Riddle Would Listen To Mitski!! Source: Just Trust Me Bro - Blog Posts

[Valentine's first spring - Riddle Rosehearts]

Summary: Autumn passes by, with winter following closely. You stay, keeping his heart safe. You stay, and Riddle craves you more than anything in this world.

Notes: gn!reader, fluff with a bit of angst, riddle's mother is it's own warning, wrote this in like an hour while listening to Valentine by Laufey and First Love/Late Spring by Mitski

The wall was red. Not too vivid, to not hurt the eyes to look at, but not quite light enough to be pink. Riddle remembers clearly, the hours of staring at it, locked in his bedroom, marked it in his memory, burnt a hole and stayed at the back of his mind. Sometimes, if he closes his eyes long enough, he feels as if he's staring at that wall again.

As a child it felt agonizing. He stared and stared and stared, trying to will his brain to keep quiet for a little while, to stop thinking. He never managed to do that, not like the other kids, who always looked so cheerful, without a care in the world, only thinking about the present moment. Riddle wasn't like them, he never was. His brain didn't look at the wall and wondered about what the next episode of a cartoon would be or what sweet he would eat next or what prank he'd pull with his friends.

No, he wasn't like these misbehaving brats, his mother told him so. He thought about the exercise he couldn't get right and his mother's disappointed frown. What should he do to be better? He didn't want to be burden, the least he could do was get a simple exercise right. Other times he would think about the high grade he got on his latest test. His mother looked pleased then. Not happy, she was never happy, not around him. Perhaps if he only put more effort into studying, if he followed the rules, if he did everything as she told him to, perhaps then she would smile and tell him he did a good job. She loved him, she told him so. It just didn't feel like it, sometimes.

After meeting Trey and Che'nya, he stopped looking at the wall for a while. He was happy, he couldn't stand that reddish color anymore, nor his stray thoughts. He met a blue sky and green on the streets and the world was full of color. He bid the wall goodbye for good. 

Even so, he missed staring at it when his free time was taken away from him. Back when he still could, his mind would rest a little and he could pretend he was doing it out of his own free will, not because he didn't have any game to play or any non academical book to read or any candy to snack. The books were nowhere as comforting as that familiar red shade. His chest ached. He wondered if that was what love felt like.

After his overblot, Riddle was lost. He was thankful for your help, for you stopping him from commiting even more mistakes and making him see how he was doing things wrong. Still, he couldn't help but resent you a little for opening his eyes, forcing him to leave the comfortable zone he was in.

He was taught to follow the rules, since it was the right thing. Naturally, everyone should do the same. Have their mother's never taught them how to behave? Riddle could do the job, put everyone in line, make Heartslabyul follow proudly in the Queen of Hearts' steps.

But the rules weren't always right, human nature was a complicated thing, there would always be exceptions. He couldn't expect everyone to act like him when they weren't brought up the same way. He should have been more considerate to their feelings, stopped to hear their justifications before collaring them mercilessly. 

Riddle had never wanted to be a tyrant. He only ever had wanted to be a good ruler, someone his subordinates can count on.

He continued to be lost as he stared, alone, at the cooking book's instructions. Trey was so kind to lend it to him, even after all the mess he had made, even after everything he had put him through. He still smiled at Riddle and tried to help, in his own way.

Riddle wanted to cry, then. He wanted to apologize over and over, to thank Trey until he couldn't talk anymore, to ask why didn't he stop him sooner, why did no one tell him he was wrong, why did his mother mislead him so? He felt like a child, so small and pathetic. A lost child, at that. He refused to let the tears fall and only thanked Trey politely with a strained voice. From his firend's pitying smile, he could tell Trey saw through his façade easily, but didn't comment on it, letting him save the last bits of his dignity.

Wallowing in self pity wouldn't fix his mistakes nor get the tart done. He should get started as soon as possible and follow all the steps perfectly to bring a most satisfactory result. Although he couldn't find the measures for the secret oyster sauce Trey had told him about. 

There's a sudden noise at the kitchen's door as someone enters, surprising him. Riddle turns around, not expecting any company, much less yours.

"Prefect. Have you forgotten something here?"

"No, I didn't. I wanted to see you, actually."

There's dread in his gut and his hands tremble slightly. He's not sure how to act after the stunt he pulled, after he had put you in danger on your first week, after he broke down crying in front of everyone. Perhaps you're here to demand a better apology or to mock him. So be it, he'll take it all gracefully.

"Oh? What for?"

"I want to help."

There's a soft smile on your face, determination shining in your eyes as you roll up the sleeves of your uniform and look around for an apron.

"Excuse me?"

"You're excused." Your smile turns into a playful grin and you let out a victorious sound as you put on the apron you found laying on the corner. 

He's baffled. What were you talking about? Ace made it very clear he should do this alone to prove he was truly sorry for his past actions.

"I'm... not sure if I understand."

"Well, it's just that I didn't want to leave you alone after... uh... everything." You make a motion in the air with your hands, as if it would be enough to sumarize the whole disaster that had transpired. "You don't have to isolate yourself, you know. You can count on us if things get too tough."

There's a strange lump on his throat and he swears he has stopped breathing. What were you talking about? Why were you being so kind to him, of all people? You haven't even known each other for that long and he has only caused you trouble the whole time.

"Also, I had a lot of fun baking with the guys! I want you to have fun too! The more, the merrier, and all that."

You walk to his side in order to look at the book, all smiles and confidence in a pink apron. He stares at you in shock, scooting away as soon as your elbow makes contact with his. He feels tingles on the place, as if your touch could burn. You pay him no mind, reading carefully the list of ingredients. 

"Alright, sounds easy enough. Let's get started, then!"

"Wait. You don't have to do this. I don't need your pity, prefect, I can handle myself just fine."

Riddle wants to slap himself as soon as the words are out of his mouth, but he couldn't let you help. He needed to this alone, that's how he's always done things. Your stare makes him want to scream in frustration. He doesn't understand it, it isn't the disappointed one his mother gave him, nor the pitiful one from his dormmates. If he looked long enough, he would have concluded it was an understanding stare, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

"I don't pity you, Riddle. You knew what you were doing and you deserved to hear those things from Ace."

His breath hitches and he's never felt so ashamed before. It feels worse than a slap, to have the truth thrown at him like this. His actions mocking him, his own faults tightening the collar around his neck.

"Still, I can see you truly regret it. And it doesn't feel right to just leave you alone. Don't get me wrong, you're not my charity project or anything. It's just... I understand how hard it is to start again, to try to be better. And it's so much harder when you feel like no one is by your side."

Like an open book, Riddle feels you can read every line from his being, that his thoughts are yours to pick apart. Is he so obvious? He feels rooted in place, a poor fool waiting to receive his sentence at your mercy.

"You're not a bad person, Riddle. I can see that. So, let's start again, together."

Your smile looks too much like the light at the end of the tunnel, like some sort of salvation. His chest expands and contracts again as his breathing resumes, he gulps the dryness out of his throat and blinks firmly, holding the tears in. Suddenly, he doesn't feel as lost as before.

You extend your hand at him, expectantly. How could he deny that? Sparkles fly on his skin as your hands touch, the gentle feeling like nothing he's ever felt before. How did you manage to make him feel like he's floating, like everything will be alright, like there's a shock running through every single bone of his body?

"Come on, we've got a tart to do!"

"Yes. Let's do this." He can't control his facial muscles, a little smile forming on it's own.

Only after both of you had gathered all the ingredients did he remember something.

"There's just one more thing."

"Yes?" Your attention focuses solely on him, head tilted slightly and he feels at the top of the world to have you looking at him like that.

"We don't have any oyster sauce."

The cute inquisitive expression falls from your face, a carefully neutral one taking it's place, making him fidget on his spot, worried he might have done something wrong. He truly didn't want to ruin things with you, not when everything has started to feel right again.

"Why would we need any?"

"Trey has told me it's an unlisted secret ingredient that all the finest bakers use..."

He watches, mesmerized, as your expression cracks, a giggle leaving your lips, followed by another and another until you're full out laughing, eyes crinkled so hard they're almost closed, teeth exposed and chest heaving, pure joy flowing through you. It's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

Still, he's not sure if he should feel hurt or offended that you're laughing at him. He settles on confusion, not wanting to jump into conclusions.

Once you've calmed down enough to speak again you explain, between giggles sweeter than sugar, that it was only a joke Trey had pulled on you as well. 

The embarrassment creeps up his spine and makes his face blush, cheeks warming up. He would have been mad, had it happened a few days ago. And yet. Your happiness is contagious, making a laugh break out from him, joining the chorus with your melody. 

It feels so silly, laughing together in the kitchen like that, but he's not lost anymore. The air is comfortable once more and it feels sweet on his tongue, it feels like home.

As the time passes, you grow on him, you make a place for yourself in his life, to the point he can't remember how he's ever lived before you.

You study together, you listen to all his explanations attentively, he answers any questions you might have, you make sure he's taking breaks. You take him on walks around the campus, hand clasped in his. You rope him into snack runs, sharing with him a piece of whatever you're having.

You give him hugs without asking anything in return, your arms open and oh so inviting, so alluring. You tousle his hair when you're feeling playful, fixing it gently when he complains. You give him a kiss on the cheek when you're proud of one of his accomplishments, loudly congratulating him.

He's never had this before. No one has been this affectionate with him, so openly and unashamed. No one has treated him like he's precious, like you do. 

Riddle craves you. He has never desired something so fiercely before. He has never had the chance. 

The next best thing he could compare the feeling to was to a strawberry tart. Not any strawberry tart, but Trey's parents' bakery's strawberry tart. Whenever he gazed at the window he would see it on display, the red color calling to him. His mouth salivated just thinking about how it would taste should he take a bite of it, the sweetness exploding on his tongue. Maybe he could satiate the aching whitin him, fill that empty hole and feel happy. Then, his mother's voice would play on his head, reprimanding him for even thinking of consuming that amount of sugar. He'd look away, ashamed, but the red strawberries would always pull his eyes to them again, like a magnet.

Whenever he saw you, he felt the same ache on his chest, but stronger. A yearning to see your smile, to feel your warm hands against his, taste the most delicious red from your lips. Just from having your attention on him it felt like lady bugs dancing on his stomach, making his heart accelerate, face flushing. He craves you, more than any strawberry tart in the world.

It scares him. He's never felt like this, never felt this strongly for anyone. He's still young and sorting his life out, he doesn't even know what he wants to become without his mother's overbearing demands. He's figuring himself out, getting lost in the maze of his feelings. He's always acted older than his age, always complied to his mother's desires, and now he feels younger than ever and he's scared.

Riddle wants you to like him back, desperately so. Still, he can't bear to imagine you saying you love him. The thought leaves him breathless, his chest aches and aches and aches for you and he doesn't know what he'd do without you.

Autumn passes by, with winter following closely. You stay, keeping his heart safe. You stay, and Riddle craves you more than anything in this world.

The fresh breeze of spring brings forth the scent of the flowers scattered across the garden. Riddle can hear birds singing at the distance and the sun's warmth settles pleasantly on his skin, warming up his bones. It's as if the flora has come to life, buzzing in excitement for the season.

There's nothing prettier than your smile directed at him, nothing else that could make him feel like he's lost control of his heartbeat.

Your hands are behind your back and you have a spring in your step as you stop right in front of him. You ask him to extend his hand and he does so, watching intently as one your hands takes his and brings it to your lips, tenderly pressing a feather light kiss on the back of it. His eyes are blown out, his lips drying and heart running wildly.

"These are for you."

A bouquet of flowers in red shades is given to him, your other hand making contact and holding his. A smile blooms on his face, stretching his red cheeks as a loving sigh leaves his mouth. 

"Thank you. They are lovely."

"Just like you." You wink playfully, sticking your tongue out a bit and letting go of his hands. He has to stop himself from reaching out again, missing your warmth terribly.

Riddle clears his throat and motions at the other side of the small round table he's set up. "Please, have a seat."

You do as he says, admiring the decorations he's prepared. Between the red and white roses of the garden, the two of you share a cup of milk tea and a strawberry tart. The conversation flows naturally, telling each other how your days have been and how things are going. Riddle could listen to you all day, every story you have to share captures his interest as easily as you've captured his heart.

It's such a domestic scene, the two of you. Riddle thinks that's what love must feel like. Like a warm embrace, or like the sweetness of the tart melting on his tongue, or like your smile. Not like a red wall and a disappointed frown.

The sun sets in a hue of reds, the sunlight creating a dream like atmosphere between yourselves. The way your relaxed face reflects the colors makes Riddle feel full of affection. He's content, he realises. He wishes he could share a million other moments like this with you, a million other springs.

"It's beautiful." You comment, breathless. You're not looking at the sunset anymore, though. Your gaze is on him and only him, as if he's the most important thing in the world. "You're beautiful." Your voice is filled with sincerity and something else, something that makes his heart ache with yearning, something that makes him want to hear you say that again and again.

It feels so much like a confession.

He can't help but blush, red like his hair. He's never had this before, he's not sure how to react. So, he blurts out the first thing he thinks of, the truth slipping from his lips.

"You're beautiful too."

It feels like a promise.

You look surprised, eyebrows rising and mouth opening. He's surprised too. And then you laugh, honey dripping from the sound. You look pleased as you take his hand in yours, lacing your fingers and squeezing it gently. 

The table is small, small enough for you to lay your elbows against it and come closer to his face, for your other hand to cup his red cheek and bring his face closer to yours. Riddle is lost in the moment, closing his eyes and tilting his head, his free hand resting against your shoulder. 

As your lips press together, Riddle feels elated. His fingers tremble and grip harder onto you, not wanting to let you go. The kiss is slow and so tender, so sweet. He can taste the strawberries on your tongue, can feel your thumb caressing his cheek. You deepen the kiss and he lets out a whimper from deep within, a sound filled with sheer want. He lingers over this moment, wanting to commit it to memory, carve it on his soul.

You pull back, separating your lips. Riddle chases after you, wanting more, needing more. You giggle and nuzzle your noses together, such an innocent act that it feels more intimate, somehow. You've got his heart on your hands and you hold onto it with the utmost care, so much so that he can't feel himself ever regreting this. If he could, he'd like to kiss you, and only one, for the rest of his life.

"Riddle." The way you say his name is soft, not breaking the moment. "Will you be my valentine?"

He opens his eyes and traces every inch of your face, his hand moving to the back of your neck and pulling you closer. He gives you a chaste kiss, trying to satisfy his craving enough to be able to get the words out from his throat without choking on it.

"I'd love to, if you'll have me."

Your answering smile is exactly what he needs. Your lips connect again, it feels a lot like love.

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