#lee!riddle

It had been about two weeks since Riddle's... incident in the rose garden. That's what he'd taken to calling it because it sounded less horrifying than "overblotting" or "crazy berserker mode" as Cater had so bluntly referred to it. Despite being given a clean bill of health, Riddle was still recovering. He would get lightheaded. He had trouble sleeping. He'd lose his appetite. He was still nervous about using his magic, afraid of overdoing it again. Riddle didn't even have any memory of what had happened. Headmage Crowley said that it would simply take time to heal such wounds.

Trey still felt largely responsible for Riddle even overblotting in the first place. He'd become determined to help Riddle heal in any way he could. Trey had done extensive research in the campus library and found various books on stress relief, teaching himself about yoga and breathing techniques and meditation to help lower stress. This is why Riddle was heading to a secluded spot behind the Heartslabyul House rose garden now - Trey had gotten him to agree to meet up every day after classes and work on one of these techniques.

Riddle had a free period at the end of classes today and decided to head to their meetup spot early as it was quite lovely outside. With a book to read and an old picnic blanket tucked under his arm, the teen made his way behind the rose garden hedge maze to a small group of oak trees. He gently set his book in the grass before shaking out the blanket and laying it under a tree. "Hmm... yes, this shall do nicely," Riddle said to himself. "Shaded enough that I won't overheat but I can still have a bit of warmth from the sun's rays." Riddle slipped off his school uniform blazer, folding it perfectly and smoothing out any and all wrinkles as he rested it on the bottom of the blanket before sitting down. He rested his back against the tree, stretching his legs in front of him and crossing them at the ankles. Riddle allowed himself a moment to get comfortable and then started to read his book. It was warm. There was a gentle breeze. The sky was clear. Riddle was calm. Every condition was perfect for helping him relax and get lost in his book, which he did. And then he had a sudden feeling that he was being watched. Riddle's icy grey eyes peered over the pages of his book in front of him and saw no one. They peered to the left and saw only the rose garden maze walls. They peered to the right... ...and saw a face floating in midair and smiling at him. "BWAAAH!" Riddle gasped, throwing his book into the air with a startled jolt.

One of Chenya's hands materialized and caught the book before it fell to the ground. He smiled at the redhead with a giggle. "Goodness! You must have been paws-itively entranced in this book for me to spook you so," Chenya laughed, his body fully materializing in the air as he turned the book over to look at its cover. "What're we reading, hmm?" "Nothing!" Riddle replied, snatching the book out of Chenya's hands and quickly stashing it under the blanket. "What are you doing here?"

"So secretive," Chenya teased, still floating over him. "I was around and thought I'd check on you. I..." Chenya lowered himself to the ground and sat beside Riddle on the blanket, becoming uncharacteristically somber for a moment. "I've been worried about you since... well, since Trey told me what happened." "You don't have to worry about me." Riddle's shoulders slumped. He still wasn't used to other people caring about him like this. He also hated feeling like he was hurting others. "Trey has been helping me learn how to let go of being so strict and find a balance between rules and leniency. I'm doing better." "I miss that purrfect little smile of yours," Chenya admitted, bumping his shoulder against Riddle's with a sigh. "Tch... what do you mean? I smile! See?" Riddle's lips stretched into a genuine but soft smile.

"Not like that, silly kitty. I miss how you smiled when we climbed trees... when we'd play Old Maid and Trey would lose..." Chenya sat back against the tree, eyes focused on the back of his friend's head as he thought of childhood memories. "I miss that great big smile you had the first time you bit into a strawberry tart at his parents bakery." He reached forward and kneaded his nails gently along Riddles shoulder blades affectionately as he mentioned the tart memory. "EEEEK!" Riddle arched his back with such force that he'd nearly snapped his spine. He instantly clapped a hand over his mouth, horrified at his own sudden outburst. Chenya froze. Neither of the teens were sure of what had just happened.

"Curiouser and curiouser..." Chenya reached out and repeated the motion. This time, Riddle involuntarily giggled as his back tensed. The redhead's eyes went wide. He was mortified and confused. "Stop that this instant!" "Oh dear." Chenya chuckled. That reaction sounded ominous and Riddle did not like it one bit.

"What... why... what magic was that? What did you do?" Riddle was almost positive that his friend was using some kind of spell to get him to smile.

"Magic? Has no one ever...? No, I don't suppose they have." It was at that moment that Chenya was reminded of just how much of a sheltered childhood Riddle had lived. It was probably worse once he came here to Night Raven because he was so closed-off. "No one has ever..." The mischievous boy leaned forward again and quickly spidered his fingers against Riddle's sides, causing him to giggle outright. "You, my dear, are ticklish." Chenya immediately went invisible and started poking and fluttering his fingers anywhere he could reach - Riddle's sides, his back, his shoulder blades, the back of his neck, behind his ears... Riddle jolted and wriggled like a worm on a hook, falling onto his back and swatting at the air trying to slap Chenya's hands away. Classes had finished for the day. Trey made is way through the halls of the campus, to the Hall of Mirrors, back to Heartslabyul House, and through the rose garden to met up with Riddle. As he exited the back of the hedge maze, his chest knotted in a panic. He saw Riddle, alone under a tree, convulsing on his blanket. Fear took over and Trey's legs immediately started running. He had been afraid nonstop for the past two weeks that Riddle could relapse. "Riddle! No no no no no..." Trey was kneeling at his best friend's side in mere seconds. "Riddle! What's happening?! What's wrong?!"

"Hehehehe help! Help me! Che... Chen... make hehehehe make him hehehehe stop!" Riddle looked like he was having some sort of seizure, flailing his hands and flopping around. But he was... laughing. "What in the world? Riddle?!" Trey was beyond confused. He'd never seen his best friend act like this. A second later, Riddle stopped moving. He was now heaving breaths. Chenya's face materialized beside him. Trey fell back in surprise. "Bwaah! Chenya? What's going on?"

"I can only imagine how this must have looked. Apologies if I worried you," Chenya said with a nod as the rest of his body materialized. "I was trying to coax this little sourpuss to smile and ended up making quite an interesting discovery. Look!" His hands reached out, fingers wriggling against Riddle's ribs and making the poor boy burst into another fit of giggles as he curled up defensively on his blanket. Trey stared. He blinked. He adjusted his glasses. He blinked again. For a moment, Trey had flashes of childhood memories. He could see himself, Chenya, and Riddle as small children. He could hear their giggles when they played. He'd never heard anything like the sounds Riddle was making right now though. "No way," Trey said with a bark of a laugh, looking down at Riddle who was trying to catch his breath. "And here I thought I knew everything about you. How did I not know you're ticklish?" "I didn't know," Riddle exhaled, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt. "Heavens, that was awful." The boy let his eyes close. He would completely deny it if asked, but he was still smiling. The more Trey thought about it, the more it made sense for Riddle to be so clueless. His parents weren't ones for any type of physical affection. The only friends he'd had were Trey and Chenya until his mother forbid them to come anywhere near him. Neither of them had really had much physical contact with him more than a hug here and there because Riddle had been so shy and they didn't want to frighten him back into his shell.

"It's good that you arrived when you did. I swear, Chenya was trying to kill me," Riddle sighed, ever the one for theatrics as he rested a hand on his chest.

"That's not true," Chenya protested. "I was helping you." "I nearly died. How in the world is that considered helpful?" Riddle wondered, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Such a dramatic little thing," Chenya giggled. "I never see you laugh. Laughter is good for relieving stress."

"Utter piffle!" the Heartslabyul housewarden scoffed.

"Chenya's actually correct though. Laughing decreases stress hormones, releases endorphins, relaxes physical tension..." A smile crossed Trey's face, a smile that was just a bit too far on the mischievous side. "What is that saying, Chen? Laughter is the best medicine, I think, yeah?" Trey cracked his knuckles. "Indeed!" Chenya looked about ready to pounce, a playful gleam in his cat-like eyes. "I prescribe four hands," he added, flexing all ten of his fingers in the air. "Huh?" Riddle furrowed his brow. "That doesn't even make sense." The teen opened his eyes just a moment too late to see both of his best friends with clawed hands hovering over him and he had no time to move. "Oh no no no wait!" Riddle was thrown into absolute hysterics. He was giggling. He was sputtering. He was trying to cover his mouth and shield himself at the same time... and failing miserably at both as he curled into a ball and kicked his legs. "Just be gentle. We don't want him getting overstimulated. It *is* his first time," Trey pointed out as his fingers danced along Riddle's ribs. "That would be quite the cat-tastrophe, wouldn't it?" Chenya giggled. He switched between fluttering his fingers at Riddle's neck and gently scratching under his arms, careful not to use too much pressure. "Wouldn't want the poor dear to pass out, although that would give you the opportunity to play housewarden for a bit." "Stop hehehehe talking hehehe about me... like I'm hehehe not even HEHEHEHERE!" Someone's hand started to squeeze just above one of Riddle's hips and shattered all sense of composure and decorum that he was trying to keep. He broke out into an absolute cackle and gave up trying to cover his face. He couldn't even sputter a word through his laughter. One of his hands started swatting down repeatedly on the blanket.

"Uh-oh, that's a tap-out." Trey immediately held up his hands. Chenya took just an extra second more before following suit. "I think he's had enough for today." Trey looked down at the small heap of a boy that was Riddle Rosehearts. Despite the fact that Trey and Chenya had their hands in the air, Riddle was still giggling. "You... okay there, buddy?" All of a sudden, Trey was just a bit worried that Riddle might be angry.

Riddle slowly turned over onto his back, sprawling on the blanket between his torturers. His hair was a mess, matted against a sweaty forehead and sticking out in every other direction. His cheeks were as red as his hair, not from anger but from overheating and embarrassment. His uniform shirt was a wrinkled disaster, untucked and twisted halfway up his torso. His eyes were closed and he was heaving breaths. Residual giggles were still slipping from his lips as he started to calm down. "There it is," Chenya said fondly. "Hmmph?" The redhead cracked one eye open, looking up in confusion. "There... what... is?" he asked between giggling breaths.

"Your strawberry tart smile, silly kitty," Chenya replied, booping the tip of Riddle's nose with his index finger.

Trey couldn't help laughing. He knew exactly what Chenya was referring to, and it was good to see it again.

"Ugh, I hate you both," Riddle groaned. "All three of us know that's an outright lie," Trey chuckled. "How do you feel?" "Exhausted." Riddle draped an arm over his face and stretched out his legs. "My face hurts. Everything hurts." "That's because you've never worked out any of those tickle muscles... ever. We can help with that," Chenya teased, wriggling his fingers in the air. "No! Absolutely not!" Riddle didn't even have the strength to try and defend himself. And he was already giggling again at the mere thought of being tickled. "Please. I surrender. No more. I can't." "You're safe. No need for hiss-terics," Chenya chuckled, mussing Riddle's hair affectionately. "I should head back anyway before it gets late. I just wanted to make sure you were okay." Riddle started to sit up when Chenya immediately pulled him into a tight hug, clamping his arms at his sides in the process. He sighed in defeat and simply let Chenya hold him. He'd never admit it, but that hug felt absolutely wonderful. Riddle had spent his life so touch-starved that this overwhelming amount of contact today had rendered him completely bewildered. He was a mix of complex and conflicting emotions. He hated this, but he loved it at the same time. He couldn't make any sense of it. "Look after him," Chenya told Trey before kissing the top of Riddle's head with an annoyingly and purposely loud smooching sound. "Bye, dears." He let go of Riddle, standing and fading from sight as he waved to the pair.

Riddle collapsed back onto the blanket with a heavy sigh. He rubbed his palms against his sides, still still feeling traces of the absolute torture he'd just gone through. There was still a soft smile on his face. "...are you angry?" Trey asked quietly.

"Hmm..." Riddle shook his head slowly, still trying to catch his breath. "No. I don't think that I could ever be angry with either of you. You're never doing that again, though. I feel utterly drained. I could fall asleep right under this tree."

"I had other plans for us, but having a catnap under a tree for a bit doesn't break any rules that I know of," Trey joked. "Hmmph. Leave the feline puns to Chenya," Riddle teased, showing that he was in a good mood. "What plans?"

"I do what my mother calls stress-baking. I bake when I'm stressed out because it's enjoyable and calms me down," Trey explained. "I thought we could find some easy recipes and see if stress-baking helps you. And as a bonus, we end up with snacks to eat... which I also do when I'm stressed."

"That..." Riddle took another moment to himself as he was still catching his breath. "That sounds lovely. Since Chenya mentioned it, I find myself craving a strawberry tart."

"I think we have enough ingredients in the kitchen to make some. Without oyster sauce this time, though." Trey chuckled, smiling wider as Riddle groaned.

"Uuuurrrggh." Riddle draped an arm over his face. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

"Ohoho not on your life." Trey stood and held out a hand. "Think you can gather the strength to make it to the kitchen?"

"I'll manage." Riddle took Trey's hand and pulled himself to stand. He smoothed the wrinkles from his shirt again and tucked it back in before putting his blazer back on and fixing his hair while Trey folded the blanket and picked up Riddle's book. "Do I look presentable? Queen of Hearts Rule num-" The housewarden stopped himself from finishing that sentence. "I don't wish to set a poor example for the rest of Heartslabyul House and walk about the dorm looking unkempt." "Hold on." Trey quickly raked his fingers through the hair at the back of Riddle's head, putting a few stray strands back into place. "There. To the kitchen, then?" Trey gestured back towards the hedge maze. "To the kitchen," Riddle nodded, walking alongside Trey. "I don't think it needs saying that should you tell anyone about what just happened..." "Wouldn't dream of it. No one will hear a peep about you being ticklish as hell from me," Trey chuckled, putting an arm around a furiously blushing Riddle's shoulders as they disappeared into the hedge maze.

Riddle Rosehearts was having a terrible day.

Not the kind of terrible that could be fixed with a cup of tea or a properly organized schedule—no, this was the sort that stacked itself relentlessly, one offense after another, until even the smallest inconvenience felt like a personal attack on order itself. By the time he escaped the chaos and marched off toward a quieter part of campus, his face was already burning red, lips pressed thin in a way that promised someone was going to get written up for something.

He didn’t get far before trouble found him anyway.

“Well, well~ Goldfishie looks like he’s gonna explode.”

Riddle froze, dread pooling instantly as he turned to find Floyd Leech leaning against a tree like he’d been waiting there all along. The eel’s grin widened the moment their eyes met, sharp and mischievous, like he’d just discovered a new favorite toy.

“…What are you doing here?” Riddle snapped, already bristling. “You are not permitted near Heartslabyul, and—”

“Good thing we’re not there, huh?” Floyd cut in, pushing himself upright and strolling closer at an unhurried pace. His gaze flicked over Riddle’s expression, lingering on the flushed cheeks and tight shoulders. “Man, you’re really wound up. Did someone mess up your precious rules again?”

“That is none of your concern,” Riddle said stiffly, though his voice carried the brittle edge of someone one comment away from snapping. “I will handle it appropriately, as I always do.”

“Boooring,” Floyd sing-songed, stopping just within reach. He leaned in slightly, peering at Riddle’s face like he was inspecting something fascinating. “You look like you’re about to start yelling at a tree. Thought I’d help before that happens.”

“I do not—”

Riddle barely registered the shift before it happened.

One second, Floyd was just standing there. The next, his wrists were caught—easily, effortlessly—and he was yanked forward with a startled gasp, balance thrown completely off.

“F-Floyd—!”

“And now we fix it~”

The first touch hit his sides without warning.

Riddle jerked so sharply it nearly knocked him off his feet, a startled, high-pitched laugh bursting out before he could even think to stop it. His eyes flew wide, absolute betrayal flashing across his face as he twisted instinctively.

“Wha—! N-No—! St—stay back—!”

Floyd did not stay back.

“Ohhh, there it is,” he cooed, delighted, as his fingers pressed in again—this time more deliberately, kneading lightly into Riddle’s sides just above his waist. “That was quick. You’re super ticklish, huh?”

“I am not—! Ah—! F-Floyd, do not—!” The denial crumbled into a breathless laugh as Floyd’s fingers started moving, not just poking but scribbling, quick and unpredictable, dancing up along his ribs and then back down again before Riddle could even flinch away properly.

His composure shattered almost immediately.

“Stohohop—! Thihis is—! Hah—! This is inappropriate—!” Riddle tried to sound commanding, tried to keep that sharp authority in his voice, but it came out uneven and laced with helpless giggles that he couldn’t suppress.

Floyd only laughed, clearly encouraged.

“Aw, you’re all wiggly now,” he teased, tightening his hold just enough to keep Riddle from slipping away as his fingers dug lightly into the spaces between his ribs. “Where’d all that scary yelling go?”

“I—! I am n—! Ahaha—! I am perfectly capable—! Ngh—!” Riddle’s words broke apart into laughter again when Floyd abruptly switched tactics, one hand skittering higher to trace along his lower ribs while the other dipped back to his sides, alternating just fast enough to keep him guessing.

Riddle’s shoulders jerked, his head tipping back slightly as laughter spilled out in bright, uncontrollable bursts. “F-Floyd—! Thahahat tihihickles—! S-Stop—!”

“There we go, now you’re saying it,” Floyd said, sounding far too pleased with himself. “Kinda cute hearing you laugh like this, Goldfishie.”

“I am not—! Ah—! Cuhuhute—!” Riddle tried to twist away again, but Floyd simply adjusted, pulling him a fraction closer as his fingers slipped around toward the front of his ribs.

That was worse.

Riddle squeaked—actually squeaked—before dissolving into louder laughter, his attempts at restraint completely gone now as his hands uselessly pushed at Floyd’s arms. “N-Nohoho—! Not thehehere—! F-Floyd—!”

“Not here?” Floyd echoed, immediately zeroing in on the spot, fingers scribbling mercilessly along the sensitive area. “So here’s bad, huh?”

“YEHEHES! It’s—! Ahaha! It’s bahahad—!” Riddle’s voice pitched higher, laughter spilling out in rapid, breathless bursts as he curled in as much as Floyd’s hold allowed. His usual poise had completely unraveled, replaced by squirming and frantic, ineffective attempts to escape.

Floyd slowed for a moment—just a moment—dragging his fingers lightly up Riddle’s sides in a teasing, almost gentle motion.

Riddle sucked in a shaky breath, clearly hoping—praying—it was over.

Then Floyd wiggled his fingers right into the same spot again.

Riddle cackled.

There was no other word for it, the sound bursting out of him loud and unrestrained as his knees buckled slightly. “F-FLOHOHOYD—! Thahat’s—! Y-You—! Stohohohop!”

Floyd laughed along with him, clearly entertained by the reaction. “You’re way more fun like this than when you’re yelling about rules.”

“I—! I hahahate you—! Ngh—! I nohahah—!” The protest collapsed into helpless giggles again, Riddle’s face burning as he shook his head, completely at Floyd’s mercy.

Floyd kept going a little longer, switching between quick scribbles and slower, dragging touches that made Riddle squirm just as much from anticipation as from the actual tickling. Every time Riddle tried to catch his breath, Floyd would change pace again, keeping him teetering right on the edge of composure he couldn’t quite regain.

Eventually—eventually—the laughter softened, slipping into quieter, breathless giggles as Riddle’s resistance weakened into half-hearted pushes.

“F-Floyyd… plehehease…” he managed, voice thin and shaky, though there was less bite to it now, more exhausted than commanding.

Floyd paused, watching him for a second like he was deciding something.

Then, with a final light scrbble along his sides that made Riddle jolt and let out one last startled laugh, he pulled back completely.

Riddle immediately stumbled away, clutching at his sides as he tried to steady his breathing. His hair was a mess, his face still flushed, and every now and then a stray giggle slipped out despite his best efforts to suppress it.

“…You are unbelievable,” he said finally, though it came out weaker than intended.

Floyd just grinned, stretching like he hadn’t done anything unusual at all. “Yeah, but you’re not mad anymore.”

Riddle opened his mouth to argue and then hesitated.

Because… he wasn’t.

“…That does not justify your actions,” he said after a moment, trying—and only partially succeeding—to regain his usual composure.

“Uh-huh.” Floyd waved a hand dismissively, already turning away. “Whatever you say, Goldfishie~”

Riddle watched him go, irritation flickering briefly before fading into something quieter.

The quiet of Heartslabyul on a Friday evening felt different from the rest of the week. The corridors were calmer, the usual tension of rules and responsibilities softened just a little, like the dorm itself was finally taking a breath.

Inside Riddle’s room, warm lamplight spilled across polished furniture and shelves lined with carefully organized books. Everything was neat, precise - very Riddle - but there was a gentler atmosphere to it tonight. You sat beside him on the large couch, knees almost touching, each of you holding a book.

The faint rustle of pages turning and the distant sound of the wind outside were the only noises for a while. You’d known Riddle since childhood, long before Heartslabyul, long before rules had become both his shield and his burden. Because of that, silence between you was never uncomfortable. It was familiar. Easy.

You glanced sideways at him over the top of your book, watching the way his brows knit together in concentration as he read. His glasses - which he usually only wore around those he was close to - sat perfectly on his nose, posture straight as always. It was endearing - especially considering what you’d witnessed earlier that day.

A small smile tugged at your lips. “By the way,” you said casually, lowering your book just a little, “I heard that someone tripped over their own cloak during potion studies today.” Riddle stiffened. Just barely, but you caught it. “I did not trip,” he replied quickly, eyes still fixed on the page, “the hem merely… caught on the edge of the desk.”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, “and the way Ace laughed so hard he nearly fell over too- that was definitely unrelated.” A faint pink crept up Riddle’s cheeks. “It was highly unprofessional of him.” You couldn’t help yourself. You closed your book and leaned a bit closer. “Still,” you teased, “it was kind of cute.”

That did it. Riddle snapped his book shut and turned to face you, flustered. “There was nothing cute about it!” Grinning, you reached out and poked his side lightly, just under his ribs. The redhead made a small, startled sound before clapping a hand over the spot. His eyes widened, then narrowed. “…You did that on purpose,” he accused. You laughed.

“Maybe.” Before you could poke him again, Riddle lunged forward. With surprising speed, he pushed you back against the cushions, your book tumbling to the floor as he pinned you there. He hovered above you, hands braced on either side of your shoulders, a rare, mischievous smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh?” you said, looking up at him expectantly. “If you’re going to break the rules, then I suppose I have no choice.” “What rules?” you asked, trying - and failing - not to laugh at the sight of him like this.

Riddle straightened just enough to look properly authoritative. “Queen of Hearts Rules Number 287,” he declared, “If one attempts to tickle a friend on a Friday evening, they must be tickled in return.” You blinked. Then burst out laughing. “You totally just made that up!”

“Absolutely not,” he said primly, though the smile lingering on his face betrayed him. “Now hold still.” His fingers moved to your sides. The moment he squeezed, laughter exploded out of you. “Pfft- R-RiHihiddle! HahaHAhaha! St-StoHohop!”

He froze for half a second, startled by how easily you reacted, then continued, fingers pressing and wiggling into your sides with a mix of hesitation and curiosity, as if he were testing how effective it would be. “Rule enforcement is necessary,” he said, though his own lips were twitching, “and you are clearly guilty.”

You squirmed beneath him, trying to twist away while laughing helplessly. “You’re! Such a! Liar!” You reached up, fingers darting toward his ribs in retaliation. Riddle yelped as you caught him, a genuine laugh slipping out before he could stop it. “H-HeHey, (Y/N)! That’s-!”

He quickly grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head. His cheeks were flushed now, redder than before, eyes bright behind his glasses. “Queen of Hearts Rules Number 417,” he said, voice wavering just slightly, “During a tickle fight, one is not permitted to fight back.” You stared at him, then smirked. “That’s the main fun of a tickle fight, though.”

Before he could respond, you wriggled, managing to slip one hand free. You caught his side again, fingers squeezing sharply. “HaHAHAHAhahAha.” Riddle laughed outright this time, a clear, melodic sound that filled the room. You loved to hear him laugh; it was a pure and innocent sound that suited him much better than his usual expression he showed to others.

“T-ThaHaht’s! Against the ruHuhules!” “And yet,” you teased between giggles, “you’re still laughing.” The struggle turned clumsy and playful, the two of you rolling slightly on the couch as each tried to gain the upper hand.

Riddle tickled you whenever he could reach, hands darting to your sides and stomach, while you returned the favor, delighted by every rare laugh you managed to pull from him. Despite his protests, Riddle wasn’t really trying to stop it. His movements were careful, controlled - but not forceful. Eventually you managed to shift your weight and flip the situation around.

Riddle landed on his back with a soft “oof”, eyes wide as you straddled him, hands planted on either side of his shoulders. His face went bright red, all the way to the tips of his ears. “…You,” he said breathlessly, “are such a kid.” The fact that you were the older one didn’t seem to bother him - neither you. You grinned down at him. “Maybe.”

You then leaned closer, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “Queen of Hearts Rules Number 603,” you whispered, “If one loses a tickle fight, they must be properly punished.” Riddle’s eyes widened. “T-That’s not-!” You didn’t give him time to finish. Your fingers dug into his sides again, merciless but playful, finding the spots that made him laugh the hardest.

Riddle burst into laughter, high and uncontrollable, hands flying to try and grab your wrists. “S-StoHop! (Y/N), that’s-! HahAhAHhaha!” “You lost,” you reminded him cheerfully, “rules are rules, right?”

Now, he doesn’t know if he could imagine anything feeling more natural. The weight of Floyd’s body against his, slouching over him as Riddle studied. He’d complain and whine about whatever, until his mood completely switched, and he would begin to smother Riddle with so much affection that sometimes the Housewarden didn’t know what to do with himself. 

Over the course of a few months, the eel had wormed his way into Riddle’s heart, with each toothy grin, each sly tease, each compliment that would always catch Riddle off guard, and every bit of touch that he would give to Riddle.

And soon, Riddle leaned into that touch, those words. He’d retort to them, teasing Floyd back, which would always end in Floyd flustering him to know tomorrow, but he did it anyway. Riddle began to return Floyd’s touches, just as gently. 

“Whatcha got there, Goldfishie?” Floyd leaned over, reading over the homework in Riddle’s hands. Riddle pointed at a section in the book. 

“I’m going over this part. There’s a test over it tomorrow and I am making sure I’m completely prepared,” Riddle said, and Floyd chuckled. 

“Boring~ You know you’re going to ace it anyway. We should cuddle.” 

Riddle coughed into his hand, the tips of his ears burning.

“No, Floyd, we can… cuddle when I’m done.” 

Floyd didn’t say anything in response to that, so Riddle turned back towards the textbook, reading the words in his head, writing down anecdotes in his notebook beside him. 

He only got a few words down before Floyd loudly groaned, the sound resonating within the room. Riddle sighed. 

“Bored….” Floyd whined, and Riddle looked around the room, looking for something to occupy his boyfriend with. There were books, but any of them that Floyd would find interesting? Riddle doubted it. All his books were about academics in some shape or form. 

Nothing else in his room seemed to be something that could match Floyd’s charisma, and he looked at him, a bit hopeless. “Just.. five more minutes. You can do that, can’t you?” 

Yes, five minutes should be doable, even for Floyd, whose attention span ran thin. He was almost done with the section anyway, and if he did need more time, then he could wake up earlier in the morning or study during lunch.

Floyd bit his lip, wanting to argue more. It seemed like he was debating whether he should. It seemed that Floyd had changed, too. In the past, he would have definitely annoyed Riddle until he would be chased away, laughing all the while. But this Floyd knew how important studying was for Riddle, and seemed to be far more considerate. 

“Fine… but only five, k?” Floyd pouted, and Riddle leaned to peck him on the lips, beaming. He went back to his work, feeling motivated. Perhaps, he could be finished earlier. Floyd could be so sweet, at times. He deserved it. 

… Or not? Exactly a minute later, Floyd was touching him. Playing with his hair, giving him small kisses, even gnawing on his shoulder. At least Floyd wasn’t complaining anymore, but seven, if it wasn’t so distracting… 

Floyd kissed his neck and his ears, a shiver running through Riddle’s spine. Riddle scrunched up out of reflex as he narrowed his eyes. Floyd met his gaze innocently, as if he were doing nothing. 

Riddle rolled his eyes, then tried to concentrate on the material. It wasn’t an easy feat, as Floyd’s touches began to feel more intense, more loving. His hands traced along Riddle’s waist, a tentative squeeze and… 

And it... tickled? Riddle jumped, squeaking all the while. Or maybe it didn’t tickle, but Riddle had never been tickled before. But then again, he wondered what else it could be that he felt just then.

On the other hand, if Floyd were a dog, Riddle was sure that his ears would have perked up at the sound. Instead, he was an eel and... He didn’t quite know what eels did when they were... Intrigued? Interested? Whatever emotion was showing on Floyd’s face, it succeeded in making Riddle very nervous. 

“Floyd! What are you–” 

“Eh? What was that?” Floyd asked, a knowing look in his gaze. Riddle scrunched his nose. 

Riddle couldn’t quite find the words to say.

He didn’t have to answer that as there was another squeeze to his waist, just as gentle and just as startling. When it elicited the same reaction, Floyd beamed brighter than the sun. 

“How come I didn’t know you were ticklish, huh, Goldfishie?” Floyd cooed, a teasing tone mixed with his words. 

“Because I…” Didn't know. Pleasant touches, touches that made him feel warm and fuzzy, had never come by often in his life. Even though he had become more familiar with it since Night Raven College, tickling was never something that had come up. He had always known what it was, of course. He just didn’t know what it felt like, what it meant for someone to know you were ticklish, for someone to understand what spots got you going. He told himself he didn’t mind. After all, it was weird, and it would probably hurt. He had convinced himself he’d definitely hate it, or that he likely wasn’t ticklish in the first place. 

Clearly, he was proven wrong on the latter, when Floyd tickled him without a second thought, and his reactions showed that he was.. Definitely feeling it. The tingling that swarmed and charged through his body was overwhelming, but not exactly unpleasant. 

“G-gahahaha! Wahahait!” He could feel himself trying to form words, but it didn’t come out right, gargled and messy. Floyd’s fingers danced along his sides, his ribs, everywhere he could reach. 

“Super ticklish! You’re so cute~” Floyd chuckled in his ear, and when Riddle scrunched up, Floyd picked up on it immediately. Why wouldn’t he? 

He responded by nibbling Riddle’s ear, new giggles falling through Riddle’s lips before he could help it. 

“Nohoho!” By how hot his face felt, Riddle knew he was bright red. His academic material forgotten, his writing pen had fallen to the floor, unable to keep a grip on it. He tried twisting out of his chair, but Floyd had kept a tight hold on him. 

“Yehehes!” Floyd laughed along with him. “How about here?” Floyd tried a spot on Riddle’s neck, scribbling along it with his fingers. “Orrrr… here?” He used his other hand to tickle Riddle’s tummy. 

Riddle couldn’t find himself able to answer, his voice holding nothing but pure laughter as Floyd continued to find effective spots on him and ones that weren’t. For the spots that weren’t, there weren’t many. 

Moments later, his stomach and his face ached, begging for a break from the laughter. He had never been tickled, and especially not like this, and he couldn’t handle it any longer. The fact that Floyd had kept spouting out teases that he knew would get him didn’t help. 

“F-FLOHOHOYD, STAHAHAP!” Riddle had cried at last, and with a last few nibbles to Riddle’s neck, Floyd had stopped. His body still leaned heavily against Riddle’s, but Riddle leaned against him as well, his breathing being the only thing the two could hear. 

“So..?” Floyd said, suddenly. Riddle turned to him, tilting his head. 

“Huh?” 

“Did ya like it?” 

Did Riddle? Replaying the moment back, it was a lot. Clearly, he was more sensitive than he initially believed. But… he found that he didn’t hate it. 

He looked at Floyd. He didn’t want to lie to him, but admitting that he liked it was way too big of an ask. He averted his eyes. “I didn’t hate it.” 

In a way, he felt grateful. Sometimes, he felt so lonely, realizing he lacked so many experiences that other people did. Eating a strawberry tart, hanging out with friends without worry, feeling loved and cared for genuinely, and inevitably, tickling was one of those things, but Floyd had unknowingly helped him experience so much more than he had before. And Riddle loved it. He loved Floyd, who taught him to be the teenager that he was, and expected nothing in return.

Riddle smiled to himself, giggling when Floyd asked what he was smiling about. 

“Oh, nothing at all…”