Hold The Baby Like Borger

In Your Defense [PT 3 - Ignihyde]

You decide to work at Sam's for Valentine's Day and your crush just happens to hear a customer hitting on you. If they get arrested, can you be their alibi?

AKA: This person has a death wish and you find out your crush might be jealous?

Note: Each one is random and some will be longer than others. If I made everyone the same length this thing would be MASSIVE and I would probably die.

Not proofread because of the length.

Whatever part Ortho is in will be platonic, obvs.

Happy V-day!

**Need to go to bed for work tomorrow so Diasomnia will be on my next day off. Can't stay up long enough to squeeze it in**

If there was one thing Idia hated, it was going out in public. He hated how the sun burned his eyes, all the bugs flying around, the way people looked at his hair, and almost had a heart attack at the idea that he'd have to talk to people.

Major bummer. 0/10, don't recommend.

But he'd suck it up and soldier on because the call of sweets was too tempting to resist. The trek to Sam's isn't the longest from Ignihyde but it's enough to make him pace himself.

Yeah, he's not really an outside person. Or a physical activity person outside of dancing to Premo or working on his projects.

He briefly wonders if Ortho put Sam up to this as he finds his second wind and ascends the hill. Who has a bomb sweets sale and DOESN'T ALLOW ONLINE PURCHASES?! WHY WERE THE DISCOUNTS IN-PERSON ONLY?

Idia breaths a sigh of relief and fixes his hoodie before mustering up his courage and opening the door. He's throwing himself into the proverbial lion's den, into an introvert's worst nightmare!

The noise and people are almost too much but he distracts himself with all the pink and red. Mercifully, the candy is spread out around the store so he doesn't have to stay in the sea of people. Idia doesn't discriminate when it comes to sweets; he gets soft cake rolls, pixie sticks, little donuts, a few chocolate bars, and a couple of limited edition dessert drinks. He's secretly glad Sam's regular stock didn't take a hit because of the holiday; his snack stash needs replenishing. Packs of ramen and little things of convenience bury his sweets stash but he's careful not to crush anything.

He can almost hear Ortho nagging him to get something green or slightly healthy. If he doesn't, Ortho will be mad at him for a week. It becomes a battle of wits between the Shroud brothers and Ortho is the king of juvenile inconveniences. Idia has learned the hard way; Ortho resets his alarms, throttles his wi-fi, messes with his lights, takes apart his tablet or takes it off charge in the middle of the night, and just about anything else he can think of.

Idia begrudgingly puts some green smoothies in his basket. Along with some pudding cups.

Satisfied with his raid, he waits in line. He's chanting to himself the whole time: just walk, don't make eye contact! Just walk, don't make eye contact! The line stalls enough for someone to bump into him and he panics, stumbling forward into the person in front of him. His hair flickers and flares a little in his panic.

People give him space and he babbles a quick apology. He pulls his hoodie up over his hair but it doesn't hide everything. It makes him feel safe, though. He relaxes a little.

Then, he hears it.

HOW MUCH DO YOU COST?!

Oof. MAXIMUM cringe. NO ONE on campus has a charisma stat high enough to make THAT work! Except Kingscholar and Schoenheit, maybe.

It gets worse when he realizes someone said that TO YOU.

OH NO! HE HAS COMPETITION!

The tactic looks like it failed, though, so he's comforted. You wouldn't go for something so cheap and cheesy! This guy looks like a D-level tank AT BEST. You're an SSR easy. D-levels and SSR's don't go together!

He's an SSR when it comes to stealth and technical skill so maybe one day you guys can link up or whatever. Your choice. The tips of his hair turn pink and he blows on the closest strand to mute the color.

The guy is doubling down. "You're rolling a one, pleb. A hard one." Idia whispers to himself.

"You say somethin', Shroud?" the guy turns to him.

FUCK, HE KNOWS HIS NAME?!

Idia's hair roars to life with surprise. He yanks the hoodie down before the fabric singes and crisps. His strands are wild, untamed, and yellow. His instinct is to stutter and deny it, to backtrack, but your eyes are just shy of pleading and it makes him swallow the word soup.

"I-I said you're rolling a hard one. Y-You're failing!" Idia doesn't know if he's going to faint first or if his legs will give out. His heart might go first.

The guy clearly doesn't get the reference. The brain is buffering and the lag is too great. He shakes his head with a sharp, toothy smile, unable to help himself. Dumb normie, Idia gives a breathy chuckle. Idia has that unfortunate condition where his face talks for him and it must've said some shit because the tank is now laser-focused on him.

You're over the counter before he can process anything, grabbing the guy by the back of his shirt and telling him to leave. The guy just jerks his shoulders and stays the course. Idia sees you get ripped over the counter and tumble to the floor. You recover decently and grab the closest thing to you but something about the sound of your body hitting the floor sends him into a rage he'd only felt in online arguments.

It feels like his veins are burning. He can tell by the size of his shadow and the light dancing across the floor that his hair is long and ferociously orange. Raging orange. Lethal orange.

"Caution," Idia manages somehow through his rage. "C-Contents are hot." he knows he has to stay put. If he approaches the guy he will LITERALLY catch on fire. It's not a bad idea, and he can see the gears spinning in the guy's head. He's wondering if Idia's going to do it or if he has enough time to hit the door.

The guy chooses the door.

It takes several minutes for Idia to calm down. His hair seems to shrink as he deflates into his usual quiet mannerisms. It's shorter than normal! "Used up all my fuel," Idia complains as he drags himself to the counter. "Need calories." he melts pitifully into the counter.

"You need to buy what you burned, too." Sam points to the singed chips and snacks. He already has a few packs that are beyond saving in his arms. Idia realizes the shop is basically empty now and finds the energy to blush. Pink cheeks look really cute against his blue hair!

"Does this mean I'm done for the day?"

"Yes." Sam looks at you. He's not mad or disappointed, but he means you're done. "I think you're a bit of a fire hazard." he teases.

You both blush.

None of this was in his decision tree! WHAT DOES HE DO?

"You, uh, you want to come by Ignihyde and, um, watch some stuff? You don't have to if you don't want to, of course. I just, you know, since it was my fault and all--"

"Is that a nat twenty in the wild? I think I have to now!" you joke.

"You get that?" Idia's mouth hangs open in surprise.

"It might have different names but I think it's the same thing in my world." you shrug. He's so down to discuss games from another dimension!

A nat twenty indeed!

----

Ortho was doing his best to fill the gaps with whatever Sam's shop had to offer. Idia's grocery order was a little delayed due to the Valentine's holiday so he needed something decent to tide him over. Determined to keep his brother from an early, sodium-induced death, Ortho took it upon himself to shop. He wasn't totally heartless, though, so he'd throw in a few bags of chips to make Idia feel better.

A lot of this chocolate was out of the question! The sugar was through the roof! Then again, Idia was hopelessly addicted to sweets. He's pretty sure his brother broke some kind of record for sugar tolerance.

Equipped with Vil's suggestions and the things he researched, Ortho started hunting for healthy foods. He filled the basket with smoothies, yogurts, dark chocolate, fruit, and protein bars. There should be enough texture and flavor variation there to make Idia happy. Well...relatively.

Ortho floated patiently in line, subtly recording the conversations around him for later playback. Organic human interaction was interesting and would help him improve his algorithms and processes.

It's not like it hurt anything! All of the conversations were innocent and--

WAS SOMEONE TRYING TO MAKE A MOVE ON HIS FRIEND? HIS BESTEST, MOST PRECIOUS FRIEND?! ONLY HIS BIG BROTHER CAN DO THAT!

You may not totally get that he's a techno-organic construct (and not a boy who just really loves pretending to be a robot) but HE GETS that YOU'RE NOT COMFORTABLE AND THAT'S NOT OKAY!

"Excuse me, pardon me," Ortho weaves carefully through the people, playing a little 'wee-woo' alarm through his speaker system.

He floats beside the guy, staring at him with those big gold eyes. Pinching his thumb and pointer finger together turns up the alarm.

The guy is ignoring the alarms! How ridiculous! Is this what Idia means by natural selection and survival of the fittest?

A red light pops out of his shoulder, spinning in place.

HE'S IGNORING THAT, TOO?!

"You're being interrupted!" Ortho glares at him now, tuft of blue hair dancing angrily. "This conversation is clearly inappropriate for the setting and is henceforth terminated!"

"Terminated? Big words for a little boy! Go away, big people are talking!" the guy tries to shoo him away.

"Don't be rude to him!" you snap, "And he's right! The conversation is terminated!"

"Terminated!" Ortho echoes, pumping his fist. "Terminated!" he repeats, laughing when some of the people in line begin to join in and chant 'terminated, terminated!'

The guy leaves without buying anything and Ortho is happy to take his place. He pays for the the snacks. "And here's a sticker for you for being so sweet!" you put a sticker on the back of his hand. It's a heart wearing sunglasses.

Ortho laughs despite himself. One day he'll get Idia to explain it to you in a way you understand. He's surprised nothing like him exists in your world but he's glad to be here with you in Twisted Wonderland.

Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle (Here!), Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. I've been thinking about maybe programming a small fan-made mini-otome using these ideas. Just for some practice for school while also being self indulgent hehe

Azul Ashengrotto

Fortune. Azul is one fortunate soul. At least, not he thinks himself to be.

and to think that it's because of sheer luck. He did not work for you. He did not climb or claw or plan for you. He did nothing.

No, you chose him. You saw him at his lowest and decided that he was worth becoming friends with. You actively sought him out...just to spend time at his side. Regularly. You enjoyed Azul's company

and over time, he grew to enjoy yours. Immensely. Like a giddy school-girl, his heart fluttered at the thought of you and all his notebooks were covered in doodle hearts.

This was it for him. Azul is a one and done kind of man. It’s you or it’s no one. Which means that it obviously is going to be you because hello??? Azul is not a quitter.

During your younger years as students….he may have been a bit too ambitious. In other words, Azul has proposed many times

And in turn has been rejected. Many. Times.

It began passively. He’d mention here and there his future plans for after schooling. Try to talk himself up, yeah? He’s going to be a big business man, isn’t that just perfect husband material? He can take care of you easily so there’s no need to stress.

Naturally you pushed off these moments as daydreaming and casual joking. Nothing serious. So he ups his game. It just so happens that he mistakenly got a bridal magazine in the mail…oh, look at these dresses and suits! So fancy. So beautiful…oh, you would look absolutely darling in one.

….oh sweet merciful seven please take the HINT. He is LITERALLY throwing himself at you

He ups his game. Again. A romantic candle lit dinner for two. The works. Jazz music, slow dancing, good company, and the casual proposal y’know just your average date.

You have to be doing it on purpose

In your defense. He did not flat out say “will you marry me,” because he chickened out. Instead he asked if you’d like to live with him after graduation as…roommates.

The world is out to get this poor man. It is. It truly just wants him to crash and burn in embarrassment. The way you laughed and went “I think we’re a bit more than that, don’t you think?” HAUNTS him

He screamed into his pillow that night. For hours. Floyd still gives him shit for it

Life continues this way. For reasons unknown…he just couldn’t bring himself to be direct. Which is so unlike Azul considering he spent years toughening himself up.

Maybe deep down he did fear that things wouldn’t work out. A merman and a human…what if you did not want to lige in the sea? What if his body could not sustain human form for long term? Maybe he wanted you to take initiative and prove him wrong. Eventually he did give up.

At least until you both aged into the “roommates”he dreamed about. There were trials and compromise. He never thought to have two homes, one by the ocean and one literally inside of it. Life was perfect….just without the title. And on one random night, Azul thinks “One more time,”. No elaborate ruse. No trickery to get you to ask him. Just….

“Will you marry me?,” Azul whispered into your shoulder. You both lay together in your shared bedroom with nothing but the sound of crashing waves coming in from the outside. Your steady breathing halts, proving that you heard him. With a sigh, he reaches to massage your scalp, “I do not know if you have realized by now…no, I am sure of it. No one is that dense. I won’t pry for why you have ignored my past attempts…all I ask is that you answer this. Will you marry me, (Y/N)? Having you at my side has truly made me the most fortunate man alive,”

{ A black pearl over a gold band. One of the most ultimate displays of wealth. Azul is well aware that this is not the traditional pathway. He could have easily acquired a ‘genuine’ Pearl, perhaps a diamond - but no. You are a rarity. A true jewel. Only a ring worthy to reflect that is worth buying. You were the most unexpected thing and are now the most cherished. This ring represents that,}

Jade Leech

The want caught him by surprise one day, which is rare. Jade is never thrown off guard. At least, not easily.

Then again, you have always been the most difficult person for him to predict. Something he finds very charming since there is always an upbeat atmosphere wherever you go. If his days were a dimming flame, you would be just the right amount of Co2 to spark some fun - not that he would easily admit to it.

Albeit so, Jade is not blind to his emotions. He hides them well underneath a polite smile - but they are there. He is aware of them.

Which is why he snatched you up early on. A relationship was the last thing he thought to find on the surface (or in general, honestly), but Jade knows what he wants when he sees it.

He merely asks you on a date with confidence. You accept, and the process repeats until an unspoken bond formed between the two of you. Not a soul in the nearby vicinity would dare make a move on you with his lingering presence. Jade was pacified, entertained, and happily content with your circumstance.

A circumstance that Jade gets maybe a bit too comfortable with. Just like surprise, it takes a lot for Jade for feel secure. The only person he has truly felt that with is his brother. This lack of overbearing responsibility, where something is being unspoken. No ulterior motive or underlying tone in your actions that make him have to over-analyze.

In the beginning he thought of your bluntness as an extra entertainment factor. Something that he could count on to make those brief unpredictable situations amusing. Yet, as time passed he notices that it's comforting. When he's with you, Jade turns his brain off. Not entirely, of course. He still needs to throw in witty quips and fluster you at LEAST twice per day.

but it's different. It's a different comfort than what he feels with his sibling or with his friend. It's new, and strangely similar to how he feels when he forages while hiking. Perhaps finding peace in another person...maybe there is merit. Hah. Yet another surprise.

On an evening long past curfew, Jade was tending to his botany collection and miniature greenhouse. You sat on his bed, watching videos on your phone. It was almost like you weren't there with him, yet not since he felt your presence. However, there was no pressure to talk or be attentive. He found himself enjoying your presence alone, and it slipped.

"If this is how our days will be when we live together, then perhaps sharing one life is not as inconceivable as I once thought," he said amidst trimming one of his herb plants. Jade turns curiously when he hears a thump from behind, and sees you gawking at him. You had lost your grip on the cell phone, and it fell to the ground.

He eyes you suspiciously. What's startled you? He doubts that any video could render you speechless.

....he spoke aloud, yes? Not in his head. Now it's Jade's turn to lose his composure.

Another surprise, but this is his own doing. Jade has not had a slip of the tongue since his childhood. Even then it was rare. He's never experienced this kind of mess-up...yet, you don't appear appalled.

Jade places the clippers down, and coughs into his gloved hand, "well, it appears I have gotten a loose tongue. It must be from your influence, no doubt". He stands, and moves to sit next to you on his bed, "I've never spoken out of place before, you know. Do you know what this means? I've become weak...and perhaps it it is time you take responsibility for these newfound emotions. I fully intend for many moments like these to happen, and for you to not leave my side. When it is time to leave this place, I believe you will join me. No, I am certain of it"

{An eye of lapis. A reminder that he is always watching - waiting, to see you again. The gem is not see-through. It’s a tough stone. Yet it is beautiful and is appreciated nonetheless. Enough said}

Floyd leech

At first, you believed him to have an obsession. Many did, actually.

The judgement isn't uncalled for either. Floyd's emotions towards you are very strong. With the way he loves to tease and follow you around - he's got a deep attachment. He's always demanding your attention, pulling you from your duties, starting trouble, and nosy. Floyd is oh so nosy and into everything in your life.

You're a toy. His little Shrimpy. The plaything that he absolutely adores and loves to watch. You're the Friday night sitcom to his late-90s grandma.

That's how you see it because that's how he portrays it. With others in agreeance, it is easy to overlook the small undertones in his actions. Especially since he's a touchy and emotional person normally.

Somehow, Floyd had himself tricked as well. He didn't akin his emotions to obsession, but he did think that you were a toy that he would

eventually out-grow. At the start, it really was just a game for him. He liked your reactions and therefore decided to keep you around.

Yet, he never got bored. Eventually the fun events around you stopped being what he found interesting, and instead he liked you alone. Floyd being Floyd instantly tried to confess this, not wanting to waste another minute. Yet you never believed him.

He brushed it off. You'd come around. Not a day went by without him by your side. To the average onlooker (and you, to Floyd's dismay) this still appeared normal. Weeks past by like nothing.

Only the people closest to Floyd see the small giveaways. Like how he glares holes into the mirror portal every morning, or gets snappy with customers if you take too long to visit the Monstro Lounge at night. There's a booth saved, every evening with no student brave enough to go near it unless they want their head chopped off.

When he gives you a 'squeeze,' he never wraps his arms around your stomach. He instead smothers your head and goes tightly around the shoulders. Your squeezes are special. He loves them.

or the name 'Shrimpy'. How he says it to you in public, but in private he occasionally lets your real name slip out. This normally happens during moments when he feels "bored,"(i.e has nothing to talk about) or lighthearted (the rare moments when you get him to relax). Floyd has never said that name with anything other than a positive emotion, despite his mood swings. Shrimpy is his calling card for you, and only his. Yet your name is different. He feels a tummy-twisting kind of weird when he says it.

but the biggest change is Floyd's attitude towards danger when it comes to you. Before, he thrived on it. He liked to hear your stories and be part of the fun. He took joy from the scary adventures you got wrapped into; heck, he was one of them.

Now he gets morbid. Not like how he was before, with eerie threats and a suspenseful aura. He never actually acted unless told to do so, since the over-blots and delinquent students were your problem, not his.

One afternoon, you didn't show up to have lunch with him. That already made him irritable since you know better than to no-show. Did you want a squeeze? Huh, Shrimpy? He'll give you one later.

Then two students come in, all snickering and acting suspicious. Strike two. Now Floyd is upset AND annoyed. Others in the area can feel the animosity in the air.

"Did you see their face? Psh. That'll teach some snot-nosed no-mag to act all mighty. If they know what's good for them, they'll go back to whatever sh*t-hole they came from alrea-" The no-face couldn't finish his sentence. Not with one of the infamous Leech twins gripping his arm tight enough to snap bone.

Floyd smiled, "oh~ So you're the reason my little shrimp isn't eating lunch with me, aren't ya? So. What'd ya do? C'mon guys, I want to know what 'lesson' ya taught, " as Floyd spoke, his grip gradually tightened and he stared straight into the other student's eyes. Each word came out harsher than the last.

They broke quick, as he suspected. With a rough shove Floyd pushed them aside to find you. He had their faces memorized. Let them live in fear for a bit until he collects due payment. For now?

Floyd finds you at your home. He doesn't bother to knock and bursts through the front door, only to see you nursing a black eye on the couch with some ice. He wastes no time in taking it and kneeling in front of you.

Floyd holds the ice to your eye - a bit too harsh- and clenches his jaw when you wince. You won't meet his eyes and it only pisses him off more, "Oi. Look at me," and you do with your one eye. "Why didn't you call me. Why'd you not show up," You sigh and reach a hand to cover his, "because I knew you'd be pissed... I handled it, okay? No need to fake the whole 'I will protect you, my little Shrimpy' scenario. We both know that's not your thing, "

You're wrong. It's not a scenario. You can dismiss his flirting all you want, but even Floyd has a limit. Do you not see how absolutely wreaked overhearing those airheads made him? He's going to do worse than you can think. He won't kill them. No, he'll make sure that no one messes with you anymore. You can't see it, but on the inside he is over it. Done. Finished. Officially has 0% patience.

"Did you know that every time you spout crap like that, it pisses me off? I don't 'act,' because that's boring. I'm not lyin' when I say I like you, and you better start believin' it because I'm over the niceties. If someone messes with you, they mess with me. You're in deep (Y/N) and I'm not letting go, so wait here while I handle some little pests. I love ya. I act this way BECAUSE I love ya. Quit denying me already,"

No one will ever mess with you again. Not with the sparkly little gem on your ring finger, tying you to one of the largest and most threatening groups in the undersea world to date.

{ An aquamarine tear. In all honesty, Floyd did not put much thought into his gem. It sparkled. It is the color of his hair streak (or close to it). He imagined it on your finger and thought that it would stand out - ensuring that anyone and everyone could see it. He thought of your possible expression upon seeing it, and was sold}

Squeezed

(You know, at first thought, being squeezed until you may lose feeling doesn't sound too pleasant. But all I can think about is how grounding that could be when in an panic attack)

Floyd Leech x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Platonic/Romantic

Summary: The reality of your situation finally hits you, but you definitely don't need the other students taunting you for something out of your control. Thankfully(?), you have Floyd.

~~~~~~

"Henchman?" Grim's worried call barely registers, your heartbeat creeping into your ears as you quickly speed walk out of your last class. "(Y/n), what's wrong? You're not really bothered by all those chumps are you?"

Your feet stutter, your body falling into the wall of the empty hallway, having been going the completely wrong direction. Your arms wrapped tight around your chest. Your breathing speeds up, vision narrowing as thoughts fill your head.

You were gonna either die here or be stuck here forever, weren't you? Stuck in a world of magic, unable to tap into any of the mystical power. Has Crowley even been looking for a solution???

You barely register Grim saying something about getting help, barely see him rush off. Your ears ring, gaze darting around you yet focusing on nothing.

You blink, trying to take in a steadying breath. You just needed to focus, identify colors or shapes to reset your head, calm yourself down before you truly lose it. You try to focus on something to begin, but your brain is too scrambled to give a name to any shape or color.

You don't hear the sing-songing lilt of someone calling your name, barely registering the figure now in front of you.

"Shrimpy?" It's Floyd, his toothy grin on display. "You're breathing awfully heavy there, you know. What's got you so worked up?"

He leans into your space, trying to see if you'll react. Had you been lucid, your blood would've ran ice cold at the way his grin drops. "Shrimpy?"

He takes note of the tight grip on yourself, the way you seem to look through him. He bends down a bit more on your level, one hand gently resting on the top of your head. His expression twitches at the way you're trembling.

Well, this isn't good. Not with the way you flinch at the mere brush of his hand on your hair.

"Hey, Shrimpy... (Y/n)?" he tries calling out to you again, bi-colored eyes locked onto you. When you don't react, he figures he has to resort to other methods.

His hands grasp yours, prying them off your arms and towards him. He ignores the startled gasp that leaves you, quick to wrap his arms around and squeeze.

You sit there, completely trapped, for a few long, tense moments. You blink, the blurriness in your vision coming back into focus as you register his heartbeat against your ear. Slowly, you relax, regaining control of your breathing, the dull ringing in your ears fading.

You feel him grin into your hair. "There you are Shrimpy!"

"F... Floyd?" you mumble, voice cracking as you reach up to wipe at your watery eyes. "W-What...?"

"I found you here against the wall, panicking like a beached fish. Where's your little beast, hm? Did he leave you here alone?"

You hum, leaning into the stupidly tall eel as he starts playing with your hair. "Ah... he said something about... about going to find help."

Floyd hums back, cheek pressing to the top of your head. "What got you so worked up?"

You explain the situation, the whispers of your crueler classmates, your own fears, and the fact Crowley hasn't done anything.

Floyd catches your emotions before you do, squeezing you a bit more to calm you back down. For as scary as he can be, you're finding this extremely comforting, pinned to reality and shielded from your wandering thoughts.

"I'll take care of it."

Had you been in any other situation, those words would've sent the fear of the Seven straight through you, but right now they were simply comforting.

Thankfully, you aren't looking at his face right now, otherwise you'd find a very murderous looking eel. Instead, you press into him, smiling.

"Thanks, Floyd."

HC: Composed/chill characters realizing their feelings

What I find adorable is when the normally composed character (who does things with you) realizes their feelings, then suddenly everything they do with you gets them flustered, and they act uncharacteristically.

Vil, who gracefully does your make up realizes mid application of your lipstick that he likes you more than he thought he does; the lipstick misses and smears on the side of your lips because he misapplied. He tries wipe of the excess with his thumb, his expression schooled to appear nonchalant but his fingers are shaking just a bit.

Ace, who is playing around with you, throwing an arm around your shoulder then suddenly being hit with an epiphany followed by a loud BADUMP in his chest that his arms immediately fly to his side. Oh, oh no no no no. THIS CAN'T BE *Internal panic*

Trey, who is baking with you having a sudden image in his mind of you and him together in the kitchen back home, laughing merrily between sweets and bake goods. You call out his name and ask him to pass the 'honey', but he's still out of him so he says 'yes dear?'. Then immediately drops the honey bottle mid-pass because he realized what he has said.

Jamil, who usually replied to your overly enthusiastic greetings in the hallways getting a glance of you from afar, his hand ready to wave back then realizing he is grinning like a fool and is like OH SHIT OH SHIT OH SHIT, WHATTT!?FUCKKKKK—and immediately books it behind a pillar to hide. He reasons to himself he must be sick or tired, or both. Then he looks again and spots you spotting him, you grin and wave and he nods far too 'solemnly' in your perspective. He is spiralling in his head.

You tell Azul to shut up while he is in the middle of trying to scam you into a contract (cuz he needs more hands in Mostro lounge) but instead of being unfazed by your usual curt reply and biting back with a smoother offer suavely, his heart skips several beats. He is stumbling over his words, getting tongue tied, and when he sees just a glimmer of a spark of interest from your eyes his brain freezes. He then proceeds to tell you he is coming back tomorrow because the offer still stands (He means it, he will go to YOU don't go to him, he has to adjust to his feelings! He refuses to be caught unprepared!!!)

You Being Super Oblivious Of Them Flirting With You

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff/light romance - no prns .

- [𝐜𝐡.] 3rd years

- [𝐩:𝐬] slow burn . one-sided pinning (resolved) . light comedy . mild suggestiveness . teasing/banter . slight jealousy

Note: I sat down to write cute flirty headcanons and instead accidentally wrote all of these guys having a romantic breakdown in about their crush being so oblivious about the flirting. 💀 Then I thought they where good and just decided to go with that as the prompt!

Trey Clover

It had been going on for weeks.

Subtle, harmless gestures at first—sharing his homemade treats, seeking you out in the hallways between classes, and always making sure there was a spare seat beside him at Heartslabyul’s long, rose-lined table. You always took it. Smiling up at him, laughing at his jokes, even leaning against his shoulder sometimes when the evenings stretched long and drowsy under the golden canopy of dusk.

And yet.

You were completely, utterly oblivious.

“You’re really good at baking, Trey,” you complimented one day as he handed you a small, ribbon-tied box of matcha-flavored sweets, his personal recipe he never shared. You bit into one, eyes lighting up in delight. “I don’t know how someone like you is still single.”

Trey blinked.

“...Someone like me?”

“Yeah! Tall, dependable, cute smile—you’re like...dad boyfriend material.”

If he had been drinking tea, he might’ve choked.

Dad boyfriend material?!

Despite the polite, affable smile he wore, a faint twitch of disbelief rippled across his temple. Trey had dropped so many hints—letting you taste frosting off his finger in the kitchen, gently brushing your hair out of your eyes when you leaned too close to the oven, even calling you “sweetheart” under his breath when you dozed off during a study session.

And yet, here you were. Thinking he was some domestic teddy bear.

The final straw came during a Heartslabyul tea party, when you reached over to wipe a crumb from the corner of his mouth with your thumb, completely unaware of how red his ears turned.

“You’re always such a mess after eating cake,” you scolded gently.

“You do realize,” he said slowly, looking into your eyes with a rare, unreadable intensity, “that I only ever bring you the first slice.”

“Huh? I just thought I was lucky!” you grinned.

That did it.

He leaned in, lowering his voice as he caged you between the chair and the hedge behind. His gloved hand gently tipped your chin up. “I’ve been flirting with you for months,” he murmured. “How much more obvious do I have to be, shortcake?”

Your mouth dropped open. “Wha—wait, what?!”

Trey laughed softly, finally letting his forehead rest against yours, the tension melting into something warm, golden, and soft. “I swear, you’re sweeter than my tarts and twice as dense.”

Cater Diamond

“Okay, I give up,” Cater announced dramatically, collapsing face-down on the common room couch. “I’ve tried everything, and they still don’t get it.”

From behind his phone screen, he peeked at you sitting nearby, nose buried in a magazine, completely unaware of his suffering.

It had started as a game at first—light teasing, exaggerated winks, the occasional compliment laced with glittering charm.

“Looking good today, babe~” he’d say, snapping a selfie of the two of you while slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“Thanks, Cater! You look amazing too, as always!”

But you always said it like a friend. With zero hesitation, zero fluster, zero realization. You treated his affection like background noise—a quirk of his personality.

Even when he’d rested his head in your lap after a long day and looked up at you with dreamy, sleepy eyes and whispered, “You’d make a perfect boyfriend, y'know... if you’d let me,” you just chuckled and patted his hair.

“Aw, Cater, that’s sweet. You’d be a great boyfriend for someone, definitely.”

Someone.

SOMEONE.

He practically screamed into his pillow when he got back to his dorm that night.

Every day since then had been a desperate escalation. He started bringing you your favorite snacks, styling your hair for fun, sending you good morning texts with pet names like “sunshine” or “my star.” You responded with gifs. Gifs.

Finally, in a move of last-ditch desperation, he planned the boldest romantic gesture he could think of.

Cater rented out the photo booth in town, the one with the glitter backgrounds and soft lighting. He dragged you inside under the pretense of wanting “a bestie shoot,” and waited for the moment the countdown began.

Three…

Two…

One—

He turned, cupped your face, and kissed your cheek.

Click. Flash.

You blinked at him.

“Cater?? What was that for?”

He stared.

“No, seriously. Are you okay? Did you think I was sad or something? You can talk to me, y’know.”

Cater threw his hands up and groaned.

“You’re the one I like!! You! Not as a friend, not as a selfie buddy, not as a human pillow—I like you, you dense little cinnamon bun!”

Your eyes widened. “Wait. Are you flirting with me?”

He looked like he aged five years in five seconds.

“Yes. YES, BABE. That’s what the last four months were. Flirting. Full-throttle, heart-eyes, rom-com level flirting!”

“…Oh.”

A pause. Then, sheepishly:

“So… wanna take another photo? This time, maybe I kiss you on the lips?”

Cater blinked at your soft smile and the way your hand found his.

And just like that, every ounce of frustration melted into sparkly euphoria. “Oh my Seven,” he whispered with a grin. “Finally.”

Leona Kingscholar

Leona was not a man known for patience. In fact, most of the time, he prided himself on getting what he wanted with the least amount of effort. He was sharp, cunning, and confident enough to know that most people would bend over backward just to get a sliver of his attention. So when he set his sights on you—you, with your soft laugh, bright eyes, and completely clueless smile—he assumed it would be easy.

It wasn’t.

It started small. He’d lounge in the botanical gardens where he knew you always came to study. He made sure to growl off anyone else who might sit nearby, leaving the two of you in your own little secluded corner. He'd toss you the occasional compliment, his voice lazy and low.

“Tch. That look suits you, herbivore. Finally got some style.”

You’d blink at him with that warm, clueless grin. “Oh? Thanks, Leona. My friend helped me pick this outfit.”

He resisted the urge to growl. Again.

Then he escalated. He’d sit closer—closer than anyone would consider “just friends.” He'd drop hints laced with suggestion, his amber eyes narrowing when you remained oblivious. He once even played with your hair, idly running his fingers through it while you yawned and continued taking notes on magical herbology.

It got to the point where Ruggie cornered you in the hallway, shaking his head in disbelief. “You seriously don’t get it? He’s basically marking his territory every time you’re near!”

“Huh? Leona? Nah, he’s just... touchy sometimes.”

Leona nearly tore his textbooks in half when he heard that.

The final straw came one warm afternoon when you plopped down beside him under the shade of a sprawling tree. You smiled and passed him a snack you'd made, and Leona, in a bold move of desperation and hunger for your attention, leaned down and bit into it directly from your hand, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

You just blinked and said, “You must’ve been really hungry!”

Leona threw himself backward into the grass with a groan, covering his eyes with his arm.

“Seven hells, you’re dense,” he muttered.

“Huh?”

He sat up again, eyes narrowed, voice husky. “Do I need to spell it out for you, herbivore? I’m not just hanging around you ‘cause I’m bored. I’m trying to get you to notice me.”

You tilted your head, confused. “But I do notice you…”

“No,” he growled, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly, tugging you closer. “Notice me. As in, I want you. You. Me. Together. You seriously didn’t get that?”

You froze. And then it hit you like a freight train. The closeness, the compliments, the touches, the possessiveness—

“Oh... OH.”

Leona smirked, fangs glinting in the sun. “Took you long enough.”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil was always graceful, always poised, always in control. He calculated every step, every glance, every smile. So naturally, when he decided to pursue you, he did it with the same precision he applied to a stage performance or a red-carpet event. Subtle glances, gentle compliments, a brush of his fingers across your shoulder. It was a slow-burning courtship that he expected would sweep you off your feet.

But instead?

Nothing.

Nothing but your charming smile and occasional, completely unbothered “Thank you, Vil!” or “You’re so sweet!” before skipping off to your next class.

He chalked it up to modesty at first. Maybe you were shy. Maybe you wanted to play hard to get. But by week three, when he sent you a handpicked bouquet of enchanted roses and you gave them to Professor Trein’s cat because “it matched her fur,” Vil nearly fainted on the spot.

So, he got bolder.

One afternoon, he strode into your dorm’s common room while you were curled up on a couch with a book. Wordlessly, he slipped beside you and sat right in your lap, settling as gracefully as ever, legs crossed, arm lazily draped around your shoulders.

You blinked. “Are you tired? You can sit here as long as you need.”

Vil’s eye twitched.

“Tired? No, darling, I wanted to sit somewhere comfortable and charming. Surely you understand the appeal.” He leaned in, his breath tickling your ear. “Or is my lap too forward for your delicate sensibilities?”

You laughed lightly. “Nope! You’re light. I didn’t even notice the weight. Kinda like a cat. A really fashionable one.”

Fashionable cat?!

Vil nearly stood up right then and there, scandalized. But no—he took a deep breath. Composure. Poise.

Until you reached up and started patting his head.

“You’re so pretty, Vil. I hope I can be as pretty as you one day.”

“…I’m not trying to be ‘pretty like you,’ I’m trying to be yours,” he hissed in exasperation, face dangerously close to yours.

You blinked again. “Wait… what?”

Vil’s patience finally snapped like a taut ribbon.

“For the love of all that is radiant—I have been flirting with you for months. I’ve complimented you, made time for you, bought you gifts, and now I am literally sitting on your lap! What more must I do? Wear a sign that says ‘I want to be yours’?”

You gaped at him.

“…I thought you were just naturally dramatic.”

Vil groaned, burying his face in your neck. “You’ll be the death of me.”

You awkwardly wrapped your arms around him, finally catching on. “Wait, so… you like me?”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, expression softening ever so slightly. “I more than like you. But you, sweet potato, are so hopelessly dense.”

You laughed nervously, cheeks burning. “I’m really sorry… but, um… I like you too. I just didn’t think you’d like someone like me.”

Vil huffed, but a genuine smile curled on his lips. “Well, you’re mine now. And you’ll never be oblivious again, because I won’t give you the chance to miss it.”

Rook Hunt

To Rook, this was a challenge—a delicious, exquisite one.

He was well aware of how utterly unaware you were. The first time he realized, it was during archery club. He complimented the way your arms flexed as you pulled the bowstring, his tone sultry, his gaze locked on you like you were his prey.

You grinned and said, “Haha, thanks! I’ve been working out my shoulders. Good for posture!”

He tilted his head, lips curled in amusement. “Ah, ma colombe, you are truly a creature of mystery~”

But instead of giving up, Rook only doubled down. He started leaving flowers at your desk with poetic notes—sometimes with metaphors so thick they practically screamed “I am in love with you!”

You just thought it was a Rook thing.

“You’re so sweet! You write such beautiful stuff. Have you thought of joining the poetry club?”

Poetry club…?! Mon dieu, I am baring my soul!

He even tried the "accidental touch" method—fingers brushing yours when passing a book, hands lingering too long during sparring practice. Yet you never reacted with more than a casual smile and a “You okay?”

And Rook? He found it thrilling.

“This unawareness… this resistance… c’est magnifique!” he whispered one day, watching you from the balcony like a Shakespearean ghost. “You are like a doe in the forest, unaware of the eyes that follow you in reverent adoration…”

The final straw was when he kissed the back of your hand under the moonlight after walking you to your dorm. With an air of mystery and drama, he looked into your eyes and murmured, “Bonsoir, ma lumière…”

You giggled. “Wow, you really should join the drama club. That delivery was incredible.”

Rook clutched his chest like he’d been shot, but he was laughing too. Of course. Of course you didn’t get it.

But that just made him want you more.

“I shall make it my mission to pierce through the veil of innocence that blinds you, mon trésor,” he declared to the stars. “You will see me—not as a friend, not as a fellow student—but as the man who has adored you all this time.”

Idia Shroud

It was exhausting trying to flirt with someone who didn’t even realize you were the final boss in their dating sim.

Idia never considered himself bold—not IRL, anyway. Most of his romantic experience came from watching his OTPs go through slow-burn arcs in visual novels or tragic anime love stories. But when it came to you, he was trying. Like, genuinely. In his own glitchy, socially awkward way.

He’d wait outside your classroom “totally coincidentally” with his tablet in hand, acting like he wasn’t tracking your class schedule to the minute. He even upgraded Ortho’s AI recognition software just to find excuses to walk past you more often. He quoted romantic lines from his favorite games to you, hoping you’d get it—but every single time?

You’d just blink. Smile. Nod like he was being cute.

“Oh, that line was so poetic! Is that from a movie or something?”

“B-bro that’s from Stellar Lust IV! The confession scene where the star-crossed lovers reunite under a dying moon! Are you seriously not…? Nvm.”

One afternoon, he got bold. He invited you to his room. That alone should’ve been a confession—no one entered his sacred gaming lair unless they had maximum trust level.

He cleared off a place on the bed, installed RGB mood lighting, even had anime OSTs playing softly in the background. He hyped himself up for weeks for this. He was going to drop a flirt so obvious, even a level 1 NPC could read it.

“So, u-uh, you ever wonder what it’d be like to… y’know… date a genius tech prince who could hack into the city grid just to turn all the traffic lights green for you?”

You tilted your head. “That sounds dangerous… but also kind of cool? Is this part of your new game concept?”

He.exe stopped working.

The blue flames of his hair turned pink for half a second before sizzling back.

He mumbled something incoherent and turned back to his computer, pulling his hoodie so far over his head he looked like a turtle. “N-no, yeah, that was just… haha… worldbuilding...”

He’d keep trying though. One day, he’d craft a cutscene so perfect, even you couldn’t ignore the affection coded into every line.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus was not used to being ignored. Or overlooked. Or, heaven forbid—misunderstood. He was the Crown Prince of Briar Valley, the most feared and powerful student on campus. And yet, here he was, casting ancient spells to conjure glowing roses and coaxing fireflies into hearts over your tea cup—only for you to respond with:

“Wow, Malleus! You always make things so aesthetic!”

He blinked. "Aesthetic?"

“Yeah! Super vibey. You should be a party planner.”

He nearly short-circuited.

This had been happening for weeks. He’d memorized your schedule, just so he could “coincidentally” be where you were. He’d offer to walk you home under the stars, hoping for soft-spoken confessions—but you only asked him if he thought raccoons had hierarchies in their little trash kingdoms.

...You were enchanting. But you were driving him mad.

One day, after finding yet another love poem he’d slipped into your book returned with grammar corrections (you thought he was practicing his prose), he decided on something bold. Direct. Unmistakable.

“Child of man,” Malleus said one twilight evening as you both sat beneath a tree, “if I were to tell you that my heart beats differently in your presence, that the night air tastes sweeter when you laugh—what would you say?”

You tilted your head, thinking. “I’d say you have a really poetic way of saying you like hanging out.”

“I do not merely like hanging out,” he said slowly, brow twitching. “I wish to court you.”

You stared. “Like… on trial?”

“…Romantically.”

“Ohhhh.”

Silence.

“Wait, me?!”

Malleus closed his eyes and inhaled. Patience. He could wait a thousand years more. But hopefully not.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia Vanrouge had seen centuries of war, peace, love, loss—and yet nothing, nothing, had prepared him for the sheer unshakable obliviousness that was you.

It started innocently enough.

He’d toss a wink your way whenever he passed by in the hallway. He brought you little trinkets from the village during his off-campus ventures—flowers woven into chains, sweets with hearts drawn on the wrappers, one time even a hairpin shaped like a bat. You had smiled and thanked him with the kind of radiant purity that could blind a mortal man. And then you tucked the bat hairpin in your pencil case.

Your pencil case. Like he was a math worksheet and not a 700+ year old fae trying to court you.

Still, he found it endearing. You were cute in a way that made his ageless heart ache, and he loved a challenge. So he tried harder.

“You know,” he drawled one afternoon, leaning over your shoulder with a voice like velvet, “in my youth, a suitor might serenade their beloved beneath the moonlight.”

“That’s sweet,” you said, eyes on your textbook. “Did they ever get noise complaints?”

He blinked. “...Noise complaints?”

“Well, if it was late and they were singing outside someone’s window… I bet a lot of people weren’t exactly swooning.”

For a moment, Lilia just stared at you. And then he burst out laughing, so hard he had to wipe a tear from his eye.

“You are either brilliantly teasing me,” he chuckled, “or heartbreakingly naive.”

You smiled at him, not understanding in the slightest.

The final straw came when he invited you for a midnight flight—romantic, intimate, just the two of you soaring above the moon-drenched trees. You screamed with laughter and clung to him the entire way, yelling about how cool it was and how friends like him were the best.

“Friends,” Lilia repeated afterward, voice soft and low as you happily ate the little picnic he’d prepared.

You looked up. “Yeah. I’m lucky to have you.”

He sighed with a small, defeated smile, but his eyes were warm. “The luck,” he murmured, “is all mine, dear.”

I know you probably already plan on doing the other characters, but I need at least Floyd with the kiss and make out prompt like yesterday

(Absolutely no rush tho! Loving your work ^^ don’t forget to drink water and eat food!)

Kiss And Make-Out

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff - no prns mentioned .

- [𝐜𝐡.] ace . deuce . cater . jack . floyd . epel . silver . sebek

- [𝐩:𝐬] suggestive themes . mentions of making out . romantic tension

Note: Alright! This will be the last part of the series, so I just decided to add all the characters I didn't do yet. (o´▽`o)

Ace Trappola

It started with a tug. Just a casual grip on his wrist as he passed by in the hallway, waving off some third-year who was teasing him about skipping class again. He barely had a chance to register the way your fingers laced through his before you yanked him—hard—into an empty room, the heavy door slamming shut behind you both.

"Whoa—hey! What the hell—!?"

He stumbled in, nearly tripping over his own boots, arms flailing for balance as he turned sharply on his heel. He looked up, just in time to see the glint in your eye.

Oh no.

That glint always meant trouble. The kind of trouble Ace didn’t know whether to run from or dive headfirst into.

"You—you planned this, didn’t you?" he accused, smirking despite the flush already crawling up his neck. “Dragging me into dark rooms now? So scandalous.”

You didn’t say a word.

Instead, you stepped close, grabbed both sides of his collar, and kissed him like you’d been starved for days.

Ace stiffened for half a second, brain crashing like a poorly-coded spell. His hands fluttered awkwardly at his sides before finally settling on your waist, gripping you like he might float away if he didn’t hold on.

When you finally pulled back, he was breathless and dazed. Hair a little mussed, mouth parted like he wanted to ask a question but forgot what it was.

"...Okay," he exhaled, blinking fast. "What—what was that for?"

"Missed you," you said simply, already leaning in again.

Ace let out a short laugh—more air than sound—and shook his head, pretending to be exasperated. “Missed me? It’s been like—what, three hours since breakfast?!”

You silenced him with another kiss, this one slower. Sweeter. You kissed his jaw, his cheek, the tip of his nose, all while backing him against the wall like a predator closing in on prey.

"Y-You're being so dramatic right now," he stammered, though his voice was soft, almost giddy. “D-Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing. You're trying to kill me. Death by affection.”

Another kiss. His neck this time. Right under his ear where he’s most sensitive.

He made the most embarrassing noise.

Ace clamped a hand over his mouth immediately, cheeks redder than his dorm uniform. “You—! You heard nothing. That wasn't a—hey! Stop laughing! I will hex your shoelaces together, I swear!”

But he didn’t move to escape.

If anything, he pulled you closer.

Your kisses were like fire—warm, addictive, burning away the sarcastic quips and cocky smirks he usually hid behind. With every one, you peeled back another layer, revealing the boy who secretly adored being loved this loudly.

Who basked in the chaos of your attention.

Who melted a little more every time you whispered his name against his skin.

“…You know,” he mumbled at one point, voice low and a little shaky, “you really suck at being subtle.”

You smiled into the next kiss. “Good thing I’m not trying to be.”

He huffed a laugh, arms sliding around your back as he finally gave in, completely and utterly, to your storm.

“Well, in that case… Don’t stop.”

Deuce Spade

Deuce had just finished class, books tucked under one arm, a determined look on his face as he strode through the hallway. He was focused—ready to get to his dorm, maybe squeeze in some studying before dinner.

Then you grabbed him.

It was quick. A tug to his uniform sleeve, a strong pull, and suddenly he was stumbling into an empty storage room, blinking like he’d been teleported into another dimension.

“H-Hey?! What’s going on—?! Are we hiding from someone?! Is it Ace?! Did he prank someone again—?”

You didn’t let him finish.

You pushed him gently against the door the second it shut, eyes locked onto his like a wolf who'd found its prey. And before he could take a breath—

You kissed him.

Firm. Deep. Like you had every intention of kissing away his ability to speak, think, or breathe. His eyes went wide, and he stood frozen in place like someone had cast Petrificus Totalus.

By the time you pulled away, he was flushed from the tip of his ears to the base of his neck.

“I—I—w-wait,” he stammered, lips still parted in surprise. “W-What was that for?!”

You grinned. “Just missed you.”

Deuce blinked rapidly. “Missed me? I saw you this morning—like, just a few hours ago!”

But then you leaned in again, planting kisses along his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, even brushing the tip of his nose.

His hands shot up in defense—though he didn’t push you away. Instead, he clutched your arms like he was trying to anchor himself. His knees might as well have been made of jelly.

“Y-You're really not gonna stop, are you?” he mumbled, heart racing.

You didn’t answer—just kissed him again, slower this time, your fingers tangling in his hair as if you were savoring every second.

He melted. Right there. Right into you.

“…Okay,” he whispered, barely audible. “But don’t tell anyone I like this so much.”

You pulled back, raising a brow. “Oh? So you do like it.”

He groaned, covering his red face with his hands. “That’s not what I—! Ugh… just—kiss me again before I start overthinking this.”

Cater Diamond

It had been a busy day at NRC—classes, club meetings, and then a whirlwind of social obligations that only someone as outgoing as Cater could manage with that ever-present smile. But even someone like him needed a break, especially when the day was dragging longer than expected.

You had been waiting for the right moment all day. Cater had been bouncing from place to place, always surrounded by others, always distracted by something. And even though he texted you little hearts and selfies throughout the day, you wanted more. You missed him—not the filtered, peppy Cater that everyone else saw, but your Cater. The one who melted when you kissed his cheeks, the one who whined dramatically when you ignored his texts for more than ten minutes, the one who looked at you like you were the only real thing in the world.

So, when you spotted him walking past an empty classroom, your body moved before your mind could stop it. You yanked open the door, stepped into the hallway, and grabbed his wrist.

“Wha—whoa, babe?” Cater blinked as you tugged him inside and shut the door behind you with a click. His eyes sparkled, green and gold with a glimmer of surprise and amusement. “You know, usually I’m the one doing the kidnapping~!”

But before he could say another word, your hands were on his cheeks, and your lips crashed into his.

His back hit the door lightly, a muffled gasp escaping against your mouth as you kissed him again—then again, then again. His fingers fluttered, unsure of what to do for a second. You didn’t give him time to process. You kissed his jaw, his cheeks, his nose, even his forehead before returning to his lips, completely overwhelming him with affection.

“Babe—ha—wait, are we even allowed to be this cute in school?” he tried to tease, but his voice cracked into a breathless laugh when your lips brushed just under his ear. His knees nearly gave out.

Each kiss landed with intention. Soft and lingering, or quick and fluttery, some playful and others dizzyingly passionate. You buried your hands in his hair, and he melted like cotton candy in your arms.

“Aww, you missed me that much?” he asked between kisses, his voice going soft, vulnerable. His arms finally wrapped around your waist, pulling you in. “I mean, not that I’m complaining, but wow—this is seriously intense for a classroom makeout sesh.”

You only answered with another kiss, this time longer, deeper. And this time, he didn’t say anything. His eyes fluttered closed, his lips parting against yours like second nature.

Eventually, when the kisses slowed and you rested your forehead against his, Cater let out a dreamy sigh. He looked dazed, cheeks flushed with a blush that reached the tips of his ears. His hands were warm against your back, and his usual sparkly persona was replaced with something softer—something more real.

“Okay, confession?” he murmured. “I was so over today. But this? You pulling me in here like some drama movie lead and smothering me with love? Total game-changer. Honestly, if you ever wanna ruin my day just to fix it like that, go right ahead.”

You chuckled, and he grinned, brushing his nose against yours before stealing one last kiss.

“Let’s stay in here a little longer,” he whispered. “Just a little. It’s not every day I get ambushed by the best kisser in the world.”

Jack Howl

It started with the echo of heavy footfalls in the hallway—the rhythmic stomp of someone strong, composed, and dead set on getting to his next class without distractions. That someone was Jack Howl, and he was already mentally reviewing the next training regimen he’d be doing after school, earbuds tucked in, his brow furrowed in quiet focus.

You, on the other hand, had been plotting this for at least an hour.

He had been so distant today—not on purpose, of course. Jack never ignored you. But he’d been busy, running errands for Leona, staying late at practice, grunting his usual “I’ll text you later” without realizing how much you were aching just to touch him, to hear his voice in your ear instead of through a phone screen.

So when you saw him walking toward the empty corridor, you struck.

“Jack!”

He blinked, tugging an earbud out just in time for you to grab his hand and pull him forward with a firm yank. His eyes widened in confusion, his large body moving on instinct alone as you dragged him into the closest vacant room and shut the door behind you.

“Wait—what’s going on?” Jack’s ears twitched as he glanced around the dim classroom. “Is something wrong? Did someone—?”

You didn’t give him time to finish. You reached up, grabbed the front of his jacket, and pulled him down to your level—pressing your lips firmly to his.

His body froze. Every muscle locked in place like you’d hit a pressure point. His hands hovered awkwardly at your sides, trembling slightly as if afraid to touch you too roughly.

Your lips kissed the corner of his mouth. Then his cheek. Then the tip of his nose. A kiss on the jaw, one near his temple. You didn’t stop. He could feel your love in every press of your mouth—messy, heartfelt, craving closeness in a way that made his whole chest go tight.

Jack made a choked, very un-wolf-like noise deep in his throat.

“Y-You can’t just… do that,” he finally managed, voice thick and low, his tail twitching nervously behind him. “You can’t just pull me in and kiss me like that out of nowhere.”

Another kiss silenced him—right between his eyebrows. His hands finally moved, wrapping around your waist, large and warm, grounding you to his solid frame. You looked up to see his face flushed crimson, his ears flat against his hair, eyes darting between yours and anywhere else in the room.

“You missed me that much?” he muttered, voice quieter, breathless.

You nodded and kissed him again, softer this time. His whole expression changed. The lines of tension in his brow eased. He exhaled a shaky breath, as if he'd been holding it in since he first walked through the door. His hands tightened around you protectively, holding you against his chest like he didn’t want to let you go again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, so earnestly it made your heart swell. “I’ve been too busy. That’s no excuse—I should’ve made more time for you.”

You kissed him again before he could start overthinking. This time he kissed back.

It was clumsy at first. Jack wasn’t the type for public displays of affection, and this kind of ambush? It short-circuited his brain. But now, pressed against you, with your warmth in his arms and your lips seeking his again and again, something in him unraveled.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. “Just… give me a second, okay?” he whispered, a rare vulnerability in his voice. “You overwhelmed me, and I’m not mad. I just—damn. You’re gonna kill me with those kisses.”

You grinned, brushing his white bangs from his eyes before placing a final, lingering kiss on his lips.

Jack sighed. His tail wagged slowly behind him, betraying his calm facade. “You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”

He glanced at the door before glancing back at you. “We should get going before someone walks in. But... maybe we stay just a little longer. I think I owe you a few kisses back.”

And with that, the quiet growl he’d held in finally broke, not in warning, but in affection—low, deep, and unmistakably his.

Floyd Leech

It was one of those late afternoons where the hallways of NRC shimmered with sleepy sunlight, long shadows stretching between tall columns. The students were scattered—some still lingering after class, others already making their way back to their dorms. The air was thick with the kind of quiet that only existed in the lull between chaos and curfew.

And Floyd Leech?

Floyd was bored.

His long strides carried him lazily down the marble corridor, shoes scuffing just to hear the sound echo. His blazer hung open, his tie loosely draped like he couldn’t care less—which, in typical Floyd fashion, he didn’t. He hummed some offbeat tune under his breath, mismatched eyes scanning the area for something interesting. Anything.

That’s when he saw you.

You were lingering a little too long near the end of the hallway, eyes darting to the corners, shifting nervously like you were waiting for someone—or hiding from something. But when your gaze locked with Floyd’s, something electric jolted between you.

“Shrimpy~” he drawled, a sly smile spreading across his face as he started walking faster. “You’re actin’ sketchy again. Whatcha plannin’?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you stepped forward, grabbed his wrist with sudden determination, and yanked him—hard—down the corridor.

He let out a bark of laughter, not resisting, even as he stumbled after you with amused eyes. “Oho~ What’s this? A kidnapping? I didn’t know you were that bold. This is kinda fun!”

You didn’t stop to explain. You just opened the nearest empty room—some forgotten classroom bathed in soft, golden light—and shoved him inside with a mix of urgency and giddy adrenaline. The door clicked shut behind you, muffling the world.

Before Floyd could even finish turning toward you, your hands were on him. Gripping his collar. Tugging him closer.

Then came the kisses.

One.

Two.

Three.

They landed like raindrops in a sudden storm—fast, breathless, messy. His cheeks, his lips, his jaw, the tip of his nose. Kisses that spoke of longing, of needing, of missing him so much it hurt. You kissed him like you were starved for his touch.

And Floyd? He froze.

His arms hovered in the air for a beat too long, stunned, like his body hadn’t caught up to his heart. Then—slowly, deliciously—his grin widened, a low chuckle rumbling from his throat.

“Well, well, well~ Look at you goin’ all wild on me,” he purred, grabbing you by the waist and lifting you so easily off the floor that your feet dangled in the air. “You missed me that bad, huh? Cute~”

But even as he teased, there was something breathless in his voice. Something tight in his chest.

He leaned into you, his forehead pressing against yours, eyes half-lidded and warm.

You kept kissing him—softly now. Slowly. More like an apology than a storm. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt like you didn’t want to let him go. And deep down, Floyd understood. He wasn’t exactly… reliable. Not in the usual way. He wandered off. Vanished for hours, sometimes days. Chased boredom with reckless abandon. But here, in your arms, there was a different kind of pull. One that terrified and thrilled him all at once.

“I’m not used to this,” he murmured against your lips, voice quieter now. “All this sweetness. All this… real stuff. It makes my chest feel weird.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth again. “I just love you.”

The words landed like an anchor in the storm of his thoughts.

Floyd went silent.

Then—gently, reverently—he lowered you down until your feet touched the ground again, though his arms never left your waist. He stared at you with a seriousness that rarely graced his face, his usual grin softened into something real and unguarded.

“…Say it again,” he whispered.

You blinked up at him. “I love you.”

He grabbed your face in both hands and kissed you like he was drowning. All teeth and lips and raw, aching affection. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t perfect. But it was him. Passionate, hungry, and completely lost in you.

When he finally pulled away, breathless, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, voice muffled and shaky.

“You’re in trouble now, shrimpy,” he said, arms tightening possessively. “You keep kissin’ me like that, and I’m never gonna leave you alone again. I’ll follow you to class, to lunch, to the freakin’ bathroom.”

You giggled, and he nipped at your shoulder.

“I mean it,” he said, a little louder now, eyes lifting to meet yours again. “You messed me up real good.”

And despite all his chaotic energy, his violent teasing, the jokes and the nibbles—right now, in this quiet space, with your love still warm on his skin—Floyd was just a boy in love. Hopelessly. Deeply.

Dangerously.

And as he dragged you closer again, murmuring silly threats of never letting you go, of biting anyone who even looked at you—he meant it.

Every word.

Epel Felmier

The quiet clack of your shoes echoed down the nearly empty hallway of Night Raven College. It was late afternoon, the soft amber glow of the sun filtering in through the tall windows and warming the stone floors. Most students were off in clubs or retreating to their dorms, giving the campus a rare pocket of calm.

But you were pacing—nervously, purposefully—waiting.

And there he was.

Epel Felmier, your boyfriend, coming out of class with his bag slung over one shoulder, that ever-present look of mild frustration on his face. His lips were pressed together like he'd just finished arguing with someone—or more likely, fending off another comment about how “adorable” he looked. His hair was slightly tousled, the soft lavender locks catching the light just right.

You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he walked just a little too fast, like he had something to prove even when he was tired.

And suddenly, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

Without giving him time to react, you rushed toward him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward the nearest empty room with a force that surprised even yourself.

“H-Hey—?!” Epel stumbled behind you, eyes wide and cheeks already going red. “What’re ya doin’? Wait, slow—!”

Click.

The door shut behind you both with a soft thunk, cutting off the hallway and leaving the two of you in a forgotten classroom that smelled faintly of paper, chalk, and dust. Shafts of sunlight filtered through half-closed blinds, casting golden stripes across his confused face.

“W-Why’d you drag me in here—?” he started, but you didn’t let him finish.

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him.

Hard.

The kind of kiss that silences words, that speaks of longing, of affection that built up far too long. One kiss turned into two. Three. A trail of warm, fluttering kisses scattered across his cheeks, his forehead, his jawline—so many kisses, fast and giddy, you couldn’t even keep count. Your hands tangled in his soft hair, brushing back his bangs to kiss his temple.

Epel stood frozen in your grasp for a solid few seconds, blinking in stunned silence. His breath hitched.

Then, slowly, his hands found your waist. Tentatively. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hold you this tightly. His fingers curled in the fabric of your shirt as your kisses kept coming, soft and hungry, until his breath came out shaky.

“…Y-You’re bein’ real unfair right now,” he muttered, his ears burning bright pink. “Springin’ this on me without warnin’…”

You finally pulled back just enough to look at him. His face was completely flushed, lips slightly parted, and eyes wide and glassy—half dazed, half drunk on your affection. He wasn’t used to this. Not like this.

But the moment he saw how you were looking at him—genuinely, lovingly, like he was the only person in the world—it broke through his embarrassment like sunlight cutting through fog.

“…Was it ‘cause I looked mad?” he asked softly, brows knitting together. “I—I wasn’t tryin’ to take it out on ya. I just… had a rough day. Some Octavinelle jerk called me ‘cute’ again and—ugh!”

He groaned and buried his face in your shoulder. “It ain’t even what they say—it’s how they say it! Like I’m some lil’ doll or somethin’. I hate it.”

You kissed his forehead gently, arms wrapping around him tighter. “You’re beautiful, Epel. And strong. And I love you like this—exactly as you are.”

That did it.

He squeezed you like he’d been waiting for those exact words. Like you were the one thing grounding him after everything else had tried to knock him off balance.

“…You always know what to say,” he mumbled, voice muffled into your shoulder. “No one else ever sees past how I look. But you… you see me.”

He pulled back just slightly, looking at you with an intensity that made your heart race. That strong, determined gaze you knew he tried to hide from most people.

“Ya better be ready to take responsibility,” he said, grinning through his blush. “You keep kissin’ me like that, I’m gonna start expectin’ it every day.”

You smirked and leaned in again. “Then I guess I’ll just have to give you more.”

Epel laughed—a real laugh, soft and breathless and boyish, like all the pressure melted off his shoulders in your arms.

And in that quiet, golden-lit classroom, with nothing but the sound of your breathing and the warmth between you, he held you close and whispered, “Don’t let go yet… just a little longer.”

Because when he was in your arms—when you smothered him in love like this—he didn’t feel small or cute.

He felt real.

He felt loved.

Silver

The breeze outside rustled the trees, the sound like soft whispers brushing against the windows of the long hallway in Diasomnia’s east wing. The castle was quiet this time of day, almost abandoned as classes had wrapped up and most students had dispersed. Even the ever-watchful Sebek had rushed off to fulfill some loud, energetic duty elsewhere.

But not Silver.

Silver walked with a steady, unhurried pace—his long legs taking him gracefully down the hallway, the silver of his hair glowing faintly in the filtered afternoon light. His expression was unreadable as always, calm and composed, yet his pale lashes drooped slightly, the telltale signs of sleep gently pulling at the edges of his consciousness.

He hadn’t seen you yet.

Not until you stepped out from the side hallway, barely giving him a chance to register your presence before grabbing his hand and pulling him gently—but firmly—into the nearest room.

“Ah—[Name]?” he blinked, his voice low and surprised as the door shut behind you both with a soft click. “Is something the matter?”

The room was some kind of unused study or storage space—quiet, dim, forgotten. A few stray books were stacked in the corners, and light filtered in through half-shuttered windows, casting warm golden streaks across Silver’s face.

He looked at you with soft confusion, his hand still in yours, never pulling away.

You didn’t answer—not with words. Instead, you reached up on your toes and kissed him.

One kiss. Then another. Then another—each one soft, hurried, breathless with affection. His eyes widened, body tensing as your lips pressed against his cheeks, his forehead, his jaw, the tip of his nose.

“Wait… ah—[Name]…!” he mumbled, cheeks flushing a delicate rose. “You’re being very… affectionate today…”

But he didn’t stop you.

If anything, his hands—gentle and warm—came to rest against your back, grounding you. One hand slid up to cradle the back of your head as he leaned into your touch, just slightly, like a man surrendering to something he knew he could never resist.

You kept kissing him, brushing over the bridge of his nose, the corner of his lips, his collarbone, all the places he often forgot were kissable. His armor was off, his guard down, and in this room—with no Malleus to guard, no Sebek shouting in his ear, no duty demanding his focus—he was just Silver. Just a boy in love.

And gods, was he beautiful like this.

“Did you miss me that much?” he asked softly, a gentle laugh in his voice, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he closed his eyes under the weight of your affection. “I’m sorry… I’ve been busy lately. I didn’t mean to neglect you.”

You shook your head quickly and buried your face in his shoulder. “It’s not that. I just… I needed you. And I wanted to remind you how loved you are. That’s all.”

He exhaled, slow and tender, wrapping his arms around you fully now, like the warmth of your presence had melted the last remnants of his knightly restraint. “Then allow me to return the favor,” he murmured into your hair.

You felt him kiss the top of your head.

Then your temple.

Then your cheek.

And finally, your lips.

His kiss was slow. Reverent. A far cry from your giddy flurry of affection—but somehow just as intense. Silver kissed you like someone memorizing the feeling, like someone afraid that if he blinked, the dream would vanish. His hands cupped your face like you were something fragile and sacred, something he couldn’t afford to lose.

“You always find me,” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours. “Even when I get lost in dreams… you pull me back.”

You smiled, heart thudding like thunder in your chest. “Because you’re my dream too. And I want to live it with you—awake.”

His eyes fluttered open, silver meeting yours, soft as starlight.

“…Then I’ll stay awake. As long as you’re here.”

You held each other in the quiet, the world outside forgotten. Silver didn’t fall asleep this time. No… wrapped in your arms, kissed breathless and full of warmth, he stayed fully awake—for the first time in what felt like forever.

Sebek Zigvolt

The halls of Diasomnia were eerily quiet that afternoon. Most students were finishing their classes, with Sebek himself hurrying to the next duty his unrelenting sense of responsibility had thrust upon him. His boots echoed with a sharp, rhythmic thunk against the cold stone floors, and the usually loud, energetic Sebek looked more tired than usual. The wild look in his eyes had dimmed a bit under the weight of his duties, and he was deep in thought when you stepped out from behind the corner.

Before he could even react to your sudden appearance, you grabbed his wrist, pulling him into one of the empty rooms nearby.

“Hey! What are you—”

Sebek’s voice cut off, his eyes wide with alarm, but his protest quickly faltered as you slammed the door shut behind you, effectively trapping him inside. He looked around in confusion, and his brows furrowed. His gaze locked with yours, puzzled, almost a little nervous, yet filled with that undying, unshakable loyalty.

“[Name],” he started to say, his tone more demanding than usual. “Why have you brought me here? I still have duties to—”

But before he could finish, you stepped up to him, cupped his face, and kissed him.

It wasn’t a gentle peck or a soft, polite kiss—it was fierce, hungry, desperate. Your lips met his with so much energy, so much emotion, that it almost knocked the breath out of him. The sudden closeness of it—the weight of your kiss—caused Sebek to freeze, his wide, green eyes blinking rapidly, as if he couldn’t comprehend the sudden shift in the air between you.

"W-Wait, wait—!" Sebek stammered, his hands moving to your arms as if to push you away. But the moment your lips brushed against his again, he faltered. "This is… this is highly inappropriate! We should not—mmph"

Another kiss silenced him, this time across his cheek, then his jawline. You were relentless, pressing soft, passionate kisses along his skin, completely ignoring his flustered protests. His breath quickened. His body tensed. There was an edge to his nervousness, but there was something else too—something deep within him that wanted this.

"Stop being so stubborn," you whispered against his lips, your breath warm against his skin. "I just want to kiss you, Sebek. Is that so wrong?"

The words hung in the air, hanging heavily on him. His eyes flickered, searching yours, as if his mind was caught in a storm of confusion and surprise. His heart pounded in his chest. His breath was shallow, his usual fiery persona momentarily disarmed by your tenderness.

"Ah... [Name], I..." Sebek’s voice trailed off, shaky and uncertain. His hands, which had previously been trying to keep some distance, were now slowly wrapping around you. His arms snaked around your waist, holding you close as he let his guard down. For a moment, he felt completely vulnerable in your arms.

Then, finally, after a beat of silence, his lips found yours—this time, not because you’d kissed him, but because he wanted to. His kiss was more controlled than yours, more cautious, yet still full of that fervent, wild energy that was so Sebek. His hands, once unsure, now pulled you into him with a quiet intensity. His grip on you was firm, the kind of forceful affection that came from a deep, unspoken need to protect, to love.

"I—" he started, pulling back just a little, his breath ragged. His usual authoritative voice faltered for a moment, giving way to something raw, something real. "I don’t know how to handle this, [Name]. I’m supposed to be the one protecting you. But… when you’re this close… it feels like I need protecting.”

You smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. "You don’t need to protect me all the time, Sebek. I want you. I want this."

His eyes softened at the words, the storm of his usual intensity dimming just a little. He let out a quiet, almost reluctant sigh, his head tilting down to rest against your forehead. "You’ve got the strangest way of showing affection, [Name]. But… it makes me feel… something inside."

The words were soft, but his voice held a vulnerability that he rarely allowed himself to show. The Sebek Zigvolt who was normally so brash, so sure of himself, was now completely captivated by you, caught in the warmth of your embrace. His strong, confident stance softened as he tilted his head to meet your lips again.

This time, his kiss was more tender—gentle, yet still filled with that passion that only Sebek could give. His hands slid down to your back, pulling you closer until your bodies pressed together. His heart beat rapidly against his chest as he kissed you deeper, as though he wanted to pour every ounce of his heart and soul into that moment.

When he pulled away again, he was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as if he had been running a race. His eyes were a little hazy, and his cheeks were a bit pink from the intensity of the moment. "I… I can’t believe you’ve done this to me, [Name]. I don’t even know what to say. But… I don’t want you to stop."

You smiled softly, resting your head against his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart. "I won’t stop, Sebek. I’m not going anywhere."

Sebek held you tighter, his arms never letting you go. "Then I suppose… I’ll have to get used to it," he muttered, his voice now a little more teasing, a little more confident in its own way. "Being loved by you, huh?"

Your laughter filled the room, warm and soft, and in that quiet, intimate space, Sebek finally let himself rest. For once, his heart wasn’t racing in a battle or a training session. It was racing because of you.

And he knew, deep down, that as long as you were by his side, he would be yours. Fully, completely, always.

⟡ tag list : @dreaming-of-tae @chai-yas @yunar1 @fever-en @sol3chu @alastor-simp

Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw(Here!), Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. I've been thinking about maybe programming a small fan-made mini-otome using these ideas. Just for some practice for school while also being self indulgent hehe

Leona Kingscholar

Let’s just rip the bandaid off. Leona dates to marry. He’s not someone to invest his time in something troublesome, and frankly? Not many people catch his interest. Sure. He might think someone is physically attractive, but there’s a difference. He doesn’t follow the traditional path either. The ‘dating’ stage doesn’t last long because he’s already made up his mind prior to it.

Dating is pretty much just formality. The moment you agree to it, you’re essentially agreeing to marry him. He’s not going to put in effort for just anyone. Bonus points if he’s the one to confess his feelings first. That is basically concrete confirmation that he intends to marry you.

Leona proposing is inevitable. Only two things stand in his way: time and pride. Time, because he is no idiot. Your ways are unlike his people, and unlike him. He’s patient. He knows how to play the game. He can wait, but not forever. He’ll observe you over time and slip in questions here and there about your goals in life. Then he’ll find a good time frame. Please remember that Leona is not just an ambitious hot-head. He’s a smart one.

Then there is his pride. He will not put himself in a position that has a chance to fail. No. He will play dirty, and wait until you are tinkering with the idea of marriage. He’ll steer conversations towards talks of the future, and make it so you’re the one who starts them. All to get you warmed up to the idea of spending your life with him, and to a stage where he can clearly tell where you lie emotionally. He might appear neutral on the outside; however, it’s all according to plan. While you are just beginning to imagine your lives together, Leona’s already had the thought process long prior. You don’t need to know that though.

The icing on the cake is when you visit his home. Checka is Leona’s secret wingman. Your soft spot for the boy is something he takes advantage of, and lets Checka consume your attention during a tour of the palace. You meet his elder brother, who irritatingly pries for details about your relationship. Leona lets it go. Just this once, because he knows you feeling at home is more important in the long run. You share a room with him during your stay, and he made arrangements for small changes according to your tastes. You’re also gifted with a new wardrobe of traditional clothes for your stay, and given free reign of the area. Naturally you are guarded in secret, as per the King’s orders. His brother knows as well as Leona does that it is imperative that your stay goes well.

You will be touring landmarks and tourist spots within the continent as well. While Leona would much rather laze his free time away in his room (away from his family), he goes. Word spread that he was bringing home his partner. Thank the gossiping maids for that. Walking with you makes the rumors official, and is safer than having you walk alone with Checka and some royal guards. That would have arisen suspicion, and been troublesome. More troublesome than walking around and confirming to the public that you are not to be touched.

Ignoring the many remarks about how Leona is unusually active during his visit (thanks to you), his pride is high. You’ve thoroughly been slotted into his life, and are accepted. Any apprehensions about you denying him were snuffed out. The way you took to living with him so easily proves it. If you weren’t welcomed by his family? Well, it wouldn’t change anything. This scenario just makes what he’s about to do easier.

The first night you arrived, Farlan presented Leona with a Kingscholar family heirloom. A ring that has been in their family for generations. Not meant to be worn permanently, and only for proposals. Farlan used it to propose to his wife, and at the ceremony presented her with the ring he picked out. Now Leona will use it to propose to you.

One look at it and Leona declined. He’s spent his whole life chasing things that he couldn’t have because of his birth status. He would not yield this moment to tradition. Farlan was shocked, but rescinded the offer with a supportive smile. His brother had found himself, and the King was proud.

On the evening of your final night at the palace - Leona finds you alone on the balcony of your shared room. If he was going to do anything, it would be now. Initially he was 100% confident in getting your acceptance, but the longer he watches the less sure he becomes. Deep down there is rooted fear that he will once again become second choice, and that you’ll choose to return to your world over him. His hands are in his pockets, and one of them fists around the ring he prepared long ago.

Right when he moved to back out, you turned to come back inside. Your serene stature brightened at the sight of him, and he gained back some confidence. If you could only look at him that way forever…well, here goes nothing.

What are you doing out there without a coat? It gets extremely cold in the Savannah during the night. Do you want to get sick? I won’t be the one taking care of you….,” he sighs, pushing the door open, “Stubborn mule. Make some room, I’m coming out there….I’m near-certain that you figured it out, but this isn’t just a normal vacation. I brought you here to ask for your hand. What?? Stop playing dumb. Not your ‘hand’ hand - oh, for crying out- marriage! I am asking you to marry me!….I am taking the laughter as a yes, now give me your finger”

{ 'Everything the light touches...is our kingdom' - A golden sunrise. Befitting. He used to hate them. Hate that phrase too. Yet you are the sun that Leona has been searching for. He continues to fight against fate in hopes that his efforts will bare fruit, and you are living proof that there is a chance. Maybe not easily. His life might not be what he originally dreamed. He may not get to sit on a throne of light . Yet there is a light in his life, and he likes to think that fate did not bring it to him. No, he found you all on his own.}

Ruggie Bucchi

'I don't see why you haven't proposed to that young darling yet. Keep waiting and you'll miss your chance, boy'

Well, of all the things Ruggie expected to hear during his visit home, that wasn't one. Normally he'd be nagged over being away too long, or not writing home enough. This? It caught him off guard. Grandma was always sticking her nose where it didn't belong...but, maybe she had a point this time.

Your relationship. It's not something Ruggie has given much thought. It's uncharacteristic of him to get comfortable enough not to look a few steps ahead, but he's gone soft. A fact that he begrudgingly accepts with a grain of salt.

Naturally, he doesn't admit this out loud and instead changes the topic. On the outside, he acts normal and helps out around the house. However, internally he is thinking over his grandmother's prying.

Marriage. It's not necessarily 'beneficial,' to say the least. With only a few months left until graduation, he'll finally be entering the rat-race to secure himself a comfortable position for life. He's worked hard and developed connections to make it happen. The finish line is right there.

Where does that leave you? He can't necessarily be as flexible if he has a partner to worry about. It's a weak link, and might cause problems in his plans. The smart thing to do would be to break things off. After all, how many school romances get a happy ending? It's so unrealistic. He'll be busy with work, you'll have your own responsibilities, and eventually it will be like you are strangers with a title tying both of you together.

This reasoning alone is enough to settle the problem. It's just - he doesn't like it. It's the most realistic path and he hates it. If it was about finding a companion, then he could do it later in life.

But when he tries to picture that lifestyle with anyone other than you, it doesn't sit right. It's physically upsetting, and makes him nauseated.

Sleep evades him that night. Ruggie finds himself sitting in the kitchen doing homework, burning the midnight oil until he can think with a clear head. Naturally, his all-knowing grandmother finds him there and makes him spill his thoughts.

She's direct with her advice. It's rare for Ruggie to be stumped considering his quick-wit, and understanding emotions is a wisdom you gain with experience.

For someone like Ruggie, who's always maximized every outcome and thought ahead - you're a weakness. Something that he can't control, and yet exactly what he needs in life. We don't get to choose who we love in life. Love is unpredictable, and Ruggie's found it at a young age. Career opportunities come and go, but he will never get back the time spent at your side...so why not maximize that instead? Hm?

He leaves for NRC the following day. For the last time, considering it is his final year. On the way he stops at multiple markets and dips into his savings. With nothing but a ring and an idea, he ditches his stuff in his dorm and heads to Ramshackle.

He's not nervous. That left his system the night prior. His grandmother's tough advice hardened that up quick.

He knocks on the door, half expecting one of the resident ghosts to answer. Instead it's you, and he's down on one knee before you can speak. With one hand, he holds out the ring. The other itches his nose in attempt to hide his wobbly grin.

"Shishishishi~ I don't have to explain what's going on, right? I'm sure you can put two-and-two together quickly. Are you really so surprised that you have nothing to say? Hmm, I guess that I can take the lead. Pretty soon I'll be leaving. You still have another year here, and I can't promise that I will be around much. Until now, I had no plan for us. Likely because being with you is the most natural thing I have experienced. I've always aimed for a life of comfort, but now I want you in that picture too, y'know? So...when you graduate next year, will you marry me? I'll be patiently waiting, shishi~”

{Rose Quartz. The symbol of unconditional love and family. Something Ruggie hasn't experienced much in his life, and is grateful for. Ruggie did not want to choose a generic gem. Not for this. He may be known for cutting corners, but this is too important. He has done his fair share of trading, and knows exactly what to look for when shopping. No salesperson alive could convince him otherwise. You may not understand the meaning behind the gem, but that's alright. He doesn't mind, because this is the ring he'll see on your finger until you're both old and grey}

Jack Howl

Jack takes the longest out of all in his dorm. In result, his proposal is the most natural. Not to say that he does not put thought into it! Oh no, this poor lad hella overthinks the event. It's just getting him to the proposing stage is - well, anticlimactic?

All Jack requires is time. Once you've both settled in to your lives on an individual standpoint, with time comes thoughts of taking your relationship to the next level. As adults who have been together for years, it's only natural? At least for Jack. He has never been for or against getting married. So, there really is no internal battle for him to fight. He just? Lets himself be happy with the idea? I know, I know. It sounds too easy - but think about it. Jack is responsible, kind, and a bit like a golden retriever (or should I just say wolf?). He doesn't ignore his feelings. So if he feels that he want's to marry you, then why not? The worst that can happen is you say no.

There was no epiphany. No spark or overwhelming feeling of affection that made him want to marry you. No impending doom, nervousness, or special moment that he can pinpoint as 'the moment'. Nothing. You weren't even around.

He was merely finishing up morning jog and heading home. The thought casually entered his head, and he let it stay. Over time it reappeared over and over, until he felt that he'd heard it enough to act on it.

Jack is high-key observant and knows your likes and dislikes by heart. He feels that such an important moment is something he needs to think through deeply, and on his own. Many have been at the receiving end of his determination, and that doesn't exclude you. Once he's set his mind to something, there is no holding back. Over the course of weeks he proceeds to undergo self-reflection, and craft a proposal that he feels is perfect.

One question he spends time thinking about is 'where,' because Jack would prefer to do an intimate act like proposing somewhere private. The last thing he wants you to feel is pressure to accept, so he chooses to propose on a late night walk. This might arise suspicion since he isn't in workout gear, which is rare. Yet it's a price Jack is willing to pay. He's never been great with surprises anyways.

He tries to uphold some element of mystery though. Do not laugh, but he put the in a plastic bag and hid it inside the container for his protein powder. When times get tough, you have to get a little creative.

Right before your evening stroll, he says that he wants to make a shake (under the pretense that afterwards he'll work-out). In actuality, he takes an empty bottle and slips the ring inside.

While you're both walking, he shakes it around and 'complains' that nothing is coming out. With you completely unknowing, he opens the cap and feigns surprise. It makes you curious, and he hands over the bottle a bit too eagerly

It's light, you note instantly. A glance inside reveals the ring, and when you pull it out Jack stops walking. His face sets with determination despite the red hue overtaking his neck and ears.

Will you marry me?? -- oh wait, that was too blunt, wasn't it? Hang on!, " he takes a breath, and coughs into his fist, "So. I've been doing some thinking. We've been together for years now, and to me you've become irreplaceable. I don't know how else to describe how I feel, other than to say that you are the person I want to spend my life with. I can only hope that you feel this way too,"

{He isn't a man of the arts. Jack has no eye for fancy jewels, or what's an appropriate design. He originally thought to have the shop keeper help him decide. Yet, that felt impersonal. So he perused many stores, and did his best to imagine your reaction to seeing each ring. Nothing caught his eye until this peridot. A simple cut with an eye-catching color. Sure, it's not what others would recommend but he liked it. Who would Jack be to deny his gut instinct?}

Gift-Giving Representation

In which Riddle, Leona, Azul, and Sebek give GN!Reader a plushie before they leave that represents themselves.

Established relationship. Fluff. Requested by @blue-rae18.

Riddle Rosehearts

Leona Kingscholar

Azul Ashengrotto

Sebek Zigvolt

twisted wonderland as textposts 8/?

only one this time cuz he's a long boy lol

(credit to @/alchemivich for the sprite assets!)

"It feels weird being apart from Jade. Why'd we get put in different classes? Would've been nice to stick together."

"Floyd sometimes comes to visit my class. He's more tender than he seems."