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If that's okay could i request it for Epel?

How to win the heart of Epel Felmier?

a/n: Thank you for requesting~~ Dear Readers, while I am not a native English speaker, I wrote this ff in the English-pronounciation (?) mindset that “Epel” and “Apple” sound very similar. If it’s not all that similar, may Reader be too obsessed with apples to have that selective hearing when it comes to Epel’s name or let’s blame it on the Harveston’s dialect, haha

Be a zealous apple lover.

You envy this boy’s name.

“Apple”? What a majestic word to be named after. The first time you’ve heard a woman calling someone like that, you remember stilling in place and whooping your head at a ten-year-old boy who yelled that he was coming.

And he… doesn’t look like an apple. Maybe you weren’t expecting a walking apple, nor a boy with red hair dressed in all browns, carrying a big basket of apples (and of course, eating one in the other hand) like a character created for a show whose audience is a tad younger than you, but none of the apples you know turn purple.

Never have you imagined someone with such a beautiful name would move so wobbly in snow, the sledge he dragged behind definitely too heavy.

The realization of how unfitting this name was makes you lose a grip on the basket of fabric you got from one of your new neighbours. Well, everyone here is “new” if you just came into this little village just three days ago.

That boy notices you. He must have heard the news because a flash of recognition paints itself on his face. You didn’t return a shy smile at the staring, even if you wanted to. You remember your cheeks prickling from the freezing wind when you bolted home as the apple boy looked like he wanted to say something.

“He doesn’t look like an apple,” you argue with your mother that night, as she kisses your temple goodnight.

“Maybe not. But I would have loved you two to be friends…” Your mother stops in her words as you roll your eyes at her and pout with all your might. She suppresses a laugh that you would take to your heart. “…But, maybe I should be glad he doesn’t resemble an apple at all? You would have fallen head over heels in love with him if he did.”

Yeah, your mother doesn’t need to look so happy as you grew agitated.

“I wouldn’t!” You protest loudly and bury yourself deeper into bed sheets even if your face grows hotter. Maybe of the embarrassment, maybe of the fury, but surely not because of the boy. “I would never fall in love with a boy like him. And I don’t want you to talk about this to anyone!”

You remember your mother’s eyes twinkling with utter amusement. “Yes, yes, all right.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

2. Challenge Apple to a sled race.

Maybe it’s the fault of far too many action films being aired on TV, yet the idea of being able to win anything a fight was stuck in your head.

Some limited part of your brain thought that, hm, Apple might just give up his name to you if you won in this town’s most famous activity: the Harveston’s Sled Race. It seemed only appropriate for you to pick something the boy must know, even if you had only got your first sledge barely two weeks ago.

“Ya… want my name?” Apple blinks as you grow irate when you repeat your offer once again. You remember rolling your eyes ostentatiously at him, and Apple huffing loudly at you. “What does it even mean, duh?”

He crosses his arms and glared at you. He has the advantage of being just a little bit taller than you, but thankfully, his The-Great-Seven-Better-Bless-Her grandmother never ceases to dress him in fluffy, puffy clothes, always in pastel colours; the cute pompom on top of his beanie and shawl in the adorable pink shade made him much less imposing.

“Whoever wins in this sledge race will be called Apple,” you repeat. Apple squints his eyes at you. “I like this name so much, you have no idea. Please give it up to me.”

“Oh.”

You have no idea why his face slowly turned red. If you knew better, you would have used this opportunity to tease him, but little you didn’t want to mock a newly met boy, even if you just threw down a gauntlet for his name.

“It’s a normal name….” He mutters, and before you can protest, he draws his eyes to you, somehow redeeming you speechless. “…But I’ll challenge you if that’s what you wanna do.”

Huh. You weren’t expecting him to agree so easily.

…Nor were you expecting him to glide on the snow with his sledge. He looked frail enough to not care about things like rides and thought that it would give you the advantage. It did not. Apple flew or used magic, or illusions because he rode so fast the snow beneath him barely left a trace.

That was some cool skill, even if you hated how awed you were.

It seems like you challenged the wrong boy because this one wins with ease.

“Sorry,” he says with flushed cheeks, and his deep breaths create little warm clouds in freezing air. He lays on the snow, and his fringe sticks to his forehead. He has won, and it was a tough victory yet a well-earned one. “I will still be the only Epel in this town.” He shifts his gaze on you. “So. What’s your name?”

Well, he is a (treacherous) winner. You give your name to him.

He smiles slightly, he repeats it slowly and goes quiet. You look over to see him open his eyes from reverie and bright lights dance in his eyes.

“It’s nice. I think it suits you well.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

3. Have some baking skills.

“Epel, dear. We’ll be having our little neighbour helping us this year’s festival, so please show how responsible can you be and teach [Name] how to prepare apples for the pies.”

Ugh. If only Grandma Marja wasn’t so kind, you would have been protesting more.

Apple looks at you and you frown slightly as he sighs at your sight.

“You again?”

And because Grandma Marja already left, you feel free to announce your displeasure with the situation as well. Sadly, there are no other kids your age in this village, so you are probably bound to accompany him for the rest of your whole life here as he’s your only peer.

“Unfortunately.”

Apple hands you an apron, before ordering you to wash your hands. Because the kitchen island is too occupied with other dishes and too high for any of you without a stool, you take a seat next to a coffee table that was impractically set between the salon and kitchen, leaving just enough space to create a narrow route from one room to another.

“Have you ever baked an apple pie before?” He asks and you shake your head. His brows furrow slightly as he thinks whether you will be a help here at all. “So, it will be a long day…”

He better not write you off before you can even start.

You cross your arms. “Test me first, complain later... if ever.”

“I’m not complaining. But we have a knife and a peeler. Oh, and it hurts if you get cut. You should take it slowly and be careful,” he adds and hops to the other room to grab a basket full of apples. He lays it between you two.

Apple doesn’t let you use a knife.

“I am older than you,” he says and takes an apple from you to cut it into even pieces. You don’t notice the skill he has to make careful cuts precise and clean, as you glare at him.

“Barely.”

The few-month gap in your age isn’t enough to stop you from insisting that you can do more complicated things than just peeling apples. That’s some arduous work, especially when the peeler doesn’t cooperate and the thin fruit’s skin gets stuck between the blades.

So, Apple, who couldn’t contain that last annoyed sigh, finally lends you a knife. He instructs you, but after several times that you tell him you know what are you doing, he hesitantly goes back to his work. You could feel a worried gaze at you nonetheless, and at one time you looked over your shoulder to see him staring at you.

And that’s when the knife slips from your hands.

You don’t scream, but a gasp and a sudden flinch gives you away.

“Aaaand that’s what I was saying,” he immediately drops the apple he was taking care of, and stands next to you, scrutinizing the cut. It’s not bigger than a paper cut, yet it’s a bit deeper and stings as much. You quickly hide your hands from him. “Go take your hand under the cold water. I will get some bandages.”

He gets some. He then orders you—” I am the older one here and I was right before, so I am in charge between us two,” as you were told—to sit on the sofa as he carefully wraps one bandage around your finger. The gesture it’s almost cute from him, but it doesn’t lift your foul mood at all.

“I made more trouble than I’ve helped,” you say quietly. Epel looks at you, a bit surprised.

“You sayin’ that this little cut is making you quit?” And now he has that stupid smile on his lips that makes your blood not boil, but warm up at least five degrees. “Awh, poor thing.”

You get up in a hurry.

“…I didn’t say that.”

“Then don’t give up like that,” he chastises you, but he can’t hide a (still very stupid) smile when you pass him to get to the kitchen counter. “But be more careful from now. No one wants to eat a bloody apple pie.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

4. Get into NRC and survive a shock.

Over the years, you’ve become friends, close enough to plan to go to college together, if the opportunity arises. It did.

“Cheers!”

The perfect way to celebrate getting into NRC is with a soft drink, sparkling soda and a big plate of snacks. Although you bought chips for the occasion, your and Apple’s parents prepared a pile of homemade goodies and they couldn’t compare to those store-bought.

Your can clinks against Apple’s and you take a sip.

“It’s not like I ever thought of Night Raven Collage rejecting the best candidates ever,” Apple says with a sigh. Only today you can notice how stiff he was before; although he’d been playing it cool, he was tense all the time. “But that’s one burden off your chest.”

You nod in agreement and look at the acceptance papers once again. When a time will come, carriages with Gates will come for you two… And that’s a thrilling thought.

“This document looks so official,” you say. “What a pretty paper. It looks so elegant.”

Apple empties his can and briefly glances at you.

“Nothin’ special about it…”

And because you want to see the comparison (maybe there are hidden hints where you might be allocated to by the Dark Mirror?), you take his document. The first thing that crosses your mind, is that there is something wrong with his name.

“Wait,” you shriek loudly, and Apple shudders from surprise. He would chastise you for screaming so loud if you didn’t look so worried. “They spelled your name wrong!”

“Huh?” Apple feels a pang of horror, the same you feel when you tap your pockets in search of your phone. As if he found it, once he reads the top of the document again, he relaxes. His lips form into a thin line: he thinks you are pranking him. “No way. Everything is correct.”

“No, look here. Your name, Apple!”

“It’s… Correct.”

“E- P- E- L. And your name is A- P- P- L- E, no?”

“…What?” Epel, not Apple, looks surprised but not as surprised as you. “You thought my name was ‘Apple’ for all those years?!”

You bite your lip to not question it. Is it not? Your cheeks burn from embarrassment, and your heart feels heavy as if you have just betrayed your best friend. It never crossed your mind to have him write down his name, and there wasn’t a reason for him to do so: in this small town there is no school, neither are there the tests you need to sign.

“…I’m sorry.” You stutter, and Epel brushes the crumbs off from his blouse and gets up.

“Goodbye,” he says, making his way towards the door. He doesn’t seem that upset over the whole thing, as much as confused. Tomorrow everything will return to normality, but Epel will have a top-tier teasing material for years. “That’s too many revelations for today.”

“Wait, Epel!”

“Go to ya Apple boy.”

“No!! I said I’m sorry!”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

5. Get sorted into any dorm but Pomefiore.

“Stop laughing.”

“I can’t…! Ha…”

You take a big breath to calm yourself down, but once you look up at Epel and his grimace, it’s impossible to not burst out laughing so loud and so breath-taking you drop to the floor. Epel nudges you. You might be in his room, yet he knows if he’ll be too loud, someone will come to shush you two.

And maybe they will punish him, but Epel isn’t familiar with Pomefiore’s customs, so he doesn’t know what to expect.

“How come you got sorted into another dorm, while we are practically the same?” Epel mumbles, lying down on his bed. The sheets are heavy yet comfortable, luxurious like the whole room. It feels like a museum here, where each item is more valuable than your life and you need permission to rearrange the interior.

To Epel, Pomefiore is the worst dorm. He remembers you teasing him about getting sorted to Pomefiore, but neither of you thought it would come true. It’s too stiff, too restrictive and cares too much about appearances. Epel’s heart feels heavy at the thought of the next four years here.

“Maybe Dark Mirror doesn’t sort the dorm judging by the alikeness of two last brain cells but the shape and colour of the soul,” you nudge him back, waking him up from his reverie.

“Or maybe it didn’t get any input of brain cells from you.”

“Well, your desire to be the prettiest boy in the town got to it, so I think it functions well.”

You chuckle at the dead glare he throws you.

Epel finally sighs.

“…I would like to change the dorms.”

“I don't know whether the Dark Mirror accepts complaints,” you tease him. The gloom is abruptly replaced by irritation, and that’s nice. An angry Epel is better than a devastated Epel. “But if you ever want to escape for a while, you are welcome in my room. We can have a sleepover whenever you want.”

“…Thank you.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

5.5. Sorted into Pomefiore exception.

“You ain’t elegant at all, though.”

“It seems like my elegance bleaks in comparison to yours, pretty boy.”

“You are blind.”

Epel tries to push you away, but you sidestep while giggling. He glares at you, and thankfully, his eyes don’t seem that sad. When he returned to his seat after getting sorted to Pomefiore, he looked bewildered, as if he suddenly wasn’t in the NRC he dreamed of but some other, less-dreamlike school.

You remember him blinking back tears, but maybe not from sadness—thankfully, Epel doesn’t pity himself—but melancholy, as if he just lost something he didn’t even have. Maybe also fury and confusion.

“It will be fun to stay here together,” you prompt, and Epel sighs but a trace of a smile appears on his lips. Thank Great Sevens for the little lights that brighten the azure tones in his eyes.

“Guess I’m stuck being your neighbour forever.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

“No?”

“Of course not. You already know how great friend I can be.”

“…I guess you’re right,” he sticks out his tongue. Vil will have a lot of work if he wants to make him a fine gentleman. Well. You will take any version of Epel, even the pettiest and most teasing one, so it’s Vil’s burden to bear. “Kind of.”

You pout at him, but a quiet smile breaks your coolness. “So petty.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6. Listen to your manly man complain about Vil.

After several weeks in NRC, you could tell Epel still hasn’t gotten used to Pomefiore, and especially its leader.

“I can’t handle him pointing out each… well, everything!” He hides his face in his hands and sluggishly rubs his eyes; he looks tired enough even if Pomefiore must have those eight hours of sleep every night mandatory. “He would find wrongdoings in the way I breathe.”

“I would too. You don’t breathe as much through your nose as you think you do. That’s so very unhealthy, Epel. Your skin will be ruined in the next week of running.”

Epel throws you a warning look as if you had hit the nail with your talk. “Stop or I will strangle you with a pillow in your sleep. I already have Ace on my list.”

You chuckle at a threat, and Epel rolls his eyes. “How dramatic.”

“I have enough drama in my life,” he continues, and you can feel from his tone that he either suppresses the sigh. No apathy or fury anymore, though. Pomefiore must be slowly growing on him, and you take it as a good sign. “My two upperclassmen are going to be a death of me. I don’t know how could I end up in Pomefiore. This kind of lifestyle doesn’t suit me.”

“You complain about them a lot, but, in reality, you look up to him, no?” You tease. “Even you can say the beauty he possesses is influential and somewhat powerful.”

“He might look majestically but it doesn’t make him any less annoying. Now, let’s stop talking about him.”

“Why not? I might become Vil Schoenheit’s fan.”

He clasps his hands on your mouth, so you have to fully focus on his glaring.

“You can’t. You are my fan.”

You pout but after he takes his hands off you, a lopsided smile cracks your lips. “I guess you’re right.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

7. Argue, duh.

That’s a hobby of you two, although a risky one. It always leaves a weight on your heart, because you cannot not care for Epel. While jokes and sarcasm are never intended to hurt any of you, and you can almost always distance yourself from teasing comments, his every word is precious to you.

“Don’t be a killjoy,” would make you roll your eyes if Epel didn’t look so serious. Your smile falters, and something in your stomach twists. You know this conversation was going to end in an argument even before he glowered at you.

“Hey, don’t say it like that,” you stutter the words, placing a hand on his arm. It would come as a reassuring gesture, yet Epel made an effort to move a seat away, and your arm fell aimlessly, sadly. “I am just worried about our grades. That have. Uh. Dropped marginally.”

You stare at your shoes because listening to your best friend being displeased with you so greatly is heartbreaking.

“We have the whole weekend ahead of us to study,” he argued. “Be serious. You don’t want me to go, because you weren’t invited, isn’t that so?”

You sigh. You’ve never expected to be invited to each of their meetings: they are Epel’s friends, and you have yours.

While you knew Ace and Deuce were delightful company, you always thought Epel would choose you over them, even if you suggested something as unentertaining as studying because you would do the same.

You were wrong, after all. Maybe that’s the difference of willpower between a just-a-friends mindset and having a crush on him. Do you really have a crush on him, though? Or maybe you’ve expected too much from a childhood friendship.

“Well, no. I mean, I would love to be invited, but—”

“We don’t need to hang out together every time we have a spare afternoon,” he said, and while it was a true statement, it hurt. If you weren’t able to somehow steel your nerves, you would know you wouldn’t be able to bear the prickling in your eyes. Epel’s next suggestion comes as a whisper. “Sometimes… We should take a break from each other, ya know? And I need to figure, uh, something out.”

The news shocks you so much, that you don’t notice how he visibly abstains from lifting a hand to his chest.

Well. You always knew you were a hopeless romantic.

“Breaks from each other, huh…”

You take in the phrase in silence. Epel takes this chance as an opportunity to gather his things and pack them.

“…I’ll be leaving. Good luck studying or whatever.”

“…Alright. Have—” fun, you wanted to say, but the door shut and Epel left you alone.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

8. Go through the silent treatment phase.

After a week of awkward conversations, Epel has forgotten about that talk. The pain in your chest dulled and you were growing indifferent as if you were watching a show—your life—that started to bore you, not engaging you at all.

You stared blankly at the screen of your phone.

— today —

Epel: Hey

Epel: are u free todya?? you’ve been so absent last weeks >:((

Epel: Grim and prefect invited us for gaming night

Epel: dont ya DARE do skip it again

— seen: now —

…Yeah. You feel nothing, maybe only a little sad at the memory when you felt so vivid and happy when you got a message from Epel.

“No, sorry, I am busy with studying lol,” you type, and while you know that excuse will wear out in the next few days, for as much as you’ve been using it for the last week to avoid hanging out with Epel, your (ex-?) best friend starts to type something. He will protest and argue and try to convince you, but you don’t want to talk today. “Maybe next time.”

So you turn off your phone, sinking deeper into the pillows on your bed.

You don’t have the energy to confront Epel right now.

And that’s it.

…

You fell into a slumber deep enough to not hear the hesitant-turned-frantic knocking to your room.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

9. Let Epel hear the advice of unreliable gurus of love.

They are really unreliable, look messy, and they judge you. The worst kind of people to go for (love?) advice, but Epel assures himself that he needs honesty, not a pat on his back or a shoulder to cry on. He also is out of other options.

Moreover, he would like to cry nowhere near Ace, who would obviously mock him. Even now it’s hard to have a heart-to-heart conversation when he and Deuce chomp on some type of dessert and some awfully happy music from videogame plays in the back of the room. “So? What did you do?”

“Ace,” Deuce is kind enough to elbow Ace in the stomach when Epel’s stoic expression falters.

His shoulders drop. “No, he… He is kinda right.”

Ace throws a winning smile but moves too far away from Deuce to have him punch him for the cheekiness. “’ Kinda’?”

“…Totally right,” Epel finally admits. “[Name] has been avoiding me and I have no idea what should I do,” He throws his arms on the table, and almost hides his face in the palms of his hands. Instead, he moves away the strands of his unruly hair. “Ugh. Why I am even asking you guys to help me? You’re even worse at this kind of thing.”

“Speak for yourself. And Deuce,” Ace cuts him off. And before Deuce can do anything else than glare at him, Ace shifts closer to Epel and throws an arm over his shoulder so he has to hunch. “Epel, question: what is “this kind of thing”. You mean… as in friendships or dating?”

Deuce looks shocked, even so more than Epel. “Dating?!”

“Why are you even so shocked?” Ace asks him, furrowing his eyebrows. When Deuce starts to ponder over his words, he rolls his eyes. “[Name] probably have had a crush on this imbecile”— he points his fork at Epel—” for damn years now, if I had to guess”.

“Years?!”

“Thank you for the dramatic echo effect again, Deuce,” Ace snarls and finally focuses on Epel. Too distracted with a bickering between his friends, his spirits lift up a little. “And you, Epel. Pull yourself together. Do you want to sever the relationship? Do nothing. Do you want to be friends? Apologize to [Name] and try to patch the bond. Do you want to be in a relationship? …Welp, figure out that for yourself.”

…

“Amazing advice, Ace,” Deuce claps his hands theatrically.

He sticks out his tongue and winks. “You could never give a better one.”

Epel gets up from his seat.

“Thanks, you two. I… will do something.”

“Good luck,” Ace waves at him as Epel makes his way over to the door. “If it works out, you owe us a free drink. Especially me.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

10. Have Epel fight for your love!!

It’s hard to find someone when the person knows your schedule and actively tries to avoid you. Choosing more roundabout corridors and sacrificing your wallet to have most of your meals in Monstro Longue instead of the cafeteria are only some of the things you did to avoid encountering Epel.

But he didn’t give up, and maybe his tenacity is what makes you oblige Epel once he finds you.

You don’t question him when he grabs your hand and asks you to skip the last lesson with him that feels almost unimportant as his intertwined fingers warm yours. You don’t comment on how his grip is stronger than usual and how he doesn’t let it go when your hands begin to sweat.

But as you leave the main building of NRC, the curiosity gets the better of you.

“Where are we heading to?”

Epel looks over his shoulder to blink at you. “I…,” he stammers, as confused enough to leave you wondering what is your final destination. Or what was your final destination, Epel seems to have forgotten whatever plan he had in mind. “I guess it can be here.”

He ushers you into one of the side alleys, a bit distanced from the main street and sits you down on a bench. You eye him curiously as he slowly lifts his hands to your face—and that is the first time he let go of your hand—and cupped your cheeks.

“Let me be clear. I- really like you,” he said loudly, gazing into your eyes. “And I know I… overreacted earlier. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to avoid me.”

You breathe out slowly. The heat from the “I really like you” moment prickles and makes your face hotter. It doesn’t help that Epel doesn’t shift his gaze from you nor that he has his hands firmly on your cheekbones as he awaits your answer.

“I’m… sorry. I shouldn’t have been getting between you and your friends.”

Epel eyes you, bewildered. “Why are you focusing on that part?”

“Huh?”

“Ah. Maybe… I will phrase it differently,” He hesitates and his tone wavers, but he says the words without a stutter, as if he’s been practising them in front of the mirror, effectively. “I love you.”

“And I- I want to be friends even if you don’t feel the same.” He rushes with an explanation when you don’t answer as your mind goes blank. “Because. I don’t want you to… avoid me anymore. A-actually, you don’t have to rush with your answer. Just, decide, someday, in the near future, haha? I will wait.”

He glances at you and you know he won’t be able to bear long without hearing your answer. As he rushes past you, you think you heard a hushed whisper.

“Dear Sevens, I said it…!”

miscellaneous fellow honest headcanons

These aren't following any prompt in particular, these are just thoughts I had when I saw the guy hammin' it up and then turning on us.

Some of these headcanons are informed by fan art I've seen and discussions I've had with friends, while others are purely me.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

He calls people “little lads” and “little ladies”.

Fellow has a very noticeable laugh. Like, he grunts and snorts and has tears rolling down his cheeks. (He tends to laugh at others’ misery, thinking of it as “retribution” or “payback” for the injustices he has suffered himself.)

Bro shaves using a knife (yes, he shaves because he is a grown ass man) because razors are hella expensive.

He uses that cheap cologne and cakes it on THICK. This, in his mind, gives off the impression that he’s a well-off and put-together individual you should tooootally trust.

Also the type of person that lays it on thick with his words. If he’s trying to impress a date or something, he’ll shower them with so many compliments it almost seems fake. But no, he’s just the type to simp hard when he happens to be genuine 💀 most of the time he’s faking it though—

He’s very street smart, but in a way where he confuses hostile people by talking over them and acting overly friendly. They usually stuns them long enough for him and Gidel to skedaddle.

If he gets dumped, he'd be the pathetic whimpering boyfriend that begs for his ex to take him back. When they inevitably don't, he mopes all day about it.

He chain smokes and aggressively drinks as a coping mechanism on his bad days 😔 and sometimes he gambles (like, on those scratch-off cards) hoping that he'll strike it rich and buy him and Gidel a better life...

Basically, he generally does not have his shit together but tries his best to pass like someone who does (and usually succeeds at it).

Fellow appears in public wearing his full suit, but at home (ie whatever ratty temporary housing their boss found for them before they move on to the next place) he just wears a T-shirt and lounges around in boxers (and sometimes socks with holes in them).

He uses those disposable eyeshadow wands that snap in half at the slightest bit of too much pressure. Fellow acts like the Claire’s kid makeup he uses is the luxury stuff, but Vil can tell the pigmentation isn’t all there and there’s MAD fallout.

He may be broke AF and have his moments of emotional spiraling, but he has pretty decent budgeting skills. Fellow lives for sales and does extreme couponing to stretch their money as far as it will go.

He invests in other cost-saving methods like wearing shoes until the sole is literally flopping off and just adding water to residual soap in a pump bottle to make the soap "last longer".

Fellow is really good at cutting food (bread, beans) thin to conserve it. Yes, this is a reference to an old Mickey Mouse cartoon—

When he was younger, he had dreams of being an actor (and, more specifically, starring in musicals). That's why he's often humming, swinging around his cane, and/or whistling as he's on the prowl for idiots to sucker—they're remainders of his thespian days before his dreams were crushed into itty bitty pieces.

Man looks like he'd be great at tap dancing.

Before his current gig, he tried a bunch of other scams including a MLM at one point to get by. His signature spell came in pretty clutch in those days too.

Fellow’s not that good at reading or spelling—in fact, he was never a particularly strong student. (“I didn’t fail school!! The schools failed ME!!”) He’s easily frustrated by academics and thinks there should be more hands-on and practical skills taught in learning institutions.

I think it's a given that he and Ruggie would be besties since they both want to eat the rich but I also think Fellow would kiss ass to Azul and then rage about how shitty + entitled Azul is (Azul reminds Fellow of his boss)💀 Scammers hate other scammers because they're both competing to scam the same people--

Even though Fellow is an asshole to most others (well, when he’s not flattering them to lure them into a trap), he’s always nice to Gidel and puts him first. If there’s ever a situation where they’re short on something (clothes, food, etc), Gidel gets priority. This is why Gidel has a full outfit (even if parts are patches or mismatched) whereas Fellow himself has a glove that is so worn out there’s a hole in one of the pinkie fingers.

Fellow may not be blessed with a bounty of magic, but he’s quick on his feet and good with words. Because of these skills, he’s talented at spinning bedtime stories, which he often tells to Gidel to help him fall asleep on nights that are particularly cold and nasty.

Gidel still believes in Santy Claws and wishing upon stars, and Fellow doesn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. He’ll figure it out on his own one day, Fellow thinks. He just doesn’t want to be the one to ruin those childhood joys for him.

Playing pretend is another shared past time of theirs. It helps Fellow get into character before he goes off to swindle people, and it gives Gidel a way to express himself in spite of being mute. They have a routine they do together where Fellow pretends to be a doctor diagnosing a patient and Gidel takes down notes for him as his medical scribe. Yes, this is a Pinocchio reference—

They actually have many more games they play (mainly because they cannot afford other forms of entertainment). Some of the games are clever ruses conjured by Fellow to teach Gidel survival tips and tricks: the who-can-make-their-piece-of-bread-last-longer game, hide-and-seek (from the authorities), etc.

For special occasions, Fellow saves up some money on the side to grant Gidel little luxuries, like a box of crayons to doodle with.

Gidel hugs Fellow’s leg or waist to cheer him up when he’s upset. He also hides behind Fellow when he’s scared or feeling shy.

He’s just really attached to Gidel cuz they have no one else in this cruel world, just them against the world 😔 He sees a lot of his younger self in the little boy… the opportunities lost because of their circumstances… “It’s alright, Gidel. Leave it to Fellow-sama.”

Unique Kisses: Honest Fellow

Heartslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

a/n: fluff, implied female reader (”princess” pet name). I have no idea how to deal with the brainriot that came with the appearance of this shady man, like what.

Honest Fellow (teasing kisses)

“My little star,” Fellow’s lips trail your knuckles, and you can feel a smile against your skin as he senses your pulse quicken. He has the audacity to look so gentlemanly, oh so very blithely, as if this idea has just struck his head under this evening’s romantic atmosphere. “May I have this kiss?”

You’d like to reply, really, but in the next second there are lips on your jawline and a glowed hand that raises your chin; the words you had on your tongue die as you gasp slightly, your eyes fluttering open by the sudden sensation.

Well, you’re charmed. Infatuated with love or ensorceled by a thick layer of Fellow’s unique magic, you don’t reject those dramatic touches, scenic enough to feel like being pulled into a play where a gentlemanly prince kisses a princess.

And while Fellow might have the reputation of being a gentleman, he’s too impish, too rouge to be one. He can only play the role, the facade might even drop, but dumb princesses—you dare to compare yourself to one as Fellow uses that pet name, among countless others—are known for falling even for twisted men.

“Why so quiet?” He asks, and you quiver with frustration, as he seals your lips again. That damn bastard; he thinks the navy suit he wears makes him look sleek and the way he tucks his holey gloves off is luscious enough to make your cheeks blush. He isn’t that wrong, yet…

…It is infuriating to dance to Fellow’s tune in a choreography he is a lead to. Even if you love him.

“Stop… teasing me like this,” you manage to lift your head enough so that you break the kiss. Fellow snorts at your poor attempt to catch a breath and at the weak try to keep him at your elbow’s distance, as he holds you close to his chest. The sweet scent of the cologne he wears makes you even more dizzy.

He moves his hands to your hair and tucks the stray locks behind your ear. If he could grab the camera, he would capture the adorable expression you wear—but he doesn’t want to waste his time searching for that fickle thing, no, no. He isn’t able to concentrate on anything else, and he needs to satisfy the whim of alluring you (once again) before he’ll be physically able to move away.

“My, you don’t sound very convincing,” he smiles and strokes your cheek so gently. “But I will believe you. Loveliest, just say a word, and I’ll just kiss you goodnight for the last time.”

Like you could’ve expected, you aren’t granted a chance to say anything else. He kisses you more and more, and at this point, the most fastidious princess would be already satisfied.

…Fellow might be scared. He might not want to hear your answer, even if the look in your eyes and the way your heart beats should be enough to suffice any of his questions.

If you could utter a word, you would confess your love once for the thousandth time.

“That’s right. The silence says it all,” he whispers as his thumb traces your lips. “You are so gorgeous, and you are mine.”

Like a doll. But you’re no doll, you’re more beautiful than any masterpiece magic could ever create. You’re free, and you choose to stay with him. There are no strings attached to your hands that keep him at his side. There is just one, tightly knotted on your heart and it’s a cherished bond you put on yourself.

He doesn’t have a puppet in you. He has a lover who will shower him with selfless love, yet he still can’t believe anyone would have given it to him for free.

So, he must’ve stolen it.

He smiles. “By obligation of being a thief, I will steal your heart all over again, and keep it safe with me.” I love you. "That’s the duty I owe to myself as you are my treasure.”

Not Livi bullying me with this screen a few days ago:

Hello Livi <33 May I request reader being housewife for Riddle? I would love to hear your thoughts about that. Thanks in advance!!

Sweet Marriage [Riddle Rosehearts]

╰ Every time you see someone from your high school on the street and talk to them, they can't believe who you ended up tying the knot with. In fact, even Ace and Deuce were shocked when they received an invitation to your wedding, even though they knew you two had been dating for so long.

╰ Ace was absolutely convinced that one day you would eventually break up with Riddle due to his specific nature, but being one of the best men at your wedding was definitely not something he could have expected.

╰ As for you, well, you still can't believe you're finally married to the man you love. One of your favorite things to do when Riddle is at work is looking at the photos from your wedding. The professional ones you keep in a photo album, while the others are in the gallery on your phone, most of them being the ones Cater took and sent to you later.

╰ No matter what other people say, you couldn't ask for a better husband than Riddle. During your NRC days, he was often insecure and worried that he might do something wrong and, worse, hurt you unintentionally. He had never been in a relationship before, so this was all new to him. But over time, with a little bit of your help, he was able to gain some confidence.

»»——>@ʙʟᴏᴏᴍɪɴɢ-ᴅᴀʜʟɪᴀ<——««

╰ After your wedding, Riddle became even more affectionate towards you. Even when he's at work, he can't help but call you whenever he has the chance, just to ask how you're doing and tell you how much he loves you. The best moment of the day is when Riddle comes home and you can finally throw yourself into his arms.

╰ Sometimes you get the feeling that Riddle is overworking himself a bit, but every time you try to look for a job, he assures you that everything is fine and that you don't need to do that, because the last thing he wants is for you to overwork yourself as well.

╰ Of course you do things like cooking and cleaning every day. At first you thought that Riddle might be angry with you if he found out that you missed a few spots while cleaning or didn't do anything at all on a particular day, but it quickly turned out that he could be more understanding than you would ever imagine. That's mostly because you're his wife, whom he loves dearly, and not some random troublemaker like Ace and Deuce.

╰ The house you live in once belonged to one of Riddle's relatives, but since they moved out a long time ago, they gladly decided to sell it to you. It's not a super exclusive and luxurious mansion or anything like that, it's rather a small and cozy house, just perfect for you two. You also have a garden that you always take care of.

╰ On weekends, you two always go shopping. You can't even count how many times you've asked Riddle not to spoil you with gifts he buys for you behind your back while you're shopping, but you can see he doesn't care. He strictly follows the belief that a wife must be spoiled a lot by her husband.

╰ There are moments when the two of you argue. It is not often, but your fights can be really intense sometimes. However, Riddle can quickly turn from angry to concerned and ashamed the second he sees you crying, no matter who started the fight. He just hates to see tears streaming down your face.

╰ The thing you definitely avoid the most are family meetings. While those with your parents are somewhat tolerable and quite enjoyable, those with your husband's are the exact opposite. You're thankful they don't happen often, since you are probably at the top of your mother-in-law's list of people she hates the most. Every meeting with Riddle's family so far has just been you trying to hold back your tears until you finally get home.

╰ When there is nothing to do while Riddle is at work, you often hang out with your friends. Most of the time, they like to tease you about being a married woman so soon. To be honest, you are surprised about it yourself. Who would have thought that Riddle Rosehearts would propose to his girlfriend right after she graduated from NRC?

╰ Riddle himself also keeps in touch with some people from your high school, the main ones of course being Ace, Deuce, Trey and Cater. Obviously you knew it would be the last two, but the troublemakers came as a complete surprise. Riddle somehow learned to tolerate them instead of yelling at them every second, especially since they are not in Heartslabyul anymore. Once, however, he loosened up to the point where the Adeuce duo got him drunk as a silly prank. Poor Riddle has never experienced anything like this before and became extremely clingy to you when he, thanks to Trey, returned home. Eventually he ended up crying, so you had to comfort and cuddle him until he fell asleep, but you didn't mind it at all.

╰ It is obvious to Riddle that you would never cheat on him. But there are still times when he can't help but get a little jealous. He spends most of the day at work, so he doesn't really know what you're currently doing unless he calls you. Also because of this, the two of you don't spend as much time together as you'd like. He understands that you might feel lonely, so as long as you don't cheat on him, you can hang out with whoever you want.

╰ When it's your birthday, Riddle always has something special planned for you. He even leaves work early to surprise you with a fresh bouquet of your favorite flowers and then takes you on a date to places such as a restaurant and theme park. When it's Riddle's birthday, you always try to bake his favorite strawberry tart, but you fail anyway, so you call Trey to come over to help you. For some reason, Trey always comes with Adeuce duo and Cater, which results in a huge party for your husband.

»»——>@ʙʟᴏᴏᴍɪɴɢ-ᴅᴀʜʟɪᴀ<——««

╰ Eventually, one day you apply for a job of your choice. You know that Riddle wouldn't have to work so hard if you could also earn some money. It was not easy to break this news to him, but in the end he said that it was your own decision and that he would support you no matter what.

╰ Sometimes your friends ask when you and Riddle will have children of your own. You're both still very young, so he isn't going to force you to have them now, but if you decide one day that you're ready, he would love to have two or maybe even three. Riddle doesn't feel confident enough to tell you this yet, because he's afraid that you might think it's too much for you, or perhaps you don't want to have children at all. Still, he finds you to be a very gentle and caring woman, and he's sure you'll make a perfect mother in the future.

Thank you for requesting!

Hey! I really love your "how to win the heart of." Can you do one for Vil? If not that's totally fine I'm just curious.

How to win the heart of Vil Schoenheit?

Be a fan.

You like to think that the oldest memory you can recall is how you became Vil’s fan.

Until then, the recitals your school took you on were boring. Only in fifth grade, the teachers realise that, hm, maybe ancient plays might be a bit too much for those little brains, and in a spark of determination to change something, your class was taken to watch a staged version of a fairy tale, played by youngsters for youngsters.

The memory of Vil, the villain of the story, entering the scene is much more vivid. Even as a child, he was inarguably elegant and strikingly beautiful, it left you agape and your curious heart beating loudly in your chest.

“It’s better than having a completely fictional crush,” your classmate said after you confessed how much endeared you were by Vil and his acting. You listened as you typed a password to a newly-created Magicam account, solely for following him there. “There is a chance that you and him will be together.”

“A big chance?”

“Uh, like this?” She tries to show how big your chance is with her fingers. She wants to leave a gap between her fingers, but ultimately, they touch, and she puts her hands down. “I mean, we are almost the same age, so maybe you can go to the same high school as him? In a very long future…”

“I am not delusional…”

Nonetheless, the thought did make you hope.

After you reached the age of sixteen, the invitation came. For a whole year — since you saw Vil’s post on his new college choice — you’ve been pondering whether you’ve possessed enough magic talent to get into Night Raven College, the school of chosen. In good dreams, the Magic Mirror deemed your soul to be solely fit for Pomefiore. In nightmares, you were doomed to… well, any other dorm, if you were a student at NRC at all.

And maybe dreams really come true because the future you’ve anticipating has turned into a reality.

“Alright, is everyone from Pomefiore here?” Your heart stops when you hear that wonderful voice, this time not from your phone nor from 100 meters away from the speakers. You turn around, and there he is, Vil Schoenheit in all his glory stands and guides the students to the hall of mirrors. He looks like a portrait, and even if you saw his face thousands of times, the glint in his eyes redeems you speechless. “Congratulations, everyone. We will hold the welcoming introductions at our dorm. Follow me!”

Yes, Vil Schoenheit is your idol. And in the first seconds of meeting him, you were ready to follow him to the end of the world.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

2. Get rejected. Have your heart broken.

“I apologize,” Vil says slowly, and you notice how his voice is a little monotonous. Just a bit, as if he had repeated these words countless times like the lines before a recital. “And while I wholeheartedly appreciate your feelings, [Name], I want to focus on my studies and career. It’s a bad time for me to think about dating. Nonetheless, thank you for being brave and sincere enough to tell me all of this.”

You nod. The pain in your chest gives you goosebumps. It makes your head spin so fast your legs feel unstable as if there is some shift in gravity. You bow with curtsy because every Pomefiore student should be able to do so elegantly even on a space station. “Thank you for listening to my confession.”

“Of course,” he says and looks down at the letter he got from you. It’s neat, somehow cute with how carefully his name is written on it. He holds it gently so as to not crinkle the delicate paper. “I will read the contents tonight.”

“Thank you. No need to write a response,” you force a little chuckle and excuse yourself. You will be overthinking how could you say something like that after you get over your stupid letter and even dumber confession.

Vil doesn’t say anything as you walk a little too fast to keep the step elegant. He sighs at this view and mindfully tucks your letter amid the pages of the book. Now’s the time for history class. He shouldn’t get distracted—

—and soon enough, you’re out of his mind.

That is until he reads your letter.

It's a beautifully crafted confession, put into elegant lettering and a pale pink envelope. It's sealed with red wax in the shape of a perfect heart; if you haven't used magic, it must've taken several evenings to get the precision you wanted.

You’re his fan. He knows it even if you hadn’t pointed it out; the well-tailored sentences betrayed your utter attention on him in the last several years. You’re his fan, but you don’t cheapen yourself. He is the idol you admire and love, but you don’t degrade yourself to a servant or a worshiper. And that is, unexpectedly, uncommon.

The letter is—also—a challenge to yourself. “If you were to reciprocate those feelings, I will prove myself worthy to stand by your side,” it reads.

He likes that letter. Once he finishes it, he skims over the text one last time and puts it between many other letters he has gotten. Between them, another envelope seems unremarkable, yet the words there…

Unforgotten.

He sighs. Maybe he will pay more attention to you from now on.

‏‏‎ ‎

3. Don’t remember all the etiquette rules.

“You wrote in your letter that I've inspired you to learn. Go on, then. Show me how motivated you are.”

So, now Vil bullies you over your letter.

He can’t be satisfied with your scarce etiquette knowledge—he wouldn’t be content if it was decent, as it would be a dishonour to Pomefiore—but amusement crinkles in his eyes at your utter confusion over the numerous forks, knives, spoons and glasses. They’ve been spread out in several rows and columns varying from the oyster forks to champagne flute.

You hesitate. Maybe you could point out which one is the butter knife or sugar spoon, but you never cared enough to discover which fickle knife is a fish knife. Should you be looking for the one with grooves or an extremely thin one? Would it hurt to use a normal knife to eat the salmon?

Oftentimes you’re thankful there is no awkward silence between you and Vil after your confession, but you can’t shake off the impression he’s been harder on you.

“On second thought, maybe I wasn't motivated enough to learn all the names of cutlery,” you say, not daring to try your luck in labelling each piece.

To your surprise, Vil smiles and uses a teasing tone that leaves you stunned and wide-eyed. “Is that so?”

You take a breath and huff, lowering your eyes. “Yes. The power of—,” unrequired, you bite your tongue on that bitter word, “—love ends here.”

Vil cracks another delighted smile. You start suspecting that someone drugged him with a smiling potion, as you should have received a severe scolding by now. You don’t have anything against the change, so the mention of Vil’s (relative) laid-backness goes unmentioned.

“I will have you seated next to me on tomorrow's dinner, so don't even think of slacking off,” he says, putting a hand on your lower back and gently pushing you towards the next table where the heavy textbooks look so very uninviting. “I won't have any student under my wing not know the basic etiquette. Especially if it’s my fan.”

‏‏‎ ‎

4. Have opinions and the courage to voice them.

Because standing for your own makes you flourish in your own colours and not blend into the monotony of the mainstream. Seek truth, good, and beauty and you will bestow the brilliance upon yourself.

‏‏‎

5. Try to have a healthy lifestyle.

You’ve never imagined Vil barging into your room with a tray of food. Why would he? But here you are, sitting in front of an aesthetically pleasing breakfast, mouth-watering pancakes with cream and a bit of honey, and the deep green shake in question that suits the colour palette but probably tastes awfully, like all good stuff packed with vitamins.

“You should never starve yourself if you want to live healthy.”

It’s hard to swallow anything as your dorm leader glares at you, but Vil refuses to leave you before he sees you eating the stuff he brought. You wondered if he prepared the breakfast himself. Probably not.

“No? I thought that keeping a diet is good.”

“If you are dieting you eat,” Vil hisses and sinks a little more into the couch. He brings a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as if he suddenly got struck with a headache. “Oh, heavens. What am I going to do with you?”

“Maybe—”

“Quiet,” it apparently was a rhetorical question. Maybe Vil would be mad at any answer from you as he considers you a fool. He waits until you take another bite of the pancake. “A dinner break will be in two hours, and I expect you to be there.”

“I think I will still be full by that time,” you admit, glancing at a pancake and a half. “These pancakes are savoury but so very filling.”

“Savor them as much as you like,” Vil says somewhat proudly. …Maybe he did make those pancakes? No. He wouldn’t bother this much. The satisfied note in his voice makes you ponder nonetheless. “But you have no excuse for yourself not to sit with us on the meals. Also—”

His gaze grows unexpectedly impish as his eye catches something.

“I will reeducate you on the topic of a healthy lifestyle,” he glances at the bowl of bland lettuce you prepared for yourself. He smiles, either in amusement or light pity. “It should have a little more… spice.”

‏‏‎ ‎

6. Take an interest in high culture.

“It feels like the hellish lessons of Heartslabyul…”

“The Queens’ 810 rules?” Vil’s smile is lopsided and his eyes render into a knowing look once they meet your gaze. “They are nothing compared to a number of customs in etiquette.”

You take a turn. The classes for today might have ended, but if hearing all that useful stuff meant you would walk with Vil back to Pomefiore, you could bear another few minutes of a lecture. You know that everything he tells you about, he already mastered. He wouldn’t teach you anything half-heartily.

“The etiquette of speaking, the dress code, the knowledge of dinner manners (well, you’ve mastered some part of it already, with the cutlery lessons), the control of body language, the indication of voice, the honorifics, the art of writing letters and emails… You don’t want me to list all of the things I expect from you?”

You would like to, because Vil’s voice is beautiful, but the student part of you takes over control and shakes your head. Just like Riddle, who has a reputation for demanding impossible care and inquiring rules, your dorm leader is not much better — maybe even worse, because while Heartslabyul has to oblige the absurd in chosen hours or circumstances, you are on your toes in every moment.

“So much to master in just four years in the NRC…”

“It’s a lot,” Vil says, and he’s the only person you would doubt if he speaks the truth in that matter. Especially if through your walk his strides seemed perfectly calculated and hand gestures finely planned. “But if you put a mind and heart into it, you will learn all of this in no time.”

You hum. It’s hard to think of having any more motivation than from where you were a zealous Vil fan.

You ask (ponder) and he delivers.

“Actually, I have an offer: if you’ll learn it all in ahead of time, I will teach you a dating etiquette.”

…

What?

“…Dating etiquette?!” You shriek so loudly, that several students turn their heads. You cover your mouth as if it would do something, and ignoring Vil’s delighted gaze, and lower your voice to a whisper. “There is such a thing?”

“Of course. Who should invite who on the first date and where, what gifts can you give and what can you accept, and how to behave with your loved one, like,” he pauses a little, and you almost know he bites the sides of his cheeks to contain himself from smiling, “How to kiss someone in particular situations.”

You want to die. How else should you react? How can he tease you so much when he rejects you? (Not like you were expecting much at the time, yet…)

“There is no kissing etiquette. You tease me…”

“Just a little,” Vil laughs, and you slowly relax. “But take my proposal seriously. If I can give you another motivation to engage in your studies, then I will by all means do so.”

‏‏‎ ‎

7. Get an access to his private Magicam account.

“Do you have Magicam? If you want to, you can add me.”

Vil asks the question. He should have chastised you for mindlessly scrolling through social media because you can probably put your mind and hands to better use. The casual tone surprises you, but the inquiry gets you defensive as if it questioned you being Vil’s fan.

“I’ve already been following you for years,” you declare and pull up your phone.

Before you get to his profile, Vil sighs.

“Not the promotional account,” he says. “Mine.”

You frown. Many times you’ve seen Vil posting the photos on the “promotional account” with his personal thoughts. Maybe because you've been blinded by the elegance and harmony of every post, the idea that he would operate the Magicam profile solely for business purposes has never occurred to you.

“You have another account?” You ask, flabbergasted.

Vil rolls his eyes at the surprise in your tone and sits next to you. Your phone beeps as you get a notification about a new user following you. In a heartbeat, you follow the account back. You almost gape at the pictures there; they are beautiful, elegant, and all in Vil’s manner, but he looks like… a common student. Not ethereally, not otherworldly, but still enchantingly.

“It’s a private profile, so I ask you for discretion. I would like to keep this one for my close friends and family,” Vil says, and you hastily nod, your heartbeat sounding like a drumbeat in your ears. Having access to his personal account felt… personal, ironically.

I would like to keep this one for my close friends — he said that, didn’t he? Does he consider you a close friend?

That’s more than you ever imagined.

And yet you dare to dream for more.

You pull your phone close to your chest. “I feel honoured.”

Vil smiles at the statement. “Of course. As you should.”

‏‏‎ ‎

8. Let yourself be pampered.

“Don’t move,” Vil asks for impossible because you want to bolt as he leans to you once again and only the glare he staggers you with as you push away the urge to close your eyes. You hope the foundation is thick enough to cover a blush that creeps on your face. “You will ruin my work.”

You give up and glance down, earning another heavy sigh from your superior.

“Maybe I should finish the eye makeup myself?” You offer. “I am unused to anyone doing my makeup, so it’s hard not to flinch.”

Your good intentions get ruined as the question aggravates Vil even more because he frowns at you. Staying put and keeping quiet about that whole ordeal would seem like a lovely idea, you question whether your heart could manage another hour in this setup.

“Don’t be absurd,” he says. “We need to handle your sensitivity to the touch or you will struggle in the future if you decide to be a model.”

“I am not—”

“Stop.”

“I—”

“Silence. Be quiet, potato,” he presses his finger to your lips to seal them shut. You feel something sticky, and as his finger traces your lips, you realize it’s the lip gloss, and it’s a very good-smelling one like a strawberry; you didn’t expect something so sweet-tasting to be in Vil’s liked products. “You are under my care now. It also brings me satisfaction to see my skills used on someone.”

“Vil—”

“Shut up,” it’s hard to get offended at him, as he uses such a gentle tone. He takes a good look at your lips and as he glances up at you, probably to see if the colours of the whole makeup are consistent, your mouth goes dry. “Before I tell you to do so, don’t speak. You will mess up with the lip gloss and it’s… difficult to apply one on you.”

What? It’s difficult to apply the lipgloss on you?

Alright**,** you nod, pondering if the lip makeup is really that difficult. Do you have an unusual shape of lips (it’s probably not that?), or is this balm so hard to spread? You sit still, as Vil moves closer to you.

Yeah, except for the touch you need a way to ignore the beating of your heart.

‏‏‎ ‎

9. Move on from your heartbreak.

“Would you like to go out with me today?”

A kind smile convinced you to agree, although you barely recognize the name of the boy standing in front of you. His voice was hopeful, and you were reminded of the time you bore the same expectant expression.

You had no heart to let it fall, not right now, not so quickly, so you paint a delighted smile over your face. “Thank you. I would love to.”

…

You should’ve done this a long time ago.

For the sake of your friendship with Vil, you decide to stop hoping that the man of your dreams might change his mind after getting to know you better. He found a friend in you, and you would hate to disappoint him with your longing for him.

So, you should distract yourself from him and fall in love with someone else.

Today’s date will be a perfect opportunity.

You dress quite stylishly, not enough to steal all the attention, but enough to impress your date. You put more effort into the makeup this evening and spend some time picking the most fitting jewellery. The perfume you picked is subtle but alluring and chic, an excellent concoction, but you could’ve expected nothing less from Vil’s recommendation.

…It feels kind of wrong to use everything he taught you to prepare for a date, but you would’ve used this knowledge one day either way, no? It’s not like he is your first… and last love.

“I heard a boy from Scarabia have confessed to you,” the familiar voice you love but don’t want to hear like now spooks you. Vil leans on your door frame, and you wonder how much he has stayed here.

“I just agreed on a date,” you say, standing up and adjusting the folds of your outfit. You look him in the eye. “How do I look?”

Vil snorts, and his lips stretch into a mean, devilish smile. “Are you expecting an approving comment from me?”

Asking the fashion icon to rate your outfit might’ve been a wrong move. You shake your head.

“Nevermind. He’ll have to deal with however I am if he doesn’t want me to be late,” after glancing the last time into the mirror and receiving a smile from your reflection, you pick up your phone. “Well then. I shall get going.”

Vil is still, as if he hasn’t been blocking the exit or as if he wanted to keep you here. You would have loved for him to stop you here. It’s hard to stop the disappointment from flooding over your composure when Vil moves away.

“Alright. Your look is satisfactory so that Scarabia boy better be grateful for being able to go out with you,” he says something ambiguous again, and you feel bad for your date who will have to deal with such a lovesick fool as you. “Enjoy your date.”

The pang of pain pierces your heart. You smile slowly and leave the room.

The heartbreak better goes away as soon as possible, or you’ll go crazy if the thought of dating anyone else hurts that much.

‏‏‎ ‎

10. Look kissable.

“You’re late.”

Maybe you are, but you haven’t been expecting Vil waiting for you. He sits on a sofa, a book is in his hand and the tea that was served in front of him looks cold. You can guess he’s been sitting here for a while.

“How did it go?”

“It went well, I think,” you say. The date went well. Yet, you couldn’t have enjoyed it. The throbbing pain in your heart strained each of your smiles, and it surged when the Scarabian student started to be flirty. You felt as if you were cheating. “He is a kind guy. He has some hobbies and is quite charismatic, so… He’s alright.”

Vil hums. “Will you settle on ‘alright’?”

You stare at him wide-eyed, but he doesn’t look bothered at all. He didn’t lift his gaze from his book, and his tone was nonchalant, so he almost seemed not interested. He was. He is because Vil never asks the question to whose answers he doesn’t want to hear.

“Pardon?”

He spares you a glance.

“I thought your resolution was stronger. What happened to the person who confessed to me and was so willing to determine their worth to me?”

“Are you jealous?”

“I am furious,” he lifts from the sofa, the book forgotten. The air around suddenly grows warmer, and the shiver you didn’t mind that much runs down your spine. Vil’s strides are slower than usual, creating an imposing image of himself before he stands just before you. “If you want to set the bar so low, go on. But let me give you a taste of ambition.”

He twists his head so his eyes meet directly yours. He doesn’t touch you — not yet — but you can feel a warm breath on your cheek, and the scent of his light perfume envelops you. You have the urge to move away and cling to him at the same time. They balance, and you stay still.

A taste…

Vil puts a hand on your cheek. The gesture is much softer and more benevolent than when he was putting makeup on you. His eyes lock with yours, your heart stops, and then they drop to your lips. He moves a thumb over them.

And he kisses you.

In your dreams, you had him kiss your hand, the top of your head. The corner of your mouth. In your boldest wishes, you wanted him to kiss you like that, so lovingly, with so much care. It makes you want to push away for more air, but it makes you worry Vil will disappear if you break the kiss, as all the dreams shatter upon the morning.

He moves away, not breathless, yet not unaffected either. His cheeks burn slowly into a red shade, and his eyes look somehow glassy. “I told you, I will give you just a taste.”

How disappointing.

Before you can say something, he pushes a letter between your fingers. Its envelope matches the one you gave him several months ago. “Read it. I want an answer by midnight.”

The big clock on the wall shows you have over three hours. So much time, and you already know the answer. “You will wait this long?”

“I am giving you a chance and hope,” he says with a subtle smile. The blush on his face makes him more beautiful than you’ve ever seen him. “It’s my duty of your idol to do so.”

OPEN THE CURTAINS

LIGHTS ON

* FANTASTIC JAZZ MUSIC ON * Don't miss a moment of this experiment~~ Oh, the book is strange like clockwork orange~~ Keep your eyes buttered till the end~~

(The urge to play this song right away:) I wasn't expecting anyone to recognize the lyrics, so I gasped at this ask hahaha It is also very funny timing because I've been listening to Mili for months now, yet I bought the Library of Ruina just a week ago (5 days, exactly). I take this ask as a signal to try playing it again, but the gameplay rules are too complicated for me hshshshs

I like to think that romance with Idia widely differs depending on the time you’ve been in a romantic relationship.

1. “Just started dating” stage.

If you're reading Idia fanfiction, there is an 80% chance this is the stage your relationship is on.

Idia is… treating you like a very precious stranger. He's on his toes and seeks your approval in whatever he's doing. He is going to great lengths to understand the theory of dating and your hobbies - so you can maybe share even more interests - but won’t really act on anything.

He’s constantly surprised by every romantic move you make and you have numerous occasions to adore his cherry blush and various puckles of hair igniting with pink and red. He stutters a lot and can’t focus on anything in your presence.

Idia will outright reject any suggestions for bolder moves. He’s unprepared, and although guilt is eating him from the inside, he is not up to anything you two weren’t doing as friends. Well, maybe handholding, kissing, and cuddling get a (hard) pass, but you are the only one initiating these things.

He will try his best to reciprocate effort, though.

2. “Have been dating for a while” stage.

It’s an interphase between two very different stages, so he’s a funny mix: a very shy outsider and a cocky genius at the same time.

Gaming sessions will be the centre of your couple's time. Idia regularly invites you to his dorm, sometimes even on spontaneous sessions when a new event comes up or he has found a new game that looks very cool. You share snacks, drinks, and clothes (read: you have unwritten permission to claim his blouses).

This boy would be dead without you and Ortho, and with that knowledge, you make it your mission to (somehow) tidy up his room, buy some cosmetics, healthier food, etc. If you are up to organizing a “self-care evening”, he will be hesitant at first but will be looking forward to it after a while, with some older anime. (I like to think it would be a magical girl series like Sailor Moon, Tokyo Mew Mew or Chobits, or some shoujo).

In exchange, he might construct some little gadgets (maybe anime-themed?) for you, helps you get the merch you want, and supports you in your games.

At this point, he doesn’t weigh his words much. He’s still easy to fluster, but he comes with comebacks right away. The most flirty he gets on the phone when it’s late at night and you are using a chat to talk, especially when you are not in the same room. 3. Long-term relationship stage.

He knows you are doomed to him and shamelessly takes advantage of that.

He has no claims against calling you in the middle of the night to watch him sharing his screen when he pulls for a character he wants to get in the gacha system. He believes your presence brings him luck, so he must have you when he does crucial things!

Idia disses your taste in fictional men. Sometimes, he reads the dialogues out loud from the otome games you play. He may alter them, which can make you either huff or laugh. If you read or write fanfiction, he might read them too, giving you an out loud commentary on some fragments and asking you if you are that desperate for dates so you are sending fanfiction to inspire him. If you say yes, he will hum and return to whatever he was doing before, but he might plan something out that you will preferably be able to do in his room.

Chatroom with him and Ortho is quite calm, almost polite, but your private chatroom with Idia is the most chaotic one you’ve ever been. You learned to not leave your phone openly if you don’t want to explain some inside joke with a layered backstory. An app you use to chat with Idia is the one your screen time is counted on most, and writing with Idia is your guilty pleasure.

If you are interested in IT, he might program you an app or something to help you with it! He will give you the best feedback ever, and although it may be harsh, the last thing he wants is to discourage you from learning further.

On one anniversary of your dating, he will gift you this kind of couple bracelet which lights up if the other person touches it. He created them himself. When he receives signals throughout the day, he thinks of them as a promise from you, that no distance can sever your bond.

If you bring up some serious talk, you will be bullied with memes. It’s Idia’s coping mechanism. He will plan his future with you, don’t worry, but wait for him to muster up the courage to get on one knee and ask the question.

Malleus drabble, because the idea has been haunting my head. Chapter 7 part 3 spoilers!! Please don't look if you hadn't read the latest update yet, you will spoil your fun :(

Malleus Draconia would like to say that everyone is equal in his eyes, the eyes of a king akin to a god if you consider the amount of magic power he could drain from his surroundings with a mere flick of his hand.

They are not, and Malleus has no lying talent to convince himself otherwise.

A good ruler watches over everyone, but as his lover, you are granted more attention and, by that, a better-tailored dream. He knows you well and knows what will keep you on the dreamers' side, not even bothering to think that your life is going too well. No one is very concerned when lady luck finally blesses your life, right?

He starts by making the moment you fell asleep blur. You don’t remember when you went to sleep, but when you “wake up” in your dream, Malleus is here to reassure you that you were tired “yesterday” and have gone to sleep sooner. If you will mention a “dream” of Malleus going overblot, he might discuss it with it but won’t own up to any of his actions.

Malleus is fond of your dream. As your lover, he can spend any amount of time with you, and you are still seeking him. In your dreams, time isn’t bounded by the clocks. After “a year” Malleus returns to Valley of Thorns, and “three years later” you are living there too. After “two more” you get engaged.

Your dream will be unbothered. Malleus will have it in utter control.

When he sees your sleeping features in dormant reality, how calm you look, he knows you will be heartbroken when you wake up from that dream. 

He glides his finger over your skin with a reassuring smile, which he also has on his face in your dream. 

"Don't worry," he says to your sleeping form, planting a kiss on your forehead. "I won't have you waking up anytime soon."

Rollo Flamm x Reader || Rhythm

Warnings: Understated jealousy (?), Reader can’t dance (wants to, though), provisioning of unrequired love, female reader.

The girl that dances atop the stage is really pretty.

It’s not you, and with some kind of regret, you concede you’ve never properly learned to dance.

The girl is more beautiful than the starry night above the City of Flowers because she feels like a dream. Stars will be tomorrow too, but her? No one knows, so all eyes are on her, to balm each’s heart with her sight.

Her steps are graceful and the way she moves is enchanting. It’s not an easy choreography either - with so many jumps and twirls and turns - but she makes it seem so because a smile never leaves her face. The fabric of her dress follows her faithfully, and you imagine she will look incredible in every photo taken of her.

“She’s so… beautiful,” someone next to you breathes with awe.

You believe Rollo thinks so too.

Even if the thought of never being looked on like that stings, you can only blame yourself as he didn’t want to come here at all. When you suggested checking out the show that is being held in a Topsy-Turvy Event Hall, Rollo scolded you for distracting yourself. It might be a Friday evening when most of the students are already headed to the dormitory, but the work of student council members is never done. Before the weekend, at least.

Your whingeing has been guerdoned: Rollo agreed on taking a break. He was hesitant while doing so, and almost annoyed at the cheery smiles that appeared instantly on three faces, yours, the vice president’s and a school treasurer’s. The papers and cups of cold tea were left instantly, and in the next few minutes, all four of you were heading down the staircase.

…

A square is crowded every season with tourists, so neither you nor Rollo is surprised that the two other students got separated from you before even reaching the main stage. You are thankful for their attentiveness because it allows you to be alone with Rollo.

“They are selling enchanted drinks again!” You exclaim, pointing to a stall with indigo macrame hung around a tent. Some attractions were opened at certain seasons a year, and you remember the elixirs being a hit last year.

“It looks like so,” Rollo states flatly. “I wonder why people are so fixated on this kind of never-lasting things.”

Knowing Rollo is a man of harsh words, you brush off his comment.

Blue potion with edible glitter — you are sure it’s edible glitter because most of the useful mixtures are rather lustreless — catches your eye. It looks like a piece of starry sky tucked into a glass bottle. It’s also supposed to help you with your studies if you drink it, so it’s even more magical.

“Would you like to try one? This one helps you focus… But, yeah, I guess you already can do that perfectly,” you pick up the next vial. “Oh, after drinking the yellow one, you should be able to sing more professionally! And the green one is for rhythm… I would need that one. Yet, the most interesting one here is-”

- a love potion.

Even the vial is heart-shaped. The mixture inside is either pink or purple, you can’t really define it because of the amount of bubbles that constantly stir the mixture. You might not be the best alchemy student ever, but even you know that that potion has some enchanting aroma that might bind your senses.

Maybe that potion is your only chance ever to get with Rollo. Your heart is heavy at the thought of enchanting him to love you.

“I have no intention of buying anything,” Rollo’s curt voice slings you from your thoughts. He takes vials from your hands and puts them back, any moment ready to push them out of his mind. “Anything but croissants. I can treat you to one of those.”

…And that’s how you get free food, dear students.

“Will you? Thank you, thank you, thank you!” You would love to hug him, Rollo is… Rollo probably wouldn’t appreciate this kind of gratitude in the middle of the street. Or wherever. It’s hard to imagine Rollo being happy about a hug as he seems unused to physical contact, yet that might be a reason why you should try to open him up.

For a last moment you think about the enchanted concoctions, but Rollo turns around and you need to catch up to not get separated from him.

Way to his favourite bakery Rollo knows by heart. He guides you through the crowd and it’s easy to follow him as he stands taller than most people, the distance being even larger when you count his hat. He glanced over his shoulder to check if you were still beside him after you get out of the most crowded area.

“We’re here,” Rollo announces as if you hadn’t been accompanying him to the bakery whenever you had a chance. He strides to the counter, where several types of croissants under a glass cover are creating a delicious exhibition. “Choose whatever you like.”

It's a very tempting offer, and you decide to take it once you glue yourself to the glass of a counter.

“I…” You start, pointing at two specific desserts. Two croissants with your favourite fillings are too delicious to pick between them. “Can I get two? I will treat you something in return, once I'll have money on me.”

“You’ll get a stomachache,” he says curtly but slides his card to a lady behind a counter that picks up another baking for himself, halfway dipped in chocolate and topped with cut-dried strawberries. “Be careful. They’ve been just taken out of the oven, so you’d better don’t burn yourself.

“Thanks.”

You let yourself bite into the device, as you take another turn, this time the way leading into the main square. There is a grand scene that is always used for music performances.

There is one being held, a solo.

You glance at the dancer, and they look around the crowd. You think there are your two missing clubmates, and beckon Rollo over.

“Hey, there are—”

…

Your surprise silences you.

Rollo stays planted on the ground, eyes on the dancing girl with something like awe. You know that look. You caught a glimpse of it many times on the surface of the glass in student consul’s showcases; your face, so desperately stretching in a soft smile, not to look suspicious.

For the first time, you didn't like the idea of love at first sight.

…

You know where it’s time to step out. Many negotiations you held with people on behalf of students of NBC sensitised you to their expectations and what you should do.

You smile weakly, before gently tapping Rollo on his arm. “I… will get going.”

But Rollo, amazingly, has already shaken off from mysterious enchantment. If you could only do so as easily, permanently. “Are you sick?” He asks, and when you avoid his eyes, his tone voice drops half a tone. “What happened?”

“Nothing, it’s… Can… I… just go?”

“What happened?” Rollo repeats. His eyes scan you, the first time quickly, and when he doesn’t find anything visible, he gets more alarmed, actually looking stiff. “Did you actually burn yourself? I told you to be careful.”

You don’t know what to tell him but start with a measurement that doesn’t bring him any relief.

“It’s not that, Rollo. I…”

“Do tell.” He insists, although if you said a word, you know he wouldn’t question you any more about this. But he would find out in some other way, and he might think you don’t trust him enough - and this implication you really want to avoid - and… “Tell me.”

…And you want to believe that he’s worried for you.

You stare at the ground, and clasp your hands behind your back once you notice their subtle shaking. Why are you reacting this way? Ahh… “I just don’t enjoy dancing. I think I will just return to school and finish organizing the documents…”

“You’ve always liked to see people dance though.”

So he has noticed.

“I don’t have a talent to dance myself.”

“You just need to learn,” he says, his tone softer than you’ve ever heard him. And as you’ve been listening to his voice o lot, you think you might’ve imagined it. Rollo glances at his watch and urges you to come with him. “It’s almost time to ring the bell. Let’s go. I will help you.”

…

You don’t like climbing the bell tower, and going up hundreds of steps isn’t something easy even with Rollo as your motivation. It’s the anxiety that keeps you going.

“I didn't buy the enchantment, though,” you break the silence, and Rollo looks over his shoulder. He is one step in front of you, and he probably slowed his pace to let you catch up to him easily. He’s a master of climbing stairs and ladders after all. “To dance. The bell won’t do anything if… I don’t have any magic on me, no?”

“Don't depend on these kinds of things,” he grumbles. “If you do, you will never achieve anything. For example, if you drank the potion, of course, you'd know how to dance. But just for tonight.”

You question his motivational quote. “But isn't the magic helpful sometimes?”

“It makes one fully depend on it.”

And the conversation ends here because you’ve reached the top platform. Rollo opens the trapdoor and holds it for you. As you step out, you’re immediately hit with a breeze of cold air, but it’s more kind of refreshing than freezing.

Once the trapdoor is closed, Rollo awaits, frozen for a clock-measured minute and three seconds.

And then he rings the bell. It takes much force to move it, and you are almost sure Rollo doesn’t even boost his strength with magic. But, what’s unexpected, this one time he uses magic to repeat the movements of the bell and have it ring on its own.

DING- DONG.

DING- DONG.

DING- DONG.

He leaves it to ring at the same tempo and turns to you. The magical earplugs in your ears only moderately muffle the sound of the bell. No music from the Topsy-Turvy Event Hall reaches you anymore. You can only hear the rings clearly, and wouldn't hear Rollo if he said anything.

He doesn't even try to, and without even a shred of a smile, he takes your hand in his.

DING- DONG.

His right hand wraps around your waist, and the fingers of the left one intertwine with yours. He stands taller than you, mighty, righteous. His gaze lingers on you as if he judges you.

It’s never a fair judgement, because the slightly offbeat of his heart drives his reason senseless.

He takes the first step to the back, and you follow along.

DING- DONG.

Rollo's movements are fluid and graceful, yet precise and purposeful. He leads you with ease, his body guiding yours. Waltz is a dance that emphasises the partnership, but with you not knowing the steps, it feels to you like some sort of majestic tango.

You’re overpowered within the first seconds of dance.

DING- DONG.

DING- DONG.

Step, step, DING, turn, step, turn, DONG.

You know your cheeks are flushed, and you blame the height and cold wind for it. Maybe it is a tiring dance, and you believe it’s acceptable to be this tired yet happy if you are dancing for all of eternity. It feels like the bell started to strike the omnipresent tempo a lifetime ago.

Rollo knows when your waltz-tango should end. He stops the chime with a fluid movement of his hand, magic stopping the well-kept rhythm from a bell.

BA-DUM, BA-DUM.

Your heart maintains the tempo. Even if each beat is strong and loud, you worry about how it will come to a halt at any second.

“I’m surprised,” he starts, sounding unsurprised but kind…-ish, “that you aren’t in a dance-related club yet.”

You cock your head to the side. “Is this a… sarcasm?”

“No. I think that musical-related things would suit you better. You could dance on that grand stage we approached earlier.”

“Like that girl?”

Rollo frowns. “What girl?”

…He doesn’t remember? How could anyone forget for a second about a person one has fallen for? You couldn’t. You can’t. You’re dumbfounded.

“A dancer. On a stage. Today.” Rollo looks more confused with each suggestion. “She was dancing to a… fast music in a flowy dress?”

“Ah,” finally, recognition sparkles in his eyes. A wave of relief is followed by anxiety, but Rollo shrugs your both overwhelms off, with a flick of his hand. “Yes, like her or… even better. The piece she danced to would fit you if you only embrace your passion. I think your performance would be more dreamy.”

You chuckle.

“If I would do that, what would you do without me in the student council club?” By this slight teasing, Rollo stiffens a little. You place your hand on your chest. “But as your right hand, you can’t get rid of me so easily.”

You swear you see him smiling subtly, and it’s no trick of light.

“As my right hand, you have the power to do whatever you want.”

“Then I want to stay.”

“Hm,” Rollo ponders. As you notice his gaze, you feel as if he’s contemplating which future holds the best fate for you. He lowers his eyelids, sighing slightly. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” you smile. “But if I hold any power like you say, I would like to use it to have you dance with me again.”

“Strange request,” he says curtly but doesn’t deny your request. His follow-up question makes your chest fill with warmth. “Do you know any dances? Except for waltz,” he says as if you could call your ‘waltz’ anything other than pretending to know how to dance.

“Macarena?” You suggest and he looks at you sceptically. In response, you flash him a bashful smile. “No?”

He sighs but takes your hands in his.

“Let me teach you, then,” he says, slowly. “Let’s start with a proper greeting,” but his greeting isn’t proper, because he doesn’t look at you. Because he avoids your gaze, you can have a shameless view on his red face, that must match the temperature with his quickly warming up hands. You always thought Rollo’s hands were cold, until this moment. “An elegant bow…”

He bows and you lift the brim of your skirt in response, trying to copy the fluidity of the curtsy.

He brings your hand up so carefully as if it is made from the thinnest glass, and presses his lips to your knuckles. So cliche, so old-fashioned, but chivalry isn’t dead as it fills you with energy, surprise and some embarrassment that makes you want to live this moment forever. “And a kiss.”

“Now I’m charmed,” You laugh softly, a smile on your face, yet you were mentally prepared to faint. You wonder if doctors would detect you lovesick if your heart actually stopped. “What’s after that?”

Rollo glances up at you, his eyes brighter than ever. He brings you closer to him.

“Let’s talk about rhythm.”

Unique Kisses: Rollo, Che'nya, Neige

Heartslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

Rollo F. (no kisses)

“May I have a kiss, please? A kind word? Any form of attention?”

“Rather not.” 

Rollo does not lift his gaze from his book. He sits too far away for you to read the title — you're separated by the whole length of the coffee table on which the service with the steaming tea stands — but you wouldn't be surprised if he was reading something religious.

You have no desire to return to the Victorian romance, a heavy volume that spreads across your lap. Yet, there are twenty-five minutes left until the end of your reading hour, a meeting you arrange every day because books are cool. You feel like you will die of boredom in three.

Maybe not from boredom, but because of something that makes you unable to focus on the present moment. You feel bad about tearing your lover away from his reading, but finally, with a heavy heart, you get up, walk around the table and sit next to him.

Your thighs touch and you let your head fall against Rollo's warm shoulder.

Immediately, you feel a little better.

“What are you doing?” Rollo doesn't seem to share your enthusiasm. He tilts his head so he can measure you with his eyes. If you looked at him even briefly, you would notice that his eyebrows have dropped slightly in an expression of concern, and his gaze has become investigative, piercing.

You sigh slightly in response, too listless to lift your eyelids, and unwittingly play with the soft tassels of his outfit.

“Please, let's do something else. The weather is so nice today...!” Your plea resembles the lament of a preschooler, especially when you bury your face in his shoulder. By that, some tension from Rollo escapes. He takes his eyes off you.

“I'd rather finish the book.”

“Then at least let me stay here, by your side. I feel extremely lonely today.”

You squeeze even more into his shoulder, warming yourself a little. His rochet-styled uniform wears the distinctive scent of incense, honey and disappointment, a perfume that is even more charming in a room that smells of tea and books. You let yourself inhale it until Rollo puts his hand on your head.

And now, you are distracted.

“Did something happen today?” He asks in a quiet, noticeably caring voice. You often hear a similar tone at night when you two return from evening prayer — whether you go there for God or for him — and Rollo is more inclined to care about everyone. Now all his attention is on you. You are a tad too intimidated and tired to respond. You only shake your head. “Well. Then let's go for a walk.”

That instantly enlivens you.

“Re... Really? You're not joking?!” You need confirmation because Rollo Flamm seldom changes his plans. You've already spent so much time with him that you can't imagine him missing a lesson for no more important reason than a bad morning attitude. And you considered yourself to be a rather imaginative person.

“You should already be aware of my lack of humour.”

You are. The little threads of romance in his body must have awakened, and you feel almost guilty for labelling him as the stiffest student in NBC. And since Rollo is being so gracious today...

“Then, can we hold hands?”

Your question throws him off balance, and you are ready to call off your request when he suddenly starts correcting the folds of his outfit to distract you and focus on staying carefree.

“...I apologize, but I might need some more time. I need to get accustomed to all that… romantic...” He starts, but then you grab his hand. The words of protest die on his tongue. He swallows the remnants of them as he grunts. “Alright. At least you won't get lost.”

(...No kissing before the wedding, though). /hj

Che'nya (insufficient kisses)

“Strawberry.”

“No.”

“Raspberry then.”

“Also no. But you're almost there.”

Che'nya presses his lips to yours for the eighth time, and you cover the label of the drink you're holding in your hands even more tightly.

Your boyfriend has decided he can guess the taste of the orangeade you're drinking. You think he knew exactly what you were drinking from the third kiss: you shared a favourite range of fizzy drinks, and there was never any indication that you intended to change it. Che'nya would have forced you to convert back if such a thing ever happened.

“Hm~” Your boyfriend hums under his breath as he moves away from your face. When you look at him unmoved, he smiles broadly. “Cher- Chestnut”.

“Duh, you already know the answer.”

“So it's a Cherchestnut?”

You sigh, and Che'nya’s smile spreads even further across his face. His white teeth flash softly as if he hasn't eaten the entire basket of cakes you baked for him and his friends' first thing in the morning.

“Now you're just being mean,” you cross your arms to have Che'nya feel accused. He leans back in his seat, and his smile does not disappear from his face.

“Am I?”

“Aren't you?”

“If I were so sweetened by your presence that my senses were going mad, would my mistakes be ‘mean’ too?” When he says this, he sits up straight and leans beside you. He takes two steps onto the bench and sinks down into your lap, facing up — and by that — facing you.

He reaches out to touch the locks of your hair falling towards him.

“Are you a madman yet?” You ask, leaning towards him with your lips pressed together in a line.

“Am I? Or am I not? Who are we all anyway?”

“I know you're an annoying boyfriend. I don't like you from now on. Oh from now on, I don't like you,” you snap your fingers, and Che'nya smiles broadly. You try to push him off your lap, but he gracefully turns before you manage to do so and then wraps his arms tightly around you.

“My love will cover the two of us,” here he places his hands on both your cheeks and kisses the corner of your mouth. You try to swat him, but then he starts to disappear. His lips and words remain last with you. “But now it is time to withdraw. I feel a strong antagonism towards me here, and I shall take my leave.”

Neige L. (the most common in a world of uncommon kisses)

Neige loves kisses.

For this reason, you find it hard to believe that he can't write a few sentences about them on his Magicam. You don't know how to prove it, though, because Neige has photos — beautiful footage from a recent photo shoot revolving around the theme of picnic and spring — that he needed to publish soon. They were now lingering in his gallery on his phone, waiting for Neige’s inspiration to strike.

“If I wasn't here, would you also have such a problem with a short description?” Your question sounded like an insincere accusation, to which Neige replied with a smile.

He had long since put his phone away in his bag. He always put it away when he wanted to give you one hundred per cent of his attention, but the subject of the photo kept hovering over the two of you because your boyfriend said he needed inspiration.

Every inspiration follows experience.

You're ready to help him any time, but not joshing with him first.

“I wouldn't write about them then. I would come up with something about spring or beauty...” He says, peering out of the wide window of his room. The view is lovely, full of greenery. Spring is coming. “But now that I have you, I can write about something as beautiful as love.”

“...Poser.”

Although that's the title you hail him with, Neige no longer responds. He cannot divide his attention, and what occupies him now is you, your face, your beautiful sparkling eyes, the shape of your ears, the lobes of which he runs his fingers over until they reach your jawline. There they stop as his attention shifts again: to your lips, the soft, smooth lips that he loves to kiss so much. And he kisses them, and everything around him loses meaning.

...

“How did it feel?” He asks, pulling you back onto the sofa. You sigh lightly.

“Is that survey to create an ideal description for the photo?”

“That's for me too. For contemplation.”

Neige looks at you with anticipation. When he sees that you need to think, he takes his eyes off you and pours fruit tea into the two cups in front of you, on the coffee table bordering a sofa.

“I don't know how to describe them. Either way, it's your job to think of something, so don't dump it on me,” you finally state, picking up the cup you've been given. You take a sip and decide to deflect the question. “And how do you feel, Neige?”

“Indescribably,” he says as he can't describe it either. Neige puts his hand over his heart and when he looks you straight in the eye, you are perfectly able to pinpoint why his fans love him so much - he looks princely. Neige sighs quietly. “I think I'm going to have to go with this spring because I don't know how to describe all the things that are bubbling up in my chest. I'll have to think about it longer.”

You pat him on the shoulder.

“Good luck with that. If you don't come up with any ideas, I can link you some fanfictions with nice descriptions.”

“Thank you, they will come in handy.”

“...They can be works with you, right?”

“...Ah.”

How to win the heart of jack how?

How to win a heart of Jack Howl?

a/n: Dearest Anon, I hope you are still here. I tried my best to write a good story. I hope you and every other reader will enjoy it!!

1. Get him to act as your boyfriend.

You don't know who that boy from Savanaclaw is, but at the moment, you can't care.

Your step hastens unwittingly, and you find yourself running towards the white-haired boy in a gymnastics shirt. He must be returning from daily training because even Mr Vargas doesn't torture his students so early in the morning. You glance at him once more, and you're sure that he will be a perfect fit for a plan you got into.

His ears twitch at the sound of your resilient steps, and he sharply turns your way before you bump into him. Of course, you would have slowed your pace and avoided any accident, but he catches your arms and stops you abruptly. You wonder how strong he may be if he didn't even budge.

"Uh... [Last Name]-senpai...?"

He looks at you with a slightly concerned look.

Oh, so he does know you? Wonderful.

"Hello there," you breathe out, gently getting out of his arms. You hope that being so winded doesn't leave a terribly unfortunate impression. "I… I know that we hadn't really talked with each other—yet—but I would… really, really appreciate it if you could help me with something."

A boy glances at you with vary.

You consider yourself lucky that he doesn't brush you off.

"…What do you need me for?"

You put on the most charming smile you can afford.

"It will sound really stupid, but… could you please act as my boyfriend? Be my fake date?"

…

"What?" A boy stutters the question. Before you can answer, he scrutinizes your surroundings. "Is someone stalking you?"

You shake your head energetically.

"No, no. I… just got into a bet with my cousin. And, well, to summarize the two-hour talk I may have told her that I will bring my boyfriend to a family dinner…" You watch how his expression changes slightly. Falls. "…But, obviously, I wouldn't drag anyone to my house. So, I was thinking about going with someone there and ' breaking up' in a few days. Oh, and I- I can pay you for your help!"

Your hands link in a plea.

"I-" Jack can't find any words he could offer you. Should he help you or just leave…? "[Last Name]-senpai, I really don't know what to say…" He trails off. "…Why me?"

His question animated you. You throw your hands in the air and wave in his general direction.

"I mean, look at you!" You exclaim, hoping a great amount of enthusiasm in your voice will work in your favour. "You seem like a hot, reliable guy. Kind. Charismatic."

Jack looks stunned. "Ah? W… What…?"

"You look exactly like the person I described to my parents!" You don't stop talking. His sudden bashfulness makes you speak even more confidently. "Please, if you aren't dating anyone right now, help me!"

…

Jack's eyes are avoiding yours as he scratches his nape. The silence stretches between you two, and you feel your heart sinking with regret each quiet second.

But then he coughs.

"…I don't like this idea," he mumbles, and his gaze meets yours. You notice the rosiness on his cheeks. The blush probably appeared because of the awkwardness of this situation and not because of a sudden crush on you, though. A pity. "But you look… desperate. You've got the spirit, and I will have you in debt. So… I will try helping you."

"Ah!"

You can't hide the smile that spreads on your face. You jump to Jack and pull him into a tight hug. He tenses under your sudden touch and lightly tries to push you off.

"Thank you so much…!" You cry out. After wiping a dramatic tear, you step back from him. You lower your head when you feel your face heating slightly in shame. "So… What is your name?"

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

2. He's still not convinced. Do something.

The bright screen of his phone has his undivided attention. A beautiful moon in the sky is already forgotten even as it's dazzling in its full beauty tonight.

His eyes skim through the chat. The last message you sent was dated five hours ago, and he hasn't been able to push it to the back of his mind. It still clung to him when he listened to lectures and exercised. Now, when he had done everything he had planned for today, and it was getting dark, he can't stop from pondering.

He scrolled to a top of a chat and began going over the conversation for the tenth time.

Chat: [Name] sent you an invitation. Accept to friends?

Chat: Jack accepted an invitation. You're friends now!

[Name]: Hi Jack!!

[Name]: Thank you so much again for agreeing to such a weird deal hahaha

[Name]: Can we meet tomorrow during lunch break to talk about it?

[Jack]: Sure

[Name]: [happy sticker sent]

…Should he regret his decision? But, if he was to turn down your offer, you would have a serious problem, no? Maybe that's what you should get for lying—a lie always has short legs—but…

Jack can't bring himself up to call the whole thing off.

It's not because he is too shy to walk away from that situation. Maybe he doesn't want to leave you by yourself since you picked him from over three hundred students in NRC. And maybe he likes helping people. And your help - he has you in debt, hm - in his studies might be crucial in the future.

Or so he hopes.

Ping!

His heart skips a surprised beat when a sudden message appears after the sticker message.

[Name]: …I see you are still online

[Name]: Can't stop thinking about that chat? Hehe

Jack's fingers hover over the screen before he types a reply.

Jack: I can.

He lied.

Jack: That all just happened so quickly

[Name]: After sleeping, you might feel easier with that idea

[Name]: Tbh I doubt I will be able to sleep right now

[Name]: Soooo

[Name]: Wanna play something?

He doesn't even have a short moment to consider your offer before another notification pops up.

Chat: [Name] invited you to play a game of UNO CARD. Click here to join in!

…

Jack sighs.

And taps the link.

He will go to sleep soon. He can't miss his morning training, after all.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

3. Be a helpful upperclassman.

"Ah. It's that vending machine."

"[Name]-senpai…"

You lean against the cold metal, and Jack slowly looks at you. He heard your steps but didn't react until you made your presence too obvious to ignore. You smile cheerfully at him, not minding the stiffness he treats you with.

"Just [Name], Jack-kouhai," you tease and take two steps to stand next to him, facing the front of a vending machine. Behind the glass, colourful cans reflect the bright lights of corridors' chandeliers. "I see you have a problem here."

There is a bottle of pear-flavoured water trapped between the glass and a lower shelf, where lay packs of biscuit cookies. It doesn't seem to be stuck too hard to give up hope of getting it out, but neither are the other items on the machine. Everything is attached too loosely.

You believe that if you tried to tilt the whole thing, a bottle wouldn't be the only thing that would fall down.

"There are three ways you can get out your precious water, Jack," you hold three fingers in front of him. "You can buy something from a higher shelf—but both things can get stuck—you can punch the machine (gently, Jack, gently), or try reaching that bottle from below… Although it will hurt when you try to squeeze your arm through the window you usually take your drink from," you count solutions on your hand as you talk and then smile at Jack with anticipation.

"…I will go with buying something else, then." He looks like he'd rather give up on the water but still pats his pockets and takes another coin from his pocket. "…I don't have enough to buy anything more right now... Can you wait here while I go for my wallet?"

"No! …Can I have your change?"

…Well. With a grunt that resembles a resigned sigh, he hands you a coin.

You put it in the machine, along with several more you had on yourself, and tap a button next to the big pack of jellies on the highest shelf. With a soft clack! candy lands on a bottle, and with a hard crash, it makes it to the end. With a bottle.

It feels like a big victory when you squat to take both items out.

"We won!" You announce, throwing him his water, and then spare no time to open the jellies. "You can take half of them," As you shift the pack toward him, Jack hesitatingly takes a handful. You grin. "See? Having such a great upperclassman as me is an ultimate investment in life."

"Is that so," Jack ponders. ...Somehow, he feels entertained by your show. If you 'asked out' Ace Trappola instead of him, he would be your perfect partner in this kind of antics. "By the way, senpai, could you check an essay I've done? I need to turn it in tomorrow. That would be even more helpful than help with a vending machine."

The look he gives you says that he doesn't think you can correct his work to make it score top marks. You know you can't do that too.

"……..Heh."

So much for trying to be a helpful senpai.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

4. Get to know him.

"Do I really need to answer these questions?" Jack sounds concerned, and you can't help but chuckle at the hesitance in his voice. "They are weird…"

You take a sip of your drink. It is sour but in a very pleasant way. Well, you couldn't really expect less from the special item on a Monstro Lounge's menu. Even the occasional, time-limited and experimental dishes are quite tasteful here.

Jack sits across you, with his arms crossed as he studies the two-paged paper quiz you handed him. At his left, there is a glass of refreshing lemonade you insisted on paying for. Your fake-and-still-unsure boyfriend in question hasn't left yet, so you guess that treating him was a great idea.

"It's an instant way to know someone. I came up with the idea."

"That's the matter…"

He almost scowls, and you grin at the statement.

"We need to know some basics about ourselves. I wrote my questions for you on this sheet of paper," you point at a thin file in front of him, and shift another one in his direction. "And you can write anything you want to ask me here."

Hm.

Jack isn't sure if he wants to know anything particular about you. Anything more.

"…Okay," he replies, eyeing you carefully. Then, with a pen in his hand, he begins to write his questions for you.

It takes him several minutes to fill the page. When he hands it to you, his firm, right-slanting handwriting flashes at you. Your lips curve as you note that it fits him very much.

But then you start reading the questions.

And your smile drops.

"I can't answer these questions, Jack," you protest, and Jack squints his eyes at you in confusion. "I have no clue about the names of the muscles I focused on when we had a Vargas Camp," At your comment, he starts deflating, and you pause in a second. And then, after rereading the questions again, you pout sulkily. "…Couldn't you ask anything about my great personality?"

"…Then, is there anything I need to know before 'dating' you?" Jack scratches his neck, dropping his gaze at a lemonade before him.

"Now you make it sound as if I was dangerous," you laugh, but you can feel how your voice is a little strained. Just a little bit. "Either way, I won't tell you! You're getting me in a two-in-one special: you get precious me and my darkest secrets. It's a great deal."

"It's not."

You wave your hand as his response is as if it was physically brushed away. "The real question is: do I need to know anything about you?"

Jack huffs, but when he closes his eyes, you know he thinks about it seriously. It doesn't take a long while for him to speak up again.

"I think… I'm a pretty normal guy," he says and looks at you as if he wanted your reassurance. Your mouth 'no', and by the glance he sends you, you know how unimpressed he is. "I might not reach high standards if you or your family have any."

If he was sitting next to you, you would pat his arm, but you can only playfully step on his shoe under the table. You tap it twice, and when Jack looks up at you, a full grin plasters on your face.

You laugh. "You're good to go. I think you are more than living up to my parents' unfounded low expectations of my boyfriend."

"…Now I wonder why so."

"And you will keep on wondering. You won't ever hear this story~." You hum. "Well. Maybe one day."

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

5. Have faith in yourself. (It doesn't need to be justified).

"Now we turn left…"

"It's on the right."

"It's left."

"Right!"

"It's left."

"It can't be left! On the left we have mandragoras..."

"We just passed the alley where they were, [Name]."

Jack sighs. Moving around the botanical garden shouldn't be this hard. You two have been there many times, but now the corridors stopped looking familiar as new roots started taking over the paths. It was a time for flowers to blossom.

Going there was a mistake. You can't even remember what were you going to search for here, but if you asked Jack, he would probably remember.

You don't want to ask him, though.

"Well, you can go right, and I will go left," you huff, crossing your arms. "We will see who will get out of here before the lunch break ends."

You turn around on your heel, and as you step to the left aisle, Jack catches you by the back of your shirt's collar and quickly jumps next to you. Then, by standing back to you, he grabs your arms from behind and pushes you forward. You began taking shaky steps towards the right alley.

"No," says Jack. "We will have a joint PE lesson. Both of us need to eat something before that. Let me guide, [Name]."

"I don't have a choice anyway," you note that although his grip on your arms is steady and would be hard to break out from, it isn't painful. It's almost gentle as he forces you to go ahead. "And don't assume I don't know the way…!"

"I hear the voices of others. I will find an exit faster," he says. "Bear with me, and we'll get out of there."

"…If we don't, you will have to admit publically that your sense of orientation sucks."

"Then, shouldn't you do the same if my lead is correct?"

You slowly start to recognize the plants and where you two were.

He is guiding you correctly.

"…No."

Jack hums, and you can tell he's amused by the disappointment in your voice.

"Then I will keep it a secret to myself."

"I have a great sense of orientation, just- not today!" You protest as you tug on his sleeve. He doesn't stop pushing you so slightly to guide you two to the exit. "Don't remember this kind of lies, Jack."

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6. Cheer on him.

"Here's water."

"Thanks."

Jack takes cold water and sits down next to you. A bench is sturdy enough that it doesn't squeak, even as you sit in the middle of it. With no problem, he takes off a cap you struggled with—he doesn't need to know this, however—and quenches his thirst.

He also accepts the towel your hand him with "thanks".

"You are going to have a match with RSA in two weeks, right?" Your question sounds more like a statement. Jack wonders if you would show up at his training if it wasn't for it.

"Yeah."

"Our school will have a whole day without lessons just to watch it."

Jack nods.

Maybe if it wasn't RSA, it wouldn't be the deal it is now. But you can count only on one hand the NRC students who don't feel competitive when the academy is mentioned. Even the people who aren't going to play, behave as if they were going to, with their cheering and hyping each other.

Cheering… NRC students will have to prepare some banners to support their team. And practice the cheer itself. Probably Pomefiore students will have to engage. They might not be very interested in sports events, but they won't let RSA beat them in terms of aesthetics.

Maybe the strong rivalry isn't that bad at all.

"By the way…" You trail off and don't speak again until Jack looks at you. "Even though we will be cheering on your team, all of my cheers are dedicated to you."

"Khe-"

Oops.

Jack chokes on his water in surprise, but when you move with concern to pat his back, he moves away, coughing into the crook of his elbow, and putting up his other hand to stop you. He eventually stops choking and sighs deeply.

When he looks up, and when you get to see his face, you notice a faint blush on his cheeks. His eyes crinkle wary. "…Are you trying out a pick-up line?"

And you tried being encouraging.

"No! I wanted to be supportive!" You protest. "Would you like it to be a pick-up li-?"

"No thanks," he says curtly. Then, clears his throat, and after making sure he can hold your gaze, he starts paying attention to his voice, to not have the next words come out as a mutter. "…But thank you for being here."

…

You smile softly and can feel your heart warm up.

But you ruin the atmosphere as the mischievous grin spreads up your face and meets your eyes. "Are you trying out a pick-up line, hehe? Don't look at me like that. I would very much like it to be."

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

7. Have fake dates.

"Did you know that couples usually post some photos from their dates?"

You don't look up from your screen when you say it. Jack glances at you, who has been coming to his room whenever you had a chance. You started taking his bed as yours. He always grunts as you do so, but you noticed that a blanket you brought with you on a colder day is always folded and overhanging the headboard.

"What do you mean?" He asks, not stopping flexing his arm with the dumbbell. You turn the screen of your phone towards him, showing a Magicam profile of a girl he doesn't know.

"Like, uh. We should get some material to convince everyone that our relationship is very entertaining," you say, scrolling through the posts.

There are lots of pictures of said girl and her boyfriend. From amusement parks, oceanariums, festivals, bookstores, restaurants… You look at Jack as you got to the last image. "They look happy. And enamoured with each other."

Jack thinks about something.

"Do you think just posting photos is enough to prove the 'trueness' of our relationship?"

You grin. "That will convince introverts. All the people who didn't see us."

Jack actually laughs. "Right," he says, and as his voice steadies, he returns to doing his exercises. As you think the topic is ended, Jack speaks up so quietly that he almost mouths his words. "Then we can get… a few."

His eyes are intensely glued to the floor when you look at him.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

8. Talk about the rules. (Find out whether you can fake a kiss. (Fake kiss?)

"Are we ready?"

Jack asks, for the last time correcting the cuffs of his shirt. A suit he picked fits him; it's similar to the uniform he wears every day, but it's even more elegant. He leaves it unbuttoned, and whether he was wearing a tie, it would cover the little buttons of a white shirt he wears underneath.

He doesn't, though, but you don't say anything. You can't really say anything, because he looks so astonishing that something similar to awe grips your throat. Jack looks gorgeous. Not only in very classic clothes but also freshened up. His hair is puffier than usual, and you would love to play with it if it would ruin its tidiness.

You also dressed yourself up. You thought you were unusually pretty tonight, more than ever.

Jack doesn't agree but doesn't deny it either. He just stares at you, and by the way, his chest expands and stops, you start to wonder if he stopped breathing.

But he finally breathes out, and you don't dare to check if he has a desired blush on his cheeks or not.

You start walking toward the hall of mirrors, where one could take you back to your family home. Your home.

"Once again, leave all the questions related to romance up to me," you say, winking at him. "I read so much fanfiction I can come up with a realistic, heartwarming backstory of our relationship immediately."

"Don't tell them anything weird."

He says so, and you chuckle.

"They will probably tease us, so don't be shy to ignore them," you continue. By the time, you are standing before a big mirror. Its surface shines brightly, and in a brief moment, an image of your hometown is already displayed. Your house is close, very close. "And… just be yourself, you're charming."

"…If you say so," Jack says. He looks as if he wanted to say something, and you wait before he speaks up with hesitation. "Shall we hold hands?"

…

You didn't expect that.

But you aren't going to refuse.

You intertwine your fingers with his and grin. Your heartbeat rises once more again, and you know, that it won't slow down until you return back. Jack squeezes your hand back.

"Next step in our relationship, I see," you say with a smile. "You have warm hands."

You stand there for just a little while, stopping Jack from going through the mirror, but it's too long as another thought crosses your mind.

"Wait. Do you think they will ask us to kiss?" Stupid you, stupid you, stupid you, stop talking, stop talking, stop talking, laugh to cover the awkwardness and throw the topic away. You laugh. "No. They wouldn't. Never mind, don't think about that."

Now you try to go through the mirror. Jack's hand, which still holds yours, stops you midway. You have no choice but to look up at him and confront the gaze he wishes you didn't see.

"…If the situation will be tragic enough, we can do it," he says and coughs. "But it might be awkward, but I don't think I could fake a kiss."

"Neither could I," my chest will explode in a moment, you note. Somehow, you grin with mischief, but it isn't as malicious as you wished it to be. "So our very unfakeable kiss would convince everyone."

"Stop wishing for it to happen."

"I haven't been wishing! But well, maybe I might start doing so. Someday. Sometimes. Ah, let's just go!"

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

9. Lose the previous reason to date.

The dinner went well.

You never once regretted choosing Jack as your partner in crime, but now you were so proud of yourself, as your mother talked happily with Jack, and dad listened to their conversation, sometimes commenting.

Your cousin was actually convinced about your relationship with Jack. She even offered to have a double date and recommended places interesting enough to have memorable dates. She felt happy for you, and it was warming your heart but also freezing it by turns.

You had to politely brush all her offers off because… Well, Jack agreed to be your date until today.

You've been painfully aware of it, as Jack's hand holds yours since you left your house.

Even when you got to the mirror, where no one from your family could see you anymore… Even when you got back to school, your hands were still linked, but you didn't want to point it out. Jack could have backed out and it was the last thing you wanted.

But everything must have an end.

"Thank you," you breathe and smile slightly at him. Looking him straight into the eyes beyond your strength. You part your hands very slowly before you turn to get to your dormitory. "Goodnight, Jack."

…

As Jack turns and walks back to his dormitory, he can't help but think about a single thing. Even the dinner he was stressing about him the whole day has been already forgotten.

The next morning you will wake up, and you two "won't be together".

Jack scowls.

If you ever have been.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

10. End the play.

"Thank you for your hard work~," you smile cheerfully when getting to his room. For the last time as a "partner", if you still hold that title. You put a glass bottle on his desk. "I've got you a pear compote, so you won't have the heart to throw it out."

"I… wouldn't do anything like that even if it wasn't it," Jack says, and doesn't move away when you sit on the bed next to him. He can smell the light perfumes you wore today and almost feels the warmth of your body, sitting so close to him.

There is a silence between you before you decide to break it.

"So… that's it, huh?"

You smile, and something in Jack breaks again. He feels as if was falling, but expected the fall itself… Since he met you properly, he knew you will part your days in a few weeks.

But if he could lengthen the time…

Even if it meant sacrificing the part of his pride…

He would try anything.

His face is covered with blushes, and his mouth twists with embarrassment when he notices how lame is the only excuse he can come up with now.

"Can-" He doesn't stutter but fights with his words. How can he say what he wants so you will understand? "Can we pretend for a little more? I'm sorry, but I told my mother that I have a partner, and she's excited to see you."

…

"So a next dinner!" Your hands clasp with enthusiasm, but you know you need to hold them to stop them from shaking. You need to keep calm and be a cool senpai. "Then, we are continuing our fake dating, hehe?"

Jack purses his lips, and to your surprise, he aggressively shakes his head.

"We can't. She will know if it's fake," he says in a dead-serious tone. Your mouth curls in a smile you try to cover with your hand.

"So we should be serious," you conclude, imitating the voice Jack used just before. And then you stand up from bed and make your way so that you are just before him. You put your hands on your sides. "But I am waiting for a proper confession."

Jack sighs softly.

"…You're making this hard for me," he says, but stands up. The morning rays of sunlight come through the window and enlighten his figure. His eyes shine with gold, and somehow you can't look away from them."…And it's weird because I wouldn't like it if you stopped complicating things." He puts his hand over his heart. "I simply want to stay by your side, now and… in the future… That's the only thing I wish now."

I just want to share a very wholesome moment that just happened to me.

First of all, I didn't get Idia's Broomquet Birthday card. I don't think I will get it this year as I can't even buy any gems: Google Play blocks me from purchasing it in my country and I've been too lazy to check weekly tasks before the announcement of Glorious Masquerade.

My 10-year-old sister was with me when I was pulling for Idia. When she saw he didn't return, she made a cute sticker of him for me (created with baking paper and tape).

...I can't stop smiling. Now, I have it attached with a little piece of tape on a wall bordering my desk. 💙 20.12.2022 update: I GOT HIM!! 😭💕💕

Thank you for reading the "Unique Kisses" series!! I loved writing it (although some scenarios, mostly Diasomnia ones, are too messily written), and I might write a part with Neige, Che'nya and Rollo (oh, how much I like him ahh) as well! If I get an idea maybe I will do a little series again. 💙

I will continue working on the "how to win a heart of" series now! :D

Unique Kisses: Diasomnia!

Heartslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore|| Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

Malleus D. (classic kisses)

“Are you afraid of me?”

It's a question Malleus loves to ask. 

He doesn't get tired of your head movement when you look at him from under your lashes or the way you pout at him. Your answer hasn't changed since the first time he asked you. You don’t think it would ever change. You can’t imagine a situation that would make you fear him.

“No,” you reply, looking into his emerald eyes. These glow with delight, after that one word. “Why do you keep asking this, Malleus?”

A cold wind blows through your hair, and you look at the tree branches moving in the distance. Even from the roof, they seem tall, but they are all surpassed by the moon, which was high in the sky. It shines brightly, giving you and Malleus picturesque shadows.

His hair seems to have silver flashes as he puts a hand to his chin and ponders. 

“It’s very intriguing,” he says, laughing in his low voice. He narrows his eyes smugly and takes a step closer to you. You have to raise your head slightly to continue looking into his eyes. He smiles. “Not many people would dare say that to my face. Or is it just extraordinary bravado or thoughtlessness?”

“You're much harder to be afraid of since I met Gao-gao kun,'' you admit, lowering your gaze. You feel the weight of Malleus' hand gently trailing your hair. “And since you always come to my invitations... You know, you are a nice person. Sometimes old-fashioned, but it’s cool.”

Malleus laughs again.

“If not courage, then it's an enchantment,” he says in such a way that you don’t know if you should explain yourself to him. “Could it be that you have cast some spell on me that I don't know about?”

It is otherwise impossible for you to be so charming.

Yet you stand before him and he wants to keep you by his side. He would not have given you up for anyone else.

His hand find its way to your chin and gently lift your head. You have a full view of Malleus, who is smiling — although, when you think of it now, you had seen him happier and happier more often over the past few months.

You are only partly prepared for the moment when he leans over and kisses you.

…

Malleus hadn't had many opportunities to make friends and much fewer chances to meet potential lovers.

He shouldn't be able to kiss so well.

He is a quick learner. If you asked him how it was that (to his blunt satisfaction) every kiss takes the breath out of you, he would have replied that the secret lays in analysis and observation and that every time he bites your lip is another attempt to reach perfection.

Malleus likes to keep you close to him. You appreciate it, especially on cold evenings. Finally, he slides his fingers down until they stop at your back. He put his arms around you; Malleus himself isn’t warm to the touch, but you like to think that you are warmed by him and not by the clothes that protect you from the cold wind.

“Hm... Do you think I would be able to cast an enchantment spell on you?”

“Who knows? You are a great surprise, [Name]. Although I believe your charm is natural.”

Lilia V. (sneaky kisses)

Is there anything more exciting than knowing that someone is about to kiss you?

According to Lilia, there is such a thing, and it is the awareness that only you of the two people needed for the kiss, know that it will happen in seconds. 

But you need to be sneaky to do so. The way you approach the person is the best part, second only to the action itself.

You wouldn't have spotted him near the ceiling even if you were alert. He is hiding on the chandeliers, shielded by numerous candles in case, you were going to look dreamily at the top of the room. You wouldn't have heard the sound of his heels against the wall, which he gracefully pushed away from as you turned into the next corridor.

And finally, you wouldn't have expected him as you stand in front of the door of your room, when your boyfriend falls from the sky, blocking your passage so quickly as if he was a malicious mirage. His hallucination — of a warm breath and a steadying hand on your cheek — moves close to you.

You don’t have time to blink, let alone catch your breath - Lilia knows this. But he isn't going to sabotage you with a lack of breath; instead, he bites your lip. You gasp, realizing who is before you.

After that, he doesn’t receive any gesture or a sound, from you; you stand straight, with your arms down at your sides, waiting for Lilia to move away. You give him the blankest stare you can afford.

“Aw, what a lack of response!” He comments on your attitude with a laugh.

You cross your arms over your chest and sigh quietly.

“You’re tempting me to not give it to you.”

Lilia giggles again. He finally lets you through the door and follows you into your room. You put your book bag down by a desk and lay down on your bed.

“Fufu~ No need to be so cold~,” Lilia says cheerfully, sitting down next to you. His feet don’t touch the ground and he lightly flutters them in the air. He finally lays down next to you, hugging you from behind. “You have to face the fact that there will now be more attempts to finally get the reaction I want from you.”

“Is this revenge for a failed, filled with-no-unpredictability kiss?”

“Keep telling that to yourself.”

Silver (corner kisses)

“You don't have to get up.”

“No, I... I promised to spend this afternoon with you... So I shouldn't be sleeping now....”

You laugh softly as you run your fingers through his hair and watch it flow seamlessly through your hands. The strands fall with a grace of fluff, and Silver, along with them, descended again from his semi-reclining position onto the grass. You lay down next to him, smelling the pungent scent of the grass, which was surprisingly not prickly.

“Napping together is also a type of date,” you whisper.

“Hmm? Ah...” He sighs quietly. Silver raises his hand to touch a strand of your hair, and uses his fingertips to caress your cheek. You smile, and Silver wants to be fully awake now more than before. “You should be more demanding.”

You laugh quietly.

“Someday I will and you will regret those words.”

“I don't believe it,” he replies smoothly, rolling gently to the side. He reached into his bag, which was lying under the tree. “What time is it? ...We have another class in half an hour.”

“I'll wake you up,” you promise, watching Silver's weariness set in again; you had already learned to recognise it: how his eyes squinted softly, the timbre of his voice lowered by half a tone and he seemed even more fairy-tale than usual. “...I can even wake you up with a kiss if you want to. Like in that book we read recently.”

Silver nodded.

“Sure…” He finally takes his eyes off you and closes them. You would have been sure he is already asleep, in those few seconds, until he speaks up again. “...But do we have to wait until after I fall asleep?”

You chuckle in agreement.

“Who knows, maybe you're already dreaming,” you lean over him. “And you're talking to me in your sleep... Silver, are you asleep?”

“...Yes.”

You don’t feel that this kiss is stiff when you press your lips to his. Maybe because you are already used to sleepy kisses, or maybe because Silver's skin is very soft and warm. 

You are also convinced that the kiss is reciprocated — who knows, maybe even extended by him. Before you can lean back, Silver lifts his hands and intertwines them behind your head. With a gentle movement, he brings you even closer to him and places a slow kiss on the corner of your mouth.

He smiles as you lightly brush back his fringe.

And then he closes his eyes, his hands slowly dropping to the grass. Traces of the smile remain on his face.

As well as on yours.

“I'll wake you up in twenty minutes, then…~”

Sebek (how does one kiss what)

Sebek looks like a gentleman, but he's one only in half.

His gallantry disappears when he is upset or frustrated — you can easily press both buttons by standing too close to him and asking him for a kiss. Whether you tap your cheek on the signal or ask for it verbally, his composure will break down.

“N... No! What are you thinking!?”

You don't have to be very observant to notice how his voice breaks at his protests and his face heats up.

“Please...? Please very much? One kiss?” You are far too close. Your hands found their way to the nape of his neck, where you lightly hang on to pull him closer. He gasps quietly as soon as he notices that he couldn't resist the gesture. His hands refuse to obey him as he tries to lift them. Were all the forces of nature now working in favour of his annoying human?

“Ugh!! Just one!” He huffs as if this agreement made a stain on his honour. You smile broadly, and the bold gaze told him that you would have taken a kiss from him even without permission.

If he had initiated the kiss, it would certainly have been gentler; every time (with a kind of distaste, he notices that) he feels the need to hold you close, the thought of human frailty crosses his mind. Sebek knows you are strong. But it's really hard for him to remember that when you're short of breath and your knees are bowed by the strength of the hand that's on your back pulling you towards him.

Today you are the brave one. Sebek doesn't know how to behave when you're the one taking control, so he just stands motionlessly and fairly tries to reciprocate the kiss. Under your lips, you could feel the stiffness of his lips slowly starting to engage in the action.

When you finally notice that glint in his eye and the returning seriousness on his face, and his embrace stabilises, you know it's time to pull away. This is the moment when he starts to enjoy the kiss, but you can't stop the urge to break the kiss and confront him with a difficult choice: shall he beg his favourite human not to pull away, stand on his own with the use of force or magic or pretend carelessness?

That evening, he will surely try to ask you for a kiss.

You can't wait to tease him about it.

“Thank you very much!” You say, turning hastily from him. The big clock on the wall shows that you still have plenty of time before the next class, but you decide to say goodbye to Sebek and run away from him before he regains his full self-control. 

If he does that, teasing him later won’t be as fun.

Your lips twitch as you take your sit. 

Now you're just waiting for him to come to you himself.

Unique Kisses: Ignihyde!

Heartslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

Idia S. <3 (pocky kisses)

With just a few words, an offer to dress up in his favourite idol's cosplay and getting a special stationary-sold merch, Idia succumbed to your suggestion to play a pocky game. Receiving these gifts, he felt as if he was selling his pride, but its purchaser was you, so... 

Idia would eventually propose the idea, but after reading some fan fiction, you had an irresistible urge to recreate this game and play it with your boyfriend.

Besides, you are sure he knows the rules perfectly.

His cheeks and hair flush a furious crimson colour. Idia is intimidated, but he doesn't even think about complaining, at least not honestly. His reaction pours an unusual doze of animus and bravery into your veins as you open the pocky box.

“Don't move,” you instruct surprisingly calmly, as you almost sit on his lap (again, since when are you so confident?). His computer chair squawks quietly and rolls back a few inches, but the distance between you and Idia stays the same.

Perfect. He can't get away.

“I... I know!" he chokes and holds his breath as you put your biscuit stick between your lips. You look at him, idly wondering if Idia will dare to play this game.

You had no great expectations, but he surprises you. He moved closer and takes a bite of the dainty, trying not to look at you from under his lashes. Too preoccupied with the biscuit separating you, he doesn't even taste the sweetness of chocolate.

Idia knows perfectly well that life isn't a game. If it was, however, a current moment would have to be a hidden scene, unlocked only by an absurd amount of affinity points.

When he plays, his heart never beats as fast as it does now, although Idia prides himself on knowing the gems among otome games.

The biscuit disappears. There is no piece left. No distance. The kiss you share is short but sweet in every sense of the word. Warm. Chocolatey. Have it lasted a while longer, kiss would taste like fruity orange you drank before.

Idia's hands clench on the fabric of your t-shirt, right at your sides. He wouldn't have been able to control the shaking of his hands any other way. Being so anxious, he needed to muster up courage not to move away. And he held out. He is still beside you. He doesn't want you to move away, he concludes as soon as you separate.

...Well.

Fortunately, there are still so many pocky flavours to try.

Ortho S. (cheek kisses)

“Would you like to know a secret?”

Ortho does his best not to frighten you as he puts his hand on your shoulder. He set the boundary of levitation above the ground so that his face is almost at your eye level. Although you can't see his smile, you know it's here, hidden in his voice and shining eyes.

You nod, and Ortho flies a little higher. He gets so close you can feel the tongues of fire forming his hairstyle. They aren't hot. They resemble lukewarm water: soft to the touch, liquid but dry. 

“I am very happy that we are friends,” Ortho whispers.

Before you can turn around, he places a kiss between your ear and temple by pressing the warm metal of his mask against your skin. If it wasn't for the quiet sound of the kiss he play-back-ed, you wouldn't have understood Ortho's charming gesture so quickly.

“It's not a secret,” you sigh lightly. It's hard not to smile. You lean towards Ortho, who calculates your next move. The result must please him, because not only does he not turn away from you, but he waits patiently. You place a kiss on his forehead. “I also like you very much.”

Unique Kisses: Pomefiore!

Heartslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

Vil S. (grab-you-kisses)

Ha, you thought you'll be clever.

As soon as you see Vil walking down the corridor towards you, you know you will have to go with your brilliant idea. You are hoping to knock him off balance and lose composture. Why? Well, you don't know it yourself, but the urge seems harmless enough for Vil to quickly forgive you.

Your pace quickens until you almost bump into him. You clasp your hands around his neck, your fingers lay at the back of his head and gently pull him into a half-embrace, forcing him to lean over.

He hasn't had an opportunity to say anything yet.

You were careful not to mess up his hair or make-up—he wouldn't let you off soon. Your every move is vigilant and calculated, and before you get to the kiss itself, you are wary of anything Vil might use to argue with you about later. You don't change the arrangement of any strand of his hair.

You kiss his lips quickly, just as Vil used to teach you, telling you to correct "sloppy" kisses and return them correctly. You tried to remember each detail as if your life depended on it. Your heart was pounding hard.

Being a diligent student paid off—Vil before you is surprised enough to stop midstep, with a distracted look on his face. If he had a mirror in front of him, he would change his expression hastily. He looked... exposed.

The shyness you dealt with after such a bold move is overcome with the joy that fills your face with blushes as you step away from Vil. You like the expression he's wearing. Throwing him off balance was a great success.

You lick your lips, feeling that a thin layer of his lip gloss remains on your lips.

With a chuckle, you walk past him, only to be caught by the collar of your uniform.

“Do you think you can do whatever you want and then just run away?” he asks, pulling you towards him. Vil has some strength in his grip. When you try to resist his movement, he doesn't even falter. His fingers ghost over your cheekbones until they are under your lips. “Unfortunately, that's not how the world works.”

After that, he leaves, and you know you will have to work for a while to restore kissing privileges.

Rook H. (kissing the hair)

You will have open those books eventually. The exam will be tomorrow, and you've been planning to review the material.

...In your defence, it is too hot.

The roofed gazebo you are sitting under isn't enough to protect you from the steamy air. It is hard to pull your sweaty cheek away from the cold-stone tabletop on which you almost lay down.

You have no idea how Rook can look so carefree, sitting next to you and leafing through an alchemy textbook. His other hand unwittingly plays with your hair, although you feel he was paying attention to that as well.

“How about we tell Vil that the textbook burned down and we couldn't study?” You ask, and his eyes flick your way. You fight the smile that tries to emerge. - “I'm serious. I'll take the blame.”

Rook laughs breathly at your suggestion. There is delight beaming on his face and it is one of the reasons you like being with him so much. And he liked you enough to agree without a moment of hesitation when you first confessed your feelings to him.

His hand is still playing with your hair, but now he is trying to draw your attention to himself. He brings the strands to his lips, on which he places several fleeting kisses. He plants the last one near your ear. He comments something about perfume and shampoo, but you are too focused on his hand, which begins to wander from your hair to your shoulder.

You move further from him.

“Don't come any closer,” you wave a hand at him to lightly knock off his hand. In response, you receive a smile with a shade of mischief. "I'm sure you're too hot to touch and in a very un-romantic way. It's too hot.”

"That's very, very bad," he says, moving closer to you. As if out of spite, he embraces you completely and gives you a warm hug full of love. You sighed in resignation. “Because I cannot resist you.”

Epel F. (dominance kisses)

“Did you get them from someone? Huuuh.”

Epel's gaze sweeps over a big bouquet of roses you were going to hide from him. Your plan had to be quickly changed because he was there before you. And because he came to greet you as soon as he heard the door creak open, you didn't even have time to tear up the heart-shaped note with your name on it.

The roses are in full bloom. The red petals have a scarlet, rich colour and are arranged in a way they seem like little suns. There are maybe twenty of them: all evenly cut and tied with a dark ribbon with a note attached.

You both suspect they were from Heartslabyul students. Was it a sincere gift or just a prank to annoy Epel? There was no answer on the attached card, but Epel could name several people inclined to take the second option in that dorm.

“Yes, but-” You started talking, still somewhat covering them up from Epel's view. You feel guilty. “I'll leave them in the living room as a general decoration. O-oh, or maybe in Pomefiore roses would be more useful?”

“What? You don't have to give them to anyone. They were for you.”

You turn the bouquet uncertainly in your hands, and Epel wordlessly takes it from you. He finds a low vase somewhere and fills it with cold water. Then, he puts flowers there. He has to be careful not to drop the vase because of the wet hands he doused as he filled the jug.

The roses match the Ramshackle salon. They are too sumptuous and contrast too much with other colours in the room.

The fact that this gift doesn't fit here lifts your spirit.

"I'm not worried about anything like that. Don't look so stressed," Epel says, wiping his hands on his pants (Vil isn't here, so who's to stop him?). “You worry too much.”

…That's a relief.

You hug him, and he leans over with you and falls on the couch. You lay still, but only for a moment because soon Epel lifts himself to be over you. His hands are on either side of your head. He lowers himself on his forearms—the push-up training finally has some practical use—to get close to you and kiss you.

A violent, slightly inattentive Epel tries to take all your focus, wrap it in a ball and put it between his lips, which seem to soften with each subsequent touch. And despite the flushed face (whose redness he doesn't want to blame on either embarrassment or effort), he watches you carefully: whether this countenance is different from the previous one, whether are you already getting used to his kisses, what to do to make forget everything else.

You feel a quiet gasp at the corner of your mouth as Epel rises and then, with a soft rustle of clothes against the fabric of the sofa, lays down beside you. You have to squeeze together so none of you will fall off it.

“...Besides, it's nothing compared to the flowers in my town. Do you know how beautiful apple trees can be?” Epel says after a moment, looking at the bouquet on the table. You aren't sure why, but the flower petals seem less colourful than before. Epel's eyes brighten. “When it's time, I'll collect them for decoration... or a crown? Maybe you can weave them into other plants... I'll make you a crown of flowers... and you'll remember it even more than ordinary roses.”

I KNOW I DON'T OFTEN POST MY THOUGHTS HERE

BUT I JUST WANTED TO SAY THAT IDIA'S CARD GIVES ME SOOO MUCH BRAINRIOT. AGAIN. EVERY TIME I THINK I FOUND NEW LOVE, TWST JUST DROPS HIS CARD OR EVENT HE'S IN.

THANK YOU FOR COMING TO MY TED TALK

Unique Kisses: Scarabia!

Heartslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

Kalim A. A. (shut-up kisses)

You lost the thread ten minutes ago.

You are on the decorative veranda of the Scarabia. You occupy large pillows with hand-embroidered floral embroidery. In front of you is a tray with refreshing, sour drinks and plates of sliced fruit prepared by Jamil. Kalim scarcely touched them, for his story takes all his attention.

There is a chessboard with pawns on it. You were supposed to play another game with Kalim, but he had made his last move a good ten minutes ago. You want to finish this round. You are winning, but to beat your boyfriend again in this game you need his attention. And return his focus to very, very good placement of your pawns.

It is hard to stop him from talking. Kalim is too excited about today's event for you to easily shift the conversation to your board game.

You love listening to him chatter. He has an emphatic and effusive voice and describes everyday life with a happy, optimistic perspective.

Aside from his stubbornly focused attention on the conversation, the problem is that Kalim keeps changing the subject. His sentences are clusters of basic slogans, quotes, and exclamations, and that's...

Well, you'd like to learn how to read minds just to be more involved in his story.

When you try to get his attention, he apologizes and paraphrases the last part of his speech in no better form. After two sentences, he forgets about your note. The beam on his face makes you only nod at him as he gloats about the next part of his story.

“Kalim…”

“I didn't know what he was going to say then. But then he surprised me. Because, you know, they say that Octavinelle students are very hard to deal with, but that one seemed nice! I met him... when? Oh, I remember! Because the day before, Jamil and I went to get a cake on their new menu! It was wonderful! We can go there tonight so you can try it too. It tasted very much like the shortcake Jamil had prepared... like, two weeks ago, maybe?”

“Kalim.”

“Oh, I'm sorry! Back to the topic. After that meeting, I mean, the next day, when I asked Mr Crewell for help on this project, we went to the library to learn about this effect... what was the name...? De... De... Dea...? I don't remember! Ah! And on the way to the library, we met Rook, who-”

“Kalim.”

“Yes? Just listen to what he told me! He-”

You bite your cheek to keep yourself from sighing. If you want to finish your game, you must get his attention the other way.

You reached him, needing to come closer on two pillows. You touch his shoulder, and he pauses for one second. It takes two more before you press your lips to his. You can almost feel the words die on his tongue as he gasps softly.

He wants to say something. He opens his mouth, but you are the one in control. You silence him again by moving closer to him to occupy him with a kiss.

It only lasts three seconds.

Kalim lost the thread.

You drift away from him. And just before you is a rare sight of a wordless Kalim. A cheery smile slowly spreads across his face.

You tap the chessboard, and for the first time in an hour, you're sure that Kalim's attention is solely on you.

“Let's finish this round first, okay?”

Jamil V. (movie-like kisses)

“It's a truly beautiful sunset…”

The sky is already orange, with shades of red - and finally warm navy blue – that are beginning to appear in the further stripes of clouds. The colourful ombre of the sky pleased not only artists but also passers-by…

“There's no one here but us…”

…Two passers-by. Jamil tried to create such an atmosphere by putting Kalim in the hands of his family. As expected, he immediately suggested that Jamil should take a vacation, because the next party was being held in his large house and created for Al-Asim's closest family.

When Jamil knew he will be free for at least one night, he decided to go somewhere with you. One of the choices was the beach you are currently on, which you have strolled around for almost all day.

Time flies when talking to a loved one.

“The sea is heaving in the wind...” you add, squeezing his hand a little more. You feel Jamil's grip on your fingers tighten in response. You take a deep breath, taking in a lot of sea air in your lungs. "It seems too good to be true. Should we suspect that Floyd is about to jump out of the water or...?”

Jamil shakes his head. His other hand touches your cheek, and the tips of his fingers draw subtle, invisible marks on your skin. "Don't think about it. Focus on me. On us.”

He doesn't need to use hypnosis, and his wish gets granted anyway.

It was hard to think about that when his gaze and the way he covers your mouth are filled with attention and greed.

The purpose of this whole spectacle of emotions, which rage even more as his hand slowly trails down your back, is to make you want to take another step. And to make sure that he is in control and that he doesn't even need to use his magic on you. If you were hypnotized, you wouldn't know what command he uttered, but now you are fully aware of his every move. You don't even have the willpower to prevent it.

So you give in to it, even though you tell yourself that next time you will be the one in control of that kiss. You don't like the wicked smile on Jamil's face as you gas for air.

The Prince Charming's spell breaks as the corners of his mouth twist mischievously, though, in a few minutes, Jamil will still be playing nice guy when you will walk across the beach again... No, he won't be playing—he will put into the moment everything that he can give himself.

“Ach, weren't going to take pictures of the horizon?” Jamil asks and you wonder how he could change his tone of voice to this... normal tone, in seconds. You narrow your eyes at him. "Why are you looking at me like that? Should I help you take it? Your hands seem a little shaky... Ah, or would you rather admit that I've thrown you off balance, hm?”

Unique Kisses: Octavinelle!

Heartslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

Azul A. (butterfly kisses)

„That's a very unfair deal,” you mutter, wrapping yourself more around Azul's arm. You are stopping him from writing down your potential contract and he is remarkably eager to delay everything when you are trying to persuade him so hard, despite the pen in his hand. “All I ask is that you quiz me before the test. Does it require such a formal agreement?”

Azul's chair cracks softly as he straightens up. You don't loosen your grip, but you are sure that if Azul ever wanted to, he could manage to get out of your arms. Apparently, he doesn't want to—or he doesn't care or mind—and with this small gesture, he is making you hope.

“Everything has a price,” he says before you can come up with something like 'good deeds of a good boyfriend' to throw at him. “You already get a discount because of our relationship... And another fifteen per cent for those kisses, which are also a form of contract, [Name].”

...And maybe that is the reason why he doesn't want you to leave. The kisses are the only ones of their kind, something Azul would always want to get for helping you. When you press your lips to his neck or the corners of his mouth, that touch always makes him feel that it's still insufficient. It is only a foretaste and Azul feels as if a ghost has fallen in love with him, but worse because this one is lovely and warm and has already learned to tease Azul with its pranks.

“What if there was more?” Another kiss lands on his cheek, which has acquired a bit of colour over the past several minutes. Azul doesn't flinch, even when you deliberately delay moving away from him. “Can you manage to bring it down by a hundred per cent? I'm poor this month.”

Azul sighs, and the air escapes his lungs completely.

He is losing the façade of the carefree businessman, an act he started putting up since he knew what are you up to.

“Their value decreases with each use,” he says, shaking his head. He adds: “ There would have to be a thousand of them.”

“Better to start sooner than later, no?” You smile. “Come on... I'll pay my debt.”

Another three kisses come by. One—at his temple, near the grey eyes that glitter in the elegant lighting in Azul's study—and another—at the corner of his mouth, which trembles—and a third, almost on his lower lip. All these points suddenly seem to burn on Azul's skin and he has to restrain from touching them.

Your next kiss has been already blocked by Azul's gloved hand, as he presses his index finger to your lips. You look at him with surprise, and although his face turns even redder, he manages to utter his next sentence without his voice breaking down.

“Do you think it will be so easy to bribe me?”

You smile even wider.

“Yes,” you embrace his face with your hands. His skin is soft and kind of warm, but you are sure he is melting as much as you are just by that touch. “Because something like that would definitely work for me.”

Jade L. (stopping kisses)

“Hello!” Your smile makes you stand out very much from the crowd of other passing students, even more so than the hands you raise to wave to your boyfriend. You shine with your charm and Jade wonders why no one else notices that brightness. “And bye-bye!”

He smiles amiably, watching you disappear around the next corner. Another ringing of the bell fills the school corridors and Jade decides it's time to hurry to his classroom. On the way he passes Floyd, throwing him a quick smile. Then, he starts to wonder what the next lesson is going to be. Or whether it will be more important than Monstro Lounge duties. Or mushrooms.

Probably not. But he is going to pay attention anyway.

This is what all your mornings would be like until Jade decided to put some more effort into it. Dramatic effects, one could say.

“He-”

...?

Your greeting is muffled when Jade grabs you gently by the collar of your uniform and, in a fluid but powerful motion pulls you closer.

You bump into him, and he enhances the accident; he leans in, lifts your chin and kisses you.

You feel his hand going down your back and stopping at your waist, but the centre of your attention gravitates toward his other hand, which roams and teases your skin near your neck, leaving such a gentle touch. Under Jade's fingers, you shiver.

Then, his lips claim yours.

…

Red isn't Jade's favourite colour, but he likes some of its shades on you.

Red skin at the corner of your mouth, crimson blushes all over your face and scarlet lips decorated with glossy cosmetics.

Jade moves away. He smiles his everyday smile and it pains you so much that he is so quick to recover after something that knocked you completely out of balance.

“Could I have a change of greeting, please?” He asks, intertwining your fingers with his. He pulls a few loose strands of hair behind your ear, which he leaned into. “The sight of you is always lovely, of course, but I feel a little distant when we pass each other so quickly in the corridor...”

…

You are still in the corridor.

You are reminded of that when some random student whistles in your direction. Jade smiles mockingly at the student, who could have been a phantom, quickly disappearing into a crowd with an equally mischievous grin.

“Yes... Yes,” you answer. You put your hand to your chest and rest your head against Jade's chest. His heartbeat isn't as fast as yours, and you confirm it once more Jade puts his arms around you. “Wait, give me a minute. My heart's about to jump out...”

The cruel man laughs warmly.

“Hm. You'll have to get used to a different pace of living, don't you think?”

Floyd L. (stolen kisses)

“I'm hungry, Floyd,” you knock his hand off, and it once again began to wander over your shoulder. “Let me eat my breakfast, please.”

“Awh...!”

Floyd whines. His wordless lament is filled with clear disappointment and stubbornness. You don't believe that only eight attempts to push him away is going to change anything though—Floyd Leech hasn't even considered leaving you alone, still sitting next to you.

You wouldn't have used such a method if his company didn't equate to an inability to eat anything during the meal break; either your food was the one vanishing or it was you, disappearing from a canteen, while dragged behind your favourite, but a little overbearing sea boy.

You shift your attention to your plate again. You haven't managed to get any school-legendary sandwiches, but you had got your hands on some fruits and crackers, and Floyd (graciously) has shared with you some of the jam he had taken himself. You promised him you'd spend the whole afternoon with him in exchange for it, but apparently, it still isn't enough.

Or he just likes annoying you.

You grab the first cracker, and it isn't until you bite into it that you realize how hungry you are. You thought that skipping last night's dinner was a good idea, but the quiet (loud, in your ears) rumbling of your stomach for the first few hours of the class made you rethink your choices.

You reach for another handful of crackers, biting into them along with a cut piece of an apple.

Floyd watches you in surprising silence until you eat half of the food you have.

Your hand, along with the cracker you've been about to put in your mouth, meets a wall in the shape of Floyd's head. His face is right in front of yours, a wide smile on it, even though you had almost crushed the cracker on his cheek.

Whenever Floyd kisses you, you are aware of the unusual facial proportions, not ordinary between humans, but more common in sea creatures. His tongue is long and his teeth sharp. His lips are slippery, but that is more due to the sweet soda he drank earlier because you sense the vivid taste of oranges in his kiss.

Oranges...

Ah, now you remember. You are supposed to have breakfast. 

You scold yourself for being distracted. Floyd may have an uncanny ability to monopolize your attention, but you still want to believe that in your relationship, both of you have equally similar power.

Floyd doesn't let you move away—the hands on your back and shoulder are there to prevent that—but you manage to turn your head just enough to catch your breath and try to push yourself away from him. Floyd is very fond of sabotaging you with his lung capacity, using every opportunity to take your breath away, but right now you are too focused on the clock, which shows that the break will be over in seven minutes.

“Not now!” You would have apologized to him for your dryness, has it not been for the fact that he started it, is now starving you, and is still smiling with amusement. You snort, clasping your hands over the fruit on your table. “I must have energy for our afternoon. And if these breaks don't convince you, give me a pass or food vouchers to Monstro Longue and I promise to comply.”

Yes, Honeyworks have improved a lot! I remember the first video of them I watched was Yakimochi no kotae and that was years ago! 9 years? More or less. I understand the pain of... trying to fing English content of HW, it makes me want to learn Japanese....

I've always loved Koyuki, he is so cute, ugh and I've been WAITING for them to upload a song of him, they left him forgotten after Natsuki confessed to Yuu and he unknowingly rejected Hina 😔😔

Now! With the new characters, I'm happy, I love Hiyori, she is best gurl, Cinderella but more peasant, no Godmother. Just breads and taking care of two troublesome children 🤺

Ahh, I'm so sorry for the late response. I wanted to answer it the day I got the notification, but then… I forgot. I'm sorry;;

I've been a HoneyWorks fan for just a year and, oh, I can't imagine how much trouble it must have been for searching for content nine years ago! There aren't many translations even now, so liking anything seems like a great challenge.

I downloaded a rhythmic game from them a while ago, but I can only feel like I can play that game when I do rhythmics or make gacha pulls. (The same logic applies to Twisted Wonderland, as I have only the JP version, haha~).

Nevertheless, the art style of the videos, animation and songs are still very enjoyable to follow. Not knowing the lyrics just makes them a little more mysterious 🌙✨

Unique Kisses: Savanaclaw!

I'm so sorry for the second notification, but the work didn't show up in the tags... orz

Heartslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

Leona K. (lazy kisses)

You're not getting out of bed without a proper greeting.

It isn’t even morning, or evening, or any time that could explain why you were resting in Leona's room, away from the building where your next class soon will be held. It is midday, a while after lunch, and you knew you’ll have to walk at a brisk pace to make it in time for Mr Crewel's class.

“We have to get up...~” you say, gently touching Leona's shoulder. He doesn’t react, but you are sure that he is somehow awake (not by the touch, but by your soft complaints) and can hear you perfectly with his outstanding predatory hearing and you at his ear. But he apparently decides to ignore you because he doesn’t react when you start drawing circles on his hand with your finger.

You sigh, rolling over onto your back. You really don’t want to spend another break being lectured about your tardiness (caused by Leona) and hearing complaints alone (Leona is always late for his sermon. He is running off and doesn’t even ask if you’d like to join him).

You’ve already put your feet up on the floor and, for lack of a better idea to fill the moment, tried unsuccessfully to straighten a few unfortunate folds of your uniform.

Somehow, Leona's tail wraps around your waist as you try to get out of bed, and you notice the attentive but slightly lethargic gaze. By that, Leona completely underestimates any reason why you give up extra minutes of lying down.

“Come back here," he says, and you roll your eyes. And yet, you take a place next to him again.

His tail has completely loosened its grip, but now Leona's hands are on you. The fingers trail across your back until they are right next to your head, which Leona supported with his hand and gently forced it to lean towards himself. His distinctive scent mixed with the aroma of grass and flowers becomes more intense. For a moment the last emerald eyes are on you before he closes them just before the distance between you disappears completely.

Disappears—?

His lips fit into yours and his teeth press gently against your lips. Leona seems to be moving steadily closer to you, although it looks and feels more and more impossible with each passing moment.

Or maybe you just aren’t thinking soberly anymore.

Although you can’t taste anything—or did your taste buds finally go crazy?—you begin to get drunk on the very essence of this kiss. However, if it had a taste, you are sure it would have been intense, equally filled with fierceness to eclipse your senses.

...It's just a shame that Leona looks so triumphant while you are losing your mind and heart.

This is also the moment when Leona sighs sleepily, sinks on the cushions and says something about continuing a nap. You look at him reproachfully, beginning to regret that he isn’t going to continue stopping you from going to class. And he smiles involuntarily.

Ruggie (blown kiss)

Ruggie has always been a busy person.

You often pass him in the corridor when he is out running errands for Leona and trying to get his hands on Leona's next whim. Usually, his hands are busy, but the weight of the books doesn't seem to affect him as he walks down another corridor.

When you have time, you are helping him carry more stuff to the dormitory, to Leona, whom you complain about along the way. You really doubt that even if he heard you, he'd care about the opinion of little people like you, but Ruggie warns you anyway when you enter a potential area under his attention.

Between classes, however, most of the breaks are short and the corridors - long, too long when getting from one class to another, located at the end of the building or even outside. You don't have much time for, well, anything to do with a casual, warm encounter with Ruggie between classes.

“Don't you need help with that?” you ask him when, between magic history and alchemy, you bumped into each other in the hallway. He seems to be in a hurry, wriggling dramatically, as if the few volumes he is carrying are more exhausting than Mr Vargas' lessons. But he shakes his head at your offer.

“Nah,” he flips his books under one arm to wave his hand at your words. A dramatic effect. “You have, I think, lessons in the opposite direction, and I for my hard work have a free afternoon,” he smiles with a look that read, *'You know, there are benefits after all!’. “*We can go get something to eat later. Because finally—attention, attention, I repeat!—I have the afternoon off.

The bell fills the corridors and you have to go.

Ruggie smiles goodbye and turns on his heel. He glances in your direction once more and when he saw that you are still staring at him, the corners of his mouth curve upwards even more. He kisses his fingers with his lips and then titles them towards you. He blows on his palm with a quiet "Shu~!", playfully blinking one eye.

You pretend that his indirect kiss had hit you straight in the heart; you put your hand to your chest.

You receive a giggle that was drowned out by other people's conversations and steps.

“Well, I'm off! Wait for a message from me!” He shouts his farewell—with another smile—and disappears around the next corner.

You are already looking forward to it.

Jack (kiss-bite)

The wolf is hungry.

You can easily tell because, despite Jack's best efforts, you can feel the urgent gaze on you, watching your every move. He tries to keep his gaze on the ground, but he prefers to look people in the eye when they are talking to him, and now you’re the one who’s speaking and...

Well, he had a dilemma, but he concluded that ultimately he much more likes to look at you.

A similar idea runs through his kisses—he is always watching. Slow, mindless gestures of love are unlikely ever to be his thing, when he likes to put his ambitions and beliefs, into everything he does. And Jack is sure that a lot of attention had to be put into the act of caring.

That's why he can’t take his eyes off you when every gasp and huff draws his attention.

That happens often because Jack always surprises you with his kisses. You should have gotten used to them by now—maybe, after so long—but you sincerely hope it won’t happen. And if it does, you know it will be later than sooner, because Jack’s kisses are special.

They aren’t perfect, because Jack never had the opportunity (or even the idea or need) to polish this skill. So, even as he is already embracing you—gently but firmly as if he held Life itself in his hands—you wonder what he is about to surprise you with. And then he draws closer until he fully covers your vision.

You can’t remember the last time you guessed what your kiss would look like.

His lips are warm, but you aren’t paying attention to those that much as to his fangs and tongue on your mouth, and although the pleasant sensation tingles in your mouth, you can’t hold back a quiet gasp as Jack closes his mouth slightly and his teeth gently dig into your skin.

“A-auh...”

He notices the twitch and, with some reproach, quickly moved away from you—as far as the reach of his arms, which still embrace you, allow.

“Oh, I- I hurt you, didn't I?” He turns his head slightly and for the first time takes his eyes off you to look into the empty space to his left. “I'm sorry.”

“No, no,” you reply quickly, placing a hand on his forearm. “It didn’t hurt. I'm just surprised… But, did you know it's always a nice surprise?”

“But still...”

...

“Should... we practice?”You suggest quietly. In your mind, this offer looked more dignified and encouraging than the words you present to Jack, who was beginning to look more embarrassed than you. You quickly add: "If you want to learn to kiss 'normally', we can learn to do that..."

”W... What...?” He looks at you, shocked. “It's a... a very strange offer.”

“But I'll admit to you, it's your iconic kisses that I adore," you continue, standing on your tiptoes to get even closer to his face, his lips, "So? What is your decision?”

Unique Kisses: Heartslabyul!

Hearslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

Riddle R. (strawberry kisses)

If it wasn’t for this situation, Riddle would consider removing strawberries from a cake a blasphemy.

Fortunately for you, and also his joy, which he could not admit to if it wasn’t the last resort, Riddle isn't sure if his judgement would be a fair one. He is drunk on the taste of strawberries and fluffy cream, but also your fragrance, which has been his favourite aroma even before he thought he would dare to confess his feelings to you.

Riddle knows he doesn’t think soberly, but also believes that Trey didn’t change a recipe for his favourite dessert.

So, it is your fault.

“You should have taken yourself a piece of cake if you crave strawberries so much,” he says, regarding how you stab a little strawberry from his tart on a silver fork. It shimmers softly with honey or frosting or whatever Trey had added. Right now, Riddle can’t remember what his favourite dessert tastes like, and it was your fault as well.

“Kitchen is too far away,” you almost sigh, but don’t do that because it’s not a reason to be disappointed. “And, by the way, you are the one eating your tart. The greater part is still yours.”

“I have an irresistible impression that my serving disappears too fast.”

“You’re such a gourmet then. You will have to take bigger pieces next time.”

You chuckle at his stern facade, face fully covered with blushes, not matching the crossed arms that were probably meant to give his figure a more serious tone.

The strawberry on the fork you put against his lips, and he - used to this, after your multiple pleas - swallows his dignity and bites the fruit enough, not to cut it in half. He blinks a little faster, a little more nervous, and can’t bear to hold your stare when you smile and put the fork aside.

And then, you bite a strawberry held by his lips. A soft crunch attends the moment where your lips brush against each other. You feel how a sweet juice fills your lips and you have to move away to not let it drain over a corner of your mouth.

Satisfied, now less frustrated with your idea, you lick your wet, slightly sticky lips.

You glance at Riddle.

It… was a surprise that he went with your idea. It was a plan to soften him up a bit and have another reason to laugh when he would scold you again for your “preposterous suggestions”.

Surely not for you to stand in bewilderment and quick-paced heartbeat when Riddle pulls out a strawberry on a fork towards you. And as his face is red, crimson almost, his gaze is tainted with warm grey.

“Now it’s your turn.”

And that was an order.

Trey C. (hand kisses)

Trey Clover is a gentleman.

He opens the door whenever you go with him. Helps to carry supplies to the alchemy room at the far end of the school. Forbids you to prepare snacks for yourself, just to serve you beautiful little tarts during a break, that can be eaten in one bite.

His love is elegant and attentive. He likes to hold you in his arms while reading books. By highlighting the most important things in notes he helps you prepare for exams. He doesn’t even complain when you rob his wardrobe and usurp his clothes. He collects - by following all the Queen's rules or while avoiding Riddle's eyesight -- and offers you roses for every greater or lesser success.

A dreamy gentleman.

The only thing that mystifies you every time, is his touch.

You always quiver slightly as he takes your hand in his and entwines your fingers. He turns it over and brings it to his mouth, kissing the back of your hand. You don't know what is more delicate: the way his fingers slide over yours, or your heart, which will probably quickly tear apart itself, not able to bear the darting beat.

It would definitely be a nice death, but more than choosing that, you'd still rather live through this moment.

Trey's lips brush against your skin and move towards your fingers. There, he places another kiss and when he finally releases your hand, he still holds you. A grip slightly tightens when you look at him bashfully.

It was a gentleman's kiss.

Or maybe not gentleman’s, but from a man who pretends. You are not sure if a gentleman would do something like that to his lady: watch her lose her mind with each kiss as she becomes more and more addicted to her gentleman who smiles with a subtle but private smile.

Even as he pulls away, you feel that the spot on your skin where he kissed you tickles you lightly.

"Good morning to you, too, I should say”, you exclaim with a big smile. But you already like that greeting very much, and you're sure Trey knows it as well, as he repeats the gesture every day.

"Ah, and that's not the reaction I was expecting," he snorted as you rolled your eyes. “You got used to this trick already. Should I stop or…” now he smiles, mischievously. Certainly not like a gentleman. “...change the offensive?”

Cater D. (kisses on the eyes)

“Smile!” and snap! With a soft sound, another photo saves itself on Cater’s phone. He immediately enlarges it with his fingers, brings the image closer to your faces and clicks his tongue with dissatisfaction, but doesn’t remove the photo. “No, that’s not it. We look lovely, but- Sweetie, come closer!”

“Yes, yes.”

You take another step towards Cater. He instantly places his arm over yours, drawing you a little closer, as he holds the phone in the other hand. He observes the preview of the photo. And then, he directs you to turn a little to the west, so the sun would colour your faces even more.

An artistic wind begins to blow and ruffles the leaves of the trees behind your back. They form your main background, which Cater wanted to expose as they were famous for their multicoloured flowers. It was the main reason to choose this park as the next place for your date. The strands of your hair began to wave, and you gently brushed a few away from your eyes.

But before Cater can snap that hundredth picture, you lower your head and put hand to your face.

“Ah, I think something is in my eye,” you murmur, with all your will trying not to rub your eyes. “Probably sand, ewh.”

“Oh, oh, wait, wait, wait,” Cater quickly tucks the phone into the pocket of his jacket and with one movement unbuckles his backpack. He pulls out a bottle of water -which he immediately hands to you - and then finds a package of tissues. “Here. Try to wash it out. And blink. You're supposed to blink a lot at times like this, right?” … Luckily for you, you don’t have to vex with it for long, because after a short while you manage to get the sand out of your eye. Cater’s phone is used as a mirror, and he checked himself if there might be any irritation visible in your eye.

You crumple a wet tissue and throw it in the trash can near your bench.

“It’s all right now, I think.”

Cater puts his stuff in his bag and gets up. With a short wave, he says that he wants you to stay where you are.

"I will cast a healing spell on your eyes," he announces and crouches in front of you. He smiles. “Metaphorical one. Please don't trust me when it comes to healing magic.”

And then he moves closer to you, and his hands are on your cheeks. They hold you in place as he gets closer and closer until he completely fills your view and asks you to close your eyes. You don’t have to look at him to know his gaze is trailing your face. And when he stops, it’s because he wanted to turn your attention to the touch as he places warm kisses on your eyelids.

These are some of the softer kisses Cater gave you. They are almost imperceptible and uncharacteristic of him, but you can feel the care in each one... and have a scent of his cologne – jasmine scent, slightly spicy in smell - that he put on himself surround you.

He steps back only when each eye receives at least three kisses.

“I think I feel better now...” You say with a smile which he reciprocates. He pulls out his phone, once again, and points its lens at you. He hums with pleasure, as he finds the perfect angle.

“So~? Will you smile for me once more?”

You can’t say no after such a satisfying spell.

Ace T. (feigned kisses)

“Hey, hey, come here, I want to tell you something...”

You tear your gaze away from your notebook, where the next line of your essay on the history of magic is now cut halfway. Ace's whisper snapped you out of the monologue you've arranged in your head, and you know you won’t recollect it soon. Not even a passive focus spell applied to the library could help, as Ace acted as a truly sterling distraction.

“Come here yourself.”

“It's important”

It’s probably not.

You sigh and shake your head. Ace does the same, but rises from his untouched textbooks. "I lack the motivation to study today," he tells you every time you drag him along to prepare for your next exam together.

He stops in front of you and turns your chair around so that you can directly face him. He smiles mischievously. Almost malevolently, but warm enough.

He places his hands on both sides of your chair and—oh, since when is he so close to you?

It's not that Ace isn’t in the habit of kissing you—he likes it as much as you do, although he never fails to roll his eyes when you ask for a kiss, or tease you ("ah, so you need more of my attention, hm? Heh~") before pressing his lips to yours.

And you are expecting the latter option until Ace stops inches from your face and snarls.

“Heh. You wish”.

He tries to whisper something more, but you don’t give him an opportunity to do so, as you throw your head back. And then he greets you with a look, you could describe as mean.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, genuinely disappointed. You turn your chair around and quickly tuck your books into your bag. Maybe you'll find Riddle or someone who can chase Ace away a bit with their presence, so you will have some peace. “But I'm feeling less and less sorry that it didn't happen. See you later, I'm off to class…”

...

Huh.

He didn’t expect that. Did you have a bad day today? Did he do something wrong or- Did you really care about getting a good grade on that essay? He couldn't guess, but he knew that if he doesn’t make a move now, you will try getting back at him.

“Hey—!” He wheezes, grabbing your hand. “You can't give up so easily. Fight for what you want!”

“Too much work.”

Ace sighs and tilts his head. He pulls you towards him by the strap of the bag you carry, almost knocking you off balance. And then, he presses your lips to his—they are unexpectedly soft and you start to wonder if it was because of the honey he added to his tea at almost every unbirthday party (to break another rule of his dorm)—and then... And then you both lost the air in your lungs that you hadn't managed to take in before kissing.

You look at him from under your lashes as you take a deep breath. “To quote, "Ah, so you need more of my attention?””

“Ughh,” Ace breathes out, and you feel that quiet sigh on the skin of your neck. He is still incredibly close, but for that moment you can’t bring yourself to push him away. “You're lucky I like you. …And, by the way, you choose very wise man’s quotes.”

Deuce S. (forehead kisses)

“…”

“...”

“...Are you asleep?”

“...No. Not yet.”

The quilt rustles quietly as you sat up on the bed. You feel tired, your head aches, and your eyes seem too heavy. You are sure you've already yawned about five times since you said “goodnight”, but even after forty—you counted each one with agony—minutes of lying down, sleep wasn't taking you away.

Neither did Deuce, and that was your current greatest comfort.

“I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight,” you whisper, trying to make out his features in the darkness that merge into a dark room. But you are sure that that darker patch of shadow—Deuce—is looking at you as intently as you are looking at it. “Not after the movie that Ace picked out.”

Deuce slowly gets up and you can finally tell where his face is.

“He picked the wrong title,” Deuce agrees, sighing heavily. “I don't know if I can-... Erm, I mean, I'm not a fan of horror movies, but it's not that, that, I-.”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” you interrupt him gently and squeeze the duvet lightly in your fingers. You turn your gaze to a window where a hint of light shines through the gaps between the curtains. The moon must be very visible tonight. “I didn't like that film. You know what, Deuce? We can't let Ace choose movies ever again.”

“Right,” he put his hands through the strands of his hair. And then laughs at the memory he proceeds to describe you. “...When I was younger, my mother would often kiss me on the forehead whenever I felt I was too upset to sleep. I often tried to watch horror movies on my own so I could talk about them later at school, but... Haha. Anyway, somehow it always worked because I would go back to bed later and then—I think—I would fall asleep…”

“...Do you want to kiss me goodnight?”

“Ah-! N-no! That's not what I meant!” he protests. And then tries to look at you but finds it impossible. “Ah... Was that a request or a question?”

“An offer of a lifetime.”

Deuce remains in his bed for a few more moments but finally gets up. He pushes the curtains a little more and the room becomes much brighter. You could now see the games scattered on the floor that you had vowed to clean up in the morning, the outline of your beds and finally, and most importantly, yourselves.

He approaches you, quietly and carefully. You wait with a smile that you try to hide. You straighten up, put your feet on the floor, but still sit on the bed as Deuce brings his fingers to your face, and touches it with care as if you were a porcelain doll. Or a dream and Deuce was willing to believe in both cases.

He brushes your hair from your forehead and holds loose strands with one hand; the other is placed on the back of your head. He leans in. You hear him hold his breath and feel warmer as he presses his lips to the top of your head. You are sure he must have sensed the scent of his shampoo (you had a good reason for that: you had forgotten to take your own with you) because he quivers subtly as he inhales the smell bashfully.

And he must also be glad that it was still dark in here because, when you raise your gaze, his head is titled, as he often does when conscious of his blushes.

“…Are you calmer?” He whispers the question.

You nod slowly. Deuce carefully, almost reluctantly, steps away from you and sits down on his bed. Although he is no longer beside you, you can still feel the memory of how warm his skin and lips were. You gently touch the spot on your head where he had placed his kiss.

“If we don't fall asleep in the next half hour, we're going to go get some late-night snacks,” you decide, as you lay down, and you even notice Deuce smiling.

“Okay,” he chuckles. “And we can watch a better movie. But now try to fall asleep.”

“If I fall asleep now, I'll regret it.”

“You will say something else in the morning, tired.”

A short announcement of a tiny surprise! Within a few weeks, I will post seven, each for a dormitory, fluffy works (not related to the "How to win a heart of..." series). Every NRC Twisted Wonderland boy will be there, so don't worry! I've written all scenarios by now, but I am in the middle of correcting and translating them. I hope it will be a heartwarming reading for you all! (Hearslabyul scenarios will be released in a short while... Savanaclaw scenarios are under correction...)

Been following you for quite a while, and I absolutely love your "How to win a heart of" series! Would you consider making for Trey as well?

No pressure though, and you can ignore if your req is not open, but I'd love to see what you come up with! Thank you for giving amazing contents

How to win a heart of Trey Clover?

a/n: Dear Anon, I hope you will like this one!

Dear Readers, for the plot enrichment, I gifted you with a (temporary) inability to bake. It might have highly affected the reader’s self-confidence, which is primarily pretty low, but grows with each sweet second when Trey is around. And then, the reader embraces the energy of positive chaos. And becomes chaotic.

‏‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

1. Ask for help from pretty stranger from the desk next to yours.

To say that you aren’t nervous would be an utter lie.

Your knuckles already whitened from the unwitting pressure you put in tightening your fists into a nervous grip, and your shoulders felt sore, reasonably sore, after being tensed for so long. Throat goes dry again, and words die on your tongue, just like every time your eyes dart to a green-haired student.

...You really need to talk to him.

Trey Clover, the unfamous vice-dorm leader of Heartslabyul, is probably the greatest pastry chef in NRC’s history and the only person who can help you at the moment.

A baking club entry exam, that is.

...

The problem is, you suddenly forgot how to talk to people.

You could swear everything was alright just a moment ago when your friend casually complained about the lack of seasoning in the cafeteria’s food. A huff, an eye roll and a sarcastic comment were almost obligated.

Now you can’t remember how it felt to be relaxed.

Should you just say hi and casually tell him about your problem? Would almost strange classmate care? ...If he disagreed, it would be a bit embarrassing, and it’s not like you could avoid him when his desk is next to yours. Maybe you could ask any of your friends if they could introduce you... But does any of them know Trey?

You look up at Trey once again, as if it could help you find a solution, but quickly shift your gaze to your hands.

Maybe you should just read more culinary books... A theory might not be enough, but it will spare you from any embarrassment that might—and with your luck and undeniable skills: *will—*happen.

...

No. You need to be brave.

How will you go through life if you can’t talk to strangers? Trey seems like a kind person, so he might help you... or just reject your ask without putting up a show.

And all you need to do is to start talking.

All you need to do is—

“Hey, can I help you with something?” A voice, a really good sounding voice with the texture of melted chocolate startles you, and you look cautiously up. “I noticed you were watching me.”

...Of course, he did.

All courage you mustered up was now just a faint memory, untraceable and irretrievable. With sympathetic eyes in the colour of cinnamon and gold on yours, you swallow some saliva, hoping it will dissolve the stress that gripped your throat.

“I’m so... so, very sorry... I didn’t mean to stare.”

“No need to apologize,” he smiles warmly, which makes your gaze drop to the floor in silence. “You’re [Name] [Surname], right? I don’t believe we have talked before, but I heard—and saw, believe me—that you are a very lovely person.”

...

What? What?

“Thank you...?” You pull the words into your mouth because leaving the comment in silence would make you feel guilty. Also, it was a compliment! Sensing you want to ask him for something, he gives you a smile. So, before the rest of your courage has a chance to flag, you speak up. “I... Or rather if... If you have any time to spare me, could you help me- pass- my- baking- class?”

He almost grins at your question. ...Huh, was it funny?

“You are a member of a baking club, aren’t you? I’m honoured you reached out to me, haha!” He regards you with a warm look, and you feel almost happy that you’ve decided to talk. “And sure. I will help you. Just... don’t be so nervous around me? I don’t bite... but I sure can serve you something worth tasting.”

‏‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

2. Share your thoughts.

There is that unnamed excitement hanging in the air.

You aren’t sure if it comes from the late hour when most school halls are abandoned and left only with some candles as the source of light, or is it Trey himself, who stands behind the kitchen counter with a cookbook loosely in his hands.

“So,” he starts, and the polite smile he wears seems to brighten up the whole room, “I might not be a member of the baking club—even if it sounds really fun, and I am, in fact, a little bit envious—but I heard about the criteria of the tests. They let you create a custom recipe, which you will have to re-do in a certain amount of time, under the eye of the club president... Is that right?”

You nod.

While you could, of course, learn a recipe from the most mysterious and unknown book that has barely seen sunlight, your club’s president has his ways to check if the work was plagiarized. So, your ‘quest impossible’ is to think of a pastry no one ever thought about.

It’s hard to believe every member of the club had to do the same.

“We need to start with a goal,” Trey guides you to take a pencil and puts an empty notebook on the counter. “And we need to get a little bit creative here.”

He stands where he was standing before, but he seems a little bit closer than before. You take a little step back at the sudden realization, and Trey chuckles softly as he sends you an apologetic smile and moves a bit away.

“So, to know what we want to do...” You aren’t sure if he stands that much away because you hear his voice well. Very well, every change in his tone is neatly observed and noted in your thoughts. “Tell me, what you dream of. Even the most impossible idea.”

He smiles encouragingly. You aren’t sure if you’d like to reveal any of your secrets to a stranger, but then Trey flips a recipe book and your eyes land on several images one of of the most enticing cakes you’ve ever seen.

Trey knows he has your attention. His finger slides from a cookbook to your blank notebook, where you will have to write down some ideas. “The best way to learn is to do something you want. And to do that, I need to know your preferences a little bit better.”\

‏‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

3. Try your hand at pastries. Again.

‘00:36’

Your phone buzzes once again, and for the seventh time, you tap the screen to delay the alarm. It is a simple move, but it reminds you of hours you have spent in the kitchen.

You are tired, and at the moment, you wish nothing but to tuck yourself in the bed and be late for morning classes. It’s not really an affirmable desire, but a needed one.

“Should we put it in the fridge?” You ask, looking at the fresh-made cake. It is beautifully decorated, but, to make sure the cream is right, you will have to leave it somewhere cold overnight.

“This one?” Trey corrects his glasses. “Only if you wish for some other students to steal it for their breakfast.” He smiles faintly, the lost hours of sleep getting onto him as well. “And that is another rule to learn: do not trust anyone your baking goods unless you’re prepared for the loss or you have your ways to find the culprit.”

A wry, hesitant smile stretches your lips. “...Is that from experience?”

“You would be surprised how often it happens,” he sighs and your mouth quirks up. “How trustable are your dormmates?”

“I... think I wouldn’t like to test out.”

“Okay, yes. I understand, I would probably do the same,” Trey laughs at your response. “But, well, would you trust me with this cake, please? I will bring it on a lunch break when we will try it out and think about improvement.”

“Sure...” You look at him from under your lashes and smile. “I will give you a benefit of the doubt.”

“Thank you!” And another smile returned. A smile does really suit him. “I will not let you down.”

Then, he said his goodbyes and left, the only trace that he was here being the blush that slowly perfused your cheeks.

He is too kind...

‏‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

4. Beware.

There are always some eyes on you, and that’s the thing you need to remember in NRC.

And because people here are very observant, just by watching a person for a while, you can get a nice grasp of someone’s personality, judging them by their words and actions.

It also makes some students cautious—aware of being observed, they put up a show of being someone they aren’t. They can look stronger than they are, to look respectable, or feel timider, to cover the abilities they would like to save for later.

Either way, you’re a really bad liar.

Trey notes that when he notices you talking with your friends. There are no feigned emotions across your face, the tone of your voice bewrays everything you’d like to hide. Even falling quiet tells him a lot, and he has no trouble with saying if the silence is a peaceful one or a distressed one.

He doesn’t know why his gaze always searches for you in a crowd. Well, he doesn’t know why he was helping you without getting paid back. You aren’t influential in this school, but maybe, your passed test will be a bargaining chip when the time comes.

...But was that a reason?

A pondering sigh escapes his lips.

When you catch him staring, you wave at him discreetly.

He nods his head at you, in greeting, and a soft smile blooms up your face.

...

Yeah. You’re wearing heart on your sleeve, but that’s a part of your charm.

‏‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

5. Take a joke seriously.

Emptied bottles of oyster sauce lay on the table and you can’t contain the sigh when you glance at them.

You tried everything.

And it still didn’t taste good.

You don’t know how to add oyster sauce, the special ingredient Trey revealed to you in utter secret, to make... anything savour better, but you aren’t going to give up yet.

The cake gets too salty after adding it to the dough, so you figured out it would probably have to go with something either sour or refreshing. The vegetable paste would fit quite good if the dough was overbaken, but then you couldn’t really call it a cake.

Then, when you added it to the cream, the texture got soggy and tasted awful. There was nothing that you could cover a taste with.

And while you wanted to give up, it was Trey who trusted you with his baking secret! If you won’t master it, how will you ever progress?

“Oh, my...” You hear a disbelieved gasp and turn quickly to see Trey eyeing your baking experiment. Noticing the empty bottles of sauce, he immediately knows what’s going on. “[Name]! How could you take that joke?”

You blink slowly.

Oh.

...

“...Shame on me then, hah.” You shrug and smile awkwardly, but your feeling is mixed. Should you be happy that you didn’t do anything wrong, or cry, about the stress you’ve come through...?

“I am truly moved by your faith in me, even if it was misplaced this time,” Trey says and your mouth forms something between a pout and a grimace.“...But oyster sauce?”

“I know--!” You bring your hands to your face and hide from his gaze. “...It still hurts that I’ve spent so much time figuring out the ingredients! ...Now I know that I shouldn’t trust you with questionable recipes.”

You reposition some of your fingers on the face to glare at Trey.

Trey chuckles but also seems gullible.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, don’t be mad,” he reassures you, putting a hand on your shoulders. A sudden strike of electricity goes through your body, freezing you. “I need to say, that, nevertheless, it looks very appetizing.” Trey doesn’t seem to notice your tensing shoulders when he walks to the cake and digs a fork into a cake.

A pleasant crunch fills the air. “The texture is great,” he says with a smile on his face. It becomes a little bit forced when he takes it to his mouth. “But yeah, it’s still not so very edible. Your efforts, though, are paying off. If there wasn’t any oyster sauce, it would have a very rich flavour.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he confirms, and you can’t help but smile. Compliments from Trey are not uncommon but they can move your heart every time. “I will treat you with something if you help me. So, pay attention to me, alright?”

‏‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6. Make him a gift.

You’ve passed the baking test.

It’s hard to lock your excitement within your body, but the little stars in your eyes reveal the truth.

You’ve passed the test and you know that the strawberry shortcake is the result of hours spent in the company of the greatest pastry chef of Heartslabyul, if not NRC.

But not only that. You’ve gained a real... friend. And you could say that it was the real treasure, but it would sound too cliché, and a passed test is not something you could grumble at. But yeah, now Trey was in your life and you can sincerely say, that you enjoy your time with him.

“It’s for you.”

A thin, beautifully decorated box is in your hands as you say those words. Trey grins instantly and looks at you with surprise and joy in his eyes. When he opens it, mini-cakes are revealed. Really beautiful ones—the cake seems super light (probably also vanilla flavoured, he guesses), and the cream is rich in field berry. Candied flowers shine courteously in the sunlight, and Trey can’t help but feel proud of you.

You interpret the silence in the wrong way, letting your gaze down and making a wry face. “...If you don’t want it, I will take it.”

“No!” Trey immediately protests. “You can’t take back a present, [Name].”

“Then don’t make me regret giving you anything!”

Trey laughs and takes the box from you, with the grace of a dancer rather than a chef.

“Thank you for the cake. I will treasure it by eating when the time is right,” and he looks at you, weighing his words. He smiles mischievously. “But... Are you sure there isn’t any oyster sauce in there?”

“Trey!” You punch him lightly in the arm. And then you stop and take a box from him. “You know what, give me a bottle of that. There is never too late to add special ingredients, and now I want to poison you.”

“[Name], no-”

‏‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

7. Endure teasings. (Warning: They come from every side)

Ace Trappola is a tease of a man, whose eyes could never miss the chance to make a comment that will either make the room laugh, sigh or smile hesitantly.

So when he sees you, you can’t expect that you will escape with an unscratched mood.

“Oh, you are the student who keeps our vice dorm leader away from us, huh!” Ace greets you with cheerfulness, and for a second you aren’t sure if he’s talking to you. When he confirms with a nod of his head, that he actually is, you look shocked. He has no qualms to stop teasing you when his voice rises again. “He is so often outside that the whole dorm started to miss him!”

“...Sorry?” You smile awkwardly, not sure how to respond.

“No, no, don’t be sorry, we have so many more treats every day,” Ace waves your words off, but winks at you. “...Unless you did something to be sorry for?”

“Of course not,” by the time he grins widely, you regain some of your lost calmness. “You know, most people would probably be happy when the person who checks if you follow the rules is out.”

“You picked the wrong person then, duh!” He sounds and looks pouty as he throws his half-complaint at you. “Riddle is in charge of everything... He probably has a sweet side, but I can’t really see him dating anyone.”

“Well... Trey and I aren’t dating.”

Ace sounds surprised. “You are not?”

Another voice sounds surprised. “We are not?”

“No!” You turn instantly to Trey, who smiles unapologetically at you. “Trey, you aren’t helping my case.”

He chuckles. Ace shoots you an unimpressed look as if your protest was a lie. You bite back a sigh.

“Sorry!” Trey says. “I couldn’t help but join this very interesting conversation.”

He looks at Ace and smiles slightly.

“But, yes, we aren’t dating,” and there comes the wink and a silent word, “yet.”

He hopes.

He hopes?

‏‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

8. Laugh for him.

Laugh is made of sincerest smiles, and a smile is said to be a half of a kiss.

Your chuckle is surely enough to give him a heart attack.

And maybe because he craves it so much, he's a bit envious of the student you’re talking with...

He isn’t sure how he remained to hold up his composure. Maybe only Cater noticed that something was wrong—other students picked up on the questionable crush only because of the amount of time Trey spent in your presence—but Trey concluded his reactions were a little... delayed.

And thank goodness for that.

The solemn facade is still up when he walks to you and the boy you’re talking with, wide grins on your faces as you share some inside joke. A—nameless, for Trey—boy whispers something enthusiastically, and you burst out laughing.

You’re happy. Trey should be happy. But it’s hard not to feel a weight on his chest as he walks to your table. And he doesn’t want to say that he’s jealous, seeing you laugh your heart out with another dorm student, but... Well, something twists in him.

“Oh, hello Trey!” You notice him when he’s not so far away from you. The other boy just nods in greeting but looks a little bit distracted. “Would you believe that now people are asking me for baking tips?”

“Congratulations. It’s huge progress... especially after adding oyster sauce to the dough,” Trey teases, sitting next to you. Very, very close to you, but you’re too fed up with his comment to notice his proximity.

The boy that was sitting on your other side, somehow, takes this moment as an opportunity to leave.

Somehow, a delight floods Trey’s body.

“Don’t bring it up in every talk about my progress!” You cross your arms and your lips form a thin line. “It was your fault too, you know.”

“...Anyway, did you know that mayonnaise can make a cake moist and fluffy?”

You look at him cautiously. He grins, politely.

“...I will research it,” slowly, warily, you answer. “You see, what you’ve done to me? I have now trust issues!”

Trey chuckles. “Too bad then. I have so much more things to share with you.”

You laugh charmingly.

And his heart skips a beat.

‏‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

9. Get invited to the Unbirthday Party.

“Is that an invitation?”

“Mhm.”

A beautiful letter is packed into a chequered pattern of paper that, by its function, resembled an envelope. It’s sealed with magic and wax, and as you break the stamp, the black and white squares shift from their places, to reveal handwritten words of invitation.

You read the whole thing twice, holding the letter lightly, too afraid to tear down the paper. Trey waits for your response, occupying his hands with a leaf that had fallen on the bench you were sitting on.

Finally, you take a breath and turn to Trey.

“Should I... bring anything?” You ask anxiously. A Heartslabyul party! Were you really invited to the famous event at your school? At the one of the grandest of the Unbirthday party, since the day of invitation was told to be a date of least people having a birthday? “Is there a dress code? Or, can I help you with preparing food?”

“No. You’re my guest and you need to take it easy,” Trey laughs your offer off. He shows you his appreciation with a light touch on your hand, but you do your best to not be distracted by that small (but purposeful, oh so very purposeful) gesture.

“But then you’re the one who bakes everything!” You protest. “Won’t you be tired after doing all desserts alone for such a grand event?”

“It’s all good. I need to keep my thoughts from something, so it’s a great thing to be occupied.”

When he looks at you, guilt twists your expression. You look at Trey sadly, but before you speak up, he doesn’t know what words caused you to have so heartbreaking emotion take over your appearance.

“’Thoughts from something’?” In a whisper, you repeat those words carefully. “Oh... Trey, do you have a problem? Can I be a help to you? I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”

“...Soon,” he licks his lips in a nervous gesture. Were they always this dry? His touch on your hand tightens, and soon he seems to be reassuring you more than you reassured him. Though, no, your appearance was always nothing short of comfort to him. “Soon, you will hopefully end my... problem.”

‏‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

10. Recieve chocolates with love filling.

“Are you waiting for certain someone~?”

Trey rolls his eyes, but his heartbeat still drowns out more of Ace’s upcoming teasings. It gives him an answer he could hardly admit to himself.

He really was nervous.

“No...” He says, but, on second thought, he moulds his response again. “...Actually, yes. Have you seen [Name]?”

“Ha! I knew it!” Ace grins, his teasing eyes having Trey duck his head slightly. “But no, I don’t believe anyone had a chance to see [Name] before you knew.”

“It’s not as if—,” Trey’s breath suddenly frozen; no words could be spoken.

Because you entered.

Your outfit, you think, could be a little overdressed, but it was a grand event, and Hearslabyl dorm was very content with weird clothing, as long as they fit within the rules. A red fabric covers your body with elegance, and roses dipped in gold are neatly attached to your hair and belt.

There is only quiet rustling when your elegant shoes move through the grass.

“...Hello, [Name],” he greets you with a smile that blooms wider every step you’re closer to him. You grin in response. Before Ace can even greet you properly, Trey grabs your hand gently and guides you toward the gardens. “Let’s go. No need to bear with anyone.”

“Hey!” Ace’s way to greet you is blocked by Trey’s arm. “Trey, that’s called possessiveness, duh!”

But you two already walked away.

...

The talk you have is about everything and nothing. The party, though you escaped only after being there for two minutes, was the easiest topic to talk about, as the happy voices from afar reminded both of you of the event.

“The cakes at the party look marvellous,” you say, ready to get the recipe out of him. He smiles, but it’s not the teasing grin that you get from your words. He’s just happy you’re here with him. “Though, that’s expected from you... You know, it’s so random but, whoever will you be with in the future will be a very lucky person! Anyone can just look at-”

“...Would you like to be the one?”

“-you and tell that... you...”

...

What?

He just confessed.

Now you notice that there is a box of chocolates in his hand, decorated with some paper origami in the shape of little roses. Somehow, you can’t tear your gaze away from it.

He prepared to confess.

“I like you,” Trey breaks the silence. For the first time, you see him so clearly unsettled. “I like you a lot, [Name], but if you-”

“No, wait-” You stutter out a protest. The situation of what just happened got to your body and allowed you to take a proper breath. Checks heated up, and tears “I- Trey, I do like- I lov-”

“...Wait,” he stops you gently, and the surprise and confusion paint your face. He smiles, and the stress that was just overtaking his body feels to dissolve. “At first, let me court-... Seduce you properly.”

...

That charming bastard.

He knows your answer and now, secure from immediate rejection, decides to tease you.

You believe it’s to reduce your tension, but you don’t believe whatever he’s about to do, will take off the crimson blush from your cheeks.

Before you can say another word, his fingers are already intertwined with yours, firmly, confidently, so convincingly. He brings your hands to his face and lays several kisses in gentleman’s mannerism on your fingernails and though each feels very attentive, his golden eyes are focused solely on you.

Your heart beats loudly in a rhythmic begging that you’re sure Trey hears.

Only then, does he brings up a heart-shaped box of homemade chocolates; the love is written on the box, on his lips and eyes.

“[Name]...” He says with a low voice, as joy grips your throat and heart. “Will you accept these?”