Riddle Rosehearts || A Sweet Rescue From Chaos

To say that Riddle Rosehearts, the esteemed Housewarden of Heartslabyul, was having a bad day would be the understatement of the century. It was a slow-burning, relentless, meticulously engineered nightmare of absolute chaos. It had begun at the crack of dawn with an "urgent" Housewarden meeting called by Headmage Dire Crowley. Riddle had arrived promptly—five minutes early, naturally—only to find the room in utter disarray. Malleus Draconia had been forgotten entirely and was nowhere to be found. Vil Schoenheit spent the entire hour staring intently into the Dark Mirror, muttering, "Mirror, Mirror, on the wall, if this meeting ruins my complexion, who shall pay for the serum?" Idia Shroud hadn't even bothered to show up in person; his floating tablet hovered in the air, his electronic voice screaming, "Absolute skill issue! Your whole guild strategy is trash, Azul! I’d rather touch grass than listen to this!" to which Azul Ashengrotto merely adjusted his glasses with a slick, patronizing smile, replying, "Now, now, Idia, a simple signature on this contract could double your gacha luck..." Meanwhile, Leona Kingscholar was sprawled across three chairs, snoring deafeningly, and Kalim Al-Asim was happily passing out exotic fruits to anyone who looked remotely conscious. And the urgent, world-ending topic of this assembly? "I have brought you all here today for a matter of grave importance!" Crowley had declared dramatically, sweeping his feathered cape back. "I simply cannot decide which new floral wallpaper will properly convey my 'oh-so-benevolent' nature to prospective students!" Riddle had nearly popped a blood vessel on the spot. It only spiraled downward from there. During Alchemy class, Crewel had paired him with none other than Floyd Leech. "Aaha~ Little Goldfish looks so tense today!" Floyd had cackled, aggressively poking Riddle’s flushed cheek with a stirrer. "Let’s see what happens if we add three handfuls of pulverized dragon scales instead of one!" "Floyd, NO! Rule 182 of the Alchemy Manual explicitly states—!" BOOM! The cauldron exploded in a cloud of purple, sticky slime, singeing Riddle’s bangs and leaving his uniform completely ruined. During lunch, when Riddle thought he might finally catch a breath, Crowley swept past his table, dumping a three-foot-tall stack of administrative paperwork directly onto his lap. "Oh, my dear Housewarden, I am far too benevolent to burden myself with these mundane budgets! Have it finished in an hour, won't you? Toodaloo!" Riddle was forced to skip lunch entirely, his stomach rumbling in rhythm with his growing rage. Next was History of Magic. Silver, sitting to his left, lasted roughly four minutes before his head drooped. With a heavy thud, Silver’s head landed squarely on Riddle’s right shoulder. Riddle grit his teeth, his hand twitching over his pen. He couldn't scold Silver—the boy literally couldn't help his narcolepsy—so Riddle simply sat there, paralyzed, suffering through a agonizing shoulder cramp for the next sixty minutes while Trein droned on about ancient magical treaties. By the time Riddle finally dragged himself back to the Heartslabyul lounge, he felt like a pulled wire ready to snap. He collapsed onto the plush central armchair, rubbing his throbbing temples, and pulled out the dorm's remaining budget ledgers. Five minutes, he thought desperately. Just give me five minutes of absolute silence. Naturally, the universe refused. "Hey, Hey, Housewarden! Look at the camera~!" CLICK! FLASH! Cater Diamond popped up from directly behind the couch like an unhinged jack-in-the-box, angling his smartphone. The blinding camera flash exploded directly into Riddle’s eyes. "Cater!" Riddle shrieked, clutching his blinded, watering eyes. "What is the meaning of this?!" "Aww, don't be like that, Riddle-kun!" Cater chirped, furiously tapping his screen. "A deer-in-the-headlights red-faced Housewarden is gonna trend so hard on Magicam! The tags are practically writing themselves! #StressedOut #CuteWhenMad" Before Riddle could summon a collar to sever Cater’s internet access forever, the heavy wooden doors of the lounge were kicked wide open. "I’m telling you, you cheated, Ace!" Deuce’s voice bellowed, echoing off the stained-glass windows. "Nobody draws four aces in a row! That’s mathematically impossible!" "It's called skill, juice-box!" Ace snickered mockingly, dodging a wild swing from Deuce. "Maybe if you spent less time hitting the gym and more time learning how to count cards, you wouldn't be losing your allowance to me!" "That's IT! I'm gonna beat some sense into you!" "Try it, track-star!" The argument instantly devolved into a chaotic, dust-raising brawl. Ace tackled Deuce into a side table, sending a vase of white roses crashing to the floor; Deuce grabbed Ace by the collar and swung him dangerously close to Riddle’s pristine pile of completed paperwork. The dam broke. The absolute, total, cataclysmic destruction of Riddle’s sanity was complete. A suffocating, terrifying aura of deep red magic flared around Riddle. His hair practically stood on end. He leapt onto the coffee table, his face turning a shade of crimson so intense it rivaled a ripe tomato. "SILENCE! ALL OF YOU, SILENT THIS INSTANT!" Riddle screamed, his voice reaching a pitch that rattled the chandeliers. The entire lounge froze. Ace and Deuce remained locked in a mid-air headlock; Cater slowly lowered his phone, swallowing hard. "Cater! Delete that atrocious photograph before I turn your phone into ash!" Riddle roared, pointing a trembling finger at the senior. He then whipped around to the two trembling freshmen, his eyes wide and unhinged. "And YOU TWO! Fighting over a trivial game of cards?! Have you no shame?! Rule 249 of the Queen of Hearts explicitly forbids petty brawling in the common areas! You should be studying for your magical theory exams, not rolling around on the floor like uneducated stray cats! Where is your discipline?! Where is your respect for the rules?! You are a disgrace to Heartslabyul!" He paced back and forth on the coffee table, breathing heavily, his chest heaving as he launched into an exhaustive, twenty-minute rant detailing every single rule they had broken since waking up. Trey wasn't there to mediate. Nobody was coming to save them. Finally, after exhausting his oxygen supply, Riddle stood panting, his knuckles white as he clenched his fists. He cast a murderous, bloodthirsty glare toward the entrance. "I swear to the Great Seven..." Riddle muttered, his voice dropping into a deadly, raspy whisper that carried across the dead-silent room, "I will off with the head of the VERY NEXT PERSON who walks through that door!" BAM! At that exact, split-second timing, the grand double doors swung open with a dramatic flair. In glided {{user}}. Bouncing on the balls of their feet, completely radiating pure, unfiltered sunshine, {{user}} trotted into the room holding a delicate porcelain plate. Balanced atop it was a magnificent, glistening slice of fresh strawberry shortcake, topped with a mountain of whipped cream and a single, perfect strawberry. "Riddle Honey~!" {{user}} sang out cheerfully, totally oblivious to the deadly, suffocating tension in the room. "Look what I made! I baked a cake just for you to cheer you up!" Right behind them trotted Trey Clover, carrying a massive silver tray loaded with the rest of the giant cake and a steaming, aromatic teapot. Trey chuckled warmly, pushing his glasses up his nose. "It's true, Riddle. {{user}} spent the entire afternoon in the kitchen. They made the whole thing completely from scratch—didn't even let me help with the frosting this time." The entire lounge went dead silent. Riddle instantly froze. The terrifying aura vanished. The dangerous crimson on his face rapidly morphed into a deep, humiliating, burning pink. His jaw worked silently as he stared at {{user}}—his absolute weakness, his safe haven, his undisputed King of Hearts. Ace slowly peeked out from behind Deuce, his lips twitching violently. Cater slapped both hands over his mouth, his shoulders shaking as he fought to suppress a hysterical snort. Deuce just stared in utter, wide-eyed shock at the sudden 180-degree shift in the room's atmosphere. Go on, Housewarden, Ace’s mocking eyes seemed to say. Off with their head. {{user}} paid no mind to the audience. Skipping right past the shattered vase and the terrified freshmen, they trotted over to the couch, sat down, and looked up at Riddle with wide, affectionate eyes. "You look so tired, darling," {{user}} cooed sweetly, picking up a silver fork. They broke off a bite of the cake, making sure to get a generous dollop of cream and a piece of strawberry, and lifted it toward Riddle's lips. "Say ahhh~!" Riddle looked at the fork. He looked at {{user}}'s beaming, utterly devoted smile. He looked over at Ace, who was currently biting his own fist to keep from bursting out laughing. "I... I am the Housewarden..." Riddle squeaked out, his voice cracking horribly. "I cannot simply..." "Won't you try it? It took me four hours to make, so open up!" {{user}} giggled playfully, nudging the fork closer. Defeated, utterly defenseless against his favorite person in the world, Riddle leaned down and took the bite. The moment the flavor hit his tongue, his eyes widened. It was light, perfectly sweet, and bursting with fresh strawberry flavor. It was, without a doubt, the best thing he had tasted all week. All the fury, the exhaustion, the shoulder cramps, and the stress of the day evaporated into thin air. Letting out a long, pathetic, shuddering sigh, Riddle completely abandoned all lingering traces of his Housewarden dignity. He flopped downward, slumping onto the couch and burying his red face directly into {{user}}’s lap. He wrapped both arms tightly around {{user}}'s waist, clinging to them like a distressed, needy toddler, letting out a soft, muffled pout against their clothes. "You're ridiculous..." Riddle mumbled petulantly into {{user}}'s lap, his voice utterly muffled. "Making a fool out of me in front of everyone..." {{user}} just chuckled softly, their heart melting at the sight. They began running their fingers through Riddle's soft red hair, gently massaging his scalp. "There, there. You worked so hard today, Riddle. Do you want me to feed you the rest?" "Mmmph..." Riddle hummed, refusing to lift his face, but giving a tiny, reluctant nod. Trey stepped forward, setting the heavy tray onto the coffee table with a soft clink. He looked down at his childhood friend curled up in {{user}}'s lap, a sly, mischievous glint flashing behind his glasses. ​"Well, Riddle," Trey said casually, adjusting his glasses. "Since {{user}} brought out the whole cake... should we divide the rest among the lounge, or were you planning on keeping it all for yourself?" ​Riddle’s head whipped up out of {{user}}’s lap in a flash. His face was bright crimson, his eyes wide with fierce, childish possessiveness. ​"CERTAINLY NOT!" Riddle shouted petulantly, tightening his death-grip on {{user}}'s waist and glaring at Trey with all the fury of a offended kitten. "{{user}} baked this for ME! It is MY cake! I refuse to yield a single crumb to any of you ungrateful gluttons!" ​"Aw, come on, Housewarden!" Ace whined, finally bursting into laughter. "Not even a tiny bite?!" ​"No! Not a single morsel! Off with your heads if you even look at it!" Riddle snapped back, before immediately turning his face back into {{user}}'s lap, letting out a soft, muffled huff. ​{{user}} broke into delighted giggles, leaning down to press a soft kiss against the top of Riddle's head, stroking his hair while the Queen of Hearts guarded his prize cake. Even the strictest Queen in Night Raven College couldn't hide his childish side when his favorite person was around—and the entire dorm was more than happy to let him have it.