#ler!riddle

“We agreed I wouldn’t take your books. You never said anything about your pen~”

Riddle’s face reddens with rage. Despite his many attempts to find a cure for this exact situation, Floyd always somehow manages to find a loophole.

“Why you!-” Riddle begins to shout, but quickly clenches his teeth.

‘He wants a reaction. I need to handle this calmly.’ He mentally reminds himself. 

Since his overblot, Riddle has been working hard to improve his emotional regulation skills. Not just with rules but also in his personal relationships. Right now is definitely one of those times where he needs to use them.

‘There are ways to still be in control without shouting.’ He takes a deep breath and allows his shoulders to drop from their tense position. His face slightly returns to its normal color.

Floyd is still standing there with his cheeky signature smirk. 

“Good job using your calming strategies Goldfishie~ What’s got you all riled up?” He teases, twirling the pen between his slim fingers. 

Everything in Riddle's body screams at him to just strangle that stupid smile right off his face- but that’s what Floyd wants. Riddle knows he can win this with the right strategy. 

‘Keep cool until he gets bored and gives the pen back. Easy peasy.’ He takes another, obvious deep breath while staring right back at his opponent.

“You have me ‘riled up’ and you know it. I am not playing your games today. So please, hand me my pen back.” Riddle outstretches his empty palm.

“You’re getting really good at this! Old Riddle would have already had my head on a platter~ You should be real proud of yourself!” Floyd teases. 

The taller of the two continues fidgeting with the pen in his grasp, showing no intention of giving it up. He keeps smiling down at Riddle like he doesn't have a care in the world. 

Face growing red again, the housewarden tries his absolute hardest to sound more passive than aggressive when he states, “I am proud. Now, if you’ll allow me to take that-!”

In a quick movement, Riddle lunges up from his chair and reaches out to swipe his pen. Floyd reacts quickly and pulls away faster. He shoots his hand straight up, causing Riddle to just barely miss it. The housewarden huffs in frustration. He feels what little patience he had left completely leave his body. He jumps once upwards and reaches again, but he is no match for Floyd’s height and obnoxiously long limbs. Now he’s right back at square one.

“Give. It. Back.” He pauses between each word with the most threateningly-calm voice he can.

“No can do~ I wanna help Goldfishie get better! Isn’t this like, super good emotion practice?” Floyd sing-songs, clearly not taking any of this seriously.

‘That's it!’ 

Riddle has a way of getting people to drop things. It’s method the first years are painfully familiar with. Instead of jumping again, he plants both his hands directly into the pit of Floyd’s outstretched arm, scribbling with all his might. 

“Heehee! Whatcha doing Goldfishiehe?” Floyd slightly giggles between his words. 

This is the tried and true trick that has never failed Riddle in the past. The layers of clothing might grant the sensitive area mild protection, but he feels the other boy twitching and fighting the urge to lower his arm. 

With confidence he states, “If you wish for this to cease, simply return my pen.”

Riddle amplifies the pressure, moving from scribbling in the dead center of Floyd’s armpit, to squeezing at the dip right beneath it in succession.

“HEeeehehe! Noho WAYHEHAY!!”

Floyd's volume increases as his whole body trembles. The pen now held above them in a death grip. His elbow starts to give way, so Floyd raises his other arm for support to pull it back up.

Riddle isn’t going to let that happen! 

He quickly pulls his arms back and repositions them on both sides of Floyd’s torso, slipping underneath his uniform jacket to scribble over his ribs. The lost layer of protection is immediately felt and Floyd starts cackling. His upper arms slam down to protect himself, elbows still bent and gripping the pen for dear life. 

“Looks like I found a good spot! Honestly, I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn.” 

Riddle swipes up and down Floyd’s torso. He can feel each rib under the fabric now. It must be excruciating on his end. 

‘Seriously, why is he being so stubborn?’ Riddle questions. Floyd isn’t even trying to escape or push him away. Riddle would be fighting for his life if he was in the same situation. 

“HAHAHA! GaaHAHA-OldFIHIHishieEE!!”

He can barely make out Floyd's words at this point. With Floyd’s arms down, Riddle can see the pen in his tight grasp is now within reach. If he went for it now, all of this would be over and he could go back to studying.

It's so tempting to just reach out and grab it, but something within him wants to keep going for some reason. Maybe because with his juniors, they cave so easily he usually never gets to go for this long. Or maybe with Floyd, he seems so open to receiving it?

‘That can’t be right. No one likes being tickled.’

An even worse thought interrupts Riddle’s line of thinking, 

‘Wait. Do I enjoy tickling him?!’ 

This is supposed to be a formal punishment! Not some sick act the punshier does for fun!

“HEHEHeEE!”

Riddle’s face reddens. He comes to a halt and brings his arms back to himself. 

“EHEHEhehe~ wha?” 

Floyd's squeals go back down to a giggle and the lingering sensations. “Whyhy’d you stohop? Heheh~!” His expression shows confusion behind the big forced smile still on his face. 

“Because you-!” 

Riddle pauses when he notices Floyd’s grip on the pen has loosened. This time, he successfully swipes it back in a swift motion. He places it back in his breast pocket, right where it belongs. 

“Awww..” Floyd pouts at it being taken from him. 

‘Seriously? He's not tired after all that?’ The housewarden isn’t sure he can take anymore surprises today.

“You- You seem way too relaxed about this whole thing.” Riddle comments.

“Hm, do I? I was having fun before you ruined it so suddenly.”

“FUN?!”

“Mm hmm!”

Now it's Riddle’s turn to be confused. He stands there motionless while he processes his thoughts. Floyd rests his hands back over his own head in a relaxed stance, showing his armpits off to the world.

“So you're saying you find pleasure in the act of being-?” It’s too embarrassing to say the word out loud. 

“Being what?” Floyd's smirk and teasy tone are back. 

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“It looked like you were enjoying it too~” Floyd flips the subject, much to Riddle’s dismay.  

“I most certainly did NOT!” 

“Then why’s yer face all red?”

Riddle short circuits. Too much too fast. His face must be red because he’s angry! He stands there confused and upset and embarrassed and-

“HEY!! GIVE THAT BACK, THIEF!”

Floyd takes off on foot with Riddle's pen once again in his possession. The housewarden’s blood boils as he makes chase. Fine! If Floyd wants to be punished so bad, he won’t hold back this time!

“Your head is coming OFF when I catch you, Leech!”

“You sure can try! Hehe!” Floyd calls as he turns a corner in the halls. 

Not being as athletic as Floyd, it takes Riddle a few more seconds to catch up and turn that same corner. As he does, he crashes face first into a hard surface.

“Gotcha~!”

 Floyd was there waiting! He wraps his arms tight around Riddle's torso to keep him in place. 

"Floyd," Riddle muttered, his quill pausing mid-air, his voice dangerously low. "I have warned you no less than four times in the past twenty minutes. I am working on official academic evaluations."

"Eeeh? But your angry face is so cute," Floyd chuckled, a lazy, mischievous glint flashing in his eyes.

Before Riddle could even process the threat, Floyd's large hands shot forward. His long fingers pinched sharply directly into both sides of Riddle's waist.

The reaction was instantaneous. Riddle violently jerked in his seat, a high-pitched, startled gasp escaping his throat. His hand slipped completely, and the ink-heavy quill dragged brutally across the parchment, leaving a massive, jagged black scribble right across the middle of the page he had spent the last hour meticulously correcting.

For a second, the room was dead silent.

Riddle stared down at the ruined essay. His shoulders began to tremble. Slowly, a bright, furious crimson flush rushed up his neck, flooding his face with pure, unadulterated rage.

"YOU PARASITE—!" Riddle roared, abandoning all royal decorum.

He didn't even bother reaching for his magical pen. Instead, Riddle lunged across the desk with terrifying speed. His small hand clamped brutally and securely around the front of Floyd's collar and neck, anchoring the tall eel in place with an iron-clad, unyielding grip that caught Floyd completely off guard.

"Whoa, Goldfishie, you're heavy—" Floyd started to laugh, but Riddle didn't let him finish.

With his free hand, Riddle formed his fingers into rigid, vengeful claws and dug them aggressively right into the sensitive spaces between Floyd's ribs. He scribbled his fingers back and forth with merciless, rapid friction, determined to extract absolute vengeance.

Floyd's eyes widened in sheer shock. He instinctively tried to throw himself backward to escape the sudden onslaught, but Riddle's grip around his neck was completely immovable, grounding him right in the line of fire. The frantic, ticklish friction against his ribs sent a violent jolt through Floyd's long torso, and his lazy smirk shattered into a burst of breathless, genuine giggles.

"AHA! AhAHa! WaHait—Goldfishie! AhaHAHa!" Floyd squeaked, his long legs kicking out under the desk as he squirmed helplessly.

"You think my duties are a joke?! You think you can simply stroll into my dorm and ruin my paperwork?!" Riddle scolded, his face still red with fury as he dug his fingertips even deeper into Floyd's sides, delivering a harsh scratching motion. "I will teach you to respect the rules of this academy, you absolute nuisance!"

"AhahaHA! Noho, stohop—heehee! ThaHAt tickles, Goldfishie!" Floyd wailed, completely reduced to frantic, squirming laughter. He was twice Riddle's size, but trapped in that vice-like neck grip and entirely overwhelmed by the intense sensation in his ribs, he couldn't form the leverage to push the furious dorm leader away. His shoulders shook violently, and his signature deep laughter pitched up into a barrage of helpless, breathless wheezes. "Gyahaha! Stop, stop— Nohot there!"

"Not until you thoroughly understand the gravity of your actions!" Riddle snapped, though his fingers were getting tired from the sheer force of his retaliatory assault.

With one final, extra-sharp squeeze right to the center of Floyd's ribs that made the eel let out a loud, high-pitched "EeEAHAHA!!—", Riddle didn't just release him. He gave him a furious, decisive shove. The sudden lack of balance sent the giant eel tumbling right off the edge of the narrow library bench, crashing down onto the floor beneath the desk with a heavy, echoing thud.

Riddle breathed heavily, his hands still curled into tense claws as he prepared to lean under the desk to continue his ruthless, vengeful assault. However, the sudden, oppressive silence of the room finally caught up to him. He stiffened, realizing the ambient murmuring of the library had completely died out. Slowly turning his head, Riddle was met with the wide, terrified stares of no less than a dozen students who had stopped their studying entirely to watch their normally proper dorm leader choke and ruthlessly tickle a Savanaclaw-sized eel.

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?”

Everything is all wrong. And he’s just meant to be okay with it. It’s too much. He wonders if he will feel like this forever. He’s standing in the hallway and it’s dark. He is shocked that no one has come this way yet, or maybe he hasn’t been standing there as long as it feels like he has, but either way, he knows he needs to move soon. He doesn’t want anyone to catch him like this.

Just as he is about to take his meltdown into the safety of his own bedroom, a voice stops him. A voice all too familiar to him and almost immediately sends a wave of comfort through him. “Riddle?”

“Epel…” Riddle says in a low exhale.

Epel looks worried for him. He does, sometimes, when Riddle gets like this. Riddle doesn’t usually let it get this bad in front of anyone though.

“Are you okay?” Epel asks with hesitance in his voice.

Riddle wants to look away, a bit shameful. He knows how he looks, beads of sweat on his forehead, panicked, and to be frank, downright pathetic. But it’s Epel, so he doesn’t.

“I…” He doesn’t know what to say. What can he say?

Epel walks closer to him. “I’m not real good with my words, but I know you’re having a bad time right now.. S-so.. I’ll be h– no, want to be here for you!” Epel holds his hands, and Riddle lets him. Even if Riddle doesn’t say it, he loves Epel’s touch.

He sighs, long and hard, and leans against Epel, resting his head on his shoulder.

“I just… wonder when things will get better.” Riddle mumbles, his voice defeated and shaky.

“I know, I know. Let’s get to your room first. alright?” Epel starts walking, his hand clasped tightly with Riddle’s. Riddle follows, and when they get to his room, he’s utterly exhausted.

“Eh… do you want to talk about it?” Epel asks, and Riddle contemplates for a moment, before shaking his head.

“Not.. not today,” He mutters, slowly.

“That’s okay,” Epel smiles, softly. “Is there anything I can help with..?”

“... A hug might be nice,” Riddle admits, slightly flushed. Epel wastes no time, pouncing on him and wrapping him in a tight hug. Riddle smiles against his will at the sheer force.

“See, all ya had to do was ask!”

“I didn’t ask for you to jump on me,” Riddle says, pretending to be angry.

“Like you mind it,” Epel laughs, and Riddle rolls his eyes, already feeling his mood lightening up. Epel really was special to him. They stay like that for a while, in each other’s arms, until Riddle feels like he’s finally calmed down.

“Thank you.. It really means a lot to me.”

“You don’t hafta thank me..” Epel averts his eyes. Riddle chuckles at him.

“Of course I do. I give credits when they are warranted. You’ve always done so much for me.” Riddle says, a bit firmer this time. Epel buries his head in Riddle's chest, hiding the flush of cheeks. He is always so shy about showing how much Riddle’s words affect him (even though, he basks on it when it’s the other way around).

“Oh stop it, I just wanna be there for you, ya know?” His voice is mumbled, but Riddle can understand him clearly.

“You always are. It really…” Riddle blushes a bit, feeling a bit awkward. “It really means more to me than you could ever know.”

A beat of silence, the..

“Ghk!” Riddle feels a twinge at his sides. He looks down to see Epel’s fingers had wrapped around his sides and… him!

“W-wait! No–” Riddle frantically tries to get from underneath Epel, but it’s too late. “Gahaha! Stohop it!” He laughs when Epel’s squeezes become more firm.

“Hm? I’m not doin’ anything…” Epel tilts his head, finally looking up at his boyfriend.

“Dohohon’t ahahact cohohoy!”

There’s three reasons why Epel does this. The first one is because he likes hearing Riddle laugh. The second is that he almost always tickles him when he gets flustered because it distracts Riddle from his blushing face. Riddle picked up on this right away, but if he points it out, Epel goes to tickle him again. The third reason, and most important reason Epel tickles him, is because he knows Riddle won’t get him back. Riddle has never tickled him before. It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but whenever he tries, he hesitates and flusters, and by then, Epel has already picked up on what he is trying to do. Epel who is much less shy about tickling someone than he is.

But today… As another squeeze to his sides makes him bark out a laugh, he decides he will change this!

“Nohoho, Epehehel!”

“Hm? Sorry, I don’t get it..” Epel replies, cheekily.

“Thahahat’s ihhihit!” Riddle says, as his hands reach towards Epel’s sides and he tickles him. He doesn’t know where this newfound confidence came from, but he is not going to waste it.

Epel’s eyes widen, completely caught off guard as he falters. Still, he’s clearly determined because he doesn’t release his tickling hands from Riddle.

“W-whahat?!” He cries, as he moves to change spots, one he knows is a bit more effective.

“Nohoho!” Riddle laughs, when Epel’s hands meet his hips. He twists and turns, already wondering if this was a bad idea, but no! What is he doing? Riddle Rosehearts can’t give up so easily.

Epel may have the advantage, but Riddle will take it from him. Epel’s sides are bad, but they can’t be that bad if he’s still able to tickle Riddle in this position. Fortunately, his underarms are exposed as he reaches over Riddle, so Riddle takes the chance to scribble underneath his arms.

“No– Rihihihiddle!” Epel clamps his arms down, but that makes his hands on Riddle’s hips less coordinated and therefore, less effective. It was the chance Riddle had been waiting for as he pushed Epel so that he was laying flat on the bed. Epel put his knees up, trying to protect himself and accidentally letting go of his hands on Riddle. “Wahahit!”

Riddle maneuvers around Epel’s panicking body and he laughs, feeling very amused. His mind is a lot clearer when he’s not being tickled to pieces, but the adrenaline is still high. He continues tickling Epel’s underarms and occasionally prods at his ribs.

Epel is laughing hard, unsure what to do with himself, but he’s reaching towards Riddle, trying to get back the upperhand.

“Can’t handle what you dish out?” A part of him feels he might think back later and die of embarrassment for taking a tickle fight so seriously, but the rest of him is on top of the world right now. He isn’t going to lose!

… Or so he thinks, until Epel uses the same trick on him as Riddle had earlier. Epel starts to tickle his armpits and Riddle has to fight with all his might to resist it. “Y-you hahaha have t-to try hahaharder than that!” Riddle exclaims.

“Dohohon’t wohohorry ahahabout that!” Epel replies, his voice shaky with laughter. When Riddle is momentarily distracted, Epel’s hand reaches towards Riddle’s tummy, scratching at it. Riddle had forgotten that he had practically left his stomach out in the open and well, of course he had to be so sensitive there.

“Nononohoho!” Riddle squeaks, embarrassingly enough. Epel reaches over, scribbling along his tummy while Riddle still has his hands tickling underneath Epel’s arms.

“I wohohon’t let you wihihin!” Riddle hears that and suddenly, there's nothing he desires more than to win.

“T-thahahat’s whahahat you t-thihihink!” Epel has managed to sit up a bit, which actually helps because Riddle has more access to his neck and ears. Epel’s nose scrunches, clamping his neck down, but it traps Riddle’s hands in, so he keeps tickling him.

The spot is much more effective, but Riddle feels his stamina starting to drain, so he needs to figure out something soon or else he really will lose again.

He doesn’t exactly know why, but suddenly a particular thought pops into his head. He doesn’t like to think about his childhood often, but his happiest moments were whenever he was with Trey and Chenya. One particular hangout was the first time he had been introduced to tickling. Of course, he understood the concept but he never actually experienced it himself. However, in this hangout, he had gotten tickled and there was one thing that was especially sensitive to him. It was.. worth a shot.

“Gahahaha!” Epel cried, flailing and shaking his head from side to side. His attempts at tickling Riddle were already diminishing.

He leaned over Epel again, because clearly his neck was sensitive enough to weaken him, and when Epel was on his back, he moved his hands from Epel’s neck to his hips, noting it as one of the spots he hadn’t tried yet.

Then… he blew a raspberry onto Epel’s tummy. Flustering himself at the thought, but pushing his embarrassment away.

“ACK- A-ahaha! NOHO!” Epel shrieked, his face red and overwhelmed as he bucked his hips. Riddle had officially gained the upper hand and this time, he was sure he would keep it. He blew another raspberry, receiving the same exact reaction.

“R-RIHIHIDDLE! W-wahahait!”

“I think I’m going to win this one,” Riddle says, peering at Epel’s laughing face. It was really cute. Riddle loved Epel’s laugh just as much as Epel loved his.

A few raspberries later, Epel finally pleaded for mercy and Riddle stopped, moving to kiss his lover on the cheek. Epel was exhausted, likely even more than he was.

But, Riddle had been tickled like this by him all too many times so he figured that he deserved it.

“I win.”

Epel sighs, then groans in embarrassment. He covers his face and turns away. “Yeah, yeah… you got me real good… I never thought you’d actually get me back….”

“It was only a matter of time…”

Epel groans again. Then, he seems to have some kind of resolve because he whips his head around. “Fine! But next time, you’re in for it!”

Riddle smiles, feeling much lighter than he was minutes ago. He loved being with Epel’s presence more than anything.

Even if he gets embarrassed, he decides he wouldn’t mind this scenario happening more often.. Riddle leans down on the bed next to Epel, and Epel turns, his face red, but then he moves closer to the other. Riddle leans into the touch.