead.

Mrs. Rosehearts is quick to shoo you away. “Distance! You’ll pollute the air near my Riddle!”

You offer her a cordial simper. “Wherever shall I sit?”

She wrinkles her nose at you but gestures to the spot beside him. “You are his wife, so you must sit at his side here.”

“Very well.” You lower onto the cushion. Riddle is arranged to lean against you. He is cold and stiff, almost like a doll. His soft hair brushes your cheek. “And what of you, madam?”

“You are to be photographed first, after which I shall replace you. Then, we’ll both be photographed.”

“If it pleases,” you reply, looking towards the camera. Gently, you close your hand over Riddle’s gloved one.

Forgive me, Riddle. I should have returned from the sea sooner, but I was cowardly and could not bear to face you as you withered away. It is with great shame that I wear this mourning dress.

Your photo is taken. For the rest of the ordeal, you remain in your head. The shuffling of bodies is drowned out, for you focus only on your husband as he’s situated on the sofa beside his mother.

Riddle wouldn’t have wanted that, you think, but then you pause. What would he want?

You can scarcely say.

Afterwards, Riddle is placed in his coffin, his eyes shut, and carried feet-first from the house. You accompany the procession, everyone following the solemn hearse in its travels. There is a hollow in the ground, where a group of men lower the death box. They work silently and diligently to shovel soil and fill the hole. You stand off to the side, watching from behind your veil. You don’t shed tears, but neither does Mrs. Rosehearts.

It is a chilly, autumn day devoid of birdsong and sunshine.

A laurel wreath is hung on the door following the funeral, and an ornament fashioned out of his hair alongside his photo are kept enclosed in a locket pin. You hold it in your hands at all times, tucking it beneath your pillow when you sleep, cherishing this piece of him. You visit his grave just as frequently as it is guarded. Every now and then, you expect the bell aboveground to ring, signaling life from below. It never does.

Riddle left his entire estate to you. His mother could fume as she pleased, but the validity of his penmanship could not be denied. He explicitly wrote: To my wife, Lady (Name) Rosehearts: You are granted all mortal possessions within my estate as well as ownership to the property. Do with it as you like.

Your relationship with Riddle, while not free of its strains, was mostly amicable. You played your parts well enough. Even so, it bewilders you that he would leave you so much. You always assumed he’d gift it to his mother, as she seemed to have a hand in every aspect of his existence—his death included. She planned the funeral and the burial well in advance, arranged the photographer, even the outfit he was to wear.

Now, dressed in black crepe, you wander aimlessly through a quiet, covered house and wonder what you should do with so much empty space. There are still rules you must follow, of course, each one aligning with mourning customs. But now that you don’t have your husband to enforce them, you feel…lost.

Illuminated by candlelight, your reflection follows you as you walk past an uncovered mirror, trapped in silent reverie.

And then you stop.

An uncovered mirror?

In a horrified panic, you set the candlestick down to gaze at yourself in the glass.

This can’t be! All of the mirrors must be covered! What happened?!

You scramble to shroud it, your heart pounding restlessly like a war drum. For a while you stand there, waiting for something. You anticipate a shout from the shadows: Don’t you know you are expected to cover each and every reflective surface in the wake of death? Do you want to be pulled into the grave next?! Nothing happens, though. The house remains perfectly still.

You think you hear someone breathing shallowly, but then you realize that’s you. Your chest heaves as you take in big gasps of air.

No one will know, you remind yourself, gradually calming your frazzled nerves. The mirror is covered. That is the end of that.

The grandfather clock’s midnight chime echoes down the hall. Sighing, you lift the candlestick and carry on.

“I shall retire to bed,” you tell the darkness, climbing the stairs. Riddle’s room is kept sealed, a place stuck in permanence. You refuse to disturb his things, lest you dampen his spirit, and so you beeline for your room. It’s directly across from his. When he was alive, he insisted you sleep at his side despite the bed customs between couples. Stubbornly, you refused. You recall the dismal glimmer that darkened his eyes whenever you’d decline. He would always promise the same thing—

“Should you need the warmth of another body, I am here to receive you. Forever and always.”

Pulled from your reminiscing, you turn sharply on your heel and raise the flame to light the end of the hall.

“How strange. I was certain…” You peer over the bannister at the foyer below. “Riddle, have you come home?”

Silence is your only reply.

“Foolish,” you chide, contenting yourself with the facts. “He rests peacefully in his grave.”

Burrowing into your woolen shawl, you depart for your bedroom.

In an empty house, swathed in the quilted duvet, you drift off into dreamless slumber.

It’s not the clock or the cold that jerks you from sleep. Rather, it’s the screeching noise that grates on your ears. You blink through the dark, only to cringe moments later when someone drags their nails over glass. You almost allow yourself to fall back into the sheets when you realize there shouldn’t be any human disturbances here, for you’re the only one in this house.

A mouse, perhaps?

But even you know that’s impossible, no matter how much you want to believe such faulty logic.

Throwing the covers off, you search blindly for the candlestick at your bedside. You fumble with the match, shivering like a frightened fawn, but eventually flame brightens the space. Now equipped with light, you peek outside your room, searching either end of the hall just in case. No one’s there, but the scratching continues. Incessantly, almost maddeningly, as if whoever’s doing it is trying to escape.

Nails on…glass. On glass.

Glass.

It’s coming from Riddle’s room.

The mirror!

You shuffle towards the door, only to stop short just as your foot steps in something sticky.

You lift your leg and shine the light on it. A black substance that appears to be some sort of molten tar or ink drips from your sole. With a gasp, you drag your foot upon the floor in hopes of getting rid of it.

“Ugh! How filthy!”

Resolving to wash it later, you stomp over to the door, yank it open, and poke your head inside. A rush of cold air barrages your face, whistling through the crack and out into the corridor. You stumble away in a daze. The scratching persists, angrily now, in a desperate sort of fashion.

“Riddle?” you call out, your voice subdued and shot through with fear. “I… I’m sorry for disturbing you. I’d like to warm myself with you, if you’ll allow it.”

Just like that, the house stills. Shakily, you hold the candle out to light a portion of his room.

“I never should have left you. It must have been terribly lonely here. Lonely and cold… I’ve betrayed you in life, but in death I will be here to look after you. Forever and always. So… So please rest peacefully.”

The tip-tapping of a sharpened nail against the glass almost startles you out of your skin. You realize then that the shroud has fallen away from the mirror.

If I must look upon it… Oh, but I’d rather not… Oh, but I must!

Steeling yourself, you burst into the room and brandish the candlestick. Thankfully, there are no monsters or humans to scare you. No ghosts to be banished. No intruders to chase off. Instead, you see yourself in the mirror.

Or…an approximation of you. Not quite a doppelgänger in appearance. This version of you is wearing soaked rags, tattered and tired, but she has your eyes. They’re unmistakable as they stare back at you.

You set the candlestick on the bedside table and inch closer to the mirror.

“Peculiar,” you whisper, reaching for the glass just as your reflection does. “Surely this isn’t me. I look ghastly!”

Your fingers brush the surface and, in a stroke of shock, just as the grandfather clock below chimes the hour, your hand goes through. Before you can think to pull away, something on the other side tugs at your wrist, frigid fingers coiling tightly. With a shriek, you resist and claw wildly at the air, stretching to grab hold of the bed. You manage to grasp the edge of the blanket, which is pulled free from its neat placement, just as you’re dragged through the mirror.

All that’s left of you is the locket pin, having fallen to the floor in a clatter during the scuffle.

You open your eyes on a room colored black and white. It looks like yours, but something is different. It doesn’t feel like yours. It doesn’t even appear lived in. Almost as if it’s been sealed like a crypt, kept in pristine condition as it awaits an owner who will never return.

Where am I? you wonder, closing your hands around your shawl. It provides you with a modicum of comfort.

A book is lying on the vanity desk, the only thing that looks just slightly out of place in an otherwise tidy room. Curiously, you pick it up and open it to read the cover: Property of Riddle Rosehearts.

“Oh?”

You turn to a random page and skim through the words: I’ve waited ceaselessly for her return, so much so I’m beginning to lose count of the days. I’ve no inkling as to what’s real and what’s false. I see her in the stars, in the mirror, in my dreams… She is lost, I’m certain of this. No one will listen to me. They’ve condemned me to my solitude in this house, but soon I’ll swap places with him and then I’ll have her. It is only a matter of time. She will be mine.

This…cannot be my husband’s diary. Or was it? This is undoubtedly his penmanship.

Surely your husband wasn’t seeing another woman. He has always been honest and sincere. He has never raised his hand to you, nor has he ever threatened you. He is gentle, albeit rough and awkward around the edges, but he means well. Furthermore, you’ve never known him to keep diaries.

If he was embroiled in an adulterous affair, perhaps it was for the best. I could not hope to give him a child. I couldn’t bring him happiness or comfort. I am a failure of a wife, you think, running your thumb over the page.

You must stand tall and proud in the face of adversity. Do not falter.

Drying your eyes, you set the diary down and resolve to keep your strength for the exploration to come. Crying will not help you here. Not right now.

Never falter.

You push the door open and step out into the hall. The photographs are turned upright; mirrors are uncovered. The staircase is on the opposite end of the hall instead of directly around the corner like yours is back home. Even with the differences, the house reminds you of Riddle’s manor.

Strange… Everything is so similar and yet it’s not.

You creep down the stairs, eyeing the crystal chandelier hanging high in the foyer. In fact, now that you’re descending, you’re beginning to notice just how many reflective surfaces surround you. Looking glasses of all shapes and sizes. Crystal decorations that reflect in dozens… It’s overwhelming. At every angle, your face peers back at you.

When you peel the curtain away to glance outside, you find an unsettling white space stretching on endlessly.

Where have I found myself?

You trot down the hall, searching the portraits for any indication of the master of the house. Instead, all you see is yourself. The other faces have been blotted out in dark ink.

This is not my home, you realize with a shiver.

The further you venture, the clearer it becomes that someone lives here. Despite the manic decor, there is not a speck of dust or a hint of disrepair. Someone is here, and they’re looking after this property.

You round the corner, acquainting yourself with a semi-familiar layout, and that’s when you find him. Your husband.

He’s hanging up another portrait with meticulous precision. This is a painting of you. It reminds you of the one your Riddle had commissioned. Only this one depicts you in the same decrepit fashion you saw before you were coaxed through the mirror.

This can’t be… Do my eyes deceive me? Is this truly—

“Riddle?”

His hands fall away from the frame, and he turns to look at you. Ruby-red eyes widen in recognition and then delight. He swoops in like a falcon, covering the distance in quick strides to gather you in his arms.

“My beloved! Oh, what wonderful fortune!” he cries, embracing you tightly. “You’ve come back to me! At long last, you’re here… You’re really here in flesh and blood! Oh, my love, sweetest rose, welcome back.”

If you were to ever meet your husband again, you were certain he’d have an earful for you, a long lecture of societal and personal expectations husband and wife are meant to adhere to. But this Riddle is…happy. He doesn’t seem angry or disappointed at all.

Rather woodenly, you wrap your arms around him. “You’re…not cross?”

“Whyever would you think that?” He pulls away from you and runs his hands up your arms, as if to assess the authenticity of your appearance.

You stare at his face. He looks like Riddle. But… Well.

He doesn’t feel like Riddle. Your Riddle—the grey-eyed Riddle—was awkward in his affections. He would never hug you so openly. He would never touch you without your approval first. He was considerate and well-mannered. Furthermore, he never called you by any endearing terms. You were always Lady (Name) to him.

Your hands close around his face to hold him still. “Your eyes—”

He blinks and suddenly the red was never there. “My eyes?”

Am I dreaming?

“Are you certain this is real?”

He smiles. “You must still be clinging to the vestiges of sleep. I assure you this is all very real.”

“So you’re truly Riddle? My Riddle?”

“Your Riddle. Always and forever.”

Tears well up in your eyes. You sink to your knees. “Oh, Riddle… Riddle, I’m so sorry. If I had just come back sooner… If I hadn’t been so scared—I couldn’t face you! I didn’t want to. I…didn’t wish to see you suffering so. It hurts…”

“My dear…” He lowers to your height and brushes your tears away with his thumb. His eyes soften with an intense fondness. “How fervently I’ve missed your voice. How desperately I’ve longed to hold you in my arms.”

“I can’t fathom it—how can it be?” you mutter, hesitant to touch him again lest he be turned to dust before your eyes. “You… You’re alive?”

“I’ve always been alive.”

“But you—your condition! You’ve been ill. It…” You inhale a sharp breath. “Your ailment worsened when you married me.”

“Do you blame yourself?” Before you can answer that, he takes hold of your chin and tilts your head. “Don’t. The fault does not lie with you. It never has.”

And then he fits his lips on yours in a kiss so sweet and soulful it momentarily rekindles your hope in romance. Shocked, you stumble back on the floor, but he just surges forward to continue kissing you. It’s passionate and hungry; he nibbles at your lip and licks into your mouth, leaving you panting and scrabbling for purchase. You cling to his suit—the same suit he was buried in.

He breaks away for breath, and you inhale mouthfuls of it. “Wait—”

Another kiss, this one longer than its predecessor. Your fingers curl into his shoulder. He pulls back.

“Riddle—”

He tugs your shawl from your shoulders in lustful impatience. You yelp when you feel his hands on your thighs, slyly sliding beneath your dark nightgown.

“Riddle!” You gasp, scandalized, and push him away. Breathing heavily, you yank the strap of your gown over your shoulder. “Just what’s gotten into you?!”

“I’ve missed you,” he confesses, gathering your hands in his. “I’ve waited for your return for so long—too long! And now you’re finally here… You’ve finally come back to me.”

My Riddle was never this forward.

“You must know I cannot give you what it is you want. I’m dead inside, a tragedy your mother is all too keen to remind me of.”

A frown tugs at his lips. “Unfortunate as that may be, it does not offend me in the slightest and it shouldn’t. I love you, with or without child.” He lifts your hand and places a gentle kiss upon the top of it.

You stare at him, horrified.

“S-Say that again, if you would…”

“I love you?” He raises his brow at you, confused. “With or without child, I love you. Always and forever.”

You drag your hand back, clutching it as if it’s injured. “I think…I might go for a stroll.”

He blinks back at you, one eye at a time. “Oh! Allow me to accompany you. It’s howling a gale out there. You would do well to change into attire fitting for the weather.”

“Of course. I’d love nothing more than to walk through the rose gardens with you. I do hope they haven’t started wilting.”

Riddle helps you up from the ground, drapes your shawl over your shoulders, and sends you on your way. You offer him a smile and turn to walk stiffly down the hall. The minute you’re out of sight, you sprint for the stairs, taking two at a time, and throw open the door to your room.

Your reflection meets you at the mirror. Without wasting another moment, you reach for her. Someone catches your wrist on the other side and tugs you through.

You’re spat out in Riddle’s bedroom in a heap of tangled limbs, your heart in your throat. The mirror shimmers with the real you. When you press your finger to the glass it doesn’t go through, but your finger touches its reflection.

“That was…strange,” you whisper, drawing away. You find the locket pin lying inches from your foot and you scramble for it, hastily prying it open to check its contents. The photo and lock of red hair remain untouched. “It was just a dream. A wild, whimsical terror.”

You rise to your feet and, after fixing the disturbed sheets, bid a final farewell to the room.

“Rest peacefully,” you say, shutting the door behind you.

That was not my Riddle. My Riddle has never said he loves me before.

Following that night, you busy yourself with the curiosities of Riddle’s estate. In the three years you’ve lived here, you were unaware the house had so many secret spaces. Hidden doors that open into narrow passages and stairs. You’ve never had any servants, so you’re not sure why Riddle would need any of this. The house has been in the Rosehearts family for decades. As the legend goes, it was burned beyond repair and rebuilt with a better layout. A safer layout, Riddle would tell you when you questioned the tale.

“Safer for what?” you mutter, peeling wallpaper back to reveal the door to a thin crawl space. There’s never anything sealed within these rooms, but their existence is proof enough. If not for servants, these passages were meant to house secrets. “Did he know about this? He must have.”

Would Mrs. Rosehearts know? Oh, but I dread the thought of wasting ink on that insufferable woman.

You lower to your knees and peer inside the crawl space. “Hello? Is anyone home?” And then you laugh to yourself. “Are you hiding in there, Riddle?”

You receive no reply.

A Riddle with red eyes… I must have been so feverish that night, to dream a vision so crooked.

You stretch your arm inside and feel around for any hidden treasure. You expect to come away with cobwebs and spiders, not a leather-bound book.

“Huh… Perhaps I’ve been away from the manor much too long,” you mutter, sitting with your back to the wall. You open the book, wondering what its contents could be that would merit this treatment.

Books ought to be treated in the same manner we treat each other—with respect. They are filled with boundless knowledge, and they provide insight into fascinating wonders we may yet comprehend, Riddle used to say.

“‘To destroy them would be to destroy the wisdom they offer,’” you say, finishing the rest of his quote. A smile pulls your lips up. “He loved books. Riddle would never seal any away.”

You peel it open to the first page, where you find four unsettling words.

Property of Riddle Rosehearts.

It’s a diary. Riddle’s diary.

Suddenly, the house is colder and unwelcoming, as if the very foundation disapproves of what you’ve just unearthed from its bowels. You’ve never known Riddle to keep a diary. And yet…

Tentatively, you flip through the pages. It’s a log of his condition, you realize. He details his symptoms daily, every event outlined in neat, waltzing script. You weren’t aware of just how morbid his condition was. At some point, though, he begins to catalogue other happenings.

I’ve coughed up quite a monstrous thing, he writes. I cannot fathom what it is, but it has the consistency of ink, almost. It is thick and foul in my mouth. It stains my sheets and colors my teeth. Next time it happens, I shall gather enough to test whether it truly is ink.

Then another page: I cannot employ servants because I fear he will tip poison into their ears. Thus, I’ve deigned to do everything myself. I’ve mustered enough strength and willpower to stand and cover most of the mirrors. So long as Lady (Name) stays away…

And another page: He is looking at me again, knocking at the mirror. Even as I write this, I must remain vigilant. You must wonder why I don’t shatter the mirror and put an end to this madness. Rather than sever the connection, I fear it would only provide an opening into our world. I hear him every night just as the clock tolls out the Witching Hours. He speaks of a malice most concerning. It is tiring and I think fondly of submitting, but I must protect Lady (Name).

And the final page, penned just days before his death: I fear the worst is happening. I cannot continue to research the face in the mirror. It has rendered me too frail. He has been studying me in the meantime, following me through the glass. He is a perfect reflection now, an expert copy. I’ve no inkling what this implies, but I suspect it cannot be anything pleasant. I’m going to seal my findings away with what little strength I have left so that it never falls into his hands. There must be some way to stop it… this infernal ringing in my ears… the blood filling my eyes…

A dried splatter stains the page, obscuring whatever was left of his words. You leaf through a few pages, searching for a proper explanation.

The face in the mirror? A perfect reflection? What is all of this? Just what was Riddle doing while I was gone?

You find it then, a list of what he believes to be fact, all outlined in an organized fashion.

Evidence of Fact

It is confined within reflective surfaces. It cannot step out into the mortal realm (or so I’ve yet to witness), but it can follow through mirrors so long as you look into it. Though the original must remain intact.

It is most active during the hours of midnight through three o’clock in the morning. To be referred to from here on out as the Witching Hours.

It has my voice and my face, but it is not me. You must remind yourself of this when you feel yourself losing control: He is not me, nor is he the shadow I cast.

It sees with red eyes and reaches with nightmarish claws. (A devil, perhaps?)

The substance I have been vomiting ceaselessly is indeed ink, but the reflection in the mirror refers to it as ‘blot.’ It is black and viscous. It reeks of rot.

It is undoubtedly after Lady (Name).

It calls itself Riddle.

You don’t really know your husband. You’ve never known him, in fact.

He was shouldering such a heavy burden all this time… All for my sake.

You hold the diary close to your chest.

If what he writes is true, then what I experienced that night… It wasn’t a dream but, rather, a supernatural occurrence. The reflection in the mirror calling itself Riddle—that must have been the Riddle I met. The one with red eyes. For a moment, I almost thought it was my Riddle. You run your finger over the cover of the diary. If that thing is the reason my Riddle is dead…

You don’t dare think any further.

Riddle noted that Reflection Riddle is most active during the Witching Hours. If you follow that logic then the mirror should open up between midnight and three every night, allowing you to cross into a world that reflects your own. You wonder if it’s the same for the other side. If it was, wouldn’t that mean Reflection Riddle could step out at any point and enter your world? You certainly hope he can’t.

Moros’s Looking Glass, reads the bookmarked tome in Riddle’s study, a (thankfully) mirrorless space that grants you total privacy, is said to be a powerful mirror that connects the mortal realm with that of the spirit realm. It is said that mortals who look upon Moros’s Glass are bound for death and should tread carefully when they hear three consecutive knocks from within their home.

Not if but when. A certainty.

You turn to the chapter on Moros. “‘Gave people the ability to foresee their death…’” you read, frowning deeper as the text goes on. “‘Moros is a word meaning doom or fate. It is said that once you take Moros’s hand you can never turn back, for your death is already weaved into fate.’ No escape… Could that Reflection Riddle be Moros? That might give reason to why my reflection looked so twisted.”

You slump in the chair and sigh. “I’m sorry, Riddle… I never should have left you. I should have stayed. Perhaps then we could have worked together to understand this.”

Gritting your teeth, you wipe furiously at your eyes.

All this time, he was suffering and I ran away. All this time, he was thinking of me and my well-being, and I ran away.

Before you can openly bawl in his study, you remember the notes in Riddle’s diary.

It wants me. To what extent, I’m unsure. But if it truly does love me as it claimed… Surely it wouldn’t hurt me.

You don’t want to return to that strange world with its strange Riddle, but you need answers. If it killed your Riddle… You shut the book and place it back on the shelf.

You must stand tall and proud in the face of adversity. Do not falter.

Stringing the locket pin on an empty chain, you fasten it around your neck. That way, Riddle will always be close to your heart—a reminder that you are not alone. You rifle through your closet for appropriate attire, casting corsets and crinolines aside in favor of clothing that grants more freedom.

But I mustn’t look suspicious, you think, debating whether you should wear a chemise or a longer gown. You pull a pair of loose-fitting trousers from a drawer next. Perhaps… Oh, this will seem so indecent! If Riddle were here, he’d advise against it. But these will allow for movement should I need to flee fast.

Seeing no other option, you choose the bloomers and a simple blouse, both in the classic color for mourning.

Ideally, I would prefer to never go back again, but I suspect I’ll be visiting more than once. Tonight, I’ll attempt to search for a weakness. There must be something I can exploit. A tension or a spot of blindness, perhaps? There’s that white space surrounding the manor. Perhaps I ought to try stepping outside?

You change in your room in front of a covered mirror and read through Riddle’s diary to refresh yourself on the foe you’ll be facing.

When the grandfather clock’s midnight toll reaches upstairs, you hide the diary under your pillow and cross the hall into Riddle’s room.

I refuse to call that thing my husband, you think hatefully. You are not Riddle. You will never be Riddle.

You kneel before the floor-length mirror and press your palm to the surface. A cold hand pulls you through.

I must remember not to overstay my welcome. You lift your trousers to peer at the pocket watch tied around your thigh. It is fifteen minutes past twelve. The window closes at three.

Throwing the closet doors open, which is packed full of well-tailored dresses and skirts, you grab a long woolen coat and fit your arms through the sleeves. You slide your feet into a pair of low-top heels. When you admire yourself in the mirror, you spy your waterlogged reflection looking back. She vanishes in a blink.

Descending the stairs, you call out for Riddle. “I apologize for the delay. I’m ready if you are.”

He pokes his head out from around the corner, a delicate smile gracing his pale features. Meeting you at the very bottom, he offers his arm.

“I’ve waited years for your return.” He laughs. “I can wait a few measly minutes.”

Minutes? Does time work differently here? Every clock aside from the watch fastened to my thigh is stopped at Riddle’s time of death. Perhaps this world’s sense of time is warped because of that. Or maybe Moros truly has no concept of time…

“Patience is a most admirable virtue, or so they say.”

“They speak the truth.” He leads you to the door. “You’ve come at a wondrous time. The roses are still in bloom. Though, regrettably, most of them have already closed up.”

“What little is left, I will be sure to cherish.” You pat his arm and smile. “Thank you for always taking such diligence to care for them.”

If there exists a reflection of Riddle, why haven’t I seen my reflection? Surely she isn’t just confined to the mirror…

The door opens and you brace yourself for the blinding white space. Instead, you’re greeted to the sight of a flourishing front yard. It looks nothing like your own, which leads you to wonder if Moros can only replicate the scenery within the house due to the limited field of sight provided by the mirrors. The rest of this—the gardens, the stone pathway, the hedges—it’s his imagination filling in the blanks.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” You tug him ahead, your hand easily sliding into his. “They’re quite red!”

“Aren’t they just?”

“Positively beaming with color,” you exaggerate even though you can’t see a speck of red. Everything here is black and white. The only red you’ve seen so far is the red in his eyes.

You gaze at the iron gates at the end of the property. “Riddle, dear, have we always had those gates?”

“We have.” His hand slides over yours. “To keep beauty in and filth out.”

“Filth?” You look at him incredulously. “What sort of filth?”

“Those who think it wise to flout the rules. I will not tolerate such flagrant displays of disobedience.” He squeezes your hand. “I’m sure you understand, my rose. There is no greater peace than that which is attained through order.”

“And what of exiting?”

“You’ve only just come back to me and now you speak of leaving?”

“I wouldn’t go alone. Do you not want to go into town? I quite like the circus.”

“You have everything you need here.” He kisses the top of your hand. “With me.”

So the boundary is the gate. Very well.

“I suppose that’s true. There is no greater bliss than seeing you again after so much time apart. Why would I ever want to leave?”

“Indeed. You shall never leave,” he murmurs, smiling.

Riddle takes you on a tour through monochrome gardens, pointing out all manner of delightful flora. You voice your acknowledgement when it’s necessary, but your mind is elsewhere.

I should find his diary again. I don’t believe I saw it on the desk when I came through the mirror.

You peer at Riddle’s face. He is not a fool. My Riddle was so bright. If Moros can replicate his physical form so seamlessly, then surely he knows of his intelligence.

“Riddle.”

“Yes, my rose?”

“I love you, too.”

His eyes widen. The admission must have genuinely shocked him, for his grey irises explode with red. But then he blinks it away and they’re back to grey. In these quiet gardens, he pulls you closer and presses a chaste kiss to your lips.

“And I love you. Most ardently.”

You smile and then you giggle. “Why did I leave you in the first place? It’s patently absurd.”

“A question I asked myself in cycles.” He drags his knuckle along your cheek. “Can the sea truly cure the morbs? Wouldn’t it have been better here? What can the sea offer that I don’t already have?” He clenches his jaw. “Why would you leave? Why?”

“Riddle… R-Riddle, you’re hurting me!”

He comes to his senses then and gazes at his hand closed tightly around yours. “Ah… Forgive me.” He loosens his hold and tries a relaxed smile. “Your arrival is most important. Anything that came before that is wholly insignificant.”

“Of course it is…”

He must know of my trip from Riddle. Perhaps it was mentioned in passing. I’m certain Moros doesn’t have Riddle’s memories. Despite being reflections, they are still separate entities. Or so I hope.

You return inside on account of being famished. Riddle insists on preparing dinner, claiming he’s practiced tirelessly in your absence and has been awaiting a chance to boast his skills. You allow him to do that and, while he works in the kitchen, you slink upstairs to check the time. It’s half-past two.

Just before you exit through the mirror, you poke around the room in search of the diary. It isn’t there.

Perhaps it’s in Riddle’s room?

You refer to the watch once more.

I have time. Just five minutes and then I shall be on my way.

You creep over towards Riddle’s room and, slowly, so slowly, reach for the door. Riddle’s voice permeates the air just then, calling up to you from the bottom of the staircase.

“(Name)? Dinner is almost ready!”

You press yourself against the wall just in case he can somehow see you. “Yes, thank you! Just one moment.”

Stuffing the coat and shoes inside the closet, you spare one final glance at the door before stepping through the warped surface of the mirror.

You emerge just a few minutes before three.

Much too close for my liking. You shut the pocket watch and run your hands through your hair. But that was enlightening. While not clear in its entirety, I understand the world I’m grappling with just a scintilla better.

In the coming weeks, you travel between worlds to gather as much information as possible. Riddle receives you with immense adoration every time, seemingly none the wiser to your periodic disappearances. The last time you went snooping around the second story, you realized the rooms were mostly empty and Riddle’s bedroom was locked.

You write your findings down in the empty pages in your husband’s diary: If the door is locked, he must know that whatever’s inside is of great importance. Therefore, he’s done well to keep it safe. Additionally, he appears to learn from my actions. When he’s startled, his eyes can’t remain grey. Now it’s as if he’s anticipated the shock and has taught himself to keep the façade. It is a most peculiar act. No weaknesses to detail as of yet.

You return to Riddle’s entries once more. Surely I’m missing something. There must be a weakness.

Briefly, you consider shattering the mirror. Riddle didn’t test his hypothesis regarding this method. Perhaps nothing will come of it and you’ll be rid of this menacing reflection. But then you’ll never know why your reflection looks the way it does. You’ll never know what killed your husband. You’ll never know who Reflection Riddle really is—though you certainly have your suspicions.

I must return.

When the clock announces the arrival of midnight, you step through the mirror. Only this time, when you step out of your room, Riddle is there and he doesn’t look pleased.

“Oh! Riddle—”

“What were you doing?”

“I…” You shut your mouth and fish through your brain in an attempt to recall what you said you’d be doing last time you were here. “I was changing.”

He scrutinizes you with narrowed eyes. “Into your night clothes? Did you not wish to take a stroll?”

“Oh, you must forgive me. I have been so weary… If it pleases you, perhaps we can have our stroll tomorrow?” You glance past him at his bedroom door and then reach for his hands. “Shall we sleep together?”

Riddle watches your face a moment longer. The tension in his figure relaxes, and he eventually smiles. “Nothing would make me happier.”

He guides you to your bed, but you stop him. “Your room. I’m most comfortable in your bed.”

“Is that so?”

“Verily.”

For a moment you think he’ll find some way to slither out of this, but then he’s pulling you through the door towards his room. His hand ghosts over the knob and it unlocks just like that. “I must warn you. It’s not in the…cleanest condition. I admit it was a reflection of my mind in the wake of your absence.”

“I’m certain it isn’t so terrible,” you assure, rubbing his arm consolingly. “Although… Riddle, if I may, what happened to me?”

“To you? Why, you left.”

“Yes, that is an irrefutable fact. But… It couldn’t have been the morbs.”

Riddle smiles thinly. His eyes fog over with an unrecognizable emotion. “I thought I lost you,” he explains, his hand on the knob. “I was certain you would never return.”

“But I’m here now. Whyever would you think that?”

“You died,” he says, his voice cracking. “A-At sea. You threw yourself into the sea.”

I…did that? Truly? But then it makes sense. The water dripping from your reflection. Her tattered dress. The strands of seaweed. But why? Why would I do such a thing?

“That’s why I could scarcely believe my eyes when I saw you. When you came back to me, perfectly whole and in one piece, warm and alive… I was so relieved. I’ll never let you go again.”

He opens the door and it becomes clear to you when you see a roomful of portraits and letters scattered everywhere. Your letters. Your pictures. Even your belongings. These aren’t mirror reflections. These are genuine artifacts from your world. The breath sticks in your throat. All of the letters you sent Riddle while you were away, never to receive a single reply, they’re all here, tucked away in their respective envelopes. And you know they’re yours because your signature dots each and every one, each stamp pasted on by your careful hands.

Lying on the bedside table is Riddle’s diary, where the passage you first read must be penned. The one in which he notes how long he’s waited. How very soon he’ll swap places with your husband and have you all to himself. How they’ve condemned him to this prison. They. Who is they?

You understand it now. The sticky substance you stepped on the first night. The reflection of the other you. The Riddle who you thought couldn’t stand you and was having his silent rebellion disregarding all of your letters. It was the thieving reflection who crept into your world!

Your other self died so that you could take her place. And you know this is true because she is you, and in the midst of your melancholy back in your world you considered surrendering yourself to the sea.

“Riddle…”

“Sleep! Do pardon the dreadful state of this room.” He smiles and tugs you down onto the bed to tuck you in. “It’s late. You’ll never function properly if you neglect the moon’s call for bedtime.”

“Riddle!” You seize his wrist when he climbs into bed beside you. He blinks at you, one eye at a time. “Who…are you, exactly? You’re not my Riddle.”

He tilts his head at you. “But of course I am.”

“No… No, you’re not. My Riddle is—” you inhale shakily— “dead.”

His eyes rove over your features, flicking down to watch your hand curled around his wrist. He chuckles. “You must be so tired, my rose. Sleep. Come morning, all of this will have been a daydream lived in a daze.”

He pats the pillow and you lower yourself slowly. He follows your lead, wrapping the both of you in the fluffy blanket.

“I have always been your Riddle. Always and forever.”

“Right… Yes. Yes, of course. How…” You swallow thickly. “How foolish of me to think otherwise.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping he’ll inevitably fall asleep. The pocket watch tied around your thigh continues to count out the minutes. You’ve no idea how much time has passed, but the longer you spend here the slimmer your window of escape gets. And Riddle just won’t fall asleep! His eyes remain open, observing you as you shift in and out of faux sleep. Eventually, you turn your back on him.

I cannot fall asleep here. I’ll be trapped.

“(Name)…”

Why won’t he sleep? Surely he’s tired… Do reflections feel exhaustion? They must!

“(Name)…”

You force yourself to remain calm, contenting yourself with the fact that he has to fall asleep soon.

But then there’s a hand on your arm, climbing up your shoulder like a spider on a web. His fingers drum along your sleeve.

“You’re not truly sleeping, are you?”

His voice is right in your ear, and you can hear the twisted smile in it.

You roll over onto your back. Riddle blinks down at you, still smiling that sticky, self-satisfied smile.

“You were anticipating my slumber, were you not?”

“In the hope that we might rest together, yes. Are you not tired?”

“How could I rest when I know you’re just going to slip away again?” He yanks the covers off and moves to grab the hem of your nightgown. In a panic, not wanting the watch to be revealed, you push him away, falling off the bed in the process. Landing with a thud, you pick yourself up and glimpse the time. Just ten minutes until three. You gasp and stumble towards the door.

“Stop!” he shouts, reaching for you. “Come back here! Don’t leave me!”

You yelp as something slimy coils around your ankle. You fall flat on your stomach, pulled back into the room without mercy. You thrash, kicking out blindly in hopes of untangling whatever’s found itself attached to your leg.

“Unhand me!” You grab at the door frame and pull yourself forward, grunting with the effort. “Don’t touch me!”

“You don’t get to leave! Not when I finally have you!”

You turn to look at him and bite back a terrified scream at the sight of him. He’s monstrous! The odious stench of death hangs heavy in the air. There’s that black substance again, oozing from his pores like an overfilled, soggy rag. He’s dressed differently, too, in clothes that bring forth images of decapitated royalty. The inky crown on his head and the spade-tipped Medici collar only cement this imagery. His hands are splayed with razor-thin claws, and suddenly you’re brought back to the night of that ominous tap-tapping against the glass.

The tendril coiled around your leg, you now realize, is an ebony, thorny stem.

“W-What are you?”

He grits his teeth. “Your husband.”

You reach for the stem and, pulling it taut, bite down roughly. Blot spatters your maw and it tastes rancid, but you chew through in spite of the taste. Riddle hisses at you. You manage to sever it just in time. Another vine shoots out after you and you slam the door shut before it can ensnare you.

“(Name)!” he roars from behind the door, his voice deeper and angrier. “You step through that mirror and I’ll tear you to shreds the next time you return! Do you hear me?! I’ll slaughter you!”

“I wish you luck in that endeavor because I won’t ever be back!”

The door is torn off its hinges then. When Riddle lunges for you, he narrowly misses your nightgown, instead grasping the chain around your neck. It snaps and the locket pin smashes to the floor.

“No!” You swoop down to grab it, but Riddle’s already swiped it for himself. Looking between that and the mirror, you scream a colorful word and dive for the mirror just as the clock below chimes out the hour.

You somersault into Riddle’s bedroom, your heart pounding wildly in your ribs, and feel along your body for the pendant. It isn’t there.

“No… No, no, no! Blast! I can’t… I need that locket!”

You whirl towards the mirror and this time it isn’t your reflection peering back. It’s that monstrous fiend!

He holds the chain up for you to see, grinning all the while. The locket twirls idly on the broken link. It’s an obvious taunt: If you want it, come and get it.

Your fingers curl around an iron candlestick, but you stop yourself just before you can bring it down against the glass.

I can’t break it. I need to get in, and he wants to get out. We both want something we can’t have.

You scowl at the mirror just as Riddle vanishes, and then your reflection—your real reflection, broken and despairing—is staring back. Falling to your knees, you hold your head in your hands and sob.

The next few days trickle by like the seemingly never-ending rainfall outside. You pen countless letters to friends, Mrs. Rosehearts, even Riddle himself, but they’re all ripped to shreds before you can sign them. You visit his grave, dressed in all black, crying behind your veil.

“What am I to do, Riddle?” you whisper, clutching your parasol to shield yourself from the winter sun. “It’s an impossible foe. There is no weakness to be found…”

Your choke on your sniffle. No weakness but me. He would do anything for me, would he not? And if he can’t have me… At once, you shake your head. No. I’m not going to resort to such drastic, harmful measures. In the face of adversity, I shall stand tall and proud. I will never falter. I will never waver. That monster killed my husband. I refuse to be cowed into submission by such malevolence!

You bend down and place your gloved hand over the soil. “I never did thank you, Riddle.” A small smile pulls at your tired, sleep-deprived face. “Thank you for all that you have done. You may rest in ataraxy, for I shall put an end to the beast who tormented you in such unspeakable, barbarous ways.”

Smoothing down your skirts, you depart for the Rosehearts Manor.

After eating as much as you can stomach, you spend the rest of the day catching up on lost sleep. With your body and mind now refreshed, you approach the problem from a new angle. A physical altercation is impossible, and you’re certain it will be impossible to truly kill him. If you can’t fight, then you shall talk instead. Riddle was a logical man. Though that monster will never be your Riddle, surely he holds some shred of logic.

And in the event that he can’t be reasoned with…

You touch the pointed tip of a knife and frown. Can I bring myself to wound the creature who wears my husband’s face?

Even though you’re doubtful, you stow it in your satchel with the rest of your tools and trinkets.

This ends tonight, once and for all, even if it kills me.

You sit in front of the mirror and await the tell-tale chime of midnight.

When the mirror’s surface warps and twists, you harden your nerves into that of unbreakable steel.

In the face of adversity…

“Blast it! I’ll kill him,” you snarl and step through the mirror.

It is eerily quiet when you exit on the other side. The house is in shambles, as if a nasty storm has come through and torn up everything in its path. The wallpaper is peeling in thin curls, the portraits are hanging crooked, the mirrors are shattered, and blot paints everything in black. It drips from the ceiling like saliva from a mutt’s mouth.

Swallowing your disgust, you tiptoe out into the hall. Riddle isn’t in his room. In fact, there isn’t much of a room to admire. The door has been thrown against the wall, and everything is tattered. It occurs to you that this Riddle’s love is wrong. It is not love. It is an obsession driven by the greedy desire to possess. You gather what letters you can salvage and stuff them in your satchel, even the ones from Riddle you never received.

What iniquitous meddling. To intercept our communication in such a way… You are nothing more than a parasite that must be snipped away.

Your journey takes you down the stairs. You’re careful to avoid the blot sticking to the steps as you descend, gracefully maneuvering around it. The deeper into the house you venture, the thicker the air becomes. You pinch your nose and squint through the dark haze, pushing aside low-hanging branches and vines. Inky roses sprout from the walls, twisting towards you as you approach. You duck to avoid them.

Moros is waiting for you at the dinner table. It’s set for two. Flowers twine around his seat. It looks more like a grand throne. Yours is much the same.

A Queen needs a King, even when both are destined to fall.

“Riddle.”

“If you would, have a seat. I believe we have an exchange to make.” Your locket drops down in front of your face, dangling from a stem. You reach for it and it shoots back up towards the ceiling. “No, no. That’s not how reasonable conversations are had, (Name). If you think yourself wise, sit down and listen.”

You scowl at him. “What do you want?”

“You’re an intelligent lady. My counterpart fancied that side of you most ardently. He wrote about you often, spoke of your marvelous brain.” He rests his elbows on the table and props his chin on his folded hands. “So you must already know what it is I seek.”

“You… You murdered my husband.”

He slams his hand on the table. The plates clatter from the force. “I didn’t kill him! He withered away of his own accord!”

“What did you do?”

“Sit down.”

“What did you do?”

“Sit. Down.”

“What in blazes did you do to him?!”

“I said, sit down!” Vines shoot out from the darkness. You’re tugged into your seat and held still, posture perfect. A smile twists itself onto his ink-stained lips. “Was that so difficult?”

He waves his hand and more vines come down from the ceiling to grasp the cutlery. You watch as they cut a portion of whatever shapeless filth is on your plate. Refusing to comply, you keep your mouth shut.

“Not hungry? A shame. It’s strawberry. You enjoy strawberries, do you not? Ah, and I suppose that husband of yours fancied them something fierce.”

“Please…” You look at him helplessly, tears shimmering in your glossy gaze. “What did you do to my Riddle? Why did you hurt him?”

“Two cannot exist within the same space. I was never going to be allowed to stay in your world with him around. He was already bound for the grave.” He chuckles to himself. “Rather, it was quite fortuitous that you left for the sea. If you had stayed, I wouldn’t have been able to work so efficiently.”

“So you—you’re the reason he—”

“My (Name) left me stranded here in this hell, but you… You’re perfect. Your love is pure and soft. You are the one.”

“So what are you, truly? You’re not Riddle.”

A flower unfurls before you, its petals drying your tears. He hums.

“You’re mistaken, my rose. Who else am I if not the Riddle you cherish so dearly?”

“You’re Moros, are you not?”

He tilts his head, and you can hear the audible crack of his neck.

“Moros, an entity of doom—of death. Riddle saw you in the mirror when—”

“Not me,” he corrects. “He saw himself—what was to become of him, at least. He also saw you, here with me. This is the very outcome he was hoping to prevent.” Moros barks out a cruel laugh. “And look where it got him! A wooden bed beneath the soil. Oh, but I do understand, though. You’re worth fighting for. Dying for, even. He loved you sincerely, but I shall love you perfectly.”

“You’re a monster.”

“Nooo.” He waggles a vine at you. “I’m your husband. There’s a difference. One is imperfect, a failure. The other… The other is better, an improvement.”

“Oh, forgive me. A parasite.”

“No,” he says, stressing the word. “Try again.”

“A fiend.”

“(Name), my patience is thin as a hair.”

“I will never call you my husband, Moros.”

The vines tighten their grasp just as his face reddens with frustration. His vermillion eyes flash dangerously. You wheeze as the life is squeezed from your lungs.

“S-Stop—I can’t—can’t breathe! Please! R-Riddle… Riddle, please!”

At once, your flowery restraints retreat. He tries a smile next, but it’s tense. As if he could snap at any moment.

“There you are. (Name), my rose, I must say, it is dreadful manners to call your husband by another man’s name. So dreadful, in fact, that it incites the cold-blooded rage in my very veins. If I wished, I could paint these walls in your red. If I wished, I could tear you apart, limb from precious limb, and string you up among my flowers. But I won’t because I love you, and it would cause me immeasurable grief to lose another (Name).”

“Enough prattling. I want my locket.”

“And I have told you before that is not how you negotiate, my dear. Proper etiquette at the table dictates that you must maintain respectable eye contact, and you must never slouch. Nor should you chew with your mouth open, and if you wish to speak you must not mumble or twiddle your thumbs. You must not whine like a petulant child either. If you wish to have your locket—and I cannot fathom why—you must outline your terms. I do realize you’ve been away from your husband far too long, so perhaps he never taught you any manners. Under my rule, that shall change. Under my rule, you will be perfect just as I am.”

You tamp down a foul-mouthed tirade. “Very well. In exchange for the locket, I will give you myself.”

“In what way?”

“In any way you please, but you must first answer my questions. Truthfully.”

He eyes you dubiously. “What might those be?”

“Can you leave through the mirror?”

“I can, but only when you’re asleep.”

“What’s stopping you from existing in my world now that Riddle is gone?”

Moros smiles and the locket falls onto the table, right in front of you. “Your mourning ornament. So long as a piece of him exists in those walls, I am trapped here. As you can imagine, it’s immensely vexing.”

“And who trapped you here?”

“Why, it’s been so long I’ve no recollection. Perhaps a clever witch or a simple mistake… I do so detest living within this dull looking glass.”

“So even if I’m to keep my locket, you wouldn’t be permitted to cross over.”

“Correct. But why do that when you’re already here? You can keep those measly strands of hair. I don’t want your world if you’re not in it. So long as you’re here with me, I can stomach these colorless, glass confines.”

“Then… You’ll give me the locket and I’ll stay here?”

“Indeed.”

“And you’ll release me? I won’t be imprisoned in this…grotesque garden of yours?”

“Will you flee? Ah, but I surmise you couldn’t manage that. Not after three.”

“One more question.”

He narrows his eyes at you.

“What happens if the mirror breaks?”

“No further questions.”

“Answer me! What happens if the mirror breaks, Moros?”

“That’s not my name!”

“Tell me, or else I’ll—” You stop yourself, lower your voice, and soften the anger in your face. “Riddle, dear, please… I don’t want to argue with you.”

He studies your expression for a moment. “Why do you wish to know?”

“Riddle assumed it would give you the means to free yourself.”

“Well, he’s partially correct. If I’m to truly free myself, there must be part of me in your world, much like the hair in that locket. So that, even when the mirror shatters, I can slip out from the remaining shards and cling to that part of my existence.” His red eyes flick to your stomach. “It is a shame you cannot conceive. Even if you escaped my grasp, I could simply follow you if you were—”

“Even if I could, I would never,” you interrupt, tone clipped. “Never. Not with you.”

“Then it is very clear where we shall live from now on. You must forgive the state of our home. I’ll be sure to tidy it soon enough. If we’re to live in perfect harmony, our home must reflect that, yes? You will learn to keep house so that it never falls into ruin.”

“Yes… Yes, I understand. So… So may I—the locket?”

The vines holding you hostage slither away to the shadows, and your locket drops into your outstretched hands. You breathe a relieved sigh and pry it open to check its contents. Both are still intact.

Oh, thank you. He’s okay. He’s safe!

“Now then…” Moros offers an inky hand. “Shall we?”

Tying the broken chain around your neck, you hesitate. Eventually, you place your hand in his. “We shall.”

He sweeps you into an elegant waltz. Thick, gnarled roots shift to allow the two of you passage. He lifts you into the air just before you nearly trip over one of them. If you allowed starry adoration to shroud your sight, perhaps you would have been content remaining in this world. But this wicked place is far from a comfort. Even if your world is devoid of Riddle, it is still infinitely better than this one.

Moros twirls you effortlessly, a smile widening on his lips. “You’ve made me the happiest man, my rose. I am forever honored to have you here with me. You’ll never know just how long I’ve waited, day after day, night after night… Now we can be together forever.”

You cradle his pale face, swiping the murky ink that leaks from his eyes like tears. “Forever and always.”

The musicless dance comes to an end. His hands rest at your waist, unwilling to truly part.

“Wasn’t that just grand?”

You nod along. “I apologize for my previous behavior. It was most unbecoming. Perhaps we might begin anew? Put this mess behind us, yes?”

“My rose…” Vines slither through the shadowy brush, coiling up your legs to root you in place. His grip tightens, and a manic glint darkens his gaze. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“You are no fool, Moros.” Your hand creeps into your satchel, fingers fishing for the handle of your knife. “But you were foolish to take the face of my Riddle, and for that you have brought misfortune upon yourself. It’s unforgivable!”

You yank him towards you via the belts laced around his torso. He’s caught by surprise when you crash your lips against his, whisked away in a rush of ardor. The vines slacken just so as he melts against you, pinned in place by the blade you thrust into his stomach.

And then you’re stumbling away, pitch-black blood stringing between your lips. You wipe the filth away with the back of your hand and turn from the dining room. With trembling hands, Riddle touches the handle wedged deep in his gut. There’s a flash of innocence on his face, a betrayal that carries a somber sort of pain. He looks pitiful for a second before that fearsome temper contorts his expression into something frightfully abominable. Weeds and roots thicken in retaliation, diving right for you.

“You deceitful, ill-mannered cheat!” he fumes, tearing the knife from his abdomen. Blot spatters the ground in a grisly splat. When he flings the knife across the room, blot-blood follows in an arc. “Do you not understand that this is where you belong? This is your home. I’m your husband and you’re my wife—mine! All mine!”

“I’ll never be yours!”

He grits his teeth. “You’ve scorned me for the last time! Get back here or I shall drag you through these halls—dead or alive, with or without your head attached to your shoulders!”

You shriek when he, accompanied by a following of frightful flora, lunges after you. His claws drag against your arm, almost breaking skin, but you manage to shake yourself free, just barely avoiding the vines that reach for you with thorny fingers. He slams into the wall and the whole house seems to shake from the force of it. You catch him clutching his stomach just as you jump over a rose bush sprouting from the cracked tiles.

“Stop! I implore you!” He reaches desperately, eyes wide and terrified. You almost hesitate, but then you remember this is the monster who killed your Riddle—who is trying to imprison you in this corrupt cage. “You can’t leave! I forbid it!”

Shunning him, you bound up the stairs. A stem curls around the bannister and shoots out to seize your ankle, tripping you. Your chin smacks against the steps. Blood fills your mouth shortly after, and you realize you’ve bitten your tongue. It hurts, but you must push through.

“You’re stark raving mad!” You shake your leg free of the vine, but another captures your wrist. “No! Release me!”

“Once you’re in my arms—where you rightfully belong—you shall learn proper discipline so that you conduct yourself in a manner befitting your station!”

Your eyes dart around the hall, searching for a means to escape. There must be something—anything! You can’t let him drag you down these stairs. The moment your foot touches the floor, you’ll never make it back up.

“You’ve yet to see how perfect we’ll be, but in time it will become clear,” he’s saying, watching you from the bottom of the stairs. “Soon… Soon, you’ll understand. Then we shall be wed and you will be mine for all of eternity. I shall employ any means necessary to ensure you remain here at my side, even if it means I must terrorize you only slightly.”

Scrambling with your free hand, you rifle through your satchel for anything useful. Your fingers brush the edge of a little box and the beginning of an idea sparks in your brain.

“I may not have done everything perfectly. I’ve made countless errors in my life and I will make countless more. I’ll never be what you want me to be—what his mother expected from me. But, if nothing else, I will right this wrong.”

You manage to loosen your other arm just enough to pull the matchbox free. In a wild frenzy, you grab hold of one and strike it against the surface of the box.

Moros lurches up the stairs, but you’re prepared. You kick him back down, your sole colliding with his face, and it brings you overwhelming delight to hear him groan in pain. Quite satisfied with yourself, you watch him tumble down the stairs, caught only by his weeds at the very bottom.

The flowers, vines, and roots retreat, shying away from the flickering flame in your hand. You shimmy out of the last one wrapped around your waist. Shrugging the satchel off, you offer the letters stuffed within an apologetic frown before dropping the match inside. The satchel and the now smoldering envelopes land right before Moros’s feet, smoke curling out from the flaps.

You hurry to procure another match and, just as he scrambles to put the first one out, flick it down the steps. The leaves and petals shudder in the heat. Soon enough, they’ll all be caught in a fierce blaze.

“No…” he laments, looking between you and the withering plants. “No! No! No!” His gaze hardens, odium burning behind those malicious red eyes. “Not another step! Do you hear me?!”

You do. You just choose not to listen.

You scurry the rest of the way, stumbling over your clumsy feet, and burst into the bedroom. Your sopping reflection is beckoning you forward with silent urgency. Seaweed hangs from her arms like a cloak. Her skin is bloated. In spite of everything, you trust her wholeheartedly.

A most haunting cry resounds from the hall. It’s filled with indescribable agony, tinged with rage and…fear.

“Don’t leave me! The world out there offers you nothing but misfortune and melancholy. You’ll never survive! You need me!” His shadow is stark against the wallpaper, illuminated by a gradually growing fire. “I can’t—won’t do it again! I refuse to be alone! I refuse! I’m right… Always right… And yet…”

Clutching the locket secured around your throat, you take hold of the hand offered in the mirror. She pulls you through for a final time just as another anguished scream pierces the air.

You fall out of the mirror on your hands and knees, chest heaving with exhilaration.

“I… I’m free. Free from that monster’s grasp!” You check yourself over just in case and, finding all to be well, breathe a relieved sigh. “It’s over…”

A thump against the mirror startles you. You turn back to see a thin, spidery arm reaching for the glass. His clawed fingertips touch the surface, but they don’t pass through. Instead, they tap a steady rhythm.

Clink. Clink. Clink.

Within minutes, he’s pounding a fist against the glass. You jerk away and hold tightly to the locket pin. It occurs to you that you’ll never truly be rid of Moros unless you destroy him. He can still slip out of the mirror when you’re slumbering, even if only for a few hours.

You dread to imagine what wretched feats he may be capable of when you submit to the land of dreams every night.

So you lift the heaviest candlestick you can find and, just as the tolling of three o’clock calls up from below, smash the mirror to pieces. The last you see of Moros is his frightful countenance awash in firelight. He looks more like a demon than a replica of your husband, inhuman features elongated like taffy stretched too far.

You’re not sure how long you spend destroying the mirror frame, but in the aftermath you allow the candlestick to fall from your hand. You deflate against the floor, gazing at the ceiling.

“It’s finally over. No longer shall we be tormented by that fiend…”

You gather the shards and stow them in a box. Come tomorrow, it will be filled with rocks, locked and bound in chains, and tossed into the river.

For now, you climb into Riddle’s bed and, soothing yourself with the warm memories you have of him, slowly succumb to sleep.

Moros’s Looking Glass is no more.

“Oh, if you could only hear his death wail!” you recount to Riddle’s grave over tea and biscuits. There’s a cup and plate set for him, placed just near his headstone. “Shrill as a squall. I was so certain it might fill my ears with blood if it went on any longer. I should hope to never encounter another sound more thunderous.”

You hum around the porcelain rim. “If you were with me today, I suspect we’d have a grand celebration. Only the victors delight in the secret spoils of a battle hard-fought.”

The sun is peeking out through feathery cumulus today. Warmed beneath the rays, boasting the locket pin on your breast, you don’t seem so gloomy in your mourning wear. Rather, you’re hopeful. Riddle can finally rest.

“Oh! I never did have the opportunity to recount my travels. The seaside is marvelous. Simply exquisite, my dear. Full of enchanting mystery. The sailors at port spin all manner of tales! I fear it may have haunted my head for the rest of my stay, for I was certain I saw shimmering tails out by the rocks. Ah, but these grotesque sirens could never hope to impress a jot of fear in me.”

I’ve endured far worse.

“Riddle…” You rest your hand upon the grass, smoothing out verdant blades beneath your palm. “I adore you.”

A gentle breeze whistles through the churchyard. You smile.

If you strain your ears, you can almost hear his voice on the wind, reciprocating the sentiment.

Five Years Later.

At the bottom of the river, stowed away in a box with rocks, shards of glass have been laid to rest.

A single red eye blinks open in the dark, trapped within the reflective surface.

Hands bring the box up onto shore, where three children crowd around it.

“What you’ve dug up this time?” the little girl asks, kneeling on the shore.

“It’s a treasure chest!” one of the boys exclaims.

“Is it truly?”

“Look, see!” The other points.

Together, they drop a particularly heavy stone onto the rusted, water-worn chains. They break apart seamlessly.

“Blast. No key.”

“Surely we can break it in?”

“Let’s give it a go.”

It takes some effort, but soon enough they’ve dented the mechanism. The box pops open, revealing shards of glittering glass. With a disappointed grumble, one of the boys lifts a chunk towards the sky. The sun catches it, reflecting its rays beautifully.

“Nothin’ but mess. Worthless.”

“Ya think? If we patch it up, it’ll sell for a few shillings. I declare thee: Magic Mirror of Mystery.” He turns towards his friends and grins. “What do ya reckon?”

“This isn’t even worth a week’s bread. Throw it back.”

“It could be worth something small.”

“Hmm. No. I reckon I’ll keep it. Let’s make it a gift.”

“Who for?”

“Lady Rosehearts! She’s always givin’ us our share for survival. We gotta pay it back. Mummy always said you pay kindliness with more kindliness and you’ll never go hungerin’.”

“Oh, that’s marvelous! I shall make a necklace out of the smaller pieces! It’ll be so pleasing.” The little girl giggles in delight, admiring the shards sparkling in the box.

“And I’ll put the pieces together into somethin’ sturdy.”

They exchange eager glances and then gather the shards, leaving an empty box in their wake.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle rosehearts x reader #yandere riddle #yandere riddle x reader

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yan-lorkai · 7 months ago

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Hi, so I've read the rules, but I'm not sure how much I can ask for. Can I get a headcanon about the TWST Housewardens finding out that the GN! reader has a boyfriend? Oh, and the reader's boyfriend is just some random student NPC in their dorms. If it's too much, just some of them reacting would be cool. Thanks!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Finally done, yay! Been a while since I wrote for all the housewardens so it is a little lengthy. Hope u enjoy, darling!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Tw: Yandere content, stalking, implied violence and kidnapping.

He's been watching you this whole time, feeling his heart beat inside his chest whenever he heard your sweet laugh and saw you smiling. His feelings slowly start to grow as you become friends, but there's just one problem: You have a boyfriend. What an unpleasant surprise! Well, what a shame that your boyfriend will disappear under suspicious circumstances that will never be resolved and he will be right here by your side to comfort you :)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Azul know just what to do. He plots and plans and trap your boyfriend on a deal he can't refuse. It's a tricky deal, trickier than usual, I mean, a one in a lifetime chance, whatever it is. However you won't never know what happened to him, not when you come to Azul asking if he knows something, not when he is comforting you and rubbing your back as you cry while he pretends to be just as sad as you. As if he ever feel sad to lead your boyfriend to his demise when he can have you like this, when he can mend your heart himself and love you like you deserve. Though when you recover Azul will show you just how devotion and love truly feels. He has been deprived of it for too long, bullied and teased, and he will have you, even if you found out about the deal, even if you claim to hate him, he can bear it.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Kalim is a sweetheart on the surface level, so happy all the time, so friendly. But he is oh so suffocating, always touching your arm and pulling you into a hug, kissing your cheeks and forehead and laughing when you tell him to knock it off. People always tend to assume he is your boyfriend and tell you that you too are a very cute couple, and they're always shocking when you tell them that Kalim isn't your boyfriend but just your bestie. Not yet, at least. On an intimate level, he likes to think about what to do with your actual boyfriend. People love money more than they love humans. Can he bribe him? If so, how can he guarantee that he won't go back on his word? Or should him send Jamil to do his dirty work? Mmm, so many options, either way, by the end of the month your boyfriend will disappear and you will need a friendly shoulder to lean on and Kalim is more than happy to be there for you.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Idia already has Ortho investigating this student and is so easy to watch him since he is in Ignyhide. He isn't worthy your time, your love and care, he is but a little plankton, not very smart or interesting, Idia don't know what you had seen on your actual boyfriend but he is never going to tell this to your face. Instead, he invite you to his room to play and study, assuming a more softer approach about this little problem than most yanderes, telling you how your boyfriend has been acting strange and visiting another person's room for a very long period of time. He even show you a very factual and not at all fabricated camera footage as a proof. Idia considers himself a very good friend when he comfort you and wipes your angry tears, telling that you deserve better, that he can treat you better. After all, it wasn't your fault that your boyfriend was a cheater. And Idia can show you what true love is.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Vil is horrified about your taste in men. Like, really, Liebling? You love this... Thing? Well, He has to give recognition where it is due and as a Pomefiore student, your boyfriend tried to polish and better himself. Though it wasn't enough. He wouldn't be good enough for you even in thousand years. Vil likes to imagine how he would take care of you, love you, polish you. He likes to imagine how he'd let down his walls around you and told funny stories from his movies or backstage gossips. Knowing you have a boyfriend kinda of shatter those thoughts. He tried to be happy for you, he really tried but in the end he couldn't help himself. So he created a potion, so sweet and yummy, and gave it to your boyfriend. Simple as that. Having you crying on his lap was just a bonus, a bonus Vil would cherish dearly.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Malleus has what he wants. And he wants you. It's only natural that things will fall in order after he states his claim on you, every single little thing start to goes wrong in your relationship and you, stressed and sad, tells Malleus every single thing while he comforts you. Sweet words are whispered in your ears, great dreams greets you everytime you sleep and in your dreams you are always so happy by Malleus's side, exploring woods and swimming in lakes, petting sheeps and listening to the birds singing. Simple things. Great things. While you sleep, Malleus send nightmares to your boyfriend, makes him so horrified and paranoid that he can't even form coherent thoughts. He wants you and he will have you, even if he has to tear you two apart like this, since your boyfriend took to isolate and murmur to himself.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Riddle doesn't like this. He quite dislike your boyfriend a lot, he is messy, a rule breaker, a bad student, he isn't worthy your time and love. Riddle is consumed by a jealousy that make him see red, nowadays he is always collaring your boyfriend, always making him busy so you two can spend less time together. And if you come to Heartslabyu to try and spend time with him, Riddle will just lie to you and tell you he didn't do anything and has no idea about what you're talking about. Yes, he gaslight you. But he is doing that because he knows what's good to you and that is certainty not your boyfriend. Instead, he fills your head with doubts and lies, and takes you to the Unbirthday party so you can have a little fun. Savor the present moment, the little snarky jokes Riddle tells you and the delicious tea. Forget about your boyfriend before Riddle takes matters into another level.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Leona is smug. Like, really? You love this guy? He is so much better than your boyfriend, more smarter, stronger, he huffs whenever he see you two being all cute and chummy together. He should be the one holding you, kissing you, cuddling you. You are his precious mate so he put all his effort in conquering your heart and love. And when Leona is determined to do something there's nothing in the whole world that can make him stop. He plans and make so many strategies in order to be successful all the while he has Ruggie making the dirty work for him. Kill him, bribe him, whatever, Leona will make you a single person again before making you fall in love with him. Even if he has to turn your boyfriend into dust, he will without thinking twice.

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married-to-google-translater · 3 months ago

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This was my birthday request (I completely forgot to send it in because I was busy, but if you don’t want to write this it’s completely fine!)

Yandere Housewardens vs their Tsums who are constantly stealing Readers’ attention away from them? This can mainly be Leona, Malleus and Azul

Riddle’s Tsum was honestly my favorite in the event because of how much of a brat the little guy was towards Riddle (and everyone else) not following orders

And Leona’s Tsum was just shameless (He was so cute) just imagining him kneading Reader’s legs as he gets ready to nap

If you don’t want to write this then I completely understand!

Haaaaappy birthdayyyy toooo youuuuu ❤️

This is for Yandere Riddle and Malleus

Leona and Azul will come later~

Yandere Riddle Rosehearths

Everything would be fine between you and Riddle at first.

Or as good as a yandere and Darling relationship could be.

However, everything would change very soon.

One day Tsum Tsum was there and it wanted all your attention.

Riddle doesn't really know how to feel about this.

Even if Tsum Tsum were a version of him, it would bear almost no resemblance to him.

Riddle would certainly have disagreements with Tsum Tsum.

Riddle feels like it doesn't respect him at all.

He would be right lol.

Riddle could try to make rules with Tsum Tsum.

However, Tsum Tsum wouldn't care much XD

Because of this, Riddle's control would shift to you.

You are his "partner" and he could influence you.

Riddle would do his best to try and keep you busy.

He would be surprisingly good at it.

You'd also have a LOT more in common stuff with Riddle.

He would never admit to being jealous lol

Of course, you could try to meet Riddle Tsum Tsum secretly.

You should be really careful.

If Riddle found out about this he would be really upset.

Yandere Malleus Draconia

You and Malleus haven't actually dated yet.

However, she had already begun the traditional fae courtship rituals.

You wouldn't know anything about this.

However, everything changes when Malleus Tsum Tsum arrives.

Tsum Tsum wouldn't really be a yandere.

However, like Malleus, Tsum Tsum also likes you very much.

This whole situation would be really funny.

Malleus was actually jealous of himself XD.

However, this would not stop him.

After his Tsum Tsum came your attention was hard to get.

It felt like you were only hanging out with Tsum Tsum.

Malleus' jealousy would not be difficult to notice.

A thunderstorm rages over the NRC for many weeks.

It doesn't help when you keep talking about how cute Malleus Tsum Tsum is.

Oh this would definitely lead to a kidnapping.

After all, Malleus wouldn't want to share you with anyone.

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writingforatwistedworld · 2 years ago

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How would riddle, malleus and epel react to the overseer personally knowing their family their family was not aware they were the overseer (for malleus and epel the overseer met their grannys and for riddle they know his mom)

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, obsession, kidnapping, religion, cult, unhealthy relationship, threats, blood, imprisonment

Riddle Rosehearts/Epel Felmier/Malleus Draconia-Player knows one of their family members

Riddles mother

It was once more time for a holiday

NRC was prepared to host a few attractions and to have family members visit for a day or two

Riddle was warned by a letter from his mother that she was coming

So the day was here. The celebration was in full swing. And look at that, it's the mother of a certain redhead. Noo-I mean, yay...

Riddle was prepared for another scolding for something he “did wrong” but after greeting her son (in a way too stiff manner) she turned to you and... greeted you as well?

You see, little, helpful you had promised the former red tyrant to help his dorm with their celebration so you were also present when the madam came over

“Mother, why do you know the Overseer?” “What are you talking about, Riddle?”

Apparently, Trey had once invited you to meet his family after you showed interest in his siblings and the bakery. In the Queendom you had gone on a walk in the forest, slipped and twisted your ankle so badly that you couldn't walk anymore. Luckily Riddles mother came by (for some reason) and helped you, being a doctor and all

Now, lady is of course no idiot so after her son had asked her that question she was just a new addition to the garden as a statue

Riddle was terrified that you saw the polite yet also arrogant way his mother spoke to you in the past as something rude

Now, you were of course not the biggest fan of her but at least she healed you back then

Once you are gone, running off to Pomefiore to help over there, Riddle had a talk with his mother

Usually he would show her respect but today it was like the roles were reversed

Kind words and any kind of love he had left for her were thrown out of the window when he asked her “how she could have not recognized their uncrowned ruler?”

Riddle was this close to snapping and using his special magic on her

For the first time Riddles mother was afraid of her son

Never before had she seen him so angry

But oh well, better stay in line and be nice to you instead of finding out how far she could push his boundaries

It was almost like he wouldn't just chop her head off in a metaphorical sense with his special magic but rather literally in a much, much more bloody way

Epels Grandmother

Ah yes, Epels sweet sweet granny could of course not miss her beloved grandson

She even prepared some cake and other delicious treats for him. How sweet!

So when perfection themselves, the Overseer, suddenly marched over after they spotted a familiar mop of light lilac hair he nearly had a heart attack

But instead of his Granny being surprised she just said a nice hello, that it was good to see you again and how things had been since you had seen each other

Why did his granny know the Overseer? Why did his granny know God?

Now Epel couldn't of course ask that later part, considering that his villages view on you was in comparison rather... yeah let's call it “extreme”

Turns out he had forgotten something when he visited Harveston the last time and you brought it to him, only for you to meet his Grandmother before you ran into him. Giving her what he forgot the two of you had a nice little talk before you left

And this is the point when Epel felt like he was ready to bash his head against the wall

Vil must have noticed a short in Epels mood because the model just threw him a very poisonous look

So here Eprl was, standing like a lost little child between his Granny and f-ing God whilst the two of you had a nice little chat about the weather

When you finally said goodbye to the two, running off to Diasomnia because you were invited for tea, Epel was juts like “Granny, we need to talk.”

Say goodbye to your apple-free days because after that talk, there will be boxes of so-called “offerings” in front of your door. Every. Single. Day.

“Granny, don't be too shocked but you met God.” “Hoho, what are you talking about?” “...” “Oh...”

For the rest of the day her legs were so shaky that Epel was afraid for her health

I mean, come on, the very person who has drilled tales about a deity into your head finally meeting said deity is something that is guaranteed to have a way too high blood pressure

The next time you run into her she isn't entirely sweet anymore

Of course she is still nice but there is something creepy about her. The way her eyes drill into you, how her questions are always a tad bit too personal

And did she just utter a prayer with your name in it? Nah, must be your imagination

Malleus Grandmoter

How she didn't recognize you the first time you two met is a wonder considering that she has that sixth sense every Fae has that tingles even when you are being simply mentioned

But today is a great day, Malleus grandmother came over to visit her grandson, a rare day of rest for her

Maleus was just about to tell her that he had invited a guest when you showed up

So when he stood up to introduce you to her she was just like “Oh, the child of man I met that one day.”

Cue Malleus standing there like a plank

Poor man is so surprised that he can't even ask how the heck you two met each other

When he finally asked when you two met he found out that he had forgotten to send a letter of his so you had jumped through one of the mirrors and delivered it to the castle yourself

After almost getting impaled for jumping right into a heavily guarded castle you had explained yourself and boom, you had a fife minute talk with grandma Draconia

Ok, great, wonderful, but did she know that you were the Overseer?

When he told her who you were she had to set down her teacup, shock sinking into her bones

Following his words you asked what he meant with Overseer

This was the day Diasomnia saw their dorm leader drop a teacup

Like with Epel you are now more or less in trouble

I mean, yeah, it's nice to get literal national treasures sent to your doorstep but at the same time, what the heck??!

Back in the Valley of Thorns the Fae are panicking left and right

What do you mean, the Overseer has already visited us once? And we pointed all kind of sharp tools at them??!

It wouldn't be much of a surprise if you just woke up one day in a room that you had never seen before, living like a bird in a golden cage

You know, the next ruler has taken a liking to you and your loyal followers need to protect you

So sit still and don't try to run

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ghostieyanyan · 5 months ago

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Hello uuuh what yandere riddle rose heart react if he met Mc like...mc is the princess of redrose thorn in another kingdom and she is the house warden president in another school....she is powerful...and mc doesn't have too strict rules but mcs student respect her and there are only 5 rules...1 don't be late 2 always do your cleaning day 3 no running in the halls 4 always respect and kind each other 5 never let the house warden president mad.......cause mc gets really scary than riddle and mc sometimes a little crazy and punished of who will messing with her classmates dorm or who will getting violent...

~Rose Princess! Mc~

Yan!Riddle x Rose Princess! Mc

Warning: yandere, implied kidnapping, maybe some misspellings,

I made it so this mc isn't perfect! i hope that's okay

~~~

Riddle ran things his way. its either you follow all of his rules or "off with your head!" Even after the overblot, he's became or lenient but overall he's still a stickler for rules.

When Riddle met you, he didn't really mind it too much. you were just mixed with those other trouble makers in school. as long as you didn't get in to trouble, he'll stay out of your way.

That changed when he keep seeing you in Heartslabyul. its one thing is he were to find you with ace, deuce, grim, and the prefect. but its another when he sees you messing with his roses!!!

"Hey!!"

You jumped and wiped your head around to see a red faced Riddle.

"Who gave you authorization to touch the roses?!"

When he got closer, he realized you were tending to the roses! You were cutting off the dead branches that other students will either ignore or not noticed. Those branches are often by the roots of the brush, which makes it an unpleasant job to do. It showed on your hands and arms too. Cuts from the roses thorns...

"Oh my! I am very sorry, Head housewarden."

You stood up and bowed your head. which he wasn't prepared for a formal greeting. With the crowd you spend your time with... who could blame him...

"i noticed that some of the branches were rotting, so I've taken it upon myself to tend to them before they spread. i told Vice warden Trey ahead of time which he'd told me... he'll tell you..."

Riddle blinked. He looked at your work, the roots have been cleared of its old rotten branches and it looked overall more healthier. He turned to look at a basket you had, it was filled with a mixture of tools and roots. Riddle shifted his glaze at you. You're uniform was messy, with rips and dirt everywhere...

"Im sorry House Warden! i should have came to you directly for this request! Im sorry!"

You bowed your head again.

Riddle looked at everything one more time and turned to you.

"How do you know how to tend to the roses..? Not a lot of people know or even think about working with roses because of their thorns.."

You lifted your head, swiping your uniform to get rid of any lose dirt.

"Im..."

You bit your tongue for a moment then let out a breathe to continue.

"Im a Princess Redrose Thorn..."

Riddle had to do a double take on you.

"A princess..??"

There was an awkward moment of silence. You were about to continue when Riddle stopped you.

"finish with what you are doing here and after you are done, clean up and meet me in my room, please."

Riddle turned on his heel and started to walk away, after finishing with-.

"I'd like to discuss this when you are more presentable."

Then he was off..

Before your "meet up," he got himself your records. You were a princess in a land that are known for their different variations of roses. Nothing like Queendom of Roses, his homeland.

He found your last school, and how you had a very important role in that school. That was, before you were accepted in Night Raven College...

While he was lost in thought, looking at your files, he hears a knock.

"Come it!"

Riddle watched your head peep out behind the door. He tried to keep a neutral face but kinda failed...

"Ahem-! Please take a seat! I've.. made tea."

Watching Riddle stammer a bit was cute. you gave him a smile and walked inside, closing the door on the way. Riddle took the chance to pull out your seat, "out of respect".

There was an awkward moment of quiet but you didn't mind it. You took the opportunity too look at the house warden's room. Its as you expected it. Everything is neat and tidy. Everything is where it should be, very orderly. You see lots of books!! On his book shelf, on his desk, side table, they weren't messy but neatly stacked which you appreciate.

"Ahem!"

You jumped and turned to Riddle. You didn't mean to get lost in thought but you did.

"About the roses..."

"I really am sorry for messing with them without your permission, head-"

"Riddle. And its alright, i haven't seen anyone pay that much attention to their responsibility in the dorm. Normally they cut corners and not thing of the overall dorm structure."

He took a sip of his tea and glared to the imaginary freshman Heartslaybul students to the side.

"heh.. I just know how to tend to them."

"You said that you are a princess? why would a princess actively gets her hands dirty?"

"Oh!"

You laughed as you looked at your tea cup, running your fingers against the details of the saucer.

"where ive from, id like to rule hands on."

You straighten yourself and looked at Riddle. He swore you were glowing.

"The place i protect is my home too. As a princess, i have big responsibilities but i cant forget the little things either. That's why i like to be hands on."

Riddle felt a stammer coming, so he took a sip to stop it.

"Your homeland... its also practices the Queen of Hearts rule, correct?"

"well... yes and no?"

Riddle felt a twitch, how could you follow someone like the queen of hearts without following all her rules to a T? You're basically making a mockery of her... what a joke..

"My kingdom believes in what she stand for. Strength and Beauty! like a Rose with their thorns. Roses are used of many things, but they are not push overs. That's what we believe."

You took a sip but continued.

"Before i was accepted into Night Raven College, I was a part of another school, Rose Royal Academy. You could think of it as if Heartslabyul was a whole school. You could say i was the "housewarden" so i understand how things should run."

Riddle looked at you surprised. Honestly he was only listening partly to what you were saying, he was distracted by the way your lips moved... But he was quick grounded after hearing you were borderline a housewarden??

"Wait! how could you run a whole school without following all the rules of the queen of hearts?? It would have been mayhem! The students need structure, if not theyre just wild beast!!"

You looked at him surprised and kinda insulted by the idea of your classmates before were "such beast.' You coughed but answered his question.

"it wasnt like we didnt have rules, we just had 5."

You took a sip of tea as Riddle coughed.

"5?!?!"

"Yes. 5."

You placed your cup down and held up 5 fingers to name the rules.

"1, don't be late. Everyone should be punctual with time unless there's an emergency. 2, always do your cleaning day. Everyone has a task to clean a part of the school, classroom, dorms, gym, cafeteria, even the rose gardens. This place is our home and it will not be tolerated living in a mess! 3, no running in the halls. You could hurt someone or even hurt yourself. Running is only allowed for gym or emergency. 4, always respect and be kind to each other. We should all aim to help each other. And if you don't like someone, agree to disagree or compromise. 5, never let the house warden president mad. If you break one of the rules with a valid reason, your punishment will be light. If i smell deceive, your punishment will be swift and one to remember."

You both sat there for a minute of silences.

"w-well, thats how i ran things. we still had unbirthday parties, tea parties, etc. but overall those were the rules."

Riddle sat there staring, kinda like watching a wheel turning. he was about to respond to you before a knock was heard from the door.

"come in!"

Trey walked in with Cater following behind.

"we're hear with the repor- oh! sorry are we interrupting?"

"oooo~ what's happening here~? this seems very romantic."

Riddle's face turned red.

"what?!? its just a-"

"Riddle invited to talk about my years before NRC. I should be heading out anyway. I have to get some books in the library."

Riddle jumped up from his seat.

"if you need a book, i might have one here..?"

Trey and Cater stood to the side watching there Housewarden fumble at you.

"heh.. its alright. i asked the librarian to hold that book for me a few days ago. Thank you though. And thank you for the tea. Good bye."

You bowed your head as you walked out. Trey and Cater quickly turned to their friend, noticing how red he is..

"awww.. sorry for interrupting your little date house warden~"

"Hem-! Cater, i expect the roses in the hallways to be all clean and have fresh water before curfew.."

"a...ah... okay."

Trey holds in a laugh.

~~~

The next coming days, Riddle watches you help the other Heartslaybul students, in there tasks or school work. The students started to call you their Rose mom. Sweet and gentle but will show thorns if underestimated.

He has watched you tell a student to go finished their assignment for a class their falling behind and let you finished their cleaning task.

He also watched you help Ace, Deuce, Prefect, and Grim with an assignment with Crewel.

He watched you help Trey in the kitchen and watched you help Cater set the table for an unbirthday party.

With everything you do that made his heart flutter, you do something that made him wish that you would help him, mainly stay by his side.

A dark part of him wanted to keep you to himself and personally train you to stay by his side. That sweet attitude of yours should be his and his alone.

He'll make you his prefect rose. if he shaped you just right, his mother might accept you as a daughter-in-law. With you by his side, he could do anything.

So just wait a little longer, he'll get everything ready for you~

~~~

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deezee112 · 26 days ago

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The Worst Ending 1 : A Perfectionist's Regret

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | The worst ending 2

Yandere!riddle rosehearts x GN!Reader

A/N : I've been really motivated to do this lately. I've got 5 drafts left! I feel like this chapter is not well written. I will try harder in the next chapter :( And I'm sorry that I'm uploading this late. I had a really bad stomachache so I uploaded it a bit late.

Content Warning : This story contains themes of emotional strain , obsessive behavior , accidental death , guilt , and grief. It explores intense psychological dynamics and depicts a tragic ending involving a fatal accident. Reader discretion is advised.

Tags :

@iris-arcadia

“ I’ll Name You Riddle ”

The name slipped off you tongue almost effortlessly, as if it had been waiting there all along. You gazed at the doll's blank yet lifelike face and nodded to herself. “ Riddle. That’s what I’ll call you. ”

The doll blinked slowly, as though acknowledging its new identity.

You didn’t know why you had chosen that name it had simply felt right. It carried a certain weight, a sense of authority. You stood and stretched, glancing down at you peculiar charge. “ Well, Riddle, looks like it’s you and me now. Let’s see how far we can take this. ”

Teaching Riddle proved to be both an intriguing and frustrating experience. At first , he could barely do anything on his own. You had to guide him through every motion , every word, every action. You taught him how to speak , patiently repeating phrases until his soft , childlike voice mimicked your perfectly. You taught him how to walk , holding his hands and encouraging him to take one step at a time.

What surprised your most was his ability to learn. Once Riddle grasped the basics, he began picking up new skills at an astonishing rate. He could read within weeks , solve simple puzzles shortly after , and soon displayed an uncanny understanding of rules and structure.

“ I want things to be perfect. ” he said one evening, his voice calm yet insistent as he carefully folded his clothes. “ Everything should be just right. ”

You raised an eyebrow, watching him from the kitchen. “ Perfect, huh? Life’s rarely like that, kid. Sometimes things get messy. ”

Riddle turned to you, his expression thoughtful. “ Messy isn’t good. Messy means failure. ”

You sighed, walking over to ruffle his red hair. It was soft and fine, feeling more human with every passing day. “ Messy means you’re human. Nobody gets everything right all the time. ”

Riddle frowned at you, his crimson eyes sharp and intense. “ I’ll be perfect. You’ll see. ”

You chuckled. “ If you say so, Riddle. ”

As months turned into years, Riddle grew into a sharp and disciplined boy. He excelled at everything you taught him , whether it was academics , cooking ( It was actually quite bad but he tried 😔 ) , or even social etiquette. But his relentless pursuit of perfection came with a cost.

He was strict not just with himself , but with your as well. He insisted on rules for everything how meals should be prepared , how furniture should be arranged , even how conversations should flow.

“ You didn’t say ‘please’ ” Riddle pointed out one evening when You asked him to pass the salt.

You rolled you eyes. “ Riddle, I’m not going to follow rules for something as small as this. ”

“ But rules are important ” he argued , his voice rising slightly. “ They keep everything in order! ”

“ And sometimes, order isn’t what you need ” You countered , you tone firm. “ Relax, Riddle. Life isn’t all about rules. ”

His eyes darkened, and for a moment, You thought he might argue further. But then he simply nodded, his expression unreadable.

“ You didn’t fold the napkins properly ” he pointed out one evening as you set the table.

You sighed, barely restraining you irritation. “ Riddle, it’s just dinner. No one’s grading us on napkin folding. ”

“ But it’s wrong ” he insisted, his voice sharp.

“ Riddle ” you said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “ It’s not a big deal. Let it go. ”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But instead, he nodded stiffly and returned to his task, his movements tense and mechanical.

Their your and him arguments grew more frequent as time went on. You tried to reason with him, to show him that life wasn’t about rigid rules and unattainable standards. But Riddle was unyielding, his belief in perfection as absolute as the laws he created for himself.

It was a stormy evening when everything fell apart. You had come home late, drenched from the rain and utterly exhausted. You kicked off your shoes and left them in the middle of the hallway, something you know Riddle would disapprove of.

“ y/n ” his voice called from the living room, calm but cold.

You sighed, running a hand through your wet hair. “ Not now, Riddle. I’m tired. ”

“ You left your shoes in the hallway ” he said, appearing in the doorway. His expression was as strict as ever, his eyes gleaming with disapproval.

“ I’ll move them later ” you muttered, brushing past him.

“ No ” he said, his voice rising slightly. “ You need to move them now. ”

You turned to face him, you patience snapping. “ Riddle, it’s just a pair of shoes! Why does everything have to be a big deal with you!? ”

“ Because rules matter!! ” he shouted, his small fists clenched at his sides.

“ Not all the time! ” you shot back. “ Sometimes, you have to let things go! ”

But Riddle didn’t listen. In his mind, you refusal to follow the rules was a betrayal of everything he believed in. He reached out to grab you arm, his grip surprisingly strong.

“ Riddle, let go ” you said, you voice low and warning.

“ You don’t understand ” he said, his voice trembling with frustration. “ You never understand! ”

He pushed you, and You stumbled backward. you foot caught on the edge of the coffee table, and you fell hard, you head striking the corner of the table.

Time seemed to freeze as you crumpled to the floor, motionless.

“ y-y/n..? ” Riddle’s voice was small, almost a whisper.

He knelt beside you, his hands shaking as he reached out to touch her. “ y/n, get up. Please, get up! ”

But you didn’t move.

Riddle sat beside you lifeless body, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts. He hadn’t meant to hurt you. He had just wanted you to understand.

“ I-I didn’t mean to… ” he whispered, his voice cracking.

He cradled you head in his lap, tears streaming down his pale cheeks. For the first time in his short life, Riddle felt the weight of imperfection not in himself, but in the world around him. A world where mistakes had consequences he couldn’t undo.

“ I’m sorry.. ” he choked out, his tears falling onto her still face. “ I’m so sorry.... ”

Hours passed, and Riddle didn’t move. He stayed by you side, his small hands clutching your as though his touch could bring her back.

“ I’ll fix this ” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “ I’ll find a way. I’ll be better. I’ll be perfect, just like you wanted. ”

But deep down, he know there was no fixing this. you was gone, and it was his fault.

When the authorities arrived, they found Riddle sitting silently beside You body, his expression blank but his eyes haunted.

They asked him what had happened, but he didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The words caught in his throat, suffocating him with their weight.

Riddle was taken away, his fate uncertain. But no punishment the world could offer would compare to the torment he carried within himself.

Every night, he dreams of your voice. Your laughter Your unwavering patience, and every morning, he wakes up with the painful feeling that he may never hear your voice again.

He had sought perfection, but in the end, all he had found was loss.

“ I’m so sorry.... ”

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst x reader #twst yuu #au doll #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle x reader

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snoopledrooplecheesedoodle · 1 year ago

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Love Bugs: Insect Dorm Leaders x Reader Part 1

It's yandere so don't read if you don't like. Also, to all my requests still working on them, I just needed a small break from Jojo's. This is my opinion on what insect they'd be, and I'll probably write full stories for each of them. If you think something fits them better, just let me know. These are scenarios that are not going to be part of the main story. Reader is gender neutral. They get a little long but hey enjoy.

Riddle: Fire Ant

How could this have happened? You were having a nice day in the park, which turned into a nightmare. Ginormous fire ants swarmed the park and attacked anyone they saw on sight. Frantically, you ran to find a place to hide. Quickly ducking behind a tree as a group of the loyal foot soldiers skittered by. Peeping around the corner, you prayed that those horrid carnivorous ants were gone.

Voices in the distance. You duck back and sink to the base of the tree, praying to the Gods that the voices don't come closer. If only the Gods didn't hate you so much. "Dueceeeee, this is so boring! Why didn't Riddle send someone else out here?" The voice held a childish yet bored tone to it and it sounded human. Could they be humans? "Quit whining it's an honor to be assigned such an important task for the King." The other voice sounded just as youthful as the first but with a more responsible air. King? What King? Your curiosity got the better of you as you peeped back around the tree to see who was talking.

To your horror you saw two men which look human from the head down to the torso (minus the antenna). From the torso down they had the body of ants... fire ants. Your luck got worse by the minute as the blue haired one spotted you. "Oi, you get out from behind that tree!" You yelped at the harsh tone and did the only rational thing. Run. Run far and fast. You could hear the sound of your heart pounding in your ears as you escaped certain death.

Almost.

"Gotcha" You squeak in surprise as you feel a pair of arms circle around your waist. You thrash in the redhead's arms as he laughs at your pitiful attempt to escape. "Nice try but you're nothing but a puny human compared to- ow!" You bit down hard on the closest bit of flesh that you could find. When it came down to it, you were going to fight for your life. Even if it meant biting the strange hybrid that was holding you. Running the opposite direction, you again find yourself captured by the redhead's blue companion. "Argh that little bitch, I ought to eat them for biting me." You trembled at the threat as the redhead glared daggers at you. "Quit whining, we need to report back to the King our findings." Duece stated before lifting you over his back and walking in the direction they came from. Ace chuckled a little, a sadistic glint filling his red eyes. "Yeah, let Riddle decide what to do with them. I can't wait! Oi, you hear that bitey? Riddle's gonna destroy you." The jeers do nothing to comfort you as you continued to scream and kick against the man's hard exoskeleton.

The duo arrived at a site that made your eyes widen with fear. An ant's nest that looked almost like a mountain. Thousands of ants and ant hybrids were moving in and out of the mound. The sight alone made you very queasy. That's it for humanity, if there were more of them inside. The duo holding you hostage crawled past the fellow ants who all drooled hungrily at the sight of you, causing you to shiver. You were going to be torn to pieces by a bunch of hungry ants. You silently sobbed as you lamented your fate.

Skittering through the corridors, the duo made it to their destination. Your ears were met with a joyful squeal as you heard someone skitter closer. "Ah that human you have is so cute! Can I touch it?" Even though the voice was friendly the dehumanizing way he treated you scared you a little, causing you to actively try and wriggle away from the excited voice. Another voice spoke. "Riddle won't be two pleased that you brought a human into the colony. You know the rule-" "Yeah, yeah no human shall dwell in or know of the colony. We just thought he might like this one as a trophy of sorts." The redhead spoke to the unknown voice with confidence oozing from his words. The ant he was talking to sighed. "Alright, I'm only allowing this since he's in a good mood from the hunt. Just don't be surprised when you find yourself headless." With that the two moved forward allowing you to see who the two were talking two. A green haired man with glasses who looked nervous, and a ginger who gave you a quick wink before returning to his post.

Inside the room you could hear the skittering of the ants and a single voice that rose above the others and gave out commands. "You two take those bodies to the food cellar. I want them to be preserved for future meals." The voice ordered in a serious tone. So much for a good mood. "Hey your majesty." The red head drawled out as they stepped before the King's humongous throne. An exasperated sigh came from the top of the throne. "What a pleasant surprise to see my scavengers come back empty handed. Weren't you supposed to look for survivors?" The man you have yet to see had a voice dripping with sarcasm. Duece knelt before the king causing your body to slide and fall off the man's shoulder. "Apologies your majesty, we were searching for more survivors, but we got a bit distracted." Duece hesitated at the end of sentence. The King falls silent before retorting. "Distracted? How?" Cue you lifting your head, a little disoriented from the fall. All of the ants gasped as the supposedly dead human rose shakily to their feet. You looked up at the throne to see an adorable man sitting on the dirt throne.

He had short red hair that blended in well with his antenna making the heart shaped antenna look like his hair. A crown of leaves and flowers sat atop his head, and two wide stormy grey eyes stared down at you with interest. His plush lips pulled a neutral look on his baby face as he looked at the scene with indifference. A ring of giant soldier ants with spears formed around the three of you, ready to tear the rule breakers apart.

That's it. You weren't going down without a fight. You turned towards the nearest guard and sunk your teeth into the fleshy part of his arm. He dropped his spear out of fear and surprise to clutch his hurt arm. You grabbed the spear from the floor and wasted no time charging at the guards. Even though the ants were bigger and stronger than you, you fought for your life. Slashing and jabbing at the soldier ants. Duece and his redheaded friend joined in the fight for their hides, beating back the soldiers. As you fought, it became very clear that this was a losing battle. One of the soldiers manages to knock the spear out of your hand and leaves you defenseless. This was it; you were going to die.

Instead of the sound of the spear piercing your internal organs and the feeling of pain attached the sound of clapping echoes through the chambers. From up on the throne Riddle is clapping with a smug look on his face, like an Emperor watching his favorite gladiator win. "Well done human, you have thoroughly impressed me." Riddle stood from his throne and waved his hand. The guards and all other ants nearby bowed low to the ground as the King approached. Up close you were able to see that he was much shorter than most of the ants here but commanded the room with his royal presence. You keep eye contact with the King and glare at him, causing a wicked smirk to appear on his face. "I must say of all the humans I've met you have the most spirit." He grabs your chin in a crushing grip. His gray eyes meeting your (e/c) eyes. Even in the face of the most powerful ant here, you refused to back down.

Riddle laughs at your defiance before leaning in close enough that your foreheads touched. "Let's see how long that spirit lasts." He blows warm air into your face causing you to flinch back. Riddle's amusement drops as he addresses the duo you came in with. "See to it that those two are locked away until I can come up with a fitting punishment." Some of the guards nod before dragging the ragged and confused duo away. Riddle turns back to you and smiles. "Good news you'll remain with your life." He turns to the ginger in the hallway and snaps his finger. The ginger comes in obediently. "Bad news is, your life in mine now." With that last statement the ginger urges you through the door and away from the King's watchful gaze.

Riddle returns to his throne and sighs happily, for the first time in a while he's found something worth his time. A human, a toy, and perhaps in the future a queen. Riddle chuckles to himself at his musings. However, he does know...

Every King needs a Queen

Leona: Ant Lion

Curiosity killed the cat.

Was that how the phrase went?

It must when it slipped through the elders' lips with such ease. They would always say it directed at you, with their judgmental looks and wagging fingers. However, you never paid any heed as these geezers were just looking out for you because you brought them food.

You were an ant, a worker ant specifically.

You were also a curious little insect.

Ever since you were a larva you dreamed of joining your siblings, friends, and neighbors to help scavenge for food and fight off enemies. However secretly you also selfishly hoped to go out and see a little more of the world you called home. Sure, it was dangerous for you to wander too far from the colony, but you were strong. All ants were strong and if only they would just use it differently. It was always "We're strong to protect the colony" or "We're strong to gather food" never anything about the individual.

You sighed as you worked with five other ants to carry a leaf back to the colony for supper. Your job was to fetch and deliver, no questions asked. The colony needs food and without you, it gets no food. You are important yes, but you only get to see a small part of your world. The part the scouts deemed safe and plentiful.

There was a job you wanted. Part of the scouts. The ones who risked their lives and explored the corners of the world in search of food and places to expand. In your dream like state, you almost dropped your part of the leaf which caused the team to groan at you. "(Y/N) you're not focusing." Neema complained. Neema was a close acquaintance of yours and the only one who didn't outright chastise your dreams. She was a dark-skinned beauty with short frizzy hair and almond eyes.

"Sorry, just thinking." You replied staring wistfully off onto the savannah. The sun cast a radiant glow on the acacia trees. Trees that you never climbed. There were watering holes that you never swam in, beasts you never faced. So much to do in your short life and you were wasting it picking up stupid leaves.

"Hey, I know as soon as we get back to the colony, we can help sort the food, that way we get first pick." Neema's dark eyes filled with joy at the mention of food. "All you think about is food." Was all you could say at your friend's childish remarks. "That's what ants think about food and work." Neema beamed proudly. She was the definition of everything you were not. Hardworking, food focused, and successful. In fact, you two might have been friends if that was all you cared about.

But it wasn't...

You had snuck out of the colony for some fresh air. During dinner time it can be a little chaotic. There were thousands of your people getting food. You had worked all day picking up leaves and sorting food, that you weren't hungry when it was time to eat. Sick of the sight of food.

No not you, you wanted to see the sun set over the savannah and the thousands of twinkling stars. Feel the gentle caress of the wind on her face and antennas. To breath the fresh air and not the hot and sticky air in the colony. You wanted freedom. More than anything. However, you knew an ant alone cannot survive for long. God you were so frustrated! Why do you feel like this when no one else does?

You wanted to cry your frustration out, you wanted to run. Where? You didn't know but you sure as hell didn't want to be here. With no other thought in mind, you ran.

Everything was a blur around you as you ran without a care in the world. Screw not being able to survive on your own, you wanted to thrive. Even if you lived just one more day, you want to live freely.

You should have watched where you were going.

Thump! You rolled straight into a sand pit, hurting not only your pride but your legs a bit. You twitched your six legs to see if they were in operating condition. Your middle and back ones were fine, but your two front ones hurt like hell.

Great, just great.

Things just couldn't get any worse.

"Hmm...what could have possibly ruined my slumber?"

Crap

You remember what the elders told you about sand pits, if any ant was unlucky enough to fall into one. Also, more importantly what hid in them. The sand began to rustle beneath you, causing your fear to rise. You needed to get out of here. Away from the Ant Lion. As he yawned and stretched you climbed with all your might on your four working legs. The sand was so uneven that you kept slipping back in with tears in your eyes.

Flick

Sand was thrown in your eyes causing your vision to blur. You cried in pain as more sand was thrown at you. You slipped further and further down the trap towards the waiting jaws of your predator. "Tch stop struggling herbivore, it's no use." You screamed at the lazy voice that was closer than you were comfortable with. Standing on all your legs to try to escape, you yelp in pain and fall back down. You tried blinking the sand out of your eyes to see the face of your killer.

Green eyes.

A handsome man with green eyes and tan skin stared down at you. He was much larger than you and stronger by the looks of it. His long dark hair flowed down his back in waves. You would have thought the man was an ant like you, except the lack of antenna. As well as the two sharp looking pincers in his mouth.

"Hm, you're a lot cuter than my usual prey. Tell you what, you agree to become my pillow and I won't eat you till morning." You could only squeak as you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around your soft torso. A sharp thing poked you in the neck back causing you to freeze up. "I need an agreement little ant, otherwise I might be tempted to eat you right here and now." You nodded swiftly causing the Ant Lion to purr and burry you both into the sand. Before you were completely submerged you hear him speak.

"I might just keep you after all because..."

You're too good to eat

Azul: Diving Bell Spider

You wished you had listened to your mother.

You wish you hadn't been so stupid

So naive

So kind

It was too late now as you were trapped in the lake with a man who claimed to love you ever since you showed him kindness all those years ago.

You were a cute and bubbly kid known for a kind heart and loud voice. Being the bundle of energy you were, your parents often sent you outside to play. You especially liked playing outside your family lake house. Swimming in the lake, chasing ducks, and catching fireflies at night were some of your favorite things to do. However, one day you met someone you firmly wish now you never met.

You had snuck out of the lake house early in the morning while your parents were still asleep. Hoping to get some early morning swimming in before breakfast, you tore over to the lake in your swimsuit. You jumped off the dock and began to playfully splash around giggling with joy. You stop splashing about and just let your tiny body relax, floating gently on the lake surface. As you absorbed the sounds of nature you heard the sound of...crying? You popped your head above the water and listened intently to find where the sound was coming from. Searching high and low, you were unable to locate where the sound was coming from until you noticed a small figure underneath the reeds.

It was a small boy but unlike you he was only a few inches tall. From the waist up he was a pudgy little boy with silver hair and blue eyes. From below the waist he had the body of a spider. The boy noticed you and shrieked in fear. "Who-who are you?" You beamed down at the boy with a friendly smile. "I'm (Y/N)! Wanna be friends?" The boy eyed you suspiciously before crying some more. "Why would you want to be friends with a fat, stupid, spider like me?" Your eyes softened at the boy's harsh statement. "I don't think you're stupid." The boy stops sniffling and stared up at you, blue eyes filled with hope. "You don't?"

"Nope!" You chirped cheerfully offering your hand to your new tiny friend. He hesitated once more before carefully climbing onto the palm of your hand. You lifted it up to your face so you could see your friend better. He bashfully tried to hide himself from your curious gaze. Nodding your head satisfactorily you smiled at the boy in your hand. "You're the prettiest kid I've ever seen!" Your words cause the boy in your hand to cover his face in embarrassment.

"What's your name pretty new friend?"

"Azul."

"Nice to meet you Azul."

"You too (Y/N)."

You and Azul hung out every day since the day you met. You'd come to the lake and Azul would wait for you on the bank. Then the two of you would play all sorts of games together. Azul showed you all kind of new and cool places near the lake that you had never seen before. You really liked hanging out with your new friend. Unfortunately, all good things have to come to an end as Summer came to an end. Your family was going to move back to your regular home for the school year, which meant saying goodbye to your friend.

"Azul I'm not coming back tomorrow." You stated sadly which caused the little spider great shock. "Why?" He sounded so heartbroken at your words. "I have to go home." You state sadly unable to look at your friend out of guilt. "I thought you lived with the humans in the house?" Azul's voice was wavering a bit as he tried not to cry. "This isn't my real home; my real home is far away from here." "No!" The little spider boy clung to your thumb like his life depended on it. "You can't leave, I love you." You patted the poor boy's head gently.

"I love you too Azul, you're my best friend." Azul's eyes lit with hope at your words. "Then you'll come back soon, right?" You smiled and nodded. "Yep, totally will!" "Promise?" Azul stuck his pinky out childishly. "Promise." You giggled booping him gently with your pinky.

Many years had passed, and you were now a grown woman. You had forgotten all about Azul and the promise you made to him. Instead, you were focusing on your last Summer of freedom before heading off to college. You brought a couple of friends and your current crush (c/n) with you to the lake house.

"Come on (Y/N), what's taking you so long?" Your good friend Bess asked stamping her foot in exasperation. You laughed at your friend's impatience. "I'm coming, don't worry." You eagerly walked out of the bathroom in your new bathing suit. "Wow (Y/N), wait till (c/n) gets a load of you looking all good." You blush at Bess' compliment before rushing past her. "Last one off the pier has to make lunch." "What no fair!"

The day was perfect. You spent plenty of time with your friends and even flirted a little with (c/n). (c/n) flirted back with you causing your heart to soar at the thought of them liking you. After you finished dinner, you went out onto the pier to relax a little bit. You sighed in contentment for the day and the days ahead. The sound of crickets and frogs lulled you gently into a state of calm. You yawned and stretched a little. Hmm you must be tired, time to go to-

You woke with a crick in your neck and back and well everything. Sleeping on the pier was not a good idea. Not to mention the mosquito bites you had accumulated throughout the night. Well, time for some breakfast. You went into the house to start fixing breakfast. The smell of fresh pancakes and bacon ought to wake Bess and the others right up. When you finished, no one came outside of their rooms.

Strange. Normally someone would be stirring at this point. Oh well they can fix their own breakfast. You ate in the silence of the house which gnawed at you. Alright, something is wrong. You walked up to Bess' room and knocked. One time. Two times. The third time you let yourself in. No one was in that room. In fact, the bed was freshly made like no one had even slept in it. You checked the other rooms of your friends. Empty. Worry and pancakes were not a good mix. Finally, you came to (c/n)'s room which laid empty but with a note on the bed.

"Come to the pier tonight darling."

-A

Okay, who was pulling a prank on you? It was not funny. Safe to say you were showing up at the pier tonight to give someone a piece of your mind. First, she had to clean the plates and then hatch your plan.

You came to the pier at night as the note said. However, you didn't see a single soul there. Another bothering thing was that your friends and (c/n) hadn't returned from wherever they went. You might as well sit down and wait for the mysterious Mx. A to show up.

"Oya careful where you sit." You jumped back as a dragonfly flew up from where you were about to sit. "Did you just t-talk?" The dragonfly person in question just smirked and flew close to your face. He had teal hair, and one eye was gold and the other was olive. A black piece of hair fell to the right of his face. "Yes, I did t-talk have any q-questions?" Your face paled at this site. Fairies weren't real and yet there was a tiny man in front of you with dragonfly wings.

"Jade stop teasing Giaganto so much, I want a turn too!" A childish voice whined out and a second dragonfly man zoomed over. He looked almost like a mirror image of the first man except he had his hair piece on the left and different eye shape.

"My apologies Mx (Y/N) you're just so fun to tease. My name is Jade, and this is my twin brother Floyd." Jade spoke while doing a little bow. The other brother, Floyd, had a lazy grin on his face. "Hiya Giganto, Azul's been talkin about ya all the time!"

"Azul?" That name sounded...familiar. Where did you possibly hear that name from? The two dragonflies smirked at each other before turning to you with wide grins. "Yeah, he heard all about your little troubles Giganto!" Floyd said in a "sad" tone while circling your head. "Yes, your dear lost friends who abandoned you." Jade responded, making himself comfortable on your right shoulder. You were insulted at Jade's implications "They didn't abandon me... they just must have gotten lost." You finished your sentence not too confidently. The twins caught onto that and grinned deviously at the other. "Lost indeed but not forever." Jade responded sitting elegantly on your shoulder.

"You know where they are?" You asked hesitantly, not fully trusting the twin dragonflies. Floyd stopped zipping around your head and settled on your left shoulder. "Not us but Azul knows, he knows everything you could ever want to know." There was that name again that you were having a hard time placing where you heard it. "Could you take me to him?" The twins chuckled to themselves like you said the funniest thing. "Of course." They responded together, Chesire grins on their faces. You then followed the devious dragonflies to the place they led you.

You found yourself in the lake swimming towards the small "island" of lily pads. The water was murky and dark at night making it hard to see what lay at the bottom. "Come on Giganto, he's right here!" Floyd flew ahead with his brother Jade in tow. Lucky bastards got wings while you had to swim in your clothes.

Floating towards the first lily pad you could see the figure of a man spider hybrid waiting calmy on the leaf. He smiles as he sees the twins approaching with you following behind. "Welcome Mx. (Y/N) I've been expecting a visit from you." "You have?" The spider nodded his silver locks bouncing. "Yes, I do believe you have a problem. All with problems on this lake come to me." Azul's smile was practiced as he reached his arms up towards you to come closer. You lean your head down to his level. He smiles, satisfied with your obedience as he saunters closer to you. "Your friends have gone missing have they not?" You nodded. "Well, I happen to know where they are." You perked up at the spider's confidence. "You do?" Azul smirks at your answer and pats you nose affectionately.

"I know where they are and how to bring them back." He states with a businessman grin. This was perfect. Though Azul seemed sketchy he looked like he was telling the truth. "However... this kind of deed comes with a price" You deflated at his words. What could the spider possibly want? "I don't have a lot of-" Azul places a hand to your lips "I'm not asking you for money." His eyes darken with greed as he places both hands on his walking stick. "What I want is you." Huh?

"My what?" All three insects chuckle at your naivety. "Not any of your possessions just you. See I've been very fond of you for years now and I feel it's only fair that you fulfill your promise you made all those years ago." Promise? What promise? Your eyes reflected your confusion, which caused anger to cloud Azul's blue eyes. "You don't remember...after all these years of patiently waiting." He chuckles bitterly to himself and looks back up at you.

"I suppose it can't be helped, you're a busy person. I'm a busy person so I'll cut to the chase. Be with me and your friends can go back to living their normal lives. Choose your own freedom and well...your friends will never see the light of day." He springs the ultimatum on you causing your eyes to widen. "What did you do to my friends?" Azul glances at you in a lovesick way before planting a kiss on your nose. "What I had to do to get you back where you belong. With me." You glared down at that swindling. lying, no good crook. He stole your friends and lured you out here to become his giant pet. However, Azul held all the cards, and you were forced to cave into his demands.

"Fine..." Azul perked up at your acquiesce. "Wonderful! You won't regret it. I'll treat you so much better than any human ever could my little jewel." He then turned to his lackies and nodded causing them to fly away. "First my friends." You said in a demanding tone. "Already taken care of my dear. They've been returned to their beds as if none of this happened." Azul responded adoringly, stroking your cheek, causing you to shiver in disgust.

"What do you plan on doing to me?" You asked the spider who giggled giddily. "Loving you for the rest of our lives but first, getting rid of that height advantage." Azul pulled out a vial from his pocket and handed it to you. "I've been working hard to make this ever since I met you. It's a potion that will make you, my size." Great he was prepared too. Well, a deal's a deal. Reluctantly, you threw the tiny vial down your mouth. Nothing happened for a while before you felt like you were falling in midair. Landing straight into the lake. Without wasting a second, the spider greedily grabbed you and dove into the water. You were losing air quick as you dove deeper into the lake. He cooed over you as you lost conscious. Before you went out you heard him whisper.

I love you very much my treasure.

Kalim: Peacock Butterfly

The desert's an unforgiving place for many. You being one of them. After losing your caravan and family you wandered the desert aimlessly in hopes of finding them. However, each day grew hotter and hotter, and each night grew colder and colder. You were tired, hungry, and so very thirsty. Not only that but desperate for somebody, anybody to talk to.

You would sleep during the day in caves or even bury yourself in the sand. Then when night fell, you'd search once more for your lost family. At this point you were searching for someone, anyone to save her from dying of hunger and thirst. One morning the sun was so harsh that she couldn't sleep through the day. Why not carry on?

You were reduced to crawling through the desert in hopes of finding some form of shade and water. Scanning your small view of things, you couldn't find anything. You were losing hope and vision as blurry spots began to dot the corners of the world. That's not good. Wearly standing up you spotted up ahead an oasis. Was this a mirage? You didn't care as you used your remaining strength to run towards this haven. You had to make it. You had to make it. Your vision began to become smaller and smaller as the oasis grew closer and closer. You practically threw yourself onto the ground of the oasis and landed in some bushes. Safe at last. You could taste the water now. However, as soon as you tried to stand up, you promptly fainted.

You awoke lying on something very soft. Was this heaven? Opening your eyes, you saw you were on a very comfortable and stylish bed. The room around you looked like something you would see in a Sultan's palace. Heaven was rich. However, you were not alone as a woman wearing an abaya came in and made a low bow. This was already a little strange, made stranger by the pair of wings on her back. "Are you an angel?" You asked the woman. The woman giggled and shook her head. "Not unless the honored guest wishes for me to be." Guest? "Guest?" You repeated your thoughts aloud to the woman.

"Master Al-Asim found you unconscious and brought you here. He's been very worried for your health ever since." The woman took a cup from the tray that lay neatly on the bedside table. "You must be very thirsty." You didn't have to be told twice. You snatched the cup from the woman and greedily drank the cool and refreshing water. Felt like bliss having some liquid. The woman refilled your cup, and you drank. This repeated for some time until you were satisfied. You immediately laid back down on the pillowy softness of the bed.

Wait a minute. You shot up from the bed and stared at the woman. "You have wings!" The woman chuckled at your astute observation. "Indeed, I have." That response floored you. "How?" The woman looked confused. "I was born with them Master..." "(Y/N)" You responded. "Master (Y/N) it is a pleasure to humbly serve you." All of this was happening to fast. People with wings? Master? "You can call me (Y/N) Miss..." "Esmat Master (Y/N)." Darn Esmat was stubborn.

You two spoke for a while. She told you that the Al-Asim Oasis was the biggest Oasis in the desert. Supporting hundreds of thousands with its bountiful water. Since the Al-Asim Oasis was created and maintained by the Al-Asims they were the wealthiest and most powerful family in the entire Oasis. Their oldest son Kalim Al-Asim was the one who found you unconscious and brought you back to his family home.

"Oh, my I forgot to tell the young master that you are awake. Please forgive me Master (Y/N) it has been very lovely talking to you, but I must go." Esmat left leaving you unsupervised in your room. Well you guess you could just-

You heard hurried footsteps approaching your chambers followed by cries of worry from people in the hallway. A white-haired boy burst through the door. His red eyes lit up with delight as he flew over to you with a goofy grin. "You're awake, oh I just knew it!" Suddenly, your world goes topsy turvy as you collapse onto the bed with the energetic boy hugging you. The boy in question's multicolored wings fluttering with happiness. "Kalim don't crush them!" A voice behind you spoke another. This guy was part man part scorpion with long dark hair and dark colored eyes. "Sorry Jamil, I'm just so happy to see them awake." The boy sheepishly responded while still laying on top of you. This boy had no shame. "Um Mister Al-Asim sir, could you please get off of me." Kalim looked at you and smiled. "Just call me Kalim..." "(Y/N)" "Ooh cool name!" "Yeah, Kalim can you get off me please?" The boy looked confused before realizing he was still on her.

"Oh, sorry about that!" He then hops off and stands in front of you with a grin. He was practically floating with how fast his wings were fluttering. This guy was always happy huh? "How are you feeling?" The man behind Kalim, Jamil you think asks you. "Fine, just a bit disoriented." You answered causing Jamil to nod. Kalim smiles and bounces on his heals. "We should totally have a feast to celebrate you waking up. Jamil start preparations immediately." Jamil rolls his eyes at the boy's commands but scuttles off. Leaving you and the hyperactive butterfly boy alone.

"So those wings are real?" Kalim smiles. "Yep! Wanna touch them?" You nod as you are curious as to what butterfly wings feel like. Reaching you hand out to touch them you graze the top gently. Kalim hitches a breath. "Was that okay?" You asked worried you hurt your savior. "Oh yes it's just my wings are very sensitive. It felt nice though." You continued to gently caress Kalim's wings which caused pleasant shivers for the Al-Asim. The two of you stayed like this for a while before your stomach began to growl. Very loudly waking Kalim from his trance. "Oh, are you hungry? Let's check on Jamil and see how the feast is going!" The white-haired butterfly boy grabbed your hand and ran out of the room.

The Al-Asim house was practically a palace with many workers bustling about and completing their daily tasks. Many pointed and whispered at what an odd couple the Al-Asim heir and his "special guest" were. However, Kalim was completely ignorant to all that happened around him as he continued running towards the dining hall.

The dining hall was massive and very luxurious, you looked around to see servants bustling around with plates of food and placing them down at the table. Kalim urged you to sit beside him on the soft looking pillows beside the table. Excitedly Kalim began placing food on the plate in front of you encouraging you to taste a bit of everything. Asking you how everything was and becoming increasingly more pleased with each response. "It's all made by Jamil. Isn't he the best?" You nodded once more before turning back to your food eagerly. He then began asking about you.

"Where are you from?" "Huh?" You asked the boy who had stars in his eyes to repeat himself again. "Well, you're not from around here because you reacted so weird to my wings." You scoffed at his reasoning before smirking. "You seemed to be enjoying it when I was petting them." Kalim's cheeks turned bright pink at your words. "Well, you were very gentle with them." You chuckled at his reaction finding him cute. Friendly and cute. "To answer your question, I'm from the desert beyond the Al-Asim Oasis." Kalim's ruby eyes became wider at the knowledge. "I knew it! You'll have to tell me all about life out there." Kalim squealed focusing his whole attention on you. It felt almost like you were an elder telling the children tales about the times of old.

"What would you like to know?" You asked smiling gently at the boy. "Anything and everything especially about you!" You blushed at the last part of his statement. "Well, I lived in a caravan with my family, we never stayed in one place for long." Kalim eagerly took in the information you gave him. You smiled as you recounted memories with your family and friends on the caravan. Days playing in the desert, trading the goats you raised, and dancing around the campfire at night. The whole time Kalim stared intently at you with a large smile on his face. "I miss my family you know." You finished bitterly as the memories were all you had left of them.

Kalim's eyes softened with worry. "What happened to them?" You looked away from those sympathetic eyes in pain. It was bound to come up at some point, but it didn't take away the weight from it. "A sandstorm, the caravan encountered a great sandstorm. By the time it was over I was left alone, separated from my family and everything I've ever known." You couldn't stop the tears that began to pool in the corners of your eyes. It hurt so bad to be lost and alone. Dying in the desert didn't really matter as much as dying alone in the desert did. You felt a pair of arms wrap around you and Kalim's soothing voice hushing your worries and whispering encouragements in your ear. You went limp in Kalim's embrace, too tired to cry or do really anything anymore.

You woke in the middle of the night, feeling pressure on your chest. You looked over to see Kalim lying beside you with his head on your chest. What happened besides you breaking down, you don't remember. The haze of emotions clouded your judgement and memory. You tried not to shift to quickly to your feet, to avoid waking the boy. Speaking of Kalim, he looked so peaceful with a gentle smile on his face as opposed to his rambunctious one. Is this guy ever not handsome? Wait handsome, what are you thinking? A groan stops your panicked thoughts as the aforementioned boy opened his eyes sleepily.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing up?" He asked with a yawn. "I couldn't sleep. Why are you in my room?" Kalim hummed before snuggling back into your chest. "What do you mean, we're in my room. You were struggling in your sleep so I thought having someone with you would get rid of the nightmares." Well, that got your attention. Looking around you saw that you were in fact not in your room. This room was bigger and ten times more luxurious than your personal guest room. Kalim settled down right back where he was, drifting back to sleep. "Hey, get off me mister!" You lightly pushed away the sleepy man, who barely resisted it. "Nooooo, you're so comfy." Kalim whines while trying to crawl back to you. You stood up and walked away to the doors that led out to a balcony to get some fresh air. Hearing nothing but whining coming from Kalim.

The cool desert air felt refreshing on you heated skin. For a not so big man Kalim produced a lot of body heat. Looking around the Oasis you could see the lights of this small metropolis glow and felt amazement. Never have you seen a sight like this before. "Looks pretty cool huh?" Kalim surprised you from behind, he looked at you smiling. "Wanna see it from above?" You were already looking from a balcony so how much higher could you get. "You mean from the roof?" You asked the man, only for him to chuckle. "No silly I mean in the air!" Kalim states cheerfully while flexing his wings. He couldn't possibly mean... you turned your attention back to the innocent looking boy. His red eyes gleamed in the moonlight as he offered you a hand "Do you trust me?" Should you take it?

He did mean flying. You had excepted his outstretched hand tentatively. Wasting no time, Kalim picked you up bridal style and jumped off the balcony. You screamed in terror as you both plummeted towards the ground. There was no way he or his wings were strong enough to hold you both. Squeezing your eyes shut you expected to become a stain on the Al-Asim immaculate courtyard.

"You're not going to be able to see anything with your eyes closed." Kalim chuckled. You're not dead? Opening your eyes, you see both Kalim and you soaring through the air. Completely fine. Looking down you see all of the Al-Asim Oasis in its splendor. The glow of the lights in the buildings, the majestic fountains, the night bazaar with its multitude of goods. It all took your breath away. "Cool, isn't it?" Kalim jovially replied staring at your look of awe with glee. "Come on, let me show you the best part."

You stayed with Kalim after that day and the day after that day. Each day filled with excitement and new things to do. You really were starting to think of Kalim as a great friend, a little brother even. Even still with all the fineries and stability this couldn't last. You were incredibly homesick, which only got worse with each day. Sure, you had access to all the food you could ever eat, fine clothes, and servants at your beck and call. However, you longed to return to your family and simple life you had before. Then there was Kalim, sweet Kalim. He was sweet and cheerful, always wanting to know how you were doing. Always with you. Always. In fact, he became touchier and clingier with each day. You didn't mind that so much but were you wrong to want some time to yourself too? Were you wrong to want to talk to someone else sometimes?

These thoughts continued to rack your brain as Kalim ran up to you a threw his arms around you. "Hey (Y/N) what's up?!" You smile at Kalim and ruffle his hair. He eagerly leans into your touch. "Oh nothing, I was just thinking about things." "What kind of things?" "None of your business." Kalim pouted at your answer before lighting up. "Jamil and I were going to go to the bazaar, wanna come?" You immediately nod, you need something to take your mind from spinning any further. Kalim smiles and starts dragging you towards the door.

The bazaar was busy on that exceptionally hot day. Many people rushing around buying things from the multiple vendors. The scent of spices and savory meats filled your nose as you walked through, causing you mouth to water. There were fine rugs, jewelry, and beautiful clothes. That wasn't even half of what was there. Anything you stared at Kalim asked if you wanted it. "No Kalim I'm serious, this must cost a fortune." Kalim placed down a bag of gold coins like it was no big deal. "If you want it, you should have it, anything you want should be yours." Kalim went around buying out the entire bazaar for you which made you a bit uncomfortable. One because he was wasting his family fortune on you and two because Jamil had to carry all the stuff he bought. You needed to distract him with something quick. "Oh Kalim, I think there was a kebob stand a little way back. Let's check it out." Kalim immediately grins and runs off in that direction by himself. "Kalim!" It worked a little too well. Jamil groans and mumbles something under his breath. "I'm so sorry Mx. (L/N) but Kalim can't be unattended, so I have to go." Which led to you being completely alone.

Well, you're back to square one, all alone and this time in an Oasis. You should catch up to the duo ahead of you. That way you aren't completely alone. That way...no that way. Ugh, if only you hadn't stupidly forgotten which way to go. "(Y/N)?" Huh? You turn around to see someone very familiar to you. "Samir!" You immediately jump on the man in front of you. Samir was your childhood friend and even your crush. With beautiful long dark hair and light brown eyes who wouldn't fall in love with him. "We've been looking for you everywhere." Samir replies returning your embrace with as much vigor. "Well, I've been looking for you too! How's mom? How's dad? How's everyone? Where's everyone?" Samir puts his hands up in surrender. "Woah, woah settle down. Why not ask them yourself." Your parents were here? "Take me to them." Samir complied led the way.

Kalim was a wreck. He came back to the spot he left you only to find you had disappeared. No problem, you're probably just looking for more stuff you want. Wait you don't have any money on you! Oh no what if you get hungry? What if you get bored? He's not there to help you. "Jamil, we need to find (Y/N) now!" Jamil sighed as Kalim continued to freak out. "They'll be fine. You on the other hand need to return home, your parents are back today." His parents were back, today?! This was great news he could tell them all about (Y/N) and how great they were. Maybe even convince them to let (Y/N) stay forever. Kalim felt himself becoming giddy at the thought of spending the rest of his days with (Y/N). He liked them ever since he found them, but now it felt different. Anyone who brought up their name brought butterflies to his stomach.

"Kalim are you even listening to me?" Jamil asked the boy, pulling him out of his dreamy state. "Uh yeah, let's go home!" Kalim smiled happily to himself; he couldn't wait to spend the rest of his life with you.

You were light as air. Everything was going your way. You were happily reunited with your family with lots of tears and laughter. Your mother and father almost didn't recognize you with the fine clothes and jewelry you were wearing. However, your face hadn't changed much so they embraced you happily. "My dear (Y/N) we missed you so much!" Your mother said tearfully as tears of joy streamed down her face. "I missed you too mom, dad, how's everyone else doing?" Your father grinned and patted you on the back. "They'll be doing better when they hear you've returned." You were eager to reunite with your caravan, but you needed to say goodbye to Kalim first. After all he saved your life and cared for you for all those weeks. "Mom, dad there's someone you ought to meet."

You arrived back at the Al-Asim house with your parents and Samir in tow. Samir wanted to join you to catch up with you and thank the man who saved your life. Each of your companions' jaws dropped when they saw the sheer opulence of the manor. "(Y/N) you didn't tell me they were rich." Samir said agog to the amount of gold and marble of the main building. You preened like a peacock, happy at each reaction. "Wait till you see the inside." As you approached the front door you were stopped by the guards at the front steps. You hadn't seen their likes before. "Halt! What business do you have with the Al-Asim family?" The centipede on the left spoke, his broad frame being slightly intimidating. "I'm a friend of Kalim Al-Asim!" The guards took one look at you with your finery and stepped aside. However, they weren't so lenient with your family and Samir. "Halt! You are not permitted to enter." Each guard holding a nasty looking spear at your family. "Wait they're with me." You pleaded with the guards, but they did not relent.

"No way they are anywhere close to your status my liege. Master Kalim should be out near the fountain." Your family sadly bid you go on your own, feeling doubt with their own worth. Samir on the other had barged past the guards to join you. "Halt intruder!" You grabbed Samir's hand and made a run for it. The guards followed you two as you ran to the garden where you hoped to find Kalim. The guards were hot on your trail being more built for running long distances than you or Samir. However, luck appeared to be on your side as you burst through the doors out to the garden. A familiar mop of white hair appeared near the fountain. "Kalim!" You shouted, causing the butterfly boy to turn around with joy. "(Y/N)!" The boy screamed as he ran to you with his arms outstretched. He grabbed into a tight embrace swinging you about.

"(Y/N) where did you go? I was so worried for you but I'm happy you returned! I'll ask Jamil to prepare a feast for your return." The boy continued to prattle on happily as the guards chasing you both ran over to where you stood. They grabbed Samir by both arms and were prepared to drag him out. "Samir!" Kalim turned around to see who you spoke of and stared quizzically at the new face.

"Hello, I'm Kalim, who are you?" The guard interrupts Samir before he can speak. "Master Kalim this rabble claims to be a friend of Master (Y/N), we're simply kicking him out." Kalim waves his hands signaling for the guards to stop. "Nonsense of friends of (Y/N)'s is a friend of mine." He walks up Samir with a smile on his face. "Would you like to stay for the feast?" Samir nods as the guards let him go. Kalim smiles and ushers you away, not allowing you to talk for another second to your crush.

The feast was awkward as Kalim had you sitting beside him, and Samir was placed on the opposite end of the table. Kalim was trying to feed you himself which led you awkwardly rejecting him multiple times causing him to pout. As the servants came in with the food they halted as two majestic looking older people came in and sat at the head of the table. You guessed they were Kalim's parents and went to bow low like the rest of the servants. The older woman approached you and took your chin in her hand.

"I must say Kalim you do know how to pick your fiancés, they're absolutely exquisite." You flushed at the beautiful older woman's compliment, feeling very small in her gaze. "Fiancé?" You asked the woman almost by instinct. Where did Kalim's mother get that from? "Why yes fiancé. Don't be too shy (Y/N) we've heard all about how well you get along with our son and approve of your union." The older man spoke from the head of the table, servants tripping over themselves to serve him food. "I think you've got it wrong, (Y/N) isn't anyone's fiancé." Samir cut in which caused the older couple to glare at the man. "Who are you?" Kalim's mother asked stiffly as she took a seat in her chair. "I'm Samir, (Y/N)'s friend. We came to thank you for taking care of (Y/N) before leaving." Tension was building between the parents and your friend. This wasn't good.

The shattering of a glass caught your attention as you looked over a Kalim. He looked as if his heart had shattered in his chest. "You're leaving (Y/N)?" Kalim whimpered out like a kicked dog, causing your heart to swell with pity. "Kalim, you didn't think I was going to stay forever. Did you?" Kalim didn't answer as he lowered his head. Quiet sobs began to rack his body. "JAMIL! Take this unwanted guest away at once!" The man at the head of the table shouted fury ever present in his eyes. Jamil appeared out of thin air and grabbed Samir, who kicked and screamed in protest. "Samir!" You yelled; this was getting out of hand. If you knew this was going to happen, you wouldn't have returned.

"It's alright dear, no need to worry about him. He won't try and take you away from us." The older woman cooed as panic filled your eyes. "Us?" The woman smiled and nodded at the man at the head of the table. "We've never seen Kalim this happy before with anyone, this truly isn't something that money can buy." The man stated turning the guards near the table and nodding. The guards grabbed your arms and restrained you. "We'll take you to his room so you can begin preparations for the wedding at once." Wedding? No, they had it all wrong. "Let me go!" You shouted as you were dragged out of the dining room and into a familiar room. You were roughly placed on the bed. You ran after the guards but found yourself locked in Kalim's room. This was madness, Kalim's parents were insane! You pounded on the door till you ran out of energy. Defeated you slumped onto the floor and cried.

You awoke to the sound of the door opening, it was Kalim! Maybe he could be reasoned with. "Kalim, you've got to let me go!" You begged as you clung to his robes. Kalim wasn't looking you in the eyes. "Kalim please! I want to be with my family!" He still refused to look at you. "Kalim?" You softly asked trying to see his face. You wish you hadn't. His eyes held the most lovesick expression you had ever seen. You backed away from the boy slowly, who only followed you till you were against the bed. This wasn't good at all. "Sweetheart are you okay, you look terrified." Kalim cooed as he pressed kisses against any exposed skin he could see. "I am terrified of you Kalim. Your family is sick!" You complained as you tried to bat away his affections. Kalim continued to stay there and embrace you, while guiding you to the bed.

"You're probably just tired let's go to bed now." He cooed as he gently lay you beside him, wrapping his wings around you. You were trapped in the crazy butterfly's embrace and wanted out. The more you tried to resist golden powder floated around the air from his wings. You found yourself becoming drowsy as the pollen entered your system. No you needed to fight it off you needed to...

"Sleep my love, we have a busy day ahead of us..."

I know my parents are wrong but I'm too selfish to let you go.

#yandere x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #insect #yandere kalim al asim #yandere leona kingscholar #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle x reader #yandere leona x reader #yandere kalim x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul x reader

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yxstxrdrxxm-a · 1 year ago

Text

... Having a tea party with the prefect of Heartslabyul, but everything has gone awry.

Everything has simply been tossed aside, the sight of the maze being shredded, and even the 'treats' have been coated in blot. The students have all but fallen due to the influence of this man before you, but by some sick, twisted luck, you were left alive.

He said that he liked you: the you, with no magic to your name, who had been dropped in this world with nothing to your name. The you who had been used as a silly errand person for Crowley— that bastard crow, he would murmur— and the you, who can't help but protect those... Rule breakers.

He liked you. Sweet, little, vulnerable you.

But what's this? Why do you shake so much, darling?

He wasn't going to hurt you. Why, that would simply break one of the rules set by the Queen of Hearts! How could he think of such a thing? How prepostorous.

So why are you so scared? Why do you look at him with such fear?

Do you not see him as the ever revered prefect, the one you admire so much? Or do you see him as what his mother does, a child that was mold to be her splitting and heartless image?

He could hardly understand why you're so scared of him, but he didn't like it. He needed to reassure you, to tell you he wouldn't raise his hand to harm you.

But if you keep running away like this, darling...

... Well, he wouldn't oppose having to punish you by having your head cut off.

It is off with your head, so be good, darling.

You wouldn't want to force Riddle's hand to do such a crime, after all.

@.throw-letter-away | do not republish or repost my works anywhere | 2023

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kiame-sama · 2 days ago

Note

Would Riddle grow out his back mane if the human wanted to play with his back mane?

Yes. For his Human, he is willing to do almost anything.

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #humans are extinct twst au #hae riddle #yandere riddle rosehearts #yandere riddle x reader

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 7 months ago

Note

What if MC was sent to an alternate dimension somehow and that dimension contained all 7 overblots who woke up there after they were defeated in main story. How would they react to the magicless prefect who managed to defeat them suddenly showing up out of nowhere?

Overblot Universe | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

Imagine a trip through the mirror portal gone wrong

Ending up in this other place where it looks like an ink covered version of Night Raven

Reminding you of your dear friends’ overblots

You hesitate to call out for help of any kind

Instead your greeted immediately by an army of ink blotted students marching towards you quickly

A single soldier steps to the front bearing a gaudy but familiar collar

“The Queen of Hearts demands you return to his side at once!”

Before you can say anything, another voice rings out

“Our Sultan demands the magicless one.”

This one has a smaller group but they are much more heavily armed

It leads to a brawl which you are uncomfortably at the center of

Escaping from the warring factions, you make your way to the school’s mirror room

Barely able to step on the premises you’re stopped by a small patch of sand sucking you into the ground

The only one you can think that’d use this is–

“Thought I smelled a troublesome herbivore.”

It’s Leona in all his overblotted glory

Snickering with a fanged smile he grabs you by the arm

Easily yanking you out of the sand and holding you against his chest

Still standing above the quicksand you hold on tight

You’re surprised when he almost lovingly rubs his cheeks against your own trailing down your neck with his nose

Then without warning he takes a deep bite into the crook of your neck

Holding you still as you try to shove him away

When he pulls back with blood on his smile, you can only look at him with betrayal

“What? You think I’d be gentle after you chased me away? Not this time sweet heart.”

He tosses you over his shoulder as he walks further away from the building you want to go

Taking you to an inky territory that looks as though Savvannaclaw turned into some rocky mound in the dessert

With too much ease he tosses you into a scratchy pile of sand

He plops down practically on top of you

“Ow! This is really uncomfy how do you sleep on this?!”

“Don’t whine. Now that you’re here it’ll be a lot softer.”

Too fast and so familiar to your Leona he falls asleep

Anytime you move a centimeter the sand whips angrily around keeping you in his vicinity

But it seems the only time it didn’t react was when a drone with a bucket of water dunked on the sand rising to swat at it

The damp sand could only bubble slowly as the drone came closer to you shooting some small metal thing on your reaching hand

“NO!--”

The ugly snarl from the overblotted Leona dissipates as a flash of blue and black transports you someplace else

“There they are brother! You’re player 2! I told you they’d be here for the special day!”

You want to voice your confusion as you blink your blurry sight into something sharp

But something's over your mouth

And your hands and your legs

Looking around you are in what looks like a cave lined with wires and technology baring an uncanny resemblance to a friend of yours

“You were right all along brother! Let’s prepare for the final act!”

It’s an overblotted Idia taking a heavy looking crown from the claws of some nearby machinery

Stopping to admire you, his cold clawed hands run along your face as if checking if your real

Before placing the crown on your head

The minute the device is settled how he likes it tightens on your head

Bringing a numbing pain to the sides of your skull as you desperately try to wiggle free

Nothing you do stops the inky creation that looks like Ortho manipulate your binds to stand you upright

Bringing you to an alter, it’s there you notice the swirling abyss just pass the electronic officiant

“Now say your vows, my fruit.”

“Of course my precious future husband, master of the underworld and overworld. For years–”

It’s your voice but not

With a tinge of automation your voice chimes happily from the restraint over your mouth

At your not–real—vows Idia seems to giggle causing the abyss to widen and the suction intensify

Eventually ‘your vows’ end and Idia claims he’s going to skip his

Letting his robotic officiant carry through like a typical ceremony

Until it gets to that part

“I’d be wrong not to speak my peace when both parties so clearly have withstanding debts with me.”

Part 2

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merakiui · 9 months ago

Text

the birds and the bees.

yandere!riddle rosehearts x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, slight dub-con, implied stalking, age gap (riddle is 19 and reader is 29) note - you're hired to teach riddle about the birds and the bees. you need the money. he needs to get laid.

The Rosehearts’s Residence looks about how you expected it to after driving past houses of similar size and grandeur. Unlike you, they’re definitely not strapped for cash. It’s an impressive structure with its elegant wrought iron gates and expertly trimmed hedges. You’re immediately overcome with bitter jealousy when you step through the entrance, passing rose bushes in full bloom. If only your apartment could look and feel as nice as this place. You almost wonder if you should keep Mrs. Rosehearts’s contact in case she ever needs a gardener or a window washer…

But then that risks your cover, and the last thing you want is to get tangled up in trouble with the upper middle class.

Gathering your courage, you smooth invisible wrinkles in your pencil skirt, steady your balance in your Mary Janes—both at socially acceptable lengths and heights—and bring your fist down against the door. Seconds after the third knock, it opens to reveal a woman who looks as prim and proper as the landscape of her home. She takes a long moment, drinking in your formal features, and then smiles approvingly.

“Ah, (Name), you’re early.”

You soften your face into something polite and demure. “Better early than late.”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

She steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. You meander into the foyer and are instantly reminded of those exquisite house tours on MagiTube. There’s a fine layer of modest Victorian wealth to the decor. Flowery wallpaper, a lofty ceiling, an aureate chandelier, a vase filled with fresh tulips of all colors… Oh, how you wish you could live here!

“Your home is beautiful,” you comment as you straighten your bow headband.

“Why, thank you.” Her eyes light up once more. “I’ve always admired this neighborhood. Everything is so well-kept. Speaking of which, where did you say you’re from?”

“Oh, I’m actually getting ready to move back to school at the end of the summer,” you explain, narrowly dodging her question. No way I’m telling her I live in a not-so-affluent neighborhood… She’ll totally kick me out. “I’m staying with my parents in the meantime and working a few jobs to support myself.”

“And what was it you’re studying again?”

You paste a hollow smile on, sensing her distrust. I already told you this when we met at the clinic. Do I really seem so suspicious?

“I’m studying to be an ob-gyn.”

“A wonderful profession,” she praises, nodding to herself. “Very wonderful indeed. And how old are you? I merely ask to confirm. There are so many miscreants nowadays. You can never be too sure.”

“I understand completely, Mrs. Rosehearts. I’m—” you almost falter, your real age on the tip of your tongue— “twenty-two. What about your son? You told me he’s also looking to get into the medical field?”

“Not looking. He will pursue medicine,” she corrects sternly. “Just like his mother.”

You swallow your disgust and try not to let it show so openly. Yikes… Talk about controlling.

Mrs. Rosehearts waves you onwards down the hall. “My Riddle will be leaving for his first year of college at the end of August. Though I’m certain he’s more than prepared, it never hurts to review.”

“Absolutely. So you’d like me to give him the talk?”

“Not just that. I’d like you to teach him well enough so that copulation and any other libidinous ideas are the last things on his mind. Stamp them out if you must. He’s to focus on his studies and make good decisions just as I raised him.”

Shouldn’t he already be familiar with this? Besides, he’s not a kid. Of course he’s going to think about sex. Most of us do when we’re horny.

But you can’t say that outright, so you settle for something vastly different.

“It’s important to stay on the right path and be responsible.”

Mrs. Rosehearts nods her agreement. Your stomach twists in discomfort.

On second thought, I don’t want to be upper middle class if these are the people I have to deal with. Is this guy going to have any chance to be social? To live his life? To make and learn from stupid mistakes? I bet he can’t wait to get out of here and go off to school.

“I apologize if this is rude in any way, but I just want to ensure I’ll be paid accordingly.”

“Of course. Good work must always be recognized and rewarded.” She stops at a door. “I cannot thank you enough for lending my Riddle your time. Teach him well.”

“I’ll do just that. You can count on it.”

Pleased with the level of maturity you’ve displayed, she raps her knuckles against the door and calls out, “Riddle, the tutor’s here.”

“Very well, Mother. I’ve just finished today’s readings, so you can send them in,” comes a muffled reply.

Today’s readings? you think, perplexed. Your gaze slides from the door to Mrs. Rosehearts. Does she have this guy doing summer school? That must suck! What a shitty way to spend your summer, cooped up inside filling out workbooks and stuff.

“I’ll be out running errands in the meantime. I trust you’ll be all right by yourself?”

“Perfectly all right,” you assure her, to which she hums and strides past you. You catch her perfume as she departs, and it reminds you of the types of scents worn by saggy, old ladies who have nothing better to do than sit around and complain about the state of the world and the way their children turned out.

In other words, a scent you associate with misery.

You wait until she’s out of sight before opening the door and stepping inside the study. There’s a mahogany desk in the center, and thick textbooks are piled high on either side. Beyond that, beside a big bay window with cream-colored curtains drawn to let in the sun, two large bookcases are packed with an array of tomes. At the front of the room, a blackboard has been built into a wooden frame. Chalk lines the ledge, situated within reach of an eraser. And sitting at the desk, his eyes glued to an open book, is a young man. A pair of round frames sit on the bridge of his nose, slipping ever so slightly down the slope of it when he peers at the page. He pushes them up when he finally lifts his head to greet you.

“Hey.” You wave awkwardly, easing the door shut.

He seems taken aback by your appearance. “Oh, yes. Right. Hello…”

Silence soon fills the space. You wonder if you should just save yourself this nonsensical waste of time and retreat.

“Sooo.” You fold your arms behind your back, rocking on your heels. “Your mother’s probably told you why I’m here.”

“I’m aware.” He shuts his book and stands from his seat. “My name is Riddle Rosehearts. A pleasure to meet you.”

You blink at his outstretched arm. “(Name). Likewise.” You grab his hand and shake firmly.

So stiff…

“So where’re we starting? The basics? You want the whole ‘when a man and a woman love each other very much’ version or—”

Riddle scoffs and yanks his arm back. “I’m not a fool. I’ll have you know I’m well aware of sexual reproduction and what it entails.”

“You can call it sex. No one’s forcing you to be all biological,” you tease. His body goes rigid, and his face reddens in what you assume is flustered annoyance. “Anyways, since you’re not as brainless as Mother Dearest wants me to assume, I’ll just get into it.”

Riddle stares at you, his arms folding over his chest. He looks like he wants to argue, but instead he huffs and lowers into his chair.

Wordlessly, you undo the buttons on your blazer and shrug out of it. Your blouse goes next, untucked from your skirt and shucked. Riddle’s eyes are so wide they nearly pop out of his skull when he spies the white, lacy false collar that just barely covers your breasts. You’re about to step out of your pencil skirt next when Riddle clears his throat.

“W-What’re you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“No?”

“I’m teaching you the birds and the bees.”

“N-Not in that outfit! S-Surely not…” He averts his eyes, crimson crawling up to his ears. “You’re practically nude!”

“That’s the point of lingerie, silly.” Your skirt pools around your ankles to reveal the rest of your frilly ensemble. A black-and-white cupless bra and crotchless panties set, both with plenty of ruffles, held together with a pair of garters. Still wearing matching stockings and your precious Mary Janes, you bend down to gather your discarded clothes. They’re set aside on a nearby chair. “You can look.”

“A-Absolutely not!” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “Y-You… You’re not decent. It’s rude to stare.”

“Come on. You got past anatomy diagrams just fine.”

Riddle opens and closes his mouth, speechless like a beached fish. Eventually, he manages to gather his coherency. “You’re a tutor, aren’t you? Where’s your dignity?”

“Nonexistent. I lied.” His head snaps over to view you, and he seems so scandalized by your admission that it’s almost comedic. “No way I’m studying to be an ob-gyn. I’m not even in school.”

“What?! But you—”

“It’s fine. I looked the part, didn’t I?” you joke, waving your hand about dismissively. “C’mon, mama’s boy. You’re going off to college. It’s nothing like those stuffy anatomy courses.”

Riddle tries and fails to look at anywhere that isn’t you, his eyes lingering on your chest to the space between your legs to the thigh garter and then to the ceiling. He’s so red you think he might explode.

“You’ve been with a girl before, yeah?”

With lips pursed in a tight line, he shakes his head.

“Sounds about right.”

“And you’re so experienced?”

You flash him a cheeky grin. “Don’t worry about it, mama’s boy.”

“I’m not a mama’s boy!”

“No? So you just let your mother treat you like a little baby at your grown age? You let her pick out sex tutors for you?”

“I—” He stops himself from speaking to mull over your questions. “If it’s what she deems necessary…”

“Because our biggest fear is sexually awkward you knocking up some girl at school, right?”

“I… I would never! Safe sex is—”

“Very important when you’re not trying to conceive. Good boy. See? You know your stuff.”

Riddle’s eyes narrow into vicious slits. You brush his scorching vitriol off and turn towards the board. Procuring a piece of chalk, you scrawl words on it: Birds and Bees 101. Wholly unamused, Riddle folds his arms across his chest.

“Your mother told me you’re gonna study medicine, so you’re probably familiar with everything already. And I’m sure you know all about the baby-making process on a biological level.” You whirl to face him, your tits bouncing with the peppy motion. Riddle swallows thickly. “But just to make sure… Let’s review.”

“R-Review? You don’t mean—”

“What’s this?” Your hands close around your tits. Riddle’s enchanted with the way you squeeze them—the way they depress under your fingers.

“Um… Ahem. Well… T-The breasts. They’re a type of glandular organ located on a woman’s chest, and they’re made up of lots of tissue and fat. There’s the mammary gland—that’s what produces milk. Oh, and then there are the areolas right around the nipples. Those are—”

“You can call them what they are.”

Riddle blinks, shaken from his studious spiel. “W-What?”

“You know the word, mama’s boy.”

He flusters. “Yes, I’m aware. But…”

“No harm in saying it.” You run your fingers over your nipples and giggle sweetly like a schoolgirl. “Go on…”

He inhales a deep breath. “They’re tits,” he mumbles, desultory. “Y-Your tits.”

You clap, beaming brightly. “Well done! Moving swiftly on…” You run your hands down the expanse of your stomach, stopping just beneath your navel. “What’s here?”

“Your womb. O-Otherwise known as the uterus. It’s where a baby grows over the course of nine months.”

“Mhm. Good job.”

He pushes his glasses up his nose, clearing his throat. “There’s more to your reproductive system than the uterus. Lots of parts. Important parts.”

“Right. But I don’t need to quiz you on it. You obviously know your stuff.”

Again, your fingers inch lower until they’re prodding at your folds. Riddle’s breath audibly hitches.

“And this?”

“Your vagina. It’s where—”

“What’s the other word?”

Riddle avoids your stare. “It sounds so vulgar…”

“So what?”

“S-So there ought to be a term that’s more…flattering.”

“Like what?” You approach him and, with the grace of a swan, lift your leg onto the desk to give him a better view of yourself. Shamelessly, you dip your fingers inside to spread yourself. “A guy called it the honeypot once. That pretty enough for you?”

Riddle squeaks and flinches back in his chair, his face now even redder than it was before. “T-That’s fine…”

“Really? I’d have thought the implication in that one is much dirtier than calling it a pussy.”

It takes him a moment to connect the dots, but once he does he gasps. “Ah. Then…”

You press inwards with your fingers, exaggerating a pornographic sigh. “Yeah?”

“Can I… M-May I call it your flower?”

“Sure.” His shoulders slacken with a flicker of relief. Your next words shatter that and his pride in one fell swoop. “That one’s not as special as you think, mama’s boy. I’ve heard it all—every type of flower you can think of.”

“Even a rose?”

“Especially a rose.” His lips twist into a disappointed moue. You chuckle and add, “You can call it a rose if you want. I don’t mind.”

Riddle meets your eyes then, searching them for the joke. When one doesn’t present itself, he relaxes. “All right. It’s a very pretty rose. Soft…”

“Aww. Thanks for saying so. It’s softer inside, y’know. See?” Spreading yourself wider, you angle your hips to bless him with the full view. “My fingers slide right in. Wanna guess why?”

“B-Because the vagina naturally—” He stops himself, his brows knitting together in contemplation. When he speaks next, it’s with a determined sort of conviction. “When you’re aroused, your rose produces a natural lubricant during sexual excitement.”

“Mhm. We call that ‘feeling good and getting wet,’ Dr. Rosehearts.”

“Yes. Y-Yes, I know that.” He eyes your pussy, a ravenous glimmer in his intelligent blue-greys. “And the wetness—it’s supposed to make it feel better. To make insertion easier, I mean.”

“Right again.” You ease your fingers out but not before thrusting them deeper just so he can hear the sinful sounds. They shimmer with your essence, enticing in a forbidden way. “What about the other parts? How about this spot here?” You brush against the hood of your clit, circling it slowly.

Riddle watches, hopelessly spellbound. “The clitoris.”

“I’m impressed. Most guys don’t know about it.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“But it’s your most sensitive erogenous zone! Just how uninformed does one have to be to neglect such a crucial part to your sexual anatomy?”

“Woefully uninformed, I’m afraid,” you mutter with a pout. Your fingertips drag your hood up to reveal that pretty, perky nub. “I think it’s dumb your mother wants me to talk you out of sex. You’re going to college. You’re an adult. You’re free to do whatever you want.”

“I…” Riddle frowns at that last line. “I have no interest in it. Besides, it’ll only hinder my studies. If I really need it, I’ll just masturbate. That’s healthy every now and then, and it doesn’t break any rules.”

“Really? No interest at all?” You shoot him a knowing look and run your tongue along your bottom lip. “Because your dick’s telling a different story.”

Riddle sputters, embarrassed, and squeezes his thighs together. His hands fly to cover his lap. “That’s because you’re—” He gazes at the floor. “Because you’re so pretty…”

Temporarily thrown off course, you gape at him. “What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Gathering the remnants of your mask, you piece it together and laugh. “Not the first time I’ve heard someone describe it like that.”

“Not just your pussy.” Your gaze snaps to his. He smiles, impish. “I’m sure you know what I mean, Teacher.”

You exhale a short laugh. “Someone’s suddenly confident.”

Riddle rises from his seat. His fingers close around your wrist, gently pulling it away from your clit. He moves around the desk to stand in front of you and then, before you can comprehend his intentions, he’s pushing you down onto the desk. You yelp at the sudden change in position, your eyes blown wide when he presses his clothed hard-on against your bare pussy.

“You’re doing a poor job at dissuading me from wanting sex.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“Not in that outfit.” He grabs at the meat of your thighs and parts them. “If Mother knew you lied to her…”

You shake your head at him. “Please don’t tell her. I… I’m being serious. I need this money.”

“Desperately?”

Your lip curls into the beginning of a sneer. You hate feeling powerless more than anything, but the fiery glaze in his eyes is just as troubling. “I’m not going to beg.”

“I haven’t asked for that yet.”

You roll your eyes. “Not funny. I agreed to teach you about sex. We’re not actually doing it.”

“A shame.”

“You’ll find a nice girl at school. Don’t lose hope, mama’s boy. Lots of girls like the smart types who’ll give ’em a lecture on biology and stuff.”

“I think you misunderstand. I don’t want other girls.”

“Okay?”

“My mother’s paying for a tutor and I desire you, so unless you want to leave here as a lying cheat…” He hums, seeming awfully haughty to hold the only thing that tethers you to him above your head. “You need the money, right?”

“Yes. Sure, of course I do. But—” You shift on the desk, silently horrified when he rocks against you. “We can’t. Your mother—”

“Weren’t you the one saying I should live my life? That I have the freedom to do as I please?”

“That doesn’t mean—come on; listen to yourself. You can’t honestly think I’d fuck you.”

“No? And yet you came wearing this outfit, parading around the study with your pussy and tits out.” He glances past you at the window. “And you didn’t even bother to close the curtains… How brazen.”

Your attempt to jerk away from him is made in vain. He pins you down onto the desk, one hand squeezing your breast, while the other works to fish himself from his trousers. Now hard and leaking, his cock rests against your stomach. It’s not a terrible size. If anything, it’s perfect. Just right for your tastes.

“W-Wait! It’s not safe. You can’t—” You inhale sharply, bucking up towards his hand when he presses his thumb against your clit. Biting your lip, you fix him with a glower. “If you pay me… If you promise not to tell your mother—”

Riddle leans in close. “No one needs to know. No one but us.”

Your eyes flit about the room. With a withering sigh, you submit to his touch. “You’d better pull out in time.”

Riddle rolls his hips once and his cock drags along your folds. You hiss through your teeth at this new friction, a sinful delight more dizzying than any type of alcohol consumed in excess. “Do you want to be a mother?”

“What I want has nothing to do with you. I’m just—ooh—t-trying to survive. You wouldn’t know what that’s like, so don’t poke fun.”

Riddle hums, kneading your breast and rubbing you to the edge all at once. It’s so very obviously his first time, his zealous nature trumping any sort of experienced technique. It still does the trick, though, sending little bolts of pleasure up your spine.

“My mother wouldn’t just choose anyone. Her standards are very high.” His eyes flick to your face, drinking in your expression as it shifts with restrained bliss. “Somehow you’ve earned her approval.”

“Lying’ll do that.”

“Maybe.” His fingers replicate the motions you did earlier, though with a singular objective in mind. He’s so focused on succeeding in this endeavor that it makes him look so stiff. Under any other circumstances, you’d find it cute. “Mother always knows what’s best for me. Obviously you’ve met her criteria if she’s hired you.”

“Spoken like a true mama’s boy.” Seeing as this is now your unavoidable fate, you reach up to touch his shoulders. He jolts, his initial glare softening. You tamp down another giggle and massage up and along his arms. “Relax a little. Don’t rush so much.”

Or do. Let’s get this over with before your mother catches us.

Riddle traces two fingers along your labia. He’s quiet as he takes all of you in, and when he sinks three fingers into your gooey heat his breath catches in his throat. “Are you… D-Do you feel good?”

You reach for his unoccupied hand and guide it to your clit. Riddle understands the suggestion well enough, for he massages you slowly. Sucking in another breath, you nod at him.

“Not bad. You’re getting there.”

His neglected cock throbs at the praise, and so you wrap your fingers around it to give it the same amount of attention he’s currently giving you. Riddle grits his teeth at the contact.

“You can move your fingers. Don’t just focus on my clit.”

“Ah. Right. Of course,” he babbles dumbly, so swept up in everything that you are, so very eager to please.

You’re like a work of art pinned to his desk, a delicacy more forbidden than anything from the bakery. Sugary-sweet, adorned in skimpy ruche, you’re a temptation laid bare. Delicately, as if you might shatter, he curls his fingers to press up against your insides. Riddle watches you arch up towards him, your hand working his cock maddeningly slow and steady. It feels good—better than anything he could have ever imagined.

His eyes trail from your lips to your tits to your pussy stretched around his fingers. “Do you have any plans for this summer?”

The sudden question catches you off guard. You were expecting something related to sex, not whatever this new shred of curiosity is. Still, that doesn’t stop you from dragging him closer to the edge of ecstasy with every tug of your fist.

“Why?”

“I… I’d like to get to know you.”

“Me?”

“Of course. You’re more than a body to me.”

“How charming. I just—” You frown, unable to follow where he’s going with this. “Why?”

“Isn’t that obvious?” Even though he says it like it’s a fact, he looks shy. “I want to know you.”

“Uh… Yeah… Okay.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Not that… It’s just hard to imagine you having any girl friends.”

Riddle rolls his eyes and grinds his thumb into your clit. You bite back a whine as his fingers pump in and out of you. “Is that space open or closed?”

“You know which one.”

“You could be the one to close it.”

You meet his eyes then. For a short minute, the two of you hold each other’s stare. And then, breaking free from his hypnotic hold, you squeeze his length gently. He shudders, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks.

“And what about you? You excited for your first year?”

“Mm, yeah,” he murmurs, rutting into your hand. His fingers spread you open, scissoring gently.

“Just make sure to take time for yourself. Have fun. Live.”

“What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“When you were at school—how’d you manage?”

“I never went.” He opens his mouth to interject, but you beat him to it. “Couldn’t afford it.”

“Oh…”

“It’s fine! I’ve got plenty of experience in other things. I don’t need school for that.”

Riddle doesn’t believe your feigned optimism for a second. “If you could’ve gone, what would you have studied?”

You release his cock from your hold and reach up to pull his glasses from his face. Gingerly, minding the fragile frames, you set them aside. You lift your index to your lips, effortlessly coy. “It’s a secret.”

Before he can protest, you tap the hand at your cunt next. Riddle’s fingers, wet and shiny, slide out with a slick squelch. “I think you can do it.”

“What?”

“Go to school and study what you want. I believe in you.”

A wooden laugh tumbles from your lips. “Thanks for the encouragement, mama’s boy.”

“I have a name, you know.”

You smile easily. “You want me to call you something else? How does ‘good boy’ sound?”

Even though he tries not to let it show, his cock betrays his reticence with a small twitch. He’s an open book. Not wanting to give you the satisfaction, he lines himself up instead. Your fingers slip down to spread yourself for him.

“S-Slowly…” you whisper, stumbling over your breath as the head of his cock presses inside. Shallow at first before more inches fill you.

Riddle heaves a shaky gasp, his eyes wide with amazement. “I… I’m inside you…”

“How’s it feel?” “Warm. Soft. Snug. R-Really good.” He bows his head and digs his fingers into your hips. You think he has a dozen more adjectives on the tip of his tongue, each one just as fluffy as the last. “D-Do you feel good? It doesn’t hurt?”

“I’m fine.” You wind your legs around his waist to pull him closer. Your hands come to rest upon his shoulders once more. “Move your hips.”

Riddle does just that. His pace is awkward and inexperienced, every motion unsteady and jerky, as he searches for the right rhythm. He falls into it surprisingly fast, and it isn’t long until he’s smoothly rutting into you. You grab at his shirt, your breath coming in reedy huffs.

“Good. You—haa—good. You’re doing good.” Praise pours from your lips like a waterfall, plentiful and refreshing. It invigorates him, fills him with a confidence that wasn’t there before.

The soft slap of skin on skin fills the room. You keep your voice in check, lest you lose yourself and alert Mrs. Rosehearts. Riddle seems to be doing the same, even though it’s obvious he’s struggling much more than you are. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth to suppress his groans.

“You can touch me,” you whisper, petting his cheek. He blinks at you, his face aflame with a bright blush.

Nervously, he reaches for you and then pauses. Contemplation passes over his features. “What feels better? I want you to—no. I will make sure you cum. I’ve studied it, actually. I know how long it takes.”

“Look at you, doing your research like a diligent student. You want extra credit?”

Riddle chuckles and pinches your clit between two fingers. The rest of your teasing tapers off into a lewd squeal. “What was that about extra credit?”

“You’re awfully bold for your first time.”

“I’m not clueless.” His hips press inwards, plastering you to the desk, and his cock brushes that special spot within—the spot that has you seeing stars, your every nerve tingling with pleasure. You choke around a delighted gasp. Riddle, feeling victorious, places his hand against your stomach, as if searching to feel his cock thrust up inside you. “Will I see you again after this?”

“If your mother wants me to come back and give you another pointless lecture on celibacy and safe sex, sure.”

“No, not that. Outside of this.”

“Don’t you have friends you’d rather hang out with?”

“I…do.”

“So spend time with them.”

Riddle doesn’t dignify that with a retort. With the way his eyes gloss over, you wonder just how many of these friends are within physical distance. The conversation stalls out into silence.

“You’ll make lots of friends at school. So many you’ll probably forget all about me.”

Riddle yanks your hips to meet his, driving himself deeper into your pussy.

“A-And you’ll find a nice girl to love if you’re looking for that kinda thing.”

“I am,” he confesses, breathless. “I want to get married and—mmh—start a family one day… I want to study law—become a lawyer… Mother thinks medicine suits me, but I can’t agree. Law is fascinating. It’s a perfect fit for me. Far better than medicine.”

You drag your thumb over your mouth, wetting it with your lipgloss, and then press it to his lips. The indirect kiss sends a tidal wave of arousal over him, darkening the tips of his ears in striking vermillion. You offer him a gentle smile while he recovers from that devastating flirt.

“I’ll make sure to hire you as my lawyer if I ever get into legal trouble.”

“You’d better not!” He laughs and shakes his head in amused disbelief. “But if you do, I’ll be there for you. Always.”

“Thanks, Riddle.”

Maybe I judged him too harshly. He’s not so bad.

In that stuffy study, just as the late afternoon gives way to red-orange streaked across a purple-pink sky, Riddle fucks you against that desk in all manner of rhythms. It’s when he finally picks up speed that you realize he’s nearing his end. You mirror his enjoyment, strung along by titillating touches and whispered words drenched in sweetness. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve reached rapture alongside him, your pussy now brimming with cum. There’s so much it leaks out of your slick hole when he draws away, only to burrow his cock deeper to stuff it back inside.

The room reeks of sweat and sex. You think, if not your disheveled appearance, the smell will definitely tell Mrs. Rosehearts all she needs to know.

“I love you,” Riddle murmurs, and you’re about to ask him what he means—maybe he’s caught up in the moment and doesn’t realize what he’s saying—but then he lifts your legs up to fold you into a mating press. Coherent thoughts are knocked out of your head when he spills over, filling you up for the nth time that day. You shiver beneath him, eyes rolled back into your skull and tongue lolling out. You feel so stupid, fucked submissive by some inexperienced, upper middle class mama’s boy. Which isn’t even an insult with real heat to it, but in your hazy mind it’s all you can think of to describe him.

He grinds against you in the aftermath, panting from the exhilaration and adrenaline.

“We need to…open the window,” you mutter, your heart thumping wildly in your chest.

Riddle admires your fucked-out expression in his sex-drunk daze. He slides out just as he feels himself going flaccid. Cum drips onto the desk below. Briefly, you struggle to recall whether or not you took your birth control today.

Something to consider later. Definitely not right now when you’re still clinging to the vestiges of your orgasm.

— — —

Mrs. Rosehearts knocks on the door, opening it to find Riddle sitting at his desk, jotting notes and occasionally pushing his glasses up. You’re standing at the blackboard, writing a list of the consequences of unplanned pregnancies. The room smells pleasantly of roses.

“Pardon my intrusion.”

You gaze at her and smile, wearing the clothes you arrived in. Nothing’s amiss. It’s perfect—thankfully. “Welcome back, Mrs. Rosehearts. We’re just about finished here.”

“Is that right? I assume all went well?”

“Very well. Your son’s a fast learner. Extremely talented.”

“I would expect nothing less.” She withdraws an envelope and hands it to you. “Thank you again for explaining it in realistic terms. Of course I doubt that my Riddle will act senselessly while he’s away, but as his mother I’m prone to worrying. Boys his age are so easily influenced.”

“O-Of course! That’s a very valid concern.” You force a chuckle.

If only she knew.

“Your pay is in that envelope. Should I ever require your assistance again, I’ll be sure to call.”

“Right… Thank you.” You hold it close to your chest. “I’m happy to help.”

You follow her out the door. She pauses to address Riddle. “Do continue reviewing your notes. We’ll convene for dinner in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Mrs. Rosehearts walks you to the gate. “I wish you luck in your studies. If I don’t see you again at the clinic, have a pleasant summer.”

“Thank you. You as well.” You smile, fidgeting slightly. A bead of sweat tracks a path down your leg from between cum-spattered thighs.

Finally! With this I can pay my rent and still have enough for a treat from the bakery.

It’s worth it, or so you continue to tell yourself.

— — —

From the window, Riddle watches you make the walk to your car. He lifts his phone to fit you in the camera and snaps a secret photo. He continues to watch you until you’ve driven off and turned the corner, disappearing from his sight.

A tiny smile tugs at his lips.

Within his phone, put under a password lock, a special photo album exists. It’s filled with pictures taken from your social media—all of them. Every. Single. One. He’s resourceful when he wants to be. He can play the parody of a tech genius when he sets his sights on something.

And you’re just perfect.

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